#some terrible suggestions i had to suffer through included ‘Bat’ (when she is. not one??) Shadow which is too on-the-nose and Needle

[daisychainsandbowties]

I got very strong night fury vibes from the cat🥰😩🥰🥰

me too! i think toothless is a slightly inauspicious name for a cat since she cannot retract hers at will, but she does hiccup after i give her milk… 🤔

so far we were thinking Frodo (on account of the literal sopping wet kitten vibes) or Apollo (because we watched a moon landing documentary tonight) or Artemis (because we watched a moon landing documentary tonight and this makes one think of the mars missions). i did my due diligence and suggested we call her Sushi but i was shot down fall of icarus style 😔

[emospritelet]

Empty Corridors - chapter 33

Penultimate chapter!  These two dorks are about to get their HEA!

AO3 link

Gold was about as close to blissfully happy as he thought possible.  Neal had come back into his life, was cautiously open to reforging their relationship, and had agreed to bring Emma and Henry with him to visit the following month.  And he had Lacey, wonderful, beautiful Lacey, who made his skin hum and his heart swell and whose kisses were like fire.  Just thinking about how his life had changed in the past year made him smile as he went over inventory in the shop.  He remembered the lunch that the three of them had shared at Granny’s, and how he had sat back and watched as Neal and Lacey fell into the sort of easy banter that he had always found difficult.  She was the opposite of him in so many ways, and he loved her for it.  Enough that he was thinking of taking the next step in their relationship, if she was open to the idea.

The bell above the shop door jerked him out of his brief daydream, and when he saw the visitor, his good mood evaporated.  Zelena Green strode up to the counter with a mouth that was twisted up tight, as though she had eaten something sour and was trying to avoid spitting it out in disgust.  She tried to smile at him, and it made him want to take a step back.

“Mr Gold,” she said, in honeyed tones.  “I’m so happy to have caught you alone.”

“Not for long,” he said.  “Lacey went to purchase lunch for us, that’s all.”

“Then perhaps we should make the most of this time together,” she said.  “I’ve been meaning to ask you out to the farm to take a look at what I’ve done with the place.  I think you’ll be interested.  Mother said you were always a man who knows a good potential profit when he sees one.”

“The price you appear to want me to pay is rather too high, I’m afraid,” he said mildly, and she batted her eyelashes.

“I haven’t told you my offer yet,” she said, her voice low and sultry.

“You don’t need to,” he said.  “Whatever issues you have with your mother are of no interest to me, but I suspect you’re trying to get one over on her.  I couldn’t be less interested in facilitating that.”

Zelena frowned.

“I thought you might have got bored with the waitress by now,” she said.  “Apparently not.  No doubt she has some sort of appeal beyond the obvious, but I can’t see it.”

Gold sent her a thin smile.

“You don’t come into town much, do you Miss Green?”

“Well, the nightlife isn’t exactly stimulating, is it?” she said.  “The only decent conversations I have are with you, after all.”

“Don’t ninety percent of our conversations consist of you asking me for some sort of physical intimacy and me awkwardly refusing?”

Zelena smiled.  It made his flesh crawl.

“You’ll find that persistence is one of my traits.”

“Along with wilful blindness, it seems,” he drawled.  “I was going to say that because you don’t come into town much, you won’t be aware that Lacey and I are living together.  Very happily.”

Her mouth worked, her nostrils flaring a little, but that smile stayed on her face.

“I give it six months.”

“I don’t care,” he said dryly.  “Now, was there something you wanted, other than to creep me out?”

Zelena rolled her eyes, but that awful smile finally slipped from her face, and she raised her chin, her eyes suddenly cold.

“I want to talk about the man spying on me,” she said.  “I’m almost certain he’s working for you, and I want to know why.”

Gold let out a soft laugh.

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” she said flatly.  “Tall, dark-haired, dresses like he cosplays someone from a Victorian gothic novel?”

“Sounds - memorable,” he said.  “Alas, I’m drawing a blank.”

“Hmm.”  She looked unconvinced.  “Well, should he ever happen to come into your shop, tell him that I’ve introduced some new security measures at my farm.  Including arming my workers.  It would be a terrible shame if one of them were to mistake him for a criminal and shoot him.”

She held his gaze for a moment, then whirled on her toes, stomping towards the door, and Gold let the thin smile he had kept up in the face of her threats fall away as she walked out.  Shaking his head, he reached into his pocket for his phone, flipping it open to call Jefferson.

“No more surveillance at the farm,” he said, without announcing himself.  “She’s onto you, and she’s pretty much threatened to have you shot if you keep it up.”

“Dammit!”  Jefferson sounded frustrated.  “I think I was almost there!”

“I’d rather you were eighty percent certain and alive than one hundred percent certain and dead,” said Gold.  “I mean it.  Pull out.”

“It’s always disappointing to hear you say that to me, Gold.”

Gold pinched the bridge of his nose.  Hard.

“Is there ever gonna be a time when you don’t turn everything I say into an opportunity for inappropriate flirting?”

“Doubt it,” said Jefferson cheerfully.  “Okay, I’ll call time on the spying thing.  She’s good at concealing stuff, and everyone that works for her is disappointingly loyal, but the evidence I’ve collected should be enough for you to decide what you want to do.”

“Understood,” said Gold.  “Come over at six after I close up, give me what you have, and I’ll pay you.”

“If you gave me what you have, I’d give you a discount.”

Gold let out a long-suffering sigh, secretly amused.

“One of these days I’ll let Lacey spank you,” he said sternly.

“Kinks are extra.”

“And on that note…”

Gold rolled his eyes, flipping the phone shut and cutting off Jefferson’s laughter.

The shop bell went again, and he looked up with a frown that cleared instantly as he saw it was Lacey.  She stomped over to the counter with a grin on her face, holding up a large paper bag and a cardboard tray with two take-out coffees.

“Grilled cheese with onions and a slice of ham,” she said, with relish, making the bag rustle as she shook it.  “Gimme some sugar and one of ‘em’s yours.”

He couldn’t help grinning at that, and leaned over the counter to kiss her.  Lacey made a sound of enjoyment, her lips pulling at his.

“I should really hold out for more sugar,” she said, and he raised an eyebrow.

“What would you have me do?” he asked softly, and she pursed her lips.

“Lock the door, take me in the back room and eat me out on the bench, maybe?”

His grin widened.

“After our actual lunch, perhaps.”

“It’s a date.”

She winked at him, walking through to the back room with a swing of her hips and a glint in her eye, and it felt as though his heart would burst with love for her.  Soon.  I have to ask her soon.

It was Lacey’s turn to make dinner that evening, and she was fretting over it as usual.  She had started out feeling confident; steak with potato wedges was after all the first thing Gold had showed her how to cook, but preparing the potatoes had taken longer than she had estimated, and getting behind had made her panic.  She was stressed and overheated by the time he got home, huffing stray curls out of her face as she measured oil for the mayonnaise.  Gold took one look at her, told her to sit down, and poured her a glass of wine before taking over.  Which only served to remind her how much she loved him.  Not that a reminder was needed. Gold used the hand blender to make the mayonnaise, scraping it out into a jar and adding minced garlic before sticking a finger in to taste it.  He sucked a blob of pale yellow from his fingertip, nodded, and set the jar on the table before turning to the steaks.

“Sorry,” said Lacey, running a hand through her hair.  “I don’t know what happened there.”

“You know I don’t mind, right?” he said, grinning at her.  “Just relax.  Cooking shouldn’t be a chore.”

“I’ll get the hang of it one day,” she sighed.

“You already have,” he said gently.  “You seem to think that I’m expecting everything to be perfect, when really all I want is to eat dinner with the woman I love.”

Love.  It made her want to wriggle with pleasure in her seat.  She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to hearing him say he loved her.  She beamed at him, taking a drink and setting down her glass.  Gold checked on the potato wedges, but closed the oven when it was obvious they were nowhere near done.  He poured his own glass of wine and sat down opposite her.

“Neal called,” she said.  “He suggested coming down next weekend with Emma and Henry.  I said that would be okay.  It is, right?”

Gold smiled broadly, and she wanted to kiss him.

“That’s perfect,” he said.  “I can’t wait to see them.”

Her heart swelled at the dreamy look in his eyes, and she told herself to get a grip.

“How was your day?” she asked, and Gold sucked his teeth, as though he were pondering something.

“It was interesting,” he said eventually.

“In what way?”

He smiled somewhat enigmatically at that.

“Come for a walk with me tomorrow morning, and I’ll show you.”

Lacey had tried to get him to tell her what he meant, but Gold had insisted on being infuriating, and had refused to explain himself.  It was therefore with no small amount of curiosity that she followed him up the hiking trail that she and Ruby usually ran on a Sunday morning.  Gold set an easy pace, and the spring morning was pleasantly mild.  Her eyes narrowed as they neared what she remembered as the turning to Yellowbrick Farm.

“What are we doing out here?” she asked.  “That Green bitch decided to finally move out, or something?”

Gold grinned.

“Or something,” he confirmed.

He took her hand, gently pulling her with him, and she fell into step with him, walking along the trail.  As the trees thinned a little she could see flashes of coloured light, and hear the flat, tinny sound of walkie-talkies.  Curious, she quickened her pace a little, and broke out of the trees into a field, the farm clearly visible in front of her.  It was swarming with people; men and women in bulletproof vests were sweeping the area, and numerous cars and vans were parked up, blocking any other vehicles from leaving.  Lacey could clearly see some of the people striding back and forth around the greenhouses, guns out, DEA spelled out in large letters on their backs.

“The DEA?” she said, puzzled.  “What’s going on here?”

Gold had put his hand on her arm, but she didn’t need his urging to stay close.  She craned her neck at the shrill sound of a familiar voice, and clapped a hand to her mouth as Zelena was dragged out of the farmhouse in cuffs, screaming about her rights.

“I think we should leave now,” said Gold quietly, and Lacey nodded, letting him pull her back to the path in amongst the trees.

They walked for a moment in silence, and she chewed her lip, thinking over what she had just witnessed.

“So - she was dealing drugs?” she said eventually.  “Big time, by the look of that reaction.”

“A meth lab, I believe,” he said calmly.  “In a secret underground room beneath the greenhouses.  Your reports of what you and Ruby saw on your run made me suspicious, so I set Jefferson on the case.  She was remarkably cagey, and hid her tracks well.  Just not well enough.  The authorities appear to have received an anonymous tip-off.”

“Which had absolutely nothing to do with you, I’m sure,” she said dryly.  “Wow.  Gotta admire her nerve, setting up something like that in plain sight.”

“Always the best way to hide,” he said.  “Still, I suspect we won’t be bothered by her presence again.”

“Can’t say I’m sorry,” she said, with a sniff.  “Had to hold back from slapping her stupid face a few times when she practically threw herself at you.”

He grinned at that, drawing to a stop and pulling her close.

“As if I would ever look elsewhere when I have you,” he murmured, and she bit her lip, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Good to know,” she said.  “Oh, and just so we’re clear, this is the weirdest date you’ve ever taken me on.”

“And here I thought you’d find it satisfying.”

“Not as satisfying as banging you against that tree,” she said, and he grinned.

“That could still happen,” he said, and Lacey snorted.

“With a bunch of DEA agents running around?  I don’t think so.”

“Fair point.”

He was grinning, and she wanted to kiss him, but she pursed her lips as though she was thinking.

“I bet the orange jumpsuit’s really gonna clash with that hair of hers,” she said.  “The thought of that’ll keep me smiling for months.”

Gold burst out laughing at that, and bent his head to kiss her.

As spring became summer and the woods around Storybrooke filled with green light and life and the chattering of birds, Lacey reflected that life, on the whole, didn’t suck.  She was happy living with Gold: blissfully happy, if she was honest, and now that he was developing a relationship with his son he seemed happy too.  A calmness had settled over him, a contentment that made her smile to see it.  Neal had brought Emma and Henry to visit one weekend, and Gold’s face had lit up as he held his grandson for the first time.  If Lacey had been the crying type that would definitely have set her off, and as it was she felt a strong urge to go into the kitchen to make tea and cut cake to hand around.

She liked Neal and Emma very much, and Henry was just adorable, and she was proud to have had some involvement in bringing them together with Gold, however small it might have been.  Her own family situation was quite different; her father had left town, left in the night owing rent on the shop and leaving the house in such a state that Gold had to hire a cleaning team before he could relet it.  Lacey had cried when she first heard that he had gone without so much as leaving a note, and Gold had held her close as she wept.  Once she was done, however, she reflected that their relationship had ended long before his leaving, and while it still hurt, she was able to find some sort of closure.

There was her own future to think about too, of course, and for once in her life she was actually planning ahead, now that she had a goal in mind.  She had been saving money from her job with Gold in advance of going to college in September, and there was a flutter in her belly whenever she thought about it.  Yeah, life definitely didn’t suck.  Life was good.

Lacey sighed, glancing from the address on her phone and back up at the apartment building.  This would be the sixth apartment she had visited that day, and her feet were hurting.  The others had been terrible; either they were not as described by the agency, or the tenant she would share with was weird, or there had been some other issue that had made her want to bolt.  Gold had taken one look through the door of the last one, issued a flat ‘No’, and steered her away.  She hadn’t bothered to ask what the problem was.  It was just one of those days.

“Maybe we’ll have better luck tomorrow,” she said despondently, and Gold put his hand on her shoulder.

“This is the last one,” he said.  “Let’s take a look, and then we’ll go for a drink, what do you say?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Lacey opened the door, making her way through the lobby to the elevator and pressing the button for the sixth floor.  At least the place was clean and the elevator worked.  Gold put an arm around her waist as it travelled upwards, and Lacey rested her head on his shoulder.

“I could still just buy an apartment, you know,” he said mildly.

“We’ve talked about this,” she said, and he sighed.

“Very well, we’ll do it your way,” he said.  “I’m just saying, in the current climate I wouldn’t lose money.  Probably turn a profit.”

“I want to do this myself,” she insisted, and sensed him roll his eyes.

“If this one smells like a makeshift drug lab I’m turning around and walking out,” he remarked, and she grinned.

“The agent said the other tenant’s a nurse,” she said.  “I’m pretty sure she’s not running a crack den in her spare time.  Not everyone has tenants like yours, you know.”

He grumbled at that, and Lacey grinned to herself as the elevator came to a stop.  The apartment was number fourteen, and Lacey ran her eyes over the door before lifting her fist to knock.  There was a scuffling noise behind it, a muffled Oops!, and then the lock rattled and the door opened to reveal a pretty woman with dark brown hair tied back from her face and a wide, somewhat anxious smile.

“Hey,” said Lacey.  “You’re looking for a roommate?  I’m Lacey.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the woman, almost hanging on the door.  “Oh, yes!  Come on in!  I’m Astrid.”

She held open the door, and Lacey stepped into the apartment.  It was small, but neat and clean, a leather couch and two chairs set around a coffee table and twin bookshelves stuffed with novels.  A small kitchen area with a table and two chairs was off to the right, and a floor-length window looked out onto the street.  She nodded approvingly.

“You’re a nurse, right?” she said.  “Shift work?”

Astrid nodded.

“Yeah, it varies,” she said.  “I’m quiet as a mouse, though, I promise.  I'll try my best not to wake you.”

“Well, I’m gonna be studying at the university,” said Lacey.  “Guess I could be pulling the odd all-nighter as well.”

“I could make you a snack when I get home, then,” suggested Astrid, beaming, and Lacey couldn’t help smiling back.

“Let me check the bedroom,” she said, and Astrid ducked in front of her, leading her along a short corridor to a door painted in purple.

“This is yours,” she said cheerfully, opening it up and stepping through.

Lacey followed, looking around appreciatively.  The room was compact, with a queen bed, dresser and chair, and a white-painted door to the closet in the corner.  Another floor-length window gave a view of the small park over the road, and the room was light and airy.  She nodded to herself.

“The street’s pretty quiet,” said Astrid.  “Occasionally the old couple three doors down argue, but most of the time they’re really sweet, and Mrs Costello makes really delicious cookies.  She’ll try to feed you up, by the way; she thinks all girls are too thin these days.”

“How’s the landlord?” asked Gold, and she started, as though she had forgotten he was there.  Lacey bit her lip in amusement.

“This is Connor, my - uh - partner,” she said, and Gold flicked an amused glance at her as Astrid’s eyes widened.

“Oh!” she said.  “I didn’t think the advertisement asked for two tenants.  It - it might be kind of snug in here…”

“Oh, it’s cool, he’s not moving in,” Lacey assured her.  “He’s gonna stay in Maine and look after my cats while I’m here.  I’ll go back at weekends.”

“Oh, you have cats?” exclaimed Astrid.  “I wish I could have cats!  The rental agreement doesn’t allow it.”

“Neither did mine,” said Lacey, winking at Gold.  “I managed to sweet-talk the landlord.”

“Maybe you could try the same trick here,” suggested Astrid.

“I think not,” said Gold blandly, and Lacey giggled.

“Okay,” she said.  “Let’s see the bathroom.”

Half an hour later, Lacey and Gold made their way out of the apartment, shooting one another little grins.  Astrid had insisted on making them tea, served up with the infamous Mrs Costello’s oatmeal raisin cookies, and had answered Gold’s questions about the landlord, the bills, and the damage deposit to his satisfaction.  She had also answered Lacey’s about the other tenants, the laundry room, and the local amenities.

“She’s adorable,” said Lacey.  “I think I should definitely move in, but I might die from the cuteness.”

“She certainly seems a glass half-full kind of person,” he remarked.  “Do you want me to call the agency and secure the apartment?”

“I can do that,” she said, and nudged him.  “Come on, let’s go get that drink you promised me.”

They walked down the street and across, heading for a bar that Gold had spied earlier.  Lacey slid onto a stool, and he ordered them two whiskies, pushing a glass towards her as he took his own seat.  She reached out to grasp his hand, a sudden burst of affection making her want to touch him, and he smiled at her, eyes crinkling.

“So,” he said.  “It seems we’ve found your home from home for the next few years.”

“Looks like.”  She took a sip of the whisky.  “Kind of a weird feeling.  Leaving Storybrooke.  Going out into the world and actually seeing some of it, for a change.  Actually makes me feel like an adult.  A little scary, not gonna lie.”

Gold lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“You’ll be fine,” he said gently.  “I have the utmost faith in you.”

“Glad one of us does.”  She slipped from her seat, stepping in between his legs and twining her arms around his neck.  “You’ll miss me though, right?”

“I’ll miss you terribly,” he confirmed, his grin widening.  “As will the cats.”

Lacey sniffed.

“Please!  They’ll probably barely notice I’m gone,” she said dismissively.  “Just keep feeding ‘em and they’ll be fine.”

He reached up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking over her skin and making her shiver deliciously.

“They’ll miss you,” he repeated softly.  “And so will I. I love you, Lacey.”

“I love you too.”

She kissed him, letting her body melt into his as his arms slid around her.  Yes. Life was good.  Life was great.

[copperbadge]

Book Review: The Curious Case Of Sidd Fitch

On April 1, 1985, a piece by George Plimpton was published in Sports Illustrated, called "The Curious Case of Sidd Finch". It presented a new rookie pitcher for the Mets: Sidd Finch, an aspirant Buddhist monk and French horn aficionado, who could throw a pitch around 160mph. If you're not familiar with baseball, a 90mph pitch is a good ticket to the majors, and the fastest pitch on record is around 105mph. The article was a joke, of course -- April Fool's -- but the reaction especially among Mets fans was electric. Within sports journalism it's widely considered to be one of the best hoaxes of all time.

Plimpton eventually expanded the article into a novel in 1987, and I finally got around to digging it up and reading it -- it's what I've been reading on the train to the last few Railcats games of the season. The Curious Case of Sidd Finch, as a novel, is in a way a time capsule; it captures a very weird era for the country and a pre-player's strike, pre-Moneyball era for baseball. But it's not really a book about baseball, despite Plimpton being primarily a sports journalist. It's easily accessible if you don't know a ton about the game, primarily because neither does Sidd Finch.

Rather, the book struck me as drawing heavily on what I think of as the "parable novel", a genre popular in the seventies -- part religious/philosophical treatise and part self-help book disguised as a fictional narrative (the most famous is probably Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach).

The novel's narrator and fictional author is Robert Temple, a former journalist living in Florida and suffering from a decade-long writer's block; he literally can't write anything, including shopping lists and notes to self. (I'll come back to this.) By a chance of fate he learns that the Mets have a rookie player named Sidd Fitch who can throw a 160mph fastball with uncanny accuracy, but who is still uncertain he actually wants to sign with the club. After getting thrown out of his boarding house for bringing a girl over, Sidd and his girlfriend Debbie Sue end up living with Temple at the request of the Mets, who hope Temple can convince him to sign with the team while he attends spring training in Florida.

It's a really compelling read with enjoyable characters, and there's some good tension set up in the question of whether Sidd will sign with the Mets, and whether it would be good for both Sidd and the sport as a whole for him to do so. And I appreciated that the one full pro game Sidd pitches isn't the climax of the book -- this is not a book about sport but a book that uses sport to meditate on other matters.

It does have its issues, however. Temple, the narrator, draws the reader in because we understand that he was a writer and no longer is, but we don't know why -- we know he's suffered some terrible psychological blow, just not exactly what: 

If he had taken the time to check it out, he would have discovered that I was not capable of writing a paragraph, much less a line of copy. I was a completely defused member of the communications industry. 

[....]

I took my sister by the elbow afterward and I said, “Well, that’s my problem, isn’t it? I’m not really alive. I’m perhaps a quarter alive.”

“You’re coming along,” she said. 

I think it would have been best for that information to come out slowly in drips here and there, perhaps eventually being told more fully when Temple explains to Sidd or Debbie Sue why he can't write. Instead we get an early-on chapter about it -- basically a brief autobiography where he goes to Vietnam to cover the war as a journalist, has a breakdown, and retires to Florida where he fills empty days with pointless tasks as a way of keeping himself alive. It's...not the most interesting chapter. And then he can’t really explain it to the others because we’ve already sat through it once. 

This complicated history is also a problem with Sidd, our young pitcher -- Sidd is struggling with both his faith and what his purpose in life should be, and that’s immediately something people can identify with. The issue is that Plimpton, the actual author, built on the biography he created for Sidd in the Sports Illustrated article, which was a joke and thus comedically complicated. Sidd is an orphan from England adopted by an English anthropologist who then died in a plane crash when Sidd was a teenager, and he found Buddhism while looking for his father in the Himalayas. Sidd also, randomly, is very good at the French horn. This is a complex backstory for a baseball player and it's not entirely well-told within the boundaries of the book, though it's also a pretty ripping adventure story as Sidd runs away from boarding school to look for his dad and eventually ends up an aspirant monk who uses Buddhists lung-gom teachings to train himself to throw a 160mph baseball.

We never really get to the heart of why Sidd walked up to a Mets talent scout one day and decided to get himself recruited; there are hints here and there, and it does lead to a masterful set of discussions about why baseball is a game for mystics:

“Why baseball?” Frank Cashen asked. “Why didn’t he go back to England and play cricket?” 

Dr. Burns put his fingertips together. “Baseball is the perfect game for the mystic mind. Cricket is unsatisfactory because it has time strictures. The clock is involved. Play is called. The players stop for tea. No! No! No!” Burns sounded quite petulant. “On the other hand, baseball is so open to infinity. No clocks. No one pressing the buttons on stopwatches. The foul lines stretch to infinity. In theory, the game of baseball can go on indefinitely.” 

[...]

“I got very interested in the idea of causing a commotion at Point B when standing a long distance away at Point A. To throw an object that connects those two points is a very heady thing to be able to do...especially if you can do it time and time again with accuracy. It is something archers and hunters know all about -- the trigonometric closing of lines.” 

[...]

I suddenly had a clear image of what Sidd was doing to the game. It was what the listeners were suggesting -- he was changing the properties and the essence of the ball itself. It struck me how often the ball is inspected during a game, as if anyone who touches it has to make sure the ball has not changed its properties. If the ball disappears over the fence, another, like a youngster’s dream pinball game, emerges from a black sack at the umpire’s side. He looks at it and gives it to the catcher, who rubs it briefly, and after a glance fires it out to the pitcher; he looks at the ball and rubs it with both hands, his glove dangling from its wrist strap, and then, as he stares down at the catcher for the signal, his fingers maneuver over its surface feeling for the comfort of some response -- yes, this time it will do exactly as he wishes! [...] Football players do not have this kind of kinship with their ball. Most of the players don’t even touch the thing during the course of a game. It sits stolidly on the grass. The center comes up over the ball from the huddle and barely giving it a glance turns it under his hands; his eyes are staring across the line of scrimmage at the unpleasant visage of the nose guard opposite. A defensive tackle is so uncomfortable with the ball that if he chances to pick it up on the practice-field he tends to throw it end over end to get rid of it. [...] Tennis balls are not kept on the mantlepiece. Too many of them around. Who cares?  

But there's never that moment where Sidd says, this is why I came to America to play baseball. Especially since he knows so little about it going in. I suppose Plimpton had to make him a foreigner so he wouldn't know much about the sport, but honestly, you can grow up in America and not know much about baseball, especially at the pro level. Though I do enjoy some of the eccentricities of the game that Plimpton chose to focus on: 

“They have shown me the heavy ring that one slides on the bat to make it seem lighter. I had thought originally that the heavy ring was a talisman to bless the wood. No! One has only oneself to rely on within the confines of the batting box.” 

There's also some pretty lowered stakes in this book because everyone, even Sidd, is wealthy. Temple can afford to do nothing all day for a decade while still seeing an expensive private therapist about his writer's block (and eventually supporting Sidd and Debbie Sue when they move in) because his family is rich and supportive. Sidd, an innocent who travels with very little, still has access to his father's fortune and has a mansion waiting for him in England. Debbie Sue, the free-spirited beach bum that Sidd falls in love with, comes from a wealthy family and was attending an ivy league school before she left it all behind to windsurf full-time in Florida. Even the most desperate people in the book, namely the coaching staff of the Mets, are only desperate to get Sidd to play. Nobody's life or livelihood is riding on anything in the book, which to me makes it slightly less effective as a philosophical treatise because everyone starts from a place of wealth and comfort. On the other hand, it does allow the reader to engage fully with the psychological side of things, and there’s something to be said for not having to worry about where Sidd’s next meal is coming from:

Rather haltingly, Sidd asked me if I would come to New York and see him through August and September...perhaps share an apartment. He didn’t feel he was going to feel at ease in the city. Over the phone he made one of his brilliant vocal imitations -- the sound of a taxi horn, a police siren, and the sigh of a bus pulling away from its passenger stop.

“There are no mantras,” he said, “to take care of this sort of thing.”

All that said, it is a really fun book. Everyone in it is charming and funny, Sidd's bewilderment over the rituals of pro baseball is touching, and there's an interesting hint of threesome-ness (probably unintentional) to the bond between Sidd, Debbie Sue, and Temple. As a baseball fan I appreciated the thought Plimpton put into how and where the characters and the sport interacted, and you can tell he has a genuine love of the game. He also appears to have done his research about Buddhism -- it's not just a stand in for woo-woo esotericism, the way it was a bit in the original article. There is some of that, but there is also a lot of genuine discussion of Buddhism which seems, in my admittedly very limited experience, to be correct.

Sidd smiled...very much as Dennis Brain probably had on the stage of the Jubilee Hall. “There’s a saying of Buddha,” he said. “Be earnest in cessation although there is nothing to cease; practice the cessation although there is nothing to practice.” 

So yeah, do recommend The Curious Case Of Sidd Finch if you’re interested in baseball or just in a pretty good story about a baseball player. 

[royreadingco]

Book Review #3: A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas

Welcome back to Roy Reading Company! Today, I'm very excited to be reviewing the second book in the "A Court of Thorns and Roses" Trilogy, A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas. This book was dense, a whopping 626 pages, but 626 pages of pure magic. If you read my review of A Court of Thorns and Roses, you'll know how blown away I was by book 1, but book 2 was even better!

*Warning: This review contains spoilers. Read at your own risk.*Right off the bat, what stood out to me about this book was the realistic depiction of emotions. The guilt and shame that Feyre felt was so described in such a realistic way, you could actually relate to her. The way Maas described Feyre's struggles, it almost seemed as if she was going suffering from PTSD, which wouldn't be surprising considering what she went through Under the Mountain. The physical symptoms, like her vomiting and intense nightmares, as well as her mental ones like her lack of interest in things like painting, suggest the degree to which her time Under the Mountain effected her. I felt that Maas did a really lovely job of making these symptoms true to life, and in an age where mental health awareness is super important, it was great to see Feyre work through these struggles. 

At the beginning/middle of the book, I found myself getting a little frustrated with Feyre in regards to Tamlin. Yes, Tamlin was not helpful at all in helping Feyre heal and recover. Terrible of him, that much is obvious. But while Feyre was in Night Court she seemed to only focus on how awful Tamlin was, and completely forget about all of the good times they had together and how much she loved him at one point. Sure, he may have been going through his own struggles, but they could have worked together to make each other better. But by the end of the book her hating Tamlin was totally justified. 

First of all, can we talk about how he only used her for sex? Props to Maas for actually including sex in a YA book, and it was impactful. Tamlin acted like he really only cared about having sex with Feyre, not helping her get better. Contrast this with Rhys, who was totally willing to wait for Feyre to be ready, and we have a pretty important message. Maas contrasts Tamlin and Rhys, to show that there's a difference between being in love and making love. He clearly didn't care about her enough to see that she was literally withering away in front of him, and didn't try to help her at all. Also, why did you not realize and accept that she was developing powers? Tam, you could have helped her hone her skills and become a more powerful fae. But know let's lock her in my mansion, right? WHICH REMINDS ME: How DARE you lock her in that house?! Who in the mother do you think you are? It's clear that he was so wrapped up in his issues and trying to protect her that he just lost it and turned into an oppressive maniac. He also tells her that there's no such thing as a High Lady, so she can't be seen as his equal. Utter. Crap. I think what hits me hardest is his history with Rhys and how he helped his father hunt down members of Rhys's family. Just scummy. 

Let's also talk about this wedding. That dress was horrible. It didn't even seem like Feyre cared about the wedding at all, she wasn't invested in the planning and didn't care enough to object when things bothered her. It was destined to fail from the start. Ianthe had wayyy too much control in the planning of this wedding, and made it something Feyre utterly didn't care about. I would have walked away too. 

Ianthe. The utter wraith that she is. Though I hated her guts, I can see her importance to the story. She was integral in Feyre's rise to power later in the series. But she is also really important in spreading a message about consent. Ianthe was notorious for taking advantage of people like Rhys and Lucien, and Maas uses her to show that consent is important. 

Now let's talk about Feyre's time with Rhys. When he first winnowed her away to Night Court, and let her heal, I knew he wasn't so bad of a guy. And when he did save her from Tamlin's insanity, I saw right away that he actually cared about her, despite his teasing and taunting. But even with his teasing, it opened opportunities for Feyre to be her spitfire-self again. I liked that he started by helping her learn how to read, and how to protect her mind, skills that would be vital to her. I did wonder that while Feyre was in Night Court, why did Tam never try to get in contact with her? He must have had some inkling. 

But I was really glad he didn't because I fell in love with Velaris, Rhys, Mor, Az, and Cassian. Mor, Az, and Cassian were way more open and honest with her from the beginning and actually offered to help her train and befriended her outright. Lucien wasn't necessarily a bad guy, but he never stood up to Tam's mistreatment of Feyre. The people of Velaris all made a conscious effort to make Feyre feel welcome and to help her feel better. I thought one of the especially touching scenes was when they were training with Cassian, and it dawns on her that she should have been one of the Fae to die in Amarantha's court, and Cassian helped talk through her emotions while Rhys reacted so strongly, and so kindly and telling her that she should never feel that way. It was evident that Velaris was a much healthier environment for her to live. 

While she was there she not only healed from her experiences Under the Mountain but was also able to grow into her new life as a Fae. She was able to be an active and useful member of Rhys's team and was able to help infiltrate Hybern's forces. 

I've spoken so much about Maas's world building, but I have to touch on her creation of the Illyrian culture. The customs and traditions that she developed were so interesting. To learn with Feyre about a whole other species was really interesting. From hearing about how they are raised and trained from an early age, to the treatment of their women was fascinating and really set Night Court apart from the other courts. Along the same vein, it was both heartbreaking and emotional to learn about Mor's past in the Illyrian legions. It helped me feel more sympathetic towards her and relate to her even more. 

I really liked that we got to go into Summer Court and Adriana. I am really intrigued by exploring the other courts and seeing their different cultures come to life is one of my favorite parts of this series. Paired with Feyre being able to tap into Tarquin's powers to help Rhys was really one of the first instances of Feyre actively helping to take down Hybern. 

I really loved the idea of a hidden city of Velaris, that no one knew about for hundreds of years. I loved that it was a sort of paradise or Eden hidden away from all of the horrors going on in the rest of Prythian. The word Velaris actually comes from the Latin verb to cover or to veil. I love significant word choice in books. The desctiption of this city was lovely, and the detail was phenomenal, and really brought the city to life. What was also really lovely, was how important Velaris was to Rhys and his family, how they wanted to hold onto their piece of private paradise to escape to. 

And now for the good stuff. 

Rhys and Feyre were a match made in heaven (literally). I thought for a long time that I would never want Feyre to be with anyone other than Tam, and boy was I wrong. From the moment he rescued her, to the teasing little notes that they sent each other, they were perfect. When he sent her into the Weaver's cottage to get the ring was such a sweet idea, and how it all tied into his family and their mating was so well done. Even their scenes in the Court of Nightmares and that little Illyrian inn were some of my favorites in this book. 

But what takes the cake, without any doubt, has to be the cabin scene. But first, why in the holy hell did the Suriel spoil the mate thing? If he knows ~most~ things, wouldn't he know that Feyre didn't know yet? So why would he spoil it? I'm glad he did because cute things happened. I can also understand Feyre's frustration with people waiting until they thought she was ready to hear the news, when she was so involved. But I wanted her to be a little more happy about it and not just be mad at him. I thought it was fitting that she just took some time for herself to be alone, to paint, and process everything. I also liked that he chased after her and made sure she was okay (something Tam never did). I (as I love the different culture and tradition) thought it was so sweet that offering him a meal is the signal that the mate bond has been accepted. 

Maas really showed her finesse as a writer, when all of the little instances that had taken place over time had connected and entwined to build their mate bond from the moment they met. To create such an intricate plot, that was so well executed is inspiring and that is how a true, sophisticated novel is written. The fact that Rhys was the one to send the lullaby to Feyre's cell under the Mountain took me by surprise because I had assumed that it was thanks to Tam. The whole mate relationship between Rhys and Feyre was so spectacularly done, I was blown away. Overall I could not be more satisfied with the way Maas portrayed the mate bond between Rhys and Feyre. 

Some final thoughts. In the end of the novel, I have one thing to say. TAMLIN YOU SUCK YOU PIECE OF SLIME. That is all. The mortal queens give humans a bad rep. What is Amren really? The significance of Rhys's knee tattoo was amazing. The slight undertones to the Hades and Persephone story were super cool, and I love Maas showed her literary prowess in basing her original stories on classic tales. 

In summary, I apologize that this review is so long but for such a lengthy book, how could I not? It would be an injustice to the book to leave anything out. I felt that this book was phenomenal, extremely well done and showed how sophisticated Young Adult literature can be. 

I give this book a 📚📚📚📚📚 out of 5. I would highly recommend this book to any YA lover, and it might have made the series for me. What did you think of A Court of Mist and Fury? Let me know in the comments!

If you enjoyed this please subscribe to get email updates for new blog posts! And feel free to follow our instagram and tumblr both can be found at @royreadingco If you have any suggestions for books you think I should read or bookish products I should try please leave a comment below or shoot me an email at royreadingco@gmail.com! Thanks for reading along with me! Happy reading! 

-

Kayla

[genogenocrazycatman]

Stillwater - Chapter 14

Stillwater [Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.Net, Mibba]

Characters: Original Female Character, Monkey D. Luffy, Rorona Zoro, Vinsmoke Sanji, Nami, Usopp, Tony Tony Chopper, Nefeltari Vivi

"We build as only children know to build

We made a way where there's a will

No slowing down or standing still

Innocent and reckless

"How did we get so old and never notice

How did we gain the world and lose the moment

Rise and fall, the tide surrounds us

And drowns us all"

-Hands Like Houses

***

“What in the world was that?” I asked, pausing my polishing of the furniture, when I felt the ship suddenly rock.

“Luffy, what else,” Nami said, standing in the door way of our shared room. “Looks good.” She nodded towards the bar. “Smells good too.”

“Not a bad polish,” I said, looking at the container, “But I’m sure that I could probably make my own from the peels of your tangerines, if you start saving them for me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah totally. People have been using lemon and orange oils to polish furniture for years. I don’t see why tangerine wouldn’t work.”

“Huh. I’ll have to start keeping them for you then. I’m gathering everyone up for a quick crew meeting, you good to head on up or do you need a minute?”

“Nah. I’m good. I’ll finish up later.”

I set my stuff down and followed Nami out. “The boys were all hanging out on the aft deck. Nami went back to get them. Vivi was already standing on the main deck. I plopped down on the ground, sitting crisscross and resting my head in my hand.

“Hey, listen up you guys. We’ll be landing at Alabasta soon, and this is no time to be joking around. Like a pack of hyenas. Come on.”

“Yes ma’am,” The boys all grumbled, save for Chopper, who hadn’t suffered through enough bossy Nami to be properly put off.

“So what is Alabasta then?” he asked as they descended the stairs.

“It’s the country, where Vivi’s father rules,” Nami explained.

“Yeah, except there’s this guy named Crocodile, who’s trying to take over the country right now,” Usopp elaborated.

“And Crocodile’s one of the seven war lords of the sea,” Sanji added.

“Who are those guys?”

“Government sanctioned pirates,” I answered.

“The government actually supports pirates?”

“In exchange for doing the governments bidding, and bringing in other pirates, they get to do whatever else they want without fear of the marines.”

“Pretty weird, huh?”

“I’m really looking forward to meeting this Crocodile guy.”

Luffy was the only one. I had never run into any of the war lords. I considered myself lucky that way. The last thing I needed or wanted was anyone associated with the government having knowledge of me or my family. It was bad enough that three of the four emperors did. While they were significantly more powerful than any of the war lords, they were focused solely on their own agendas, none of which included me anymore.

“Crocodile is considered a hero back home. He helps get rid of the pirates, who attack Alabasta. However, his good deeds only appear good on the surface. He is an evil man. In truth, he’s manipulating the citizens of Alabasta to bring about a civil war, so that he can take over the country. No one has realized what Crocodile’s doing yet, not the people, not even my father,” Vivi explained.

I had to give to Crocodile. It was a smart plan. Crocodile would be lauded as a hero, if he successful took over. The man, who brought an end to Alabasta’s civil war. Someone that the people would want to , appearing as a hero, while secretly

“Right. This should be fun. All we have to do is beat up that Crocosilde guy.”

“Yes, but order to do that, we have to avert the civil war in Alabasta and get Baroque Works out of the picture.”

“Baroque Works?” Chopper asked.

“Oh yeah. You don’t know anything about them either. To be honest, I don’t completely understand what’s going on with them myself. They have a really complicated system of agents, bosses and partners.”

“The system is actually pretty simple...”

I followed Vivi’s explanation of the organization, which led to the realization that all of the high-ranking officials were one their way to Alabasta too, as well as many of the 2,000 foot soldiers. Not that averting a civil war was ever going to be easy, but it was getting increasingly more complicated. Luffy’s only concern was Crocodile, which was to be expected. If only, it was only that simple.

“Well first thing’s first. We have to get to Alabasta, but that doesn’t mean you get to mess around until then. Use the next couple of days to get ready.”

We all nodded and voiced our agreement.

“Hey, Mimi?”

“Yeah, Luffy?”

“Since Nami’s all better, does this mean you’ll tell everyone that you’re a vampire?”

Had I been sitting in a chair, I probably would’ve fallen out of it. I wouldn’t really expect anything less from Luffy, but still.

Sanji reacted quickly, making up for my lack of reaction. “Luffy, how dare you insinuate that our lovely Mira is a vampire?! I should kick your teeth down your throat for just suggesting such a thing!”

“A vampire?!” Chopper and Usopp yelled, terrified at the prospect.

“Guys there’s no such thing as vampires. I told you to stop screwing around, Luffy,” Nami scolded.

Unlike the others, Zoro and Vivi had caught on yo my distress. The pair both looked at me. Vivi was concerned, her soft gaze filled with worry. Zoro narrowed his eyes, his gaze wary.

“Mimi,” Luffy whined, two goose eggs on his head, one from Nami and one from Sanji. “You said after Nami got better.”

I should’ve said after Alabasta. That would’ve been smarter.

Luffy was looking at me with a slight pout and those big eyes. It wasn’t a puppy dog pout, but it was close enough for me to cave. ‘Damn it.’ I didn’t think I would ever be immune to a puppy dog pout. I had tried and tried to build up a tolerance to it, but still big eyes and pouty lips usually got me to cave or yell for Cal, so that she could deal with it, but she wasn’t here right now.

“I did,” I said, dragging my hand down my face. “And I thought we agreed that I wasn’t a vampire?”

I had tried figuring out how it was that I was going to go about this. Sure, Luffy believed me right off the bat, but it was Luffy. He was more concerned about Chopper being a magical transforming reindeer than a doctor, a chance to have the devil’s daughter on board, even better. Sanji said he believed me. It sure felt like he did, but maybe that was just part of his nature. After all, Sanji was looking for something that many didn’t think exist, the All Blue. Not that it was a direct correlation, but it seemed that Sanji was more open to the impossible.

“Wait what?” Nami asked, turning to look at me.

Everyone was looking at me.

Sanji, sighed lighting another cigarette and taking a drag.

“Mira, what’s Luffy talking about?” Vivi asked.

“Well, I’m not a vampire, if that helps,” I started. “But I’m not human either.” I gave them a second to take that in.

“You look human,” Chopper said. He sniffed. “You smell human, mostly.”

“Mostly?” Usopp asked.

“She kind of smells like the ocean.”

“I’m still here,” I reminded them, causing the pair to look at me again.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Zoro asked.

“That must be it! You really had us going, Mira!” Usopp slapped his thigh.

“She’s not joking,” Sanji said.

Usopp’s face twisted into a look of confusion.

“You’re in on it, Shit Cook?”

“There’s nothing to be in on,” I interjected, before Sanji and Zoro could start fighting. “Look. Here’s the deal. Many of the legends that people talk about are based in some type of reality. They might have been distorted over time, but there’s usually a shred of truth at their core. I say this, because you’re not going to believe, what I’m about to say. Not at first. Maybe not ever. I can’t change that. I’m not really looking to, but I made a promise to Luffy, so here we go. I’m the daughter of the sea devil.”

I got blank stares. I just kept going. They were going to catch up or sit there in disbelief. If it was the latter, then I could just leave them there stunned and deal with it later.

“And I do mean the sea devil. I’m not just using that phrase to call him an asshole.” ‘Although he is an absolute fucking asshole.’ “It’s through my blood, through him, that I can move water like I do. It’s an ability I was born with. I never ate a devil fruit. The reason why I don’t go into the water is because I can’t use my powers on or when I’m in salt water. And while I’m not immortal like he is, I’m very old and very hard to kill.”

“Isn’t it cool?” Luffy giggled.

“That’s impossible,” Vivi said.

I shrugged. I knew what I was saying was true, but I still felt stupid. It was like telling your older sibling that you were afraid of the monster in your closet, only to have them tell you that, “Monsters aren’t real,” and, “You’re a wuss.”  This was a terrible idea. Who the hell just ran around telling people that their the devil’s child?

The air got heavy. Even if they thought I was full of shit, it was clear that I didn’t think so. They were trying to figure out how to deal with the situation. What do you do, when you think your crewmate is starting to lose it?

“Let’s say you really are the sea devil’s daughter. How’d you end up in Logue Town?” Usopp asked. “Wouldn’t you be in like his evil lair or whatever?”

“I washed up there,” I answered honestly.

“Washed up?”

I groaned, my pride taking a hit. “I picked a fight with him, and got my ass kicked, again. He launched me out to sea, and used the currents to beach me at Logue Town.”

“Picked a fight?”

“Our relationship is complicated.”

“How complicated?” Vivi asked. She didn’t seem to believe me, but she also didn’t seem to think that I was totally out of my mind.

“I’ve been trying to kill him for decades now with little to no success.”

“You can’t be serious,” Nami said, seeming to be firmly on the “she’s lost it” side of things. She was annoyed, which wasn’t really surprising. She was concerned about getting Vivi to Alabasta first for foremost. Distracting everybody from their goal for such a stupid sounding confession was bound to piss her off. “The Sea Devil? Really? That’s farfetched, even for Usopp.”

“Yeah, Mira. Can you prove it?” Usopp asked.

“I can prove that I’m not human.” I closed my eyes. When I opened them, my irises, which were a medium shade of grey lighten to a shade of silver that was almost glowing, and my pupils were now rectangular.

Usopp screamed, grabbing onto Chopper, who was shaking.

Nami’s eyes were wide as were Vivi’s. “Back in Little Garden?”

I nodded. I closed them, returning to them to their previous state. “I don’t look human, naturally. The same power that allows me to manipulate water, allows me to change my appearance, so that I can blend in with humans. In Little Garden, I shifted my eyes back, so that that girl’s traps didn’t work on me, since I see things differently.”

“If you are telling the truth, that means you’ve been lying to us from the beginning,” Zoro pointed out. His voice was hard. “In which case, why should we trust you now? How do we know that you’re not a threat?”

I looked over at him. His arms were crossed over his chest. He believed me. He wouldn’t be upset like he was otherwise.

“I have been,” I confirmed. “And you shouldn’t, because you don’t. You don’t know basically anything about me. You know some of my skills, cooking, cleaning, sewing, fighting. You know I’m strong and that I heal quick. You have no idea, where I came from, or what I can do? I never told you, who my father is or that my very presence puts you in danger. That storm that hit us right before Whisky Peak, that was my father’s doing. He doesn’t seem to be fond of the idea of me joining a pirate crew, and there are others out there, who want me dead. Keeping me around is foolish.”

“So you’d leave willingly?”

“No one’s leaving,” Luffy said, matching Zoro’s seriousness.

Zoro’s gaze shifted from me to Luffy. “You’ve already made a decision?”

Luffy nodded.

I think it was finally settling in on the others that what I was saying was true. Luffy believing me was one thing, but Zoro was another. They also had to come to grasp with the realization that they knew very little about me. I had listened to them tell stories about their homes. I had eve asked questions, but had offered up little in return.

“Mira’s a part of this crew. It doesn’t matter, who her dad is. She’s our stewardess. I’m not changing my mind.”

Zoro said nothing, standing up and walking off.

I sighed, leaning my head back against the Merry and closing my eyes.

Sanji patted my shoulder and stood up.

“Don’t even think about it,” I said, opening one eye to look at him. “He’s allowed to be mad, and you’re not going to give him shit for it.” Sanji looked ready to protest.

“Sanji, I’m kind of hungry. Do we have any pudding?” Nami asked.

“I’ll go make some right now, Nami-swan!” Sanji said, rushing towards the kitchen, Nami following behind.

The mention of food, returned Luffy to his usual cheerful energetic self. “Sanji can you make pudding with meat?”  He chased after the love struck cook.

Wait! I’ll come with you!” Usopp cried, afraid of being left with me.

That left Vivi and Chopper. Chopper seemed frozen, where he was.

“Mira.”

I looked at Vivi.

“Thanks for telling us,” she said, giving me a small smile. “I know that was hard for you. I don’t know what I believe, but I know that you’re good people, and that’s the important part. I’m sure the others will realize that, even Mr. Bushido.”

I gave her a smile in return.

She stood up and headed inside.

The only one left was Chopper. I felt so bad. Hey welcome to your new home. I’m the daughter of evil incarnate. “You don’t have to stay,” I told him. “It’s okay that you keep your distance. I won’t take it personally. I know you’re scared.”

“No. It’s okay,” he said, sounding the exact opposite. He slowly walked over, taking the spot next to me. I kept my eyes on him, but didn’t interrupt him. “Can I ask you some questions?”

“Sure. I can’t promise I’ll have an answer, but I’ll try.”

“I just- I was gonna ask you guys about your medical histories anyways, so that I have a good background for when I need to treat you, but considering you’re not human, I want to get yours first. I need to know what’s different about you, so that if something goes wrong I can treat you properly.”

I smiled down at him. He was terrified, but still was making sure that he could perform his job to the best of his abilities. “You’re very serious about your work. It’s an admirable.”

“Complimenting me won’t make me happy,” he said.

“Uh huh. Sure. Well… First off, you don’t have to worry much about me. I have advanced healing capabilities and regeneration abilities.”

“Really?!” he asked, sounding amazed.

“Yep.”

“That’s amazing. How does it work? Do you know what this could mean for the medical community? How did it originate? Wait! I need a note book and a pen. I need to document this as part of your history.”

I chuckled at the reindeer. He was so cute, and so excitable.

I stood up. “Come on. Let’s head down to the girl’s room. I’ll fill you in. I can’t tell you much about my parents. My mother died, when I was a toddler, and I don’t know much about my father aside from him being a bastard. Cal would be better at this than me.  It’s going to be a lot, if you want to know about injuries though.”

“You’ve had a lot of injuries?” he asked concerned.

“I’ve got advanced healing and regeneration, a tendency to do really dumb stuff and a lot of time. Yeah. I’ve had a lot.”

***

Notes: I don't really like how this turned out. Initially, I wanted to give the sea devil's back story in this too but that was a bit much, especially, because some of them are still struggling with whether or not they even believe what it is that Mira's saying.So just a brief rundown:-Luffy believes her and is excited to have a "not" vampire on the ship.-Zoro's believes her and is pissed, but Luffy's already made a decision, so there isn't anything that he can do about it.-Sanji believes her and is fine with everything.-Usopp's on the fence, and he's scared.-Chopper's believes her and is scared, but has a job to do.-Vivi's confused, but believes that Mira is a good person.-Nami is on the fence, but is more concerned with getting Vivi to Alabasta than anything else, so she'll deal with it later.Also I mentioned that Mira disguises herself as a human and can't use her powers on salt water or when she's in it, and I'll explain that more later, but once again, there are things that I think people are going to be curious about immediately.1.) Oda said that devil fruit users are weak to all water, not just sea water.-She didn't eat a devil fruit. Additionally, this is my fanfic. I'll destroy cannon if I please. If you don't like it, don't read it.2.) Does she get weak in water?-Powerless? Yes. Physically weak? No.3.) Can Mira disguise herself as anything?-Nope. Basically, there's her natural form and then her human one. That's it. She can change the human one's appearance, but not just willy-nilly. It takes time, so she doesn't do it often.Thanks for reading. See yinz next time.

***

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Master List | Mobile Version

[christianlivingtoday-blog]

The Psychology of Backsliding

The psychology of backsliding deals with the way backsliders think. It deals with the attitudesof a defecting Christian. You see, the Bible says we should guard our hearts with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life.

Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life.

Proverbs 4:23

Backsliding is one of the issues of life. The issue of backsliding comes from the heart. A thought in the heart becomes an attitude. An attitude becomes an action. And these actions become behavior patterns.

Let us look at the attitudes that form in the heart of a backslider. It is these attitudes that give him the false confidence in his backslidden state.

ATTITUDE 1

"I'm Not Alone, Others Are Backsliding Too."

I have noticed that one of the things we do, is to find out who else is in a condition similar to ours. And when we get involved in something we also try to take others with us (like drowning men). But the Bible says,

…every man shall bear his OWN burden.

Galatians 6:5

You may take confidence in the fact that others seem to be doing as badly as you are. But that is a false assurance.

I remember when I travelled to a city in Ghana and visited a brother whom I had known to be very zealous for the Lord. Unfortunately, this brother whom I even considered to be in the rank of a minister had backslidden, and had made a young lady pregnant. He no longer went to church regularly.

When my wife and I got to his house, we chatted a bit, and asked, "How are you doing spiritually?"

He said, "Oh, God is good."

Then he immediately changed the topic and asked whether we had heard about another good friend of ours who had backslidden terribly.

But My Condition Is Better Than His

"Brother X's condition is very unfortunate," he lamented.

He added, "Have you heard? He's fallen into very bad company, and doesn't go to church at all."

He was trying to make us see that this brother's condition was even worse than his.

As we were going home in the car, I asked my wife if she noticed that this brother seemed to have taken some reassurance in the fact that our other friend was in an even worse state.

You can tell when people are trying to reassure themselves. Just listen to the things they say. They say things like: "Nowadays a lot of people don't go to church... City life is too busy for regular church attendance… There are now many Christians who drink a little beer with their food…"

Dear friend, don't be deceived by the existence of a crowd. You may think that everybody is sinning just like you are. But when Christ comes you'll be very surprised to find people whom you thought would go to Hell with you, passing you by on their way to Heaven!

A friend once told me about an incident that jolted him into becoming a Christian.

What?! Are You Also a Christian?

He told me, "I was a party-going, night-life person with lots of girlfriends. One day, I was going home in a friend's car after one of our usual parties when I noticed that the car was unusually quiet."

"So I decided to slot in some good old disco music to liven up the atmosphere. I picked up one of the tapes lying in the front of the car and inserted it. To my utmost surprise, instead of music, I heard the sound of preaching."

I exclaimed, "Hey, what's this? Since when did you start listening to such things? Are you also one of those born again people?"

And his friend replied, "Hey, I am securing myself."

My friend said to me "I began to think very fast; if our car was to have had an accident and we were both to die, he may have gone to Heaven, and Iwould have gone to Hell!!"

My friend suddenly realized that he had been deceived into thinking that every one of his friends was a ruthless sinner like he was.People were secretly seeking God and securing their places in heaven.

You better make sure that you are doing the right thing. Do not look at the crowd. You are born alone, and you will die alone. Do not even look to your husband or your wife. It is unusual for husbands and wives to be born on the same day. It is even more unusual for them to die on the same day.

You will stand before God as an individual. Never forget that fact of life.

ATTITUDE 2

"I Have a Lot of Time; Christ is Not Really Coming Soon."

The world is truly amused when we say that Christ is coming soon. They think it is a theory cooked up by some deranged people.

On the other hand, some Christians know that Christ's Second Coming is a reality. But they think that it won't happen very soon. At least, not in their lifetime. They suppose they can enjoy themselves and forget about the future. But what they forget is that Christ's coming will be a very unexpectedevent.

...the day of the Lord so cometh AS A THIEF IN THE NIGHT. For when they shall say, Peace and safety; then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a woman with child; and they shall not escape.

1 Thessalonians 5:2-3

A pregnant woman who is due might be all right one moment, and the next moment, go into labour. Severe pain will strike her and a baby will be born. So will the coming of the Lord be. Everything will be all right one day and the next, total chaos in the world.

Jesus Could Come This Friday!

Jesus compares his coming to the coming of a thief. No one expects a thief. I remember years ago when thieves broke into my father's house. We were not expecting anything of the sort, but it just happened. The whole world will be very surprised when Jesus comes again.

Many of you have taken God's grace period of repentance for granted. Indeed, this grace period means nothing to some of us. The grace period has rather become more time to play the “fool”. This is how backsliders think.I have more time! I have much more time!!

You may be planning to have your grand wedding. But it may never come on. Perhaps, those who are in school may never complete their courses. The trumpet will suddenly sound, and those of us who are washed in the blood of the Lamb, and ready for the Saviour would be caught up in the clouds to be with Him forever.

ATTITUDE 3

"There Are Short Cuts to Everything, Including Going to Heaven."

The world is under the delusion that there are short cuts to everything. Unfortunately, some Christians think in the same way. They assume that there must be some short cut to Heaven since there seems to be a short cut to almost everything.

I Learnt the Hard Way!

You cannot escape the Christian rudiments and go to Heaven. You cannot escape the cross. Jesus said, "Take up thy cross and follow me." There is no short cut around the cross. You must take it up. In this day and age of instant coffee, instant tea and jet travel, everybody wants to have things fast, quick and short.

When I was in boarding school, I learnt the hard way that short cuts must be avoided.

Those of us in the junior forms were asked to do some general scrubbing in school. I obtained an excuse duty slip from the doctor. It exempted me from any assigned duties for the next four days.

I happened to discuss this excuse duty slip with a friend, and excitedly told him how I wouldn't have to do any hard work for the next four days. Then he came up with what I thought was a bright idea.

He suggested, "Why don't you write “1” before the “4” so it reads “14” days instead of “4”? You will then have fourteen whole days to relax."

As I mused over this suggestion, I thought, "What a good idea! No one will notice."

The Day I Met My First Judas

But this friend was the first Judas I was to meet in my life.

After I had taken hissuggestion and changed the '4' to '14', this same friend reported me to the seniors. He told them that I had forged my excuse duty slip.

Everyone pounced on me, and I was charged. I tell you, I suffered greatly for that mistake. First of all, my four days of excuse were cancelled. I was given the most difficult jobs to do. And then I was given extra punishment.

From that time I decided: No more short cuts in life. I realized long ago that there was no short cut to Heaven. I will have to go the hard way.

We may think that there is a shorter way to Heaven, but there is only one way to Heaven. It is not through Allah, Islam, fetish, chanting or meditation. It is only by accepting the Lord Jesus Christ as your personal Saviour and being born again. There is no short cut.

In the secular world, wise businessmen are wary of any “get-rich-quick” schemes.Many however, are not tired of trying one quick scheme after the other. So they take advantage of every opportunity to make some quick money.

They Said, "Your Church Will Be Rich."

Someone once asked our church to join a new 'get-rich-quick' bank.

He explained, "As a growing church you will need a lot of money to help complete your building project."

But I immediately said, "It sounds too good to be true, and too quick to be real."

So we didn't join it.

A few weeks later, I heard of how that new bank had collapsed. Many people lost their money. I also heard of how some churches had lost huge sums of money by saving there.

The Bible says the Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed, which needs time to grow to become a great tree. When you put the seed into the ground, it will need to go through the long process of dying and growing before yielding fruit. Unfortunately, some of us want to escape the processes of dying and growing up. You cannot expect to just put money in the offering and hope that everything will be all right. You cannot avoid the reality of fasting, praying, fellowshipping and witnessing. These are Biblical standards we just cannot avoid!!

ATTITUDE 4

"God Loves Me Too Much To Punish Me."

I have heard Christians say that God will never punish them. They quote, "For God so loved the world…"

They argue that since God loves the world so much He will not destroy them. They say, "I know God will forgive me." Because of this they add sin to sin without batting an eyelid.

Two Sides of a Coin

God's nature is like two sides of a coin. One side of the coin shows the head, and the other side shows the tail. One side of God's character shows His great love, and the other side shows His judgement.

A Christian sister spoke of a woman who was having an affair with her best friend's husband. Because the two ladies were good friends they would often speak on the phone. Every time this adulteress put the phone down, she would sigh and say, "O God, forgive me for what I'm doing."

Strangely, she still didn't stop destroying her friend's marriage. Some people feel that God will not punish them. That is why they continue in sin.

When God shows you one side of His character you will see love, forgiveness and mercy of the highest order. God will forgive and forget your sins. But a time will come when God will show you the other side of His nature; which is judgment, justice, fairness, equity and jurisprudence. These are the two sides of God's nature. We are now in the Dispensation of Grace. God is showing you mercy and love.

Think about all the wicked sins you have committed, but still receive His forgiveness. At a certain point, the Spirit of the Lord will not strive with man anymore. God has to judge you, otherwise there will be chaos in the Kingdom.

The king by judgment establisheth the land…

Proverbs 29:4

God loves you so much that He will punish you when He has to.

ATTITUDE 5

"I Have More Time; I'm Not Going to Die Soon."

People think that because they are young they still have a lot of time. Also they think they have enough of their lives ahead of them to sort things out with God.

I wrote this book at a time when the whole world shook at the news of the death of Princess Diana and her millionaire companion. No one in his wildest imagination would have thought that someone so young, so charming and so beautiful could be taken off the face of the earth so suddenly.

The security of an armour-plated Mercedes Benz with airbags all around could not prevent her death in a car accident in Paris. I tell you, none of us was expecting this!

Everyone thinks that there is more time. I'm sure Princess Diana thought there were many more years ahead. We all did. But it was not so. That is why the whole world trembled with shock. It is not safe to assume that there is more time. The Bible warns us that because we don't know the day or the hour Christ will come, we must be ready all the time. The key word here is preparation and readiness.

…thus will I do unto thee...because I will do this unto thee…PREPARE to meet thy God…

Amos 4:12

In Luke 12, the Bible tells the story of a man who had a successful business. He had so much that he wondered what to do with the profits. He decided to build bigger barns to store his goods. In our time this would be equivalent to opening new bank accounts. When he completed his projects, he said to himself, "Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years. Take thine ease, eat, drink and be merry."

Come Up for a Meeting

God reacted immediately from Heaven and said, "…This night thy soul shall be required of thee." In other words, I want to have a discussion with you tonight. God has the right to call you up for a discussion at any time. God is showing us here that there is just a step between us and death.

There are three times in your life when people will gather to honour you. They gather when you are born and christened. Then they gather again when you are getting married. And finally, they will definitely also gather for you when you die. Somebody might contend that he or she is too young to die. But go to the mortuary, and you will discover that even little babies die. I was once in a hospital ward with one of my assistant pastors when we happened to see the body of a little baby who had just died. Although it was a tiny baby who had just began to live, it died. That baby was not too young to die.

Dear Christian friend, do not put off your godly obligations because you think you are still young and there is more time. You never know when God will summon you to account for your life.

…thus will I do unto thee,...because I will do this unto thee…PREPARE to meet thy God.

Amos 4:12

by Dag Heward-Mills

[formula1racing]

Why this blog has been quiet… This is a motor racing blog – at least, most of the time. Now and then, I decide that there are things more important than Formula 1. Today is one of those days. Sadly, not all such days are happy ones, but I am going to tell the story nonetheless, because I want the international motor racing community to know about Jill Saward. My little sister. Blog readers who live in the UK will probably know the name already, given the coverage there has been about her in the last week. She was the lead item on most TV news bulletins last Thursday and on most of the newspaper front pages on Friday morning. There were two reasons for this: she was a remarkable person; and she died suddenly at the age of just 51. The family knew that there might be some media interest, but none of us imagined it would be front page news. You may well ask, why is it? And for those who don’t know the story, I would suggest you read this link, but in very simple terms, Jill was “a rape campaigner”. It is not really the kind of job you want to have, because the primary qualification is to be someone who has been raped. Jill was. She was raped physically by a bunch of depraved thugs, but also metaphorically by the British media – although you won’t read that second part in many of this week’s news stories. You will read instead that she was the first rape victim ever to waive her right to anonymity. The reason she did that was because she wanted to make a difference, and because the media had already destroyed every shred of privacy. Headlines about “the vicar’s daughter” were simply too good for the loathsome creatures who sat on the news desks in Fleet Street, and for the low-lifes who chased the story. At the time I was a young reporter at Autosport and I suddenly found myself in the middle of a terrible drama, at the hands of people who were supposed to be my colleagues. My sister was in hospital. Her then boyfriend was in intensive care, having been beaten unconscious with a cricket bat. My father was in a similar state. Ironically, he was a big fan of cricket and the cricket bat, signed by the great Donald Bradman, was one of his prize possessions. It was a surreal time, which has been described very well by my brother-in-law Chris Hudson in the recent days. It taught me a lot about what not to do as a journalist. The case created fierce criticism about press coverage of rape cases because it was clear from the stories published who the victim had been. The Sun, edited by Kelvin MacKenzie, even published a photograph of Jill, with only her eyes blacked out. They were shameless. They argued, cynically, that media identification of victims was only banned after a defendant had been charged. As far as I am concerned, the name Murdoch will forever with tainted by that contemptible defence. The law was changed. The Press Council published new guidelines on how rape cases should be reported to prevent anonymity being breached. The judicial process after the assailants were caught was utterly appalling: the ringleader, who was not one of the rapists and was there simply to steal, was sentenced to 14 years in prison. The two rapists were each given five years for burglary, one got another five years for rape, the other got three years. The message was clear: goods had more value than the female body. The judge, Mr Justice Leonard, made the extraordinary statement when he justified the light sentences saying that Jill had not suffered any great trauma because of her controlled and dignified demeanour in court. The truth was very different, as Jill would later reveal in a book she wrote in 1990. There was uproar after that and the case would plan an important role in changing the law so that today the prosecution in any case can ask the Attorney General to increase a sentence, if it is felt the judge has failed in his duties. Jill campaigned for changes to the law and over the time these would include making rape within marriage a criminal offence, getting other sexual acts classified as rape, tougher sentencing for rapists, a ban on alleged rapists being allowed to cross-examine victims in court and restrictions on the evidence that can be given about a victim’s sexual history. Jill went on to campaign for the rights of sexual assault victims and to improve the support they receive. She became a sexual assault case worker, trained police forces all over the country and most recently launched a new campaign called JURIES, arguing in favour of mandatory briefings for juries about the myths and stereotypes of sexual violence in rape, sexual assault and abuse trial. She also spoke out against those who in recent times have been seeking a change the law so that those accused of sex crimes can claim anonymity. Despite all her work in 2013-2014 around 16,000 rapes were reported, only a third were sent to the Crown Prosecution Service and only 15 percent resulted in charges being made. Only around six percent resulted in a conviction. And none of this takes into account the fact that the rapes reported were probably only a fraction of the number actually committed. I know quite a few women who have told me about being raped but never reported it, because they feared what would happen. For them, Jill was a beacon of strength, someone who was fighting their fight, challenging judges, politicians and anyone else who needed educating on the subject. On another level, Jill made a huge impact by expressing her belief that forgiveness provides victims with the freedom to move on, without being trapped by the past. The concept that one could forgive such awful acts sent out a powerful message about her Christianity. In short, Jill’s life and her campaigns touched tens of thousands of people and made significant impacts in British legislation. At the same time she spent a large amount of time meeting, talking to or texting with rape victims, trying to help them come to terms with what has happened on a personal basis. As a family, we have received thousands of messages in recent days, and I’d like to quote a couple of the ones that came to me, just to help you understand the kind of impact. “The fact that the passing of Jill was the main item on last night’s BBC news speaks so clearly of the significant difference she made in the lives of so many,” one person wrote. Another, from the motor racing world, wrote: “Jill was an incredible woman. Her support got me through an utterly terrible time and helped me to define myself, without reference to the wickedness that touched my life. Without wishing to sound trite, the difference between seeing oneself as a victim and defining oneself as a survivor is profound and without Jill I don’t think I could have made the step from one to another… I hope that the knowledge that there are people like me in the world for who Jill helped from the darkness back into the light offers a tiny bit of comfort to you all. I suspect her devotion to her cause means that she has touched 100s of lives and has left the world in a better place than she found it.” And is there a better epitaph than that? The Saward children were taught and shared the belief that we could – and indeed should – strive to make the world a better place. Motor racing may seem an odd place to do that, but while it is a ruthless but efficient money-making machine, it is also a place where normal people go to escape; a world of dreams that make life more bearable for many people. I’ve sometimes described myself as “a dream salesman” and I have always felt that in this way I could make a difference. This blog is all about inviting people into the sport and letting them understand. When we were young, the family was not complicated. We had one “big sister”, then “the only boy” and finally the two “little sisters”. The latter were identical twins (left). I’m not really sure why but the only boy and the little sisters formed a little gang, in the Swallows and Amazons sense of the word. We did kid stuff. We had adventures. Our parents always seemed to be too busy to tell stories and the twins wanted them and so I, the scruffy schoolboy, became the family storyteller. I remember only too well those two, almost identical, little faces spellbound by some daft story about elephants with tail lights or whatever else came to mind. They were my first audience – and ultimately the way I learned how to tell stories and transport people to exciting places. And then, all of a sudden, we were adults and our paths went off in different directions. We were outward-looking and independent, but bound together by this thing called love. We were never held back by the family and that meant that we could have big dreams and wide horizons. Often we got lost from one another in the forests of life, but then we would be together again, for weddings and funerals, and we would remember that families can draw strength from one another. Motor racing took me into a world in which there are some amazing intellects and an underlying requirement for constant improvement. If you do not move forward in racing, you fall behind. No-one is ever cruising along. And brilliant minds create fantastic ways in which to apply racing technology to the real world. Yes, there are safer and more efficient cars as a result of the sport, but there is so much else as well, including such things as medical telemetry, more efficient trauma teams (based on pit stop techniques) and many other things. I am proud to be part of Formula 1 and to sing its praises. Formula 1 is really only a village which moves from place to place. One of the things which one learns about during a career as a journalist in F1 is the science of brain injury. We’ve seen a lot of it. My sister suffered a devastating subarachnoid haemorrhage, caused by an aneurysm. My first reaction when I heard the news was to ring Gary Hartstein, who was F1’s village doctor after the great Sid Watkins. Gary knows an amazing amount about trauma medicine and I knew he would help me understand. I told him all I knew, and he answered all my questions, explained the procedures and things which I should look out for, which would signal how things were. He didn’t sugar-coat anything – and added that he was available 24/7. He went the extra mile, as so many F1 people do. Gary was also brave enough to raise the subject of the worst case scenario and how we should be prepared to allow organ donation, in order to save other people. People who die young from brain injuries are among the best sources of healthy organs, which can transform the lives of others. Thanks to Gary, I had no illusions. It may be comforting to think that people with cataclysmic brain injuries are “fighting”, but the reality is often very different. Most are quickly gone and they know nothing of what has happened. In Jill’s case, she was kept alive simply to allow surgical teams and organ recipients to be gathered. That in itself is quite a process. And then, when all was ready, the machines were turned off. There are always positives, even at the worst moments, and the knowledge that others were going to benefit from Jill’s organs provided something. It was good too that our parents (both already gone) were not there to endure the loss of one of their children. After that, the flood of messages began, highlighting Jill’s achievements. The experience drew the family together and healed rifts and it reminded us all that we should never take people for granted. If you feel something important, you should say it, because you never know. This blog post is not about raising money. It is about me saying what I want to say, but at the same time, I am well aware that the motor racing world is filled with wealthy people, who have enough money to buy expensive toys. Perhaps this story will convince them to donate to the “Remembering Jill Saward Fund”, which has been set up by the charity Rape & Sexual Abuse (RASA) Centre Limited. This will help to make sure that her work for survivors of sexual violence will continue. If you would like to help then please click here.