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suzanneshannon · 4 years

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How I Used Brotli to Get Even Smaller CSS and JavaScript Files at CDN Scale

The HBO sitcom Silicon Valley hilariously followed Pied Piper, a team of developers with startup dreams to create a compression algorithm so powerful that high-quality streaming and file storage concerns would become a thing of the past.

In the show, Google is portrayed by the fictional company Hooli, which is after Pied Piper’s intellectual property. The funny thing is that, while being far from a startup, Google does indeed have a powerful compression engine in real life called Brotli.

This article is about my experience using Brotli at production scale. Despite being really expensive and a truly unfeasible method for on-the-fly compression, Brotli is actually very economical and saves cost on many fronts, especially when compared with gzip or lower compression levels of Brotli (which we’ll get into).

Brotli’s beginning…

In 2015, Google published a blog post announcing Brotli and released its source code on GitHub. The pair of developers who created Brotli also created Google’s Zopfli compression two years earlier. But where Zopfli leveraged existing compression techniques, Brotli was written from the ground-up and squarely focused on text compression to benefit static web assets, like HTML, CSS, JavaScript and even web fonts.

At that time, I was working as a freelance website performance consultant. I was really excited for the 20-26% improvement Brotli promised over Zopfli. Zopfli in itself is a dense implementation of the deflate compressor compared with zlib’s standard implementation, so the claim of up to 26% was quite impressive. And what’s zlib? It’s essentially the same as gzip.

So what we’re looking at is the next generation of Zopfli, which is an offshoot of zlib, which is essentially gzip.

A story of disappointment

It took a few months for major CDN players to support Brotli, but meanwhile it was seeing widespread adoption in tools, services, browsers and servers. However, the 26% dense compression that Brotli promised was never reflected in production. Some CDNs set a lower compression level internally while others supported Brotli at origin so that they only support it if it was enabled manually at the origin.

Server support for Brotli was pretty good, but to achieve high compression levels, it required rolling your own pre-compression code or using a server module to do it for you — which is not always an option, especially in the case of shared hosting services.

This was really disappointing for me. I wanted to compress every last possible byte for my clients’ websites in a drive to make them faster, but using pre-compression and allowing clients to update files on demand simultaneously was not always easy.

Taking matters into my own hands

I started building my own performance optimization service for my clients.

I had several tricks that could significantly speed up websites. The service categorized all the optimizations in three groups consisting of several “Content,” “Delivery,” and “Cache” optimizations. I had Brotli in mind for the content optimization part of the service for compressible resources.

Like other compression formats, Brotli comes in different levels of power. Brotli’s max level is exactly like the max volume of the guitar amps in This is Spinal Tap: it goes to 11.

youtube

Brotli:11, or Brotli compression level 11, can offer significant reduction in the size of compressible files, but has a substantial trade-off: it is painfully slow and not feasible for on demand compression the same way gzip is capable of doing it. It costs significantly more in terms of CPU time.

In my benchmarks, Brotli:11 takes several hundred milliseconds to compress a single minified jQuery file. So, the only way to offer Brotli:11 to my clients was to use it for pre-compression, leaving me to figure out a way to cache files at the server level. Luckily we already had that in place. The only problem was the fear that Brotli could kill all our processing resources.

Maybe that’s why Pied Piper had to continue rigging its servers for more power.

I put my fears aside and built Brotli:11 as a configurable server option. This way, clients could decide whether enabling it was worth the computing cost.

It’s slow, but gradually pays off

Among several other optimizations, the service for my clients also offers geographic content delivery; in other words, it has a built-in CDN.

Of the several tricks I tried when taking matters into my own hands, one was to combine public CDN (or open-source CDN) and private CDN on a single host so that websites can enjoy the benefits of shared browser cache of public resources without incurring separate DNS lookup and connection cost for that public host. I wanted to avoid this extra connection cost because it has significant impact for mobile users. Also, combining more and more resources on a single host can help get the most of HTTP/2 features, like multiplexing.

I enabled the public CDN and turned on Brotli:11 pre-compression for all compressible resources, including CSS, JavaScript, SVG, and TTF, among other types of files. The overhead of compression did indeed increase on first request of each resource — but after that, everything seemed to run smoothly. Brotli has over 90% browser support and pretty much all the requests hitting my service now use Brotli.

I was happy. Clients were happy. But I didn’t have numbers. I started analyzing the impact of enabling this high density compression on public resources. For this, I recorded file transfer sizes of several popular libraries — including jQuery, Bootstrap, React, and other frameworks — that used common compression methods implemented by other CDNs and found that Brotli:11 compression was saving around 21% compared to other compression formats.

It’s important to note that some of the other public CDNs I compared were already using Brotli, but at lower compression levels. So, the 21% extra compression was really satisfying for me. This number is based on a very small subset of libraries but is not incorrect by a big margin as I was seeing this much gain on all of the websites that I tested.

Here is a graphical representation of the savings.

You can see the raw data below..Note that the savings for CSS is much more prominent than what JavaScript gets.

LibraryOriginalAvg. of Common Compression (A)Brotli:11 (B)(A) / (B) – 1Ant Design1,938.99 KB438.24 KB362.82 KB20.79%Bootstrap152.11 KB24.20 KB17.30 KB39.88%Bulma186.13 KB23.40 KB19.30 KB21.24%D3.js236.82 KB74.51 KB65.75 KB13.32%Font Awesome1,104.04 KB422.56 KB331.12 KB27.62%jQuery86.08 KB30.31 KB27.65 KB9.62%React105.47 KB33.33 KB30.28 KB10.07%Semantic UI613.78 KB91.93 KB78.25 KB17.48%three.js562.75 KB134.01 KB114.44 KB17.10%Vue.js91.48 KB33.17 KB30.58 KB8.47%

The results are great, which is what I expected. But what about the overall impact of using Brotli:11 at scale? Turns out that using Brotli:11 for all public resources reduces cost all around:

The smaller file sizes are expected to result in lower TLS overhead. That said, it is not easily measurable, nor is it significant for my service because modern CPUs are very fast at encryption. Still, I believe there is some tiny and repeated saving on account of encryption for every request as smaller files encrypt faster.

It reduces the bandwidth cost. The 21% savings I got across the board is the case in point. And, remember, savings are not a one-time thing. Each request counts as cost, so the 21% savings is repeated time and again, creating a snowball savings for the cost of bandwidth.

We only cache hot files in memory at edge servers. Due to the widespread browser support for Brotli, these hot files are mostly encoded by Brotli and their small size lets us fit more of them in available memory.

Visitors, especially those on mobile devices, enjoy reduced data transfer. This results in less battery use and savings on data charges. That’s a huge win that gets passed on to the users of our clients!

This is all so good. The cost we save per request is not significant, but considering we have a near zero cache miss rate for public resources, we can easily amortize the initial high cost of compression in next several hundred requests. After that, we’re looking at a lifetime benefit of reduced overhead.

It doesn’t end there

With the mix of public and private CDNs that we introduced as part of our performance optimization service, we wanted to make sure that clients could set lower compression levels for resources that frequently change over time (like custom CSS and JavaScript) on the private CDN and automatically switch to the public CDN for open-source resources that change less often and have pre-configured Brotli:11. This way, our clients can still get a high compression ratio on resources that change less often while still enjoying good compression ratios with instant purge and updates for compressible resources.

This all is done smoothly and seamlessly using our integration tools. The added benefit of this approach for clients is that the bandwidth on the public CDN is totally free with unprecedented performance levels.

Try it yourself!

Testing on a common website, using aggressive compression can easily shave around 50 KB off the page load. If you want to play with the free public CDN and enjoy smaller CSS and JavaScript, you are welcome to use our PageCDN service. Here are some of the most used libraries for your use:

<script src="https://pagecdn.io/lib/jquery/3.5.0/jquery.min.js" crossorigin="anonymous" integrity="sha256-xNzN2a4ltkB44Mc/Jz3pT4iU1cmeR0FkXs4pru/JxaQ=" ></script>    <link href="https://pagecdn.io/lib/font-awesome/5.13.0/css/all.min.css" rel="stylesheet" crossorigin="anonymous" integrity="sha256-h20CPZ0QyXlBuAw7A+KluUYx/3pK+c7lYEpqLTlxjYQ=" >    <link href="https://pagecdn.io/lib/ionicons/4.6.3/css/ionicons.min.css" rel="stylesheet" crossorigin="anonymous" integrity="sha256-UUDuVsOnvDZHzqNIznkKeDGtWZ/Bw9ZlW+26xqKLV7c=" >    <link href="https://pagecdn.io/lib/bootstrap/4.4.1/css/bootstrap.min.css" rel="stylesheet" crossorigin="anonymous" integrity="sha256-L/W5Wfqfa0sdBNIKN9cG6QA5F2qx4qICmU2VgLruv9Y=" >    <script src="https://pagecdn.io/lib/react/16.13.1/umd/react.production.min.js" crossorigin="anonymous" integrity="sha256-yUhvEmYVhZ/GGshIQKArLvySDSh6cdmdcIx0spR3UP4=" ></script>    <script src="https://pagecdn.io/lib/vue/2.6.11/vue.min.js" crossorigin="anonymous" integrity="sha256-ngFW3UnAN0Tnm76mDuu7uUtYEcG3G5H1+zioJw3t+68=" ></script>

Our PHP library automatic switches between private and public CDN if you need it to. The same feature is implemented seamlessly in our WordPress plugin that automatically loads public resources over Public CDN. Both of these tools allow full access to the free public CDN. Libraries for JavaScript, Python. and Ruby are not yet available. If you contribute any such library to our Public CDN, I will be happy to list it in our docs.

Additionally, you can use our search tool to immediately find a corresponding resource on the public CDN by supplying a URL of a resource on your website. If none of these tools work for you, then you can check the relevant library page and pick the URLs you want.

Looking toward the future

We started by hosting only the most popular libraries in order to prevent malware spread. However, things are changing rapidly and we add new libraries as our users suggest them to us. You are welcome to suggest your favorite ones, too. If you still want to link to a public or private Github repo that is not yet available on our public CDN, you can use our private CDN to connect to a repo and import all new releases as they appear on GitHub and then apply your own aggressive optimizations before delivery.

What do you think?

Everything we covered here is solely based on my personal experience working with Brotli compression at CDN scale. It just happens to be an introduction to my public CDN as well. We are still a small service and our client websites are only in the hundreds. Still, at this scale the aggressive compression seems to pay off.

I achieved high quality results for my clients and now you can use this free service for your websites as well. And, if you like it, please leave feedback at my email and recommend it to others.

The post How I Used Brotli to Get Even Smaller CSS and JavaScript Files at CDN Scale appeared first on CSS-Tricks.

How I Used Brotli to Get Even Smaller CSS and JavaScript Files at CDN Scale published first on https://deskbysnafu.tumblr.com/

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recruitmentdubai · 4 years

Text

How I Used Brotli to Get Even Smaller CSS and JavaScript Files at CDN Scale

Brotli’s beginning…

So what we’re looking at is the next generation of Zopfli, which is an offshoot of zlib, which is essentially gzip.

A story of disappointment

Taking matters into my own hands

I started building my own performance optimization service for my clients.

Like other compression formats, Brotli comes in different levels of power. Brotli’s max level is exactly like the max volume of the guitar amps in This is Spinal Tap: it goes to 11.

youtube

Maybe that’s why Pied Piper had to continue rigging its servers for more power.

I put my fears aside and built Brotli:11 as a configurable server option. This way, clients could decide whether enabling it was worth the computing cost.

It’s slow, but gradually pays off

Among several other optimizations, the service for my clients also offers geographic content delivery; in other words, it has a built-in CDN.

Here is a graphical representation of the savings.

You can see the raw data below..Note that the savings for CSS is much more prominent than what JavaScript gets.

Library Original Avg. of Common Compression (A) Brotli:11 (B) (A) / (B) – 1 Ant Design 1,938.99 KB 438.24 KB 362.82 KB 20.79% Bootstrap 152.11 KB 24.20 KB 17.30 KB 39.88% Bulma 186.13 KB 23.40 KB 19.30 KB 21.24% D3.js 236.82 KB 74.51 KB 65.75 KB 13.32% Font Awesome 1,104.04 KB 422.56 KB 331.12 KB 27.62% jQuery 86.08 KB 30.31 KB 27.65 KB 9.62% React 105.47 KB 33.33 KB 30.28 KB 10.07% Semantic UI 613.78 KB 91.93 KB 78.25 KB 17.48% three.js 562.75 KB 134.01 KB 114.44 KB 17.10% Vue.js 91.48 KB 33.17 KB 30.58 KB 8.47%

The results are great, which is what I expected. But what about the overall impact of using Brotli:11 at scale? Turns out that using Brotli:11 for all public resources reduces cost all around:

It doesn’t end there

Try it yourself!

Looking toward the future

What do you think?

I achieved high quality results for my clients and now you can use this free service for your websites as well. And, if you like it, please leave feedback at my email and recommend it to others.

The post How I Used Brotli to Get Even Smaller CSS and JavaScript Files at CDN Scale appeared first on CSS-Tricks.

source https://css-tricks.com/how-i-used-brotli-to-get-even-smaller-css-and-javascript-files-at-cdn-scale/

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#web developer #web development #website developer

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flyingfoxofthedanube · 7 years

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English translation of an interview with Egyházi Géza done by Kulisszak.hu. (2017. November 19) He talks about the upcoming show, We Will Rock You, his acting career, family and some other stuff.

Translated primarily for @edythe-von-krolock, @dostresseisdostres and @wildlingcorner, but I hope others enjoy it as well (: [not a perfect translation, but not bad :D]

The powerful and silky voice, the confident and polite, masculine aura and Géza has always been inseparable for me. Just as with his Krolock from Tanz der Vampire. Our talk in a café in Óbuda went deeper than that, I could get a more detailed picture about the actor who once was a singing waiter.

Q: You have mentioned that you are going to a rehearsal after our talk. Which show are you preparing for at the moment?

A: We have the premier of the musical We Will Rock You – which is based on Queen songs – at BOK Csarnok. After Sakk and Vámpírok Bálja this is the 3rd big hit of PS Produkció. The play has been successful for 16 years in the West and finally we get to have it as well. I’m happy that I got a part in it, but my heart aches because we couldn’t cooperate with Pesti Magyar Színház (where Vámpírok Bálja is played). Although the number of the audience will be limited to 2800, you still can’t give the same in a sport stadium as in a theatre. It has a different atmosphere, and we have to build the stage and other technical stuff. Fortunately these are in good hands and the designer – Kentaur – got free rein in it.

Q: That’s rare with an international production. Usually they expect replica shows.

A: Kentaur and Simon Edit have proved enough so that others trust them. We are the first who got this permission that we can translate not just the prose, but the lyrics as well. Of course there is a risk in it because these songs live in our memories in English. But it is a fact that we weren’t socialised as in for example the people in the Benelux countries. For them it is natural that they speak several languages, English among them. The Hungarian premier will be a non-replica show completely: we could change the design, costumes, choreography, dramaturgy and lyrics as well.

Q: What is this musical about?

A: The story takes place in the 2300s on the planet called iPlanet. It was written in the 80s, and most of what the writer had predicted became reality. We live in a globalised world where everyone consumes the same mass-produced articles that are put in front of them. If people don’t take the time to discover for example their own taste in music, then they get the same music the media emits. The vision of We Will Rock You is the same: real, valuable music has disappeared from the planet. Songs are not written because of love and emotions, they are only producing the same kind of music that is then sold to the population of iPlanet. There on this planet lives Killer Queen, who controls the whole universe. I am her executor, commander Kashoggi whose task is to imprison those who are against the system. A gigantic company, Globalsoft controls everything. Everyone works for them, the schools are under their control as well. Everyone is the same, as if even people were produced in factories. A girl and a boy are born into this world, with big hearts and real individuality. They are different from the others: they like other things, they have their own interests, which is of course prohibited. These two youngsters are living their own lives that are propelled forward by the ideas and dreams of the boy. They happen upon a society that lives according to the old values, of course in illegality in a place called Hard Rock Café. They fight against oppression from there.

Q: Is this where the success of this musical lies? In fighting against the system?

A: I think the music is what the main reason is. The story is woven around Queen songs that we have known and have been listening to for decades. Recently, musicals have started to use older music more and more often: Illés, Omega, Edda or Neoton songs have been used to create musicals. Mamma Mia started this series. That’s story was given, it was based on the 1968 movie called Buona Sera, Mrs. Campbell. In the other cases the stories are written now, and the songs have to be organised in a way that they have an impact. This isn’t easy, and sometimes the makers can’t achieve this. But the songs themselves always show real, classical value, and it isn’t by luck that they stay with us for decades.

Q: Among the songs of recent times, do you think there will be some that we’ll be listening to in the future as well?

A: Nowadays bands often lack perseverance. There aren’t many groups like for example Quimby, who have been playing together since the 90s, putting an enormous amount of energy and money into their careers. Today they would fill an Arena, but for this they needed lot of endurance. Even their start was hard.

Q: In an earlier interview you have mentioned that when starting your singing career you felt at a disadvantage because at 36, you started it with the role of Graf von Krolock in Tanz der Vampire. You didn’t complete the steps that could have given you experience. Do you still feel like this?

A: If someone falls into any profession with minimal previous experience it is natural that he lacks some skills. I had to work on these. It was a blessing that I had some affinity for it and that the stage didn’t throw me off. But it isn’t incidental that to this day they don’t call me for prosaic roles. For that matter, I am constantly training myself, I got my actor’s papers, but this isn’t what matters. It is more important that I’ve been thrown into deep water immediately and I could learn and better myself by watching experienced actors’ play and style. And I can’t imagine a better tutor than the school of life. While in the catering trade I already saw that those who were in vocational school were at a huge advantage because they were put out into the world immediately. They became professionals by the end of their third year, while we, who went to secondary technical schools only got the spend one day a week at work, and even then only in the kitchen. We had way less practice and we had to get it later.

Q: Did the theatrical world accept you easily? Didn’t they consider you as an outsider?

A: They weren’t unfriendly, but it was strange that they never mentioned where I have come from. I didn’t know what they thought of me. Now in productions I’m surrounded by young people around the age of my kids and I am often surprised of how much respect they show me. Nowadays I feel that colleagues have a positive attitude towards me. I don’t care about the criticism because the big roles that I got to play in the last 10 years can’t be only luck. If someone told me that starting tomorrow it’s all over I would be sorry, but I would feel that this was already something beautiful. A huge, whole and successful story and a real treat.

Q: Can we say that you are satisfied and have achieved what you wanted?

A: When I started learning singing my ambition was to become an opera singer. Somewhere along the middle of this I got stuck, I couldn’t put enough time and energy into it. I arrived into this with a complete family and I didn’t want to lose them, sacrifice them for my career, because they are just as important for me as theatre is. I wanted to keep my marriage, and for that, everyone always has to fight. If I made a bigger sacrifice, I would have probably gotten farther, but my family would be damaged. It wasn’t worth it.

Q: Your daughters are slowly growing up, they are 21 and 18 years old. Were there important family events that you missed because of theatre?

A: Unfortunately yes. With my elder daughter for example I missed her primary school graduation, I only got there in the evening. I couldn’t go to her prom either, because I had to jump in for someone else in a show. That really hit her hard "You know what, Dad? You don’t have to come to my wedding either."- she said. For me there are no weekends or holidays, just as in the catering trade. It is especially difficult when your family lives in the Monday-to-Friday world, and you are the only one sticking out. But we have learned to be flexible and celebrate when we have the time.

Q: How did your family react to your change of career?

A: At first it was hard, especially for my daughters. They loved visiting me at my workplace because they always got some ice cream or something else. It always turned out good for them and they really enjoyed it. But then came the change, and they didn’t really know what to do with it. They didn’t understand why it was good for me. While I was only going to singing lessons that was mostly alright, but when I started practising at home with my vampire teeth they were thinking "oh my god, Dad may have gone crazy for real". Seeing me on stage was even more surprising for them.

Q: Were they proud of you?

A: They felt some pride for a couple of years but after that they realised that it is the same job as others. And puberty took them in a different direction, kids like to get away from their parents when they are at that age. Recently they started to show some interest again, something they come to see me play, but the magic has dulled over the years.

Q: And your wife?

A: She is only willing to watch prose.

Q: She doesn’t like musical theatre?

A: No, imagine that! *laughing* She only admitted this to me after a long time, but it irritates her. Operettas could send her straight into a wall. I managed to get a ticket for the show Bajnok (Champion), I had to work really hard for those tickets. We went to watch it and there was zero prose in it. It was in recitativo(?) and there were some Puccini melodies in it. It's a fantastic show, watch it if you can!

Q: You are not a member of any theatre companies – how much does it make your life harder?

A: Being a free-lance actor is always stressful, uncertain, and it is hard to plan anything because I can’t really predict what’s going to happen. But what is certain nowadays? If I were to work at a multinational company it wouldn’t be sure that I would have my job next year. The thing is that our generation was born in a calculable system, there was a kind of security that vanished with the regime change, and it is hard for me to live with this uncertainty. What is more, I have a family for whom I am responsible. That’s why self-managing and good relationships are important. It’s not enough to be good in a profession, the human factor is important as well in whom they choose for a role. I have several colleagues who fell out of roles because they don’t adapt well. They complain a lot, so others don’t really want to work with them.

Q: That’s natural, a show is always teamwork.

A: Yes, and being humble is rewarding in the long run. Of course we have to stand up for ourselves, but patience, humility and flexibility are very useful because we have to tolerate a lot. By the way, my waiter past helps a lot. We always had to smile whatever happened because the customer is always right.

Q: Different religions consider humility important. What role does faith have in your life?

A: At the moment I don’t visit any religious groups, but my faith is strong. I think more and more often about it and I thank the things I have. But this is only a communication of my own way, and I often feel that more is needed. Humans are comfortable by nature and after some they may neglect this kind of spiritual connection. That’s why we need a community: they help and strengthen us in it. Christianity stands closest to me because I grew into that culture. I started looking into other religions only in my 20s and 30s. They all have a common seed, base dogmas, and the different details are added to those.

Q: You are great in doing different kinds of genres of music. Which one is closest to you?

A: In the past sometimes I answered operettas, sometimes I said musicals. It isn’t the most important thing for me anymore, but the production. That I participate in something that is successful, that moves the audience because it is put together well: so the characters are good, the creators are good and there is enough money to do it. Essentially singing is the same: you must have hold(?), you need enough breath under it, etc. etc. And then you have to put the stylistic stuff on it that makes one into a musical, another into jazz, operetta or opera. But all styles can’t work well with everyone, so one has to know how to choose. I started with classical singing, and from that operettas and musicals are not that far from.

Q: If you sit in to watch a show, do you look at it differently than we do?

A: No, then I really turn off everything. Maybe the only thing that can distract me is if I know the actor. I know what he/she is like and I know of their professional skills. I can see whether they had to work a lot to form that character or if they fit the role perfectly. Once you know the person his magic dissipates. Those people who see me only on stage, only as Krolock look at me differently. That's why I advise people not to look "behind the scenes". That takes away the magic.

#egyházi géza #interview #translation #not the best but good

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blankdblank · 7 years

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Secret Scarves Pt 4

Warning - two paragraphs with mention of abuse, then the rest is good

Fluffy and funny with more flirting

...

You were out on your walk and your memories flashed back to you, the feeling of the water pouring over you, the sound of the cheers as your head came up over the water, unable to see the other swimmers behind you frantically trying to catch you. The surge of adrenaline flowing through you as you climbed out of the water, knowing that you had won, seeing your parents jumping up in the stands, all the flashes of the cameras. Feeling the air trying to leave you as you felt the scars on your ribs start to burn, remembering the bat that had left them, shaking and forcing yourself to keep breathing you worked your way through that memory again, the same way you had done for the past eight years any time it popped up, now able to do it without even showing a flinch still wearing the small smile that the snowfall had brought.

As you relaxed as the memory had passed you still heard the announcers, the screams from the crowd, feeling your coach wrap you in a tight hug, the only man besides your Uncle and Agent who tried to free you from your pain, making you feel safe for once, loved, free to breath on your own, form your own thoughts and opinions teaching you that they could not keep you forever. Your mind ran back to your training with Legolas, and the ache that had grown as you trained together, you hadn’t felt such a pull back to the pool before, needing it again, feeling the familiar burn of your muscles after a long trip to the gym, loving being back there again imagining being back again. For weeks now you had fought against the feelings, thinking you couldn’t just jump back in, but now you just had to try, unwilling to let your fear define you anymore. You pulled out your phone and dialed the familiar number and hit call.

Halfway across town in the upper floors of the massive Gondorian Sports Agency building there was a board meeting going on, all of them trying to figure out what to do, their latest athlete they had represented had just gotten a second DUI and they were going to have to drop them as they refused to get help for their problems. Next year was an Olympic year, they needed a solution and fast, Aragorn the young CEO had just covered his face with his hands grumbling to himself as he propped his elbows up on the table, trying to block out the loud talking filling the room around him. His hands stopped moving as he heard the ringing phone break through the voices, he lowered his hands and hit the intercom button, hearing his secretaries voice ring out, “Mr Estel, there’s a Miss Pear on line three for you.” The voices ceased as they heard your name, all of them looking at the intercom then to Aragorn in shock, as he drew in a deep breath, headed into his office across the hall taking a seat behind his desk and picked up the phone hitting the button for line three.

“Jaqi?”

You felt another small smile on your face as you heard his voice, “Hello Aragorn. It’s been a long time.”

He leaned back in his chair with a small smile on his face again, “Yes, how have you been?”

His eyes were on the group of men watching through the glass walls from the meeting room still, “Good, excellent really since the last time I saw you.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it, you’re still with your Uncle?”

“Yes, I’m attending his University, I’m actually graduating in May. That’s part of why I’m calling you.”

“Okay.” He gently started to press his teeth into the tip of his little finger to keep himself calm.

“I’ve actually been training a friend of mine, he’s on the swim team.”

“Your training someone? Thats excellent, is he any good?”

You giggled, “In his last semester we got him from 7th to 2nd place ranking, his team coach is trying to get him to try out for the National team.”

“You should send me his tape, I need a new athlete, and if you’re training him I want to see him. What’s his name?”

“Legolas Greenleaf, he’s got a page on the University Swim page.”

“I will look him up definitely.” As he typed the name into his computer, quickly finding his page, the first picture popping up being from his last meet with the medal around his neck and his arm around your neck, his mouth dropping at how much you’d changed.

“Still there?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, sorry just pulled up his page on my computer, his ranking looks good. You’ve certainly grown.”

You giggled, “Had to eventually, it has been eight years. That’s also part of the reason I called.”

He straightened up a bit in his chair, “Go on.”

“I was wondering if there was any way to start competing again, I know it’s been a while, and next year is just going to be a rocket aimed at the sun with the level of competition…”

He let out a chuckle, “I’ll make a call, we can have you back on the National Team by New Years. You are sure about this?”

“I’m stronger than I was then, and I want to know how I rank. I know the time gap will make it harder for me.”

“There certainly will be a lot of press about you coming back, are you ready for that?”

“I’m used to it, it’s my friends, I’m not sure how ready they will be for it, but it should die down soon enough. Easy enough to manage around them if they need their distance from it. But I know my Uncle and Cousins will be happy for me and stand by me through it as much as they can handle. Do you want me to send you a tape of me in the pool?”

“I’d rather see you at your training sessions, We’ll have to meet about the paperwork and about the new regulations.”

“Are you free for dinner tomorrow?”

His smile grew, “Yes, I will get you that try out and we can settle the rest tomorrow. Where do you want to meet?”

“Do you know the Carrock over by 22nd?”

“Yes, they have amazing steaks there, so is 6 good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I will see you then and we can talk it all out.”

“Good, Oh I’ll leave you my cell number, it’s _.”

He added it to his cellphone and gave you his before hanging up and rubbing his face again before he went back into the meeting room, “We have two new possible athletes, a Legolas Greenleaf and Jaqi Pear, who is wanting to get back in the pool, so we need to get on the phone and get her into the pool again, I’ll call the National Team myself.”

Grima, “Who is this Greenleaf person?”

“Jaqi has been training him, I’ve seen his stats and a few videos, I’ll handle him after we get her settled. He’s still only a Freshmen in College, plenty of time for him.” They all scrambled to their offices and got on the phone gathering information about what teams would take you and what competitions you would be able to compete in, especially if you were going to try for the Olympics again.

You felt your nerves settle as you hung up adding his cellphone number into your phone before slipping it back into your pocket, feeling better about trying out, but still anxious about how your group would handle the news.

…

Sat. Breakfast after the gym

The guys were all in the locker room changing when Thorin looked over at Legolas curiously, “So, how did you get her to train you?”

Legolas smirked as he buckled his belt after zipping up his jeans, “We were both headed for the pool, I asked if she wanted someone to keep pace with, after we talked about swimming and we agreed that we would spot each other and pace each other in the pool when we ran into each other. After about a week we traded numbers so we could know when we couldn’t sleep.”

Thorin, “So you’re not paying her then?”

Legolas raised his eyebrow, in shock slightly at the ridiculous question, “No.”

Dwain nudged his Cousin, “So is she ever gonna compete again?”

Legolas smiled as he pulled his arms through his shirt, “She’s considering it. It’s been a while, it’s not something to take lightly.”

Thorin, “She’s obviously good enough for you to train with her, what’s to consider?”

Legolas, “Mostly the press about it, the Olympics are next year, the Women’s team has been in a slump for a few years, if she’s even at the same level she was at eight years ago she’d easily take first place on it, sending her back to the games again.”

Dwalin, “So they do a few interviews, maybe a few pictures, what’s the hard part?”

Boromir chuckled, “No, not just a few pictures, at her last games she was swarmed by cameras, she was at the top then she just stopped, there will be thousands wanting to know why. She’s not going to be invisible anymore, I know if she does call her Agent again they’ll be trying to get her face on as many products as they can.”

Thorin and Dwalin’s eyes went to the floor and Dwalin said, “So that’s what her life is going to be like then, just competitions and swarms of cameras?”

Boromir, “The cameras are mostly around the competitions, for the rest of the year it’s normal, a few autographs here and there, but Women’s swimming is different then Men’s, nowhere near the publicity.”

Thranduil, “Did you just expect her to just jump back in the water without having anyone notice?”

Thorin, “I didn’t think she’d be like a celebrity or anything with the swarms of cameras. You know more about this than I do, your kid is doing the same thing.”

Making Thranduil smirk as he tied his shoes before standing again, “Just be supportive, she’ll need us behind her if she’s going to compete again.”

They grabbed their things and saw you waiting for them, with your hair pulled into a ponytail with your bangs hanging out again, earning a smile from the group as Legolas wrapped his arm around your shoulders again, and led you out to their car again. You caught the slightly jealous look from Thorin as Dwalin and Boromir both climbed into his car seeing you gently placed inside by Legolas after climbing into the back again.

You all went to Denny’s choosing the round corner booth, settling you in-between Thranduil and Thorin again, both of them happily resting their hands on your lap as you all flipped through the menu’s. Each of you gave your orders as you caught Boromir’s smirk you asked, “What?”

He smirked, “Have you called yet?”

“Yesterday, he said he’s going to get me all the paperwork and regulations.”

Thorin glanced down at you feeling his nerves rising slightly, “So you’re going to compete again?”

You looked up at him, “I’m going to try out, see how I rank. If I do well then yes.”

Thorin forced a smile onto his face, “I’m sure you’ll be amazing.”

You all joked through the rest of the breakfast and then all climbing into your cars again, this time after a bit of snuggling in the booth he was happier at your parting, especially after you snuck in another squeeze as you passed him, but being too far for him to get you back when he turned.

…

As you headed back you admired the smiles on their faces as they looked out the window and windshield, seeing their similar features, noticing the darker shade of hair on Legolas and the slight difference in in their noses and the obvious eye color difference, before just turning and watching the moonlight shining through the windows making Thranduil’s eyes sparkle before looking away through the windshield at the sparkling snow. Your mind trying to imagine the woman he had conceived with, remembering when Legolas had told you she had left them and hadn’t seen them since, wondering how anyone could have just left such an incredible Man and their child who was equally incredible. As you slid your finger tips along the nails on your other hand lost in thought you spotted Thranduil glancing at you, his smile growing as he looked you over, then back to the road and asking softly, “What’s that look for?”

“Just thinking.”

He nodded slightly, “Hmm.” As he grabbed your hand gently, raising it to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles as he stopped at a light, lowering it to the arm rest and folding his fingers between yours, as he started driving again, “About what?”

“I mentioned Legolas to my Agent.”

His eyes darted to you quickly as Legolas jerked his head eagerly towards you and leaned forward grabbing the sides of the seats in front of him, and asked, “Really?”

You chuckled as you looked between them, “I wasn’t sure if I should have said it earlier, though it’d be better with just you two.”

Thranduil, “What did he say?”

“I told him to look at the videos on the college sight, he’s looked over your rankings, the rest of the conversation was about me coming back but he was very interested that we were training together. I know he’d want to meet up with you both.”

Thranduil smirked, as Legolas spoke again, “He seemed impressed?”

“Yes, especially when he saw you’d jumped five spots in a few months. We made plans for a meeting and I’ll ask him more about you if you want.”

Legolas, “Ah, don’t worry about that now, you get yourself settled and then we can meet with him. I’m sure he won’t settle on anyone with just what’s on the college sight.”

Thranduil, “How long does he usually research his athletes?”

“At least a few weeks, if it helps he said he wants to watch one of my training sessions.”

Thranduil chuckled, “He’s going to check your skill level?”

“I think it’s more about seeing if I’m healthy enough, last time he saw me I wasn’t. He made sure to ask if I was still with my Uncle and if I was sure I was ready to get back into it.”

Legolas wrapped his arm around your shoulders hugging you, “Don’t worry, no matter what we’re with you.” Making you chuckle as he kissed your cheek, and pulling back as Thranduil pulled into their driveway again.

As he stopped he kissed your hand again before letting it go to shift the car into park, the three of you climbed out of the car as he popped the trunk, Legolas grabbed the bags handing his Fathers bag to him and shouldering yours before closing the trunk. You spotted your bag on his shoulder and went to reach for it as he avoided your grasp and wrapped his free arm around your shoulder leading you to the door as Thranduil unlocked the door smiling at you both as you got to the door.

The three of your bags being dropped by the door as Thranduil locked it and hung up his coat, taking your coats as well before sliding his arm around your middle making you shiver slightly as Legolas placed his arm around your shoulders again saying, “Alright, time for the full tour.” You chuckled as they led you around the massive house enjoying their stories and being wrapped in their arms, especially at Thranduil who slid his hand gently over your side as they led you around. Legolas eagerly led you to his room showing you his poster of you and his trophies and medals he had won before leading the tour to his Father’s room where he conveniently left the two of you alone making you giggle again.

Thranduil chuckled, “Not very subtle is he?” As he slid his arm tighter around your middle as you spotted the sunrise through the window leading to the small balcony, he led you to the window, releasing you and pulled his large armchair over to the window settling inside and pulling you into his lap as you giggled again as he wrapped his arms around you. You settled into his chest as you slid your fingers over his arms before giving him a kiss on the cheek and turning back to the sunset, relaxing as his chest rose and fell behind you. He kissed your cheek gently as he said, “That wasn’t all you were thinking in the car was it?” You tensed up a bit and he kissed your cheek again, “You can tell or ask me anything.” As he tightened his arms a bit making you relax.

“I was comparing how you and Legolas look.”

He chuckled, “Has he told you about his Mother?”

You sensed the slight sting in his voice as he said ‘Mother’, “He mentioned once that she left the two of you when he was little. I think he said it to make me feel a little bit better after I told him about my parents, so I wouldn’t feel alone I guess.”

He rested his chin on your shoulder as he took in another breath, “Lana Blaine, we met in middle school, she was a few grades above me, but we still rode the same bus, I was 14 when she got pregnant, she was 16 after he was born she kept leaving him with me, which I absolutely loved, as did my Mother, she graduated when she was 17 and wanted to go away to college but by that time she hadn’t seen Legolas in months and her parents refused to see him at all. So we talked about it and she left, when she turned 18 and got a job my parent’s lawyer started the paperwork for child support, so she signed away her rights.”

You rested your head against his, “But he must have been such an amazing child.”

He chuckled as he hugged you tighter, “He was, she just wasn’t ready or willing to have a child.”

“And she just hasn’t seen him since?”

“Not at all, I sent a few photos until she gave up her rights, she sent them back after.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Honestly with my Mother around when he was younger it helped, he had a Woman to fill the space. A bit harder after she passed, but it gave me chance to see a softer side to my Father.”

“He was hard on you?”

He chuckled, “He was hard on everyone, District Attorney, had very high standards. I was nervous he wouldn’t be happy with my job, but he was thrilled that I managed to get a job at such a great school. I was sure that I was going to get a lecture when I studied Art History, that it wasn’t serious enough a subject for him.” As he let out another quiet chuckle, you ran your fingers over his arms again as you chuckled, sliding them slightly under his sleeves, making his smile grow and he rolled both sleeves up to his elbows and wrapped them around you again.

“He didn’t tell you about my parents?”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye slightly nervous at your answer, “He mentioned that you stopped competing after they died, wouldn’t say anything else.”

“I was 14 when they died.”

His eyebrow perked up when you said 14, remembering the pictures of you on the podium, not able to pair your age with your appearance, “When I was little I loved to swim, and they quickly saw the profit in it, so they kept pushing me. Every competition, every meet they pushed and waited for the payout, so they would make sure that nothing went against their paycheck. Kept me out of school, made sure I didn’t talk unless they allowed it, controlled everything down to what I ate, when I slept. I tried everything I could to get away, but no one believed me but my coach, agent and Theoden.

They kept calling CPS but my parents just kept insisting that I just wanted out of my training that day. So when I got into the Olympics I was set to be the biggest payday, nearly $10,000 per gold medal, so when I spoke with my agent I was happy to hear that for the money there was an option for a trust fund, I got him to slip the papers in convincing them that they would get the money faster.

So I won, 10, and a few weeks after the games I knew my Father was in a mood, they still hadn’t gotten the money yet so they called about it, and after he told my Mother they came after me. She held me down when my Father got the bat.” You felt his arms tighten again and his pulse jump up as he fought back a growl as he rested his mouth against your shoulder.

“The Neighbors heard me screaming and when the cops arrived and they had made it look like a botched break in, apparently my Father had gotten carried away and had hit her in the back of the head, she passed out a few hours later and died. When I woke up the next day the hospital called the police, they didn’t have any luck in finding the so called burglar so they wanted to hear if I had gotten any other details my parents missed. When they came in the room they were shocked when I told them who it was, until I told them where I hid the camera.” He lifted his head a little, squeezing you a bit tighter at the break in your voice. “My Mother had tied my Father up when they heard the cops coming, so ‘the Man who had fought so hard to free himself to save his family’ had lied to them, when they went to go arrest him they found him dead from an overdose. They called my Uncle, and because I was still a minor it was sealed, and thankfully I got to disappear, all the world ever found out was that my parents were dead and I was safe, mostly people just assumed it was from injuries from the break in. Thankfully the internet and media wasn’t like it is now.”

“Well it’s safe with me. Do you still have any pain from it?”

“My scars sometimes, but it’s mostly with flashbacks, but I’ve managed to get those down to once a year.”

“That’s good, not the pain but the drop I mean.”

You chuckled, “It took a lot of work, Boromir especially worked hard to pull me out of my box, it was his suggestion to get the tattoos.”

“He picked them?”

“No, just thought it might make me feel better about getting undressed around people, and with swimsuits. Took me a few years to pick the right ones.”

“They are beautiful.”

“Thank you. Do you have any?”

He chuckled, “I have a stag and a fawn on my back. I didn’t get a good look at yours.”

You chuckled as you pulled his arms off you, stood and raised the bottom of your shirt, making him swallow at your sudden stripping. He scooted closer as you turned to the side and gently slid his fingers over your side, finally noticing the thin white scars across your ribs that had been used as vines between flowers and accent lines, admiring the otter, then the jackalope and the olympic rings under it, noticing a larger number of scars on this side. He chuckled as his touch caused bumps to rise over your skin again, gently kissing your side and pulled your shirt back down around you whispering “Beautiful.”

As he looked back up to you before standing and saying, “My turn.” As he pulled his shirt off by grabbing the back of it and pulling it over his head, smiling at you as he pushed his hair back and spotted your blush at seeing him shirtless just inches away from you before he turned to show you his sculpted back with the tattoo between his shoulder blades. You couldn’t get quite a good look at it so you climbed up on the chair making him chuckle as he saw it, turning again so you could inspect it, gasping slightly as your fingers touched his back tracing the line work, giving you a chance to see the bumps rise across his skin. He chuckled as you said, “Gorgeous, Big Leaf and Little Leaf.” And you kissed his shoulder before you rested your chin on it and caused him to shiver slightly as you slid your fingers around his middle hugging him.

“Big Leaf huh?” He leaned over and kissed your cheek whispering, “I like it.” As he slid his hands over yours.

You both heard a chuckling from the doorway, “I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

You both turned to see Legolas who snapped a picture of you both with a large smile on his face, Thranduil smiled at him, “I was showing her my tattoo.”

He nodded, “Uh huh, sure you were, and the hugging?”

You giggled, “If you want a hug Little Leaf all you have to so is ask.”

He chuckled, “Little Leaf?” As he walked over and hugged you both tightly getting a hug in return from his Father, as he pulled back he smiled up at his Father, “I guess that make you Big Leaf then. I like it. So what are your plans for today?” Looking at you as Thranduil did the same as he pulled his shirt back on.

“Eowyn asked if I’d drop by the coffee shop at noon and a dinner at 6, other than that I’m free.”

He turned and looked at the alarm clock on the table by the bed, “Six hours, should be enough time.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrow, “Enough time for what?”

Legolas smiled as he picked you up, “Home videos.” With a chuckle as he carried you off downstairs as his Father followed closely behind, chuckling as he was gently pushed into the couch and you were dropped into his lap with a chuckle. Legolas pushed the giant cushioned foot rest under his Father’s feet so you could stretch out and left to get the videos.

Thranduil chuckled as you settled between his legs as he wrapped his arms around you again, “You don’t have to watch these if you don’t want to.”

You chuckled as you snuggled closer into his chest, “And miss footage of you both growing up, never.” Kissing his cheek again.

Both turning as Legolas entered again, popping in the first video and snapping a picture of you three as he sat down, all smiling and he snuggled against you both, Thranduil removed his right arm and wrapped it around Legolas becoming a pillow for both of you, feeling his heart warm up as he saw Legolas snap a second picture of you three, not able to wait until he had printed it out and added it to their wall, hoping to sneak a copy for himself to keep with him.

The three of you snuggled and broke for snacks, sharing a few stories from your childhood as well, promising as they drove you home that you would have them over to watch your videos with your cousins and Uncle, receiving another round of hugs and kisses on the cheeks.

…

You dropped your bag back in your room choosing to keep your same shirt on as it smelled like them, and quickly charged your phone before heading out to the coffee shop. As you entered you spotted Eowyn and Arwen behind the counter who happily popped back up straight as you crossed the empty coffee house.

Eowyn, “Jaqi, glad you’re here, how was your night with the Professor?” Shooting you a wink.

You rolled your eyes, “Why did you need me here?” Resting your elbows on the counter.

Arwen huffed, “Linda got fired, bumbling girl couldn’t count for change, and besides she couldn’t tell a cappuccino from an espresso.”

Eowyn, “So Lindir asked if you’d be alright with taking your old job back.”

You chuckled, “Alright, I can’t start tonight though.”

Both, “Ooooh, another date?”

“Not a date, just a dinner with my agent.”

Eowyn leaned across the counter, “If you weren’t on a date then why do you smell like you spent the night in a Man’s arms?”

You fought your smile, “I did, but it wasn’t a date.”

Both, “YOU DID WHAT?” Drawing the attention of the few people in the coffee shop making your face turn pink.

“I got invited to a movie marathon, I fell asleep between two of my professors, then went to the gym, then got invited to watch more movies with one of them at their house.”

Eowyn, “So you snuggled with TWO professors?”

Arwen, “Which ones? The ones that were here before with you?”

You giggled, “The brunette and the raven haired one.”

They both squealed happily, “Which one was the second time with?”

“The brunette.” They squealed again.

Arwen, “So you’re picking him then?”

You blushed again, “I..um..” and cleared your throat, “When do I have to start?”

Eowyn, “Tomorrow.” She leaned across the counter grabbing your hand gently slightly concerned at your pulling back, “Are you alright?”

“I’m nervous about starting swimming again, I’m not sure how they will all react to it all.”

They both nodded and Arwen said, “Well then I suppose we are just going to have to wait then.”

Eowyn, “Don’t worry, they won’t go running off, if they really know you then they’ll be stuck to you through it all.”

“Alright, well I guess I’ll head back home then.”

Arwen hopped up, “Let’s get your apron and shirt for you. I can’t wait to see the spike in the customers and tips.” Winking at you as she slipped into the back room.

Eowyn giggled, “We made sure to remind Lindir to double our supply orders, last time we had to shut down for three days, remember.”

You giggled, “Yes, if it wasn’t for that car nearly slamming into the front we would have had to turn the customers away ourselves.”

Arwen came back and dropped the apron on the counter and held the shirt up to your chest, testing the size, refolding it and setting it back down on the apron, “Just tight enough to show you off, don’t forget about the tight pants. My car needs some body work, and you are just what we need to raise the tips.” Making both of you giggle.

Eowyn, “Besides, you’ll get to see more of your teachers, they all come here everyday.”

As some customers entered Arwen told you to stop in at 10 for your shift the next morning and you headed back to the apartment to plan your outfit for the night.

…

You finally forced yourself into the shower, pulling out of your sweater leaving it across the bench at the foot of your bed, quickly showering and jumping into the task of drying yourself and your hair which always took nearly half an hour to dry. You pulled your hair up into a loose ponytail and flipped it through the middle pulling it back through and tightening it to hide the hair tie and brushing your bangs behind your left ear before applying your makeup, sticking to just simple eyeliner and some deep red lip-stain that doesn’t smudge and heading to your closet. Pulling on your sea foam green dress with sleeves that went down to your elbows that fit you tightly and went to your knees, pulling on your sheer stockings, hooking the straps to hold them up, adding a pair of your black heels and turned in the mirror smoothing your dress. You ran your fingers along the necklaces draping across your chest before adding another coat of sea foam nail polish to your nails. After that dried you filled your small bag and headed downstairs joining your Uncle who had agreed to drop you off on the way to his date with his girlfriend.

You climbed out of the car as he stopped, he wished you luck as you closed the door, and you headed through the door that the teenager who worked there had opened for you, eyeing you over as you passed. You gave your name and settled into your seat, relaxing at the restaurant your Uncle brings you to often, the familiar setting easing your nerves, ordering a double shot of whiskey and a peach tea to follow, with two orders of steaks and grilled vegetables with mashed potatoes, bouncing your foot on your leg that was crossed over the other slightly noticing the few stares you had received as you slid your fingers over the bag on your lap. As your drink arrived you lifted it to sip on, before spotting Fili in the corner of the room staring at you intently next to his brother and a woman who looked eerily like Thorin who was currently trying to straighten Kili’s tie, before noticing the rest of the Durin clan and the Greenleaves following after, all of them noticing you as they took their seats, setting their jackets on the backs of their chairs and shooting you large smiles as they took their seats. The woman had noticed their stares and turned to look at you quickly asking Kili who you were and her gaze turned from a curious one to an intent hunting one as if she’d claimed you as her prey, Thorin had caught the gaze and had forced her back into her seat again and started a long argument that was only broken when he spotted you stand up.

All of them eying your figure in your dress, seeing your full outfit as you smiled at the Man in a dark well tailored suit with a pale blue shirt and a silver tie with a bare tree shaped tie clip, with his dark hair brushed back and his short beard with sparkling blue-silvery eyes who froze as he spotted you. He swallowed as he forced a smile on his face taking a timid step forward and timidly kissed you on the cheek and pulled back resting his hands on your arms, “You.. look..incredible..”

You chuckled, “Thank You, I ordered us steaks.”

He chuckled as you both took your seats, giving you a chance to catch the intent gazes of the Men at the other table as you crossed your legs again settling back into your chair resting your bag back on your lap, as he chuckled nervously, trying to avoid eyeing your figure again, “Good.” Before ordering a double shot himself and a mango tea for after, watching as you finished the last of your shot and ordering a refill for you as well, as your empty glass was taken away you gave the table across the room another glance until he spoke again. “So, you should know, I got you a try out for the National team.”

You gave him a smile which made him swallow again, “Really, that fast?”

He took a sip of the drink that the waiter had just set down before him as you thanked him for your refill, then spoke again, “Well they were very excited when they heard you were wanting to come back again, there’s a list with over 100 teams on it that want you. We also got you the regulations and competitions that are coming up, all of them willing to offer you a spot to compete as long as you rank above 30th.”

You take a quick sip of your drink, “Should be easy enough.”

He chuckled, before taking another sip as you set your glass down, catching your gaze again, “You certainly look healthy, and a great deal happier.”

You nodded, “I am, it’s been a good 8 years, how have you been, I am sorry I wasn’t able to go to your Father’s funeral.”

He smiled as you finished your drink and reached for your tea the waiter had just brought, telling him thank you softly as you unwrapped your straw, dropping it in gently and took a quick sip, “Thank you, we didn’t really have one, he didn’t want one, just had a bonfire cookout in the Bahamas on his favorite beach and spread his ashes. Other than that it’s been good, I got the CEO position, the company has been doing well, how is your school going?”

You set your drink back down and laid your hand back on your bag, “Straight A’s, like I said before I graduate in May.”

“Any thoughts on work?”

You chuckled, “My Cousin offered me a job in his Company, writing short stories, editing other people’s work and even doing some cover art for them, and I start my old job at the coffee shop tomorrow.”

His smile grew again, “I’m glad you found a job to tide you through between competitions, and they’re supportive of your possible schedules?”

You nodded as your food arrived thanking the waiter again as you caught another gaze from the group, including the Woman whose eyes had yet to leave you no matter what Thorin or the other’s did, “The writing can be posted online, and my friends at the coffee shop will all cover my shifts if I need them to, I’m really just filling in until they find a replacement, unless I decide to stay for a while.”

You both started on your food when he said, “So tell me about this Legolas of yours.”

You smiled again, looking up at him as you swallowed, and started telling him about ‘Your Legolas’, watching his eyes light up as he listened intently as he ate. As he took over the conversation you ate your food and sipped on your drink.

Dis, “She certainly is stunning.”

Thorin grunted in approval as he took another bite of his massive steak doing everything in his power not to stare at you.

Fili, “You should see her in blue.” With his eyes still fixed on you and the Man trying to ensure that he did not cross any lines.

Dis swallowed her mouthful and said, “So which one of you is claiming her?”

Thranduil and Legolas both froze mid bite and glanced at each other before continuing their chewing as Dwalin said, “Not your business Dis.”

Dis, “Now don’t be like that. I think Thorin, you should go after her, she doesn’t seem to be interested in him at all, and she keeps glancing over when he looks away.”

Thorin looked at his Sister fighting back a growl, “She’s looking over because you won’t stop staring.”

She glanced up at him with a stern gaze, “I’ll stop staring when one of you make your move.”

Dwalin stabbed his fork into his next piece of steak, “She’s our student Dis, that’s a line we can’t cross.”

Dis, “Well when does she graduate then?”

Dwalin, “May.”

Dis, “Then make your move then Dwalin.”

Dwalin, “I’m seeing her cousin.”

Dis rested her elbow on the table, “Really? Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

Dwalin, “Because who I drop my pants for is not your business, same for the rest of us.”

Dis rolled her eyes and nudged Thorin’s elbow receiving another small growl, “Now Thorin..”

Thorin growled out, “I’m not talking about this again, Dis. She’s off limits to all of us until May, especially you, Dis.”

Dis glanced up catching you excuse yourself for the restroom, as you stood the Men got a quick glimpse of the strap holding up your stockings making them thankful for the table cloth covering their laps as Dis snuck away as Thorin was distracted by your thighs, growling again as he spotted her entering the bathroom just before you, catching your stunned reaction as the door shut.

…

As you entered the door you spotted the Woman from across the dining room waiting for you standing just behind the door waiting for you in a stunning blue dress with her hair wrapped up in a tight bun who appeared nearly Thorin’s height in her short heels, you forced out a smile as she smiled and said, “Jaqi Pear, it’s good to finally meet you.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, “I’m guessing you’re Thorin’s sister, Dis.”

She smiled again, “I’m glad to hear you’ve heard of me. I would think that the boys would have avoided speaking about me altogether by how they’ve been hiding you.”

You chuckled again as you said, “I really have to pee.” As you slipped past her into one of the stalls, hearing her turn on a faucet as you handled your business and came back out to wash your hands and dry them. She turned to you holding out a slip of paper, “This is our Family home adress, we are throwing a New Years Dinner Party, I would love it if you would attend.”

You gently took the paper and nodded as she slipped out of the bathroom, groaning a little as you took another deep breath before stepping out, pausing as you saw Fili on the other side of the door.

Fili smiled slightly as his eyes slid over you, “Sorry, tried to stop her, we wouldn’t have brought her here is we’d have know that you were going to be here.” The last few words coming out in a slight grumble.

You smiled, “I’m still breathing, so no harm done. She did invite me to New Years though.”

His eyebrow rose, “Are you coming then?”

“I’ll think about it, I’m not sure what my Uncle and Cousins are doing, if I’m free I will.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Well, I should let you get back.” As he quietly headed back to the table, quietly confirming that Dis had in-fact invited you to the New Years Party, the men relaxing, watching again as you slipped back into your seat.

As you both finished your dinner he paid for it all and he kissed your cheek as he left, setting a stack of papers out for you on the bag on your lap discreetly, which you slipped into your bag, as the waiter brought your dessert which you happily ate still eyeing the Men who seemed to grow more irritated by the minute.

…

As they watched him leave Dwalin let out a grunt startling the table behind them, “He’s just leaving her here.”

Ori nodded, “At least he paid though.”

The Durins started leaving a few at a time watching as you pulled out your money, Thorin had slipped over dropping some money on the table, smiling at you gently with his sparkling eyes, “Allow me, your date left you here alone?”

You smiled as you slipped your money back in your bag, “It wasn’t a date, and he had to get back to work.”

His eyes lit up as you said it wasn’t a date, “Do you need a ride?”

Your eyes slid over to the emptying table, “You sure you’ll have room?” With a slight smirk.

He chuckled as he offered you his hand, which you accepted and climbed back to your feet, “I’ll throw the boys in the trunk if I have to, Dis is riding with Dwalin and Balin.”

You chuckled as he led you to the door, wrapping your hand under his arm as you got a friendly smile from Thranduil and Legolas who were climbing in their car as Thorin led you to the car being warmed up by his Nephews. As Kili spotted you he jumped out of the front seat and climbed into the back and Thorin opened the door for you and waited as you climbed inside, smirking as he caught the strap of your stocking slip into view as you sat down, before you covered it again. He walked around and climbed in catching a glimpse of Dis watching from the car that was leaving the parking lot, seeing her grabbing Dwalin’s shoulder as she pointed at you before heading back to your place.

Kili leaned forward, “So where’d you find that guy?”

You chuckled, “He’s an old friend.”

Fili leaned against his brother into your view, “So it wasn’t a date?”

“No, not a date.”

Kili smirked, “You met Mother, what did you think?”

You spotted Thorin’s shoulders tense as he remembered him letting her slip past him, “She’s gorgeous, certainly seems to have the Durin looks, I suppose. She’s taller than me, but that’s not uncommon though.”

Thorin, “I’m sorry she slipped past me, don’t feel obligated to come to the party if you don’t want to.”

You giggled, “It wasn’t that bad, not like she ran in there and threw me against the wall or anything.”

Fili, “Wouldn’t put it past her though.”

Kili chuckled, “Ya, she’s set on hooking you to one of us.”

Both, “Mostly Uncle Thorin though.”

Making you giggle again as he grumbled, you caught him glancing at your legs again, admiring how long they looked with your heels on, catching the edge of the thigh highs you had on as your skirt bunched around your thighs eying them hungrily as he fought back another growl at his sister’s antics, you said, “You weren’t kidding then?”

Making his eyes dart up to yours quickly then back to the road, “No I wasn’t”

“So who all is going to be at the party?”

Thorin, “Most of the Durin clan.”

Kili, “And my Tauri.” he blurted out lovingly

Fili, “And I think Boromir is coming as well, along with Ori’s girlfriend.”

You giggled again as a smile slid across your face, “So does your Family all look like the Durin’s I’ve already met, because I’m not sure I can manage a night with a room full of people looking like you all.”

Thorin finally smiled again as he glanced over at you, “Then perhaps it’s best you don’t attend.”

You rolled your eyes and looked out the window next to you as you fought the urge to groan at the thought of a room full of Thorins all watching you with those same piercing eyes, he caught another glimpse of you as you licked your bottom lip still admiring the shade of red that you had on, wondering how you’d managed the night without it smudging, his mind racing at the thought of what he would have you do with those lips of yours to test the endurance of it.

As you reached your apartment he got out as you did leaving it running for his Nephews and quickly walking over to join you on the other side and shutting the door for you with a smile.

“You look incredible tonight.”

“Thank you, as do you, and thank you for the ride.”

He smiled down at you speaking in an authoritative growl, “He should have made sure you had one.”

You smirked up at him, “Eowyn agreed to get me on her way back, even if she hadn’t, I have money, and I’m sure with the entire table of you all, there would have been one of you willing to drop me off.”

He smiled again as his eyes slid over you again catching the bumps rise over your skin, “We certainly wouldn’t have let you stay there alone. You should get inside before you freeze. I will see you on Tuesday, we are still on for coffee?” Raising his eyebrows a little.

You smiled again, “Yes, unless you cancel.”

His smirk came back as he leaned in to kiss your cheek, whispering in his low gravely voice, “There’s no risk of that ever happening.” Choosing to gently kiss your cheek again before slowly sliding his hand over the center of your back making the bumps rise across your skin again and making you want to melt into his touch, walking you to the door and opening it for you, “Oh, if you’d like, wear something comfortable, thought we might get in a movie after if you want.”

You smiled up at him making his heart skip as you twisted slightly in a small circle on one foot, resting the other behind you on the toe, “Sounds good, whatever you pick will be good.”

He smiled again as he nodded, “Goodnight.” As he turned and headed back to the car, glimpsing back to see your dress bouncing around you as you headed for the elevator.

When he climbed back in Kili was back in the passenger seat as Fili leaned over the arm rest both looking at him with huge grins, he raised his eyebrow as his face went stern, “What?”

Both, “So when’s the date?”

He rolled his eyes, “We made plans a week ago for coffee.”

Both, “Ah.”

He raised his finger, pointing it at both of them, “No mention of this to your Mother, it’s not a date, and I don’t need her scaring her off.”

They both chuckled as they pulled back into their seats and buckled in, “Sure Uncle.”

Pt 5

#SnugglingWithThranduil #DinnerWithAragorn #MeetingDis #ThorinSmiles #Thorin x Reader #lotr #hobbit #Thorin x Reader OC #thranduil x reader

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jacensolodjo · 7 years

Text

Following a Trail

Pairing: Sheres/Crawl (but not a focus) Characters: Sheres, Crawl (property of @izzyovercoffee), random NPC Warning: interrogation, torture, and the resulting blood and gore that goes along with it Genre: Action Summary: Something to be said for patience. Sheres does his first solo interrogation of the war. Notes: still no definite timeline~ But relatively early, after half of T’ad squad dies.

Why am I here? was a question often asked, though not in the philosophical, existential crisis way. Usually in a ‘I should be somewhere else’ way. In a ‘how does this help?’ kind of way. He knew that he should probably be somewhere else, but still could not quite puzzle out how it helped to recon a merchant who got his own caf in public. He knew there were suspected Separatist ties, that the merchant was selling weapons. But why he specifically needed to do this mission given he was an Alpha was difficult to figure. Usually he went higher up the food chain than some low level merchant. And usually not to make contact and capture.

He was unarmed except for his small backup blaster pistol strapped to his right leg in its ankle holster and a knife that looked more ornamental than anything on his hip. He wore a week’s growth of beard and clothes that said he also was something like a middle class merchant more than anything else. Without gloves, he allowed himself to indulge in just getting a feel of the flimsi in his hands and the datapad he turned to once in a while for notes. For all the world, he seemed like a young man doing his homework in a tapcaf.

Hiding in plain sight was a skill few truly mastered, as it required a chameleon of the highest order and the ability to shift mindsets as easily as water slips through one’s fingers. Let everything wash over you, only use peripheral vision, never linger longer than someone merely curious about what other people are doing for the sake of curiosity rather than mission objective.

He missed Hyran, even though he knew that he was also in the system doing a similar job. The thing about their specific training and division was that they often went off on assignments alone, as opposed to the infantry or even the regular commandos. But the Alphas emphasized the advanced recon part, which meant that they had to go out in ones and twos to prevent suspicion and their missions generally could not use four or more soldiers. Sometimes, though, they were able to. Some missions required their training, experience, and a group effort. And normally they found that one doing overwatch while the other was on the ground was the best way to do things, but their current missions had clashed in timing.

Just as he was working on the last problem in the old training exam from when he had been made an officer (a small experiment on his memory), his target walked in and made their way up to the counter to order what Sheres knew was their usual-- chocolate caf with mint. He finished writing the last word of his answer, guzzled the last bit of his own brown caf with sugar, then headed out of the tapcaf.

Sheres preferred the long distance recce, Cyclo had always been the best of them at the close up, though Hyran did quite well for himself too. At least, that was all Sheres’s opinion.

He waited around the corner, keeping an eye on his chronometer. The last few days had been entirely devoted to his target, he knew the itinerary as well as the target himself if not better. He had it down to a near science (with a bit of art thrown in). He had rehearsed it multiple times, thought of as many possibilities as he could if the snatch and grab wasn’t perfect. He didn’t believe in taking chances based on ego.

The second his target rounded the corner, Sheres fell in step behind him before they got to another alley. It was there that he grabbed his target and flung him bodily against one of the alley walls. His hand went quickly over the man’s mouth just as it opened.

“Hello. I just have a few questions if you don’t mind,” Sheres said, trying to draw on how Cyclo would have handled the current situation. He even put on the slow smile, and the shift of a foot to change his height. “But let’s go somewhere more private, hm?” His answer was a glare. Sheres shrugged before cuffing the man’s wrists together behind his back then shoving him to the waiting enclosed speeder, making it clear if the man spoke he’d die before he got a syllable fully out of his mouth.

The hard part was over, his target was in his custody. As he drove back to the temporary safehouse that would be mysteriously destroyed after he was done with it, he thought again of how Cyclo would do the rest of the mission.

Sheres would never admit out loud that his least favorite thing to do was interrogations (with or without torture). He sometimes found himself failing to pick up the proper microexpressions, if only because he had grown up learning more about body language than facial.

As silent as his captive, Sheres half-carried him into the safehouse. He forced him into the chair and adjusted his arms so they were shackled to the arm rests attached to the chair.

“As I was saying, I just have a few questions if you don’t mind.”

Sheres, his pool of patience full, took a seat nearby and simply watched and waited. As he did, he reviewed everything he knew about this man. He wasn’t too well connected, but he had some concerning transactions and even more concerning friends. Not enough that Sheres thought the man was worth an Alpha ARC but... He had to follow the leads.

“So, who did I piss off this time?” his target finally spoke after about half an hour of silence (Sheres was impressed by how long it took).

“Mr. Varlo, I assure you I wasn’t sent by any of your competitors. Or any past clients. And like I said, I’m asking the questions. Why were you visiting a Separatist planet?”

“Are you Republic?”

Varlo was squinting slightly at the clone by that point, trying to see the face under the facial hair.

“No sir.” A technicality that rang true. He was not a citizen and none of his ilk were.

“Freelance?”

This is not how he had expected to do this interrogation but it seemed to be doing okay for the time being. If Varlo grabbed any more power over the encounter, though, Sheres would have to steer things back around.

“Sort of. Why were you visiting a Separatist planet?” Sheres repeated himself as firmly as he could without making the other man clam up.

“Am I not allowed to know people on non-Republic planets?”

Hm. Almost there.

“You are allowed. The problem is selling to those people without proper authorization.” Which would never be given anyways.

Varlo was starting to put a wall up and Sheres knew he had to work fast. If Varlo stopped talking, Sheres would have to improvise. He did not want to improvise.

“So they send you to question me. I guess I should be flattered.”

“You’re right, you should be flattered. Who were you selling to?” Just a bit of sharpness, a warning to stay on track of the questioning.

Varlo’s hands curled into fists and Sheres watched as his shoulders rose slightly, the movement so subtle that many people would have missed it. The ARC was losing his grip on the interrogation.

“Who were you selling to? You told me they are Separatists. Who are they? I need names, locations.”

“I know what you are now. You’re a kriffing clone.”

Oh, shab. How had he screwed this up? Sheres could almost feel the disappointment from Jango in the manda. How could he mess this up? It was supposed to be a routine interrogation. He put a clamp on his emotions-- mainly fear-- before things spun out of control entirely.

“Look, chakaar, I’m a mandalorian. You happy? Now answer the question. Who were you selling to?” Sheres fought hard to keep the desperation from his voice. Why did he have to screw this up... As he got more desperate, he mimicked Cyclo that much more.

“I don’t have to answer a damn clone!”

In a split second, Varlo’s head snapped backward as Sheres punched him square in the jaw.

“You do if you want to live through the night.” His voice stayed mostly neutral, but with a touch of cold steel.

“I never expect to live through the night normally. You’ll need to give better enticement.” His final words came out wet before Varlo spat up a mouthful of blood from biting his tongue thanks to the rabbit punch.

Sheres pulled his knife from its sheath hidden under his jacket. He pressed the sharp edge of it against the man’s index finger on his left hand, what he knew was the dominant hand for his target.

“Living through the night with all parts of you still attached, then. Makes no difference to me.” He pressed down hard enough to form a white mark but not quite breaking skin. “Who. Were. You. Selling. To?”

“And what happens if I tell you? You just kill me anyways so I can’t warn them?”

Sheres tilted his head to the side slightly. “Hadn’t occurred to me. Figured once you leave here you would find it best to forget anything happened.” A lie, it had been only one of several possible outcomes he had figured on. He had decided at the time to just see how things went.

“Who did you sell to? Where can I find them?” With each new word, he pressed down that much harder until Varlo was growling and shaking in pain and blood was dribbling down his fingers and to the floor.

“Okay. Okay okay okay okay OKAY!” Varlo stammered out. The knife lifted from the bleeding digit, a little bit deeper and he would have hit bone. The man was not trained to resist torture, even as low level as Sheres was using.

“I don’t know their real name. All of our transactions are done over holo. But he has told me money is no object I sell him a little of this, a little of that, you know--”

“Guns? Armor?”

“Just the ammunition and some armor pieces. We’ve been trading since before the war began. It was an accident he ended up being in Separatist territory--”

“Enough.” Sheres wiped his knife on a rag nearby. “I want all the creds from your last transaction with him. And I want the wire number he uses to send you the money.”

“It changes every other week but I can give you the last one. M-maybe he didn’t change it yet. The money’s in my pocket.”

Sheres nodded slightly then tossed the rag into a corner. He then climbed to his feet. He leaned over the man to remove the credit chit from the aforementioned pocket.

“The number?” he held out a small datapad to the man’s right hand, given the state of his dominant hand. Shakily, unused to using his right hand, Varlo typed out the number as requested. Once done, Sheres tucked it back away in his own secure pocket then turned away from the man. He wasn’t intending on leaving just yet but he was trying to draw out a reaction.

“Wait! What about my hand?” And there was Varlo’s panicked voice. Sheres turned back around.

The man was no hardened criminal, he was a pretty simple merchant who happened to have no qualms on who he sold to. Still, being able to find the person ordering supplies from outside the Separatist planets could be extremely helpful. Still did not feel Alpha worthy, but perhaps he would be surprised.

“Apologize.”

Varlo stared, not comprehending the demand.

“A-apologize? For what?”

“For calling me a damn and kriffing clone.” He pressed the hilt of his knife into the still merrily bleeding finger. His captive’s eyes bulged slightly before regaining most of his composure.

“Why should I?”

Sheres brought up the knife then slammed the hilt back down hard enough that a snap was heard followed by a howl of pain. The finger was broken almost clean in half, though reconstructive surgery would fix it well enough. Blood flowed freely to the floor.

“I’m s-sorry! Oh, kriff me.”

Without showing any emotion, Sheres wiped his knife hilt on the man’s shirt. The knife then slid back home in its hilt. The next five minutes were devoted to cleaning things up the best he could before dragging Valro back out to the speeder. He kept the man firmly tied then drove off to the front of a hospital he knew was nearby. Without stopping, he shoved Valro out and onto the ‘curb’ of the hospital. The ARC was gone by the time anyone noticed the man who was bleeding from his broken hand.

He returned to the apartment where he set up a small bomb that would do most of the damage to that apartment but with little damage to surrounding units. Again he was gone before anyone noticed the bomb had gone off and found where the blast zone was.

He was just about to call his favorite pilot when the ‘borrowed’ freighter he had been dropped off in settled down on a nearby landing pad. With mission complete, he ducked inside the flying metal box. He moved his way up to the cockpit, where Crawl sat working the controls. Sheres dropped a hand on the man’s shoulder as a signal that he was aboard and ready for lift off.

“You smell like iron.”

“You smell of ozone.”

It was an almost ritualistic greeting and answer. In a way, it ensured Sheres would always know without a shadow of a doubt it was Crawl and not someone else.

They were in the air by that point and barreling up through the atmosphere into the inky black of space.

“Course set for Triple Zero, boss. ETA: 10 hours. Thank you for choosing Air Crawl for your flight. In-flight meal is in the back storage.”

Sheres laughed softly. Crawl always knew how to jumpstart Sheres’s decompress from a mission. As Hyran had not made contact yet, they would have to come back once he did. Sheres did not mind the extra time with Crawl.

“Vor’e, ner cabur.”

“Ba’gedet’ye, ner ramikad.”

Mission complete, and no need to chat about it afterwards. It was a good day.

#текст #my writing #sheres #r: passenger or cargo #crawl #izzy

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metamorpheus-blog1 · 7 years

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c h a r a c t e r + q u e s t i o n n a i r e

[ tw for: drug/alcohol use, death, mental illness ]

Holy shit, why the fuck is this so long

BASICS

Full name: Marcus Christopher Russo

Any nicknames?: Morpheus, Mark, Marky, Russ, plus a slew of unflattering nicknames from old Army buddies that belong solely to that group of people.

Age: 35

Birthday/Zodiac sign: May 9th, 1982 // Taurus. Marcus has a majority of the typical Taurus traits: practical, dependable, down to earth. Regardless of his line of work, this isn’t a guy with a hair-trigger temper or the type to get his rocks off on on the violence in what he does, though he does have a very grim self awareness of just what kind of person he has to be to excel without apology at this job. That sense of strong commitment that keeps him nailed down to assignments with single-minded dedication tends to be a double-edged sword in the way it can overwhelm pretty much everything else and push it to the side in favor of finishing the task at hand. He’s the type that really needs and values internal stability in himself and others, which is BIG when it comes to why his lack of it is so self destructive.

Height: 5′10. Taller guys, don’t talk shit.

Any tattoos, piercings?: 15 y/o Marcus had a bathroom + sewing needle variety of piercing in his left ear that has long since closed up and been forgotten. Cocky young recruit Marcus got the ‘onward to victory’ printed in neat stacked black script on his ribcage, right side, that he shares with three other recruits from his hometown (this phrase picked from several equally dramatic Big Damn Hero quotes they threw around, all freshly eighteen and very full of aspirations of being badasses), and under that, in ascending levels of freshness, are the month/year arrival and return dates for his three deployments. Deployment #1 has one small dot beside it, #3 has two, tallying those in his squadron ‘fallen in line of duty’, as much as he hates that term. There’s no ‘falling’ involved in an IED on the side of the road blasting you straight to hell but - ! Marcus’ bitterness internalized again, we move on to, of course, this classic number on his left forearm.

FAVORITES

Sound: He likes NYC’s urban flavor of white noise. Anything repetitive without harshness to it: wind chimes, a clock ticking, steady rain. Back when he used to live on the coast in South Carolina, Marcus went in for all those soothing beach sounds, but the bustle on the city streets has its own charm against waves and seagulls.

Color: Marcus lives in washed out colors, closer to neutrals, with a side of beige and olive green. Even his black is a little less harsh, like a t shirt that’s still being worn years after it’s faded and started collecting holes. His mind is all vibrant orange though, that Mad Max sandstorm orange, Norah’s orange when he thinks of her every time he peels a tangerine, that kind of desert orange that’s still stuck on him after all these years -- even if in the scope of his service, six years in the real world isn’t very long at all.

Person: He won’t forgive himself if he says Artemis. That’s too much responsibility to put on her shoulders. So maybe not favorite, but most important? That’s pretty hefty too. Whatever it is, Sunny’s calming influence on this guy can’t be overstated.

Memory: BCT, or basic training. Now listen, a lot of basic is really really shitty. Shitty food, shitty schedule, shitty exercise, the same shitty drills over and over and over every day. You get tear gassed in basic training. You sweat harder than you’ve ever sweat in your life and you go to bed at night absolutely exhausted. But BCT was the first time Marcus actually saw his future falling into place in a way he could be proud of, when he started to figure out his strengths and advance, and where he found people he could relate to and build friendships with. Really, with that in mind, he’d happily take the shitty food again.

Place: Lmfao his apartment, messy as he and it are on the inside. Always good to have a good secure place to come back to. Weirdly enough though, he is also pretty comfortable with/fond of the Westside Dock, just because of the sheer amount of time he spends camped out there supervising deals from a distance just in case anything goes wrong. Zeus would’ve kept him parked plenty busy on his main trade, but Hades spreads Marcus over more varied tasks, which is what’s led to his familiarity with every boat, rooftop, and shipping container in that yard. He used to frequent the Warehouse with weekly regularity for the good live music, but understandably some work disagreements have rendered that a no-go zone.

Vice: He’s got the holy trio of Drugs, Booze, and Cigarettes going on, but in light of Madi’s favorite vice mini-meme I’m going to go with his complete lack of any sort of positive coping mechanisms or drive to start trying to develop them. Marcus’ constant self-reassurance is ‘it could be so much worse stop being a whiny bitch’, even the very middle of a panic attack, so shout out to that toxic suck-it-up type of masculinity the Army cultivates along with an unhealthy dose of ‘mental illness isn’t that extreme’ mentality. Keep tellin yourself that, bud.

HAVE THEY EVER…

Been in love?: Yes, in both the high school puppy variety and his one experience in slow-burning, real n’ deep adult love.

Done drugs?: Oh yeah, and a pretty big variety. Marcus’ hard limit is anything requiring a needle, he knows just how easy it is to fall headlong into addiction with something that potent. Most of his heaviest various drug use was high school and right after his discharge, but he’s settled into a routine of pot whenever the opportunity shows itself and the rare bump of cocaine when he really really needs it. The latter tends to allow him to get what he needs done done, but it understandably sends his mental state straight to shit in the fallout, not to mention it’s an expensive for a picker-upper. Cocaine is down as something that happens a handful of times a year, maybe. Doing a line is, in his mind, a lot less extreme than shooting something up straight to your veins. Marky’s pretty willfully blind to the fact that something you snort can be just as addictive as something you inject.

Killed someone?:

Marcus isn’t really keeping track of that number anymore. There’s a lot of the emotional part of his psyche that gets turned off for this process -- it’s not a person, it’s not murder, it’s a mission, you get it done clean and fast and you get out. Never think of a mark as an individual, complex human being. You’re screwed the second you do.

Betrayed someone’s trust?: Not on the scale of large deceptions. Eurydice might just count, positive and unsuspecting enough as their interactions were before Cronus’ order came down and Marcus had a hit to carry out. But, he reasons, it is the mob. Their definition of trust stands on shaky ground. And thinking that, it’s hard for him to resist the urge to just laugh at how malformed his morality has gotten these past few years.

Had their heart broken?: I mean, yeah, but he did it his damn self and he still thinks it was the right thing. Ending the engagement would never hurt as much as going through with it and waking up twenty years down the road, miserably unhappy. Norah is the closest he’s ever gotten to feeling truly understood but shackling her to his troubled ass would only bog her down and foster a resent towards him he could honestly never hypothetically blame her for feeling. We’ll call it heart break in the name of the greater good.

Lost someone?: Everyone in the combat zone has a story about losing someone, but Marcus never felt his squad buddies were so close to him he had that kind of ownership over their lives to say they were someone he’d ‘lost’. No close family members dead either, Norah might be something closer to loss if their split hadn’t been his choice. So no, there’s no one he’s mourning, just some still strangely vacant spaces in his mental roster and more than enough persistent ghosts left in his memories.

DO THEY…

Have any pets?: Nope, though he is very firmly a dog person.

Have a family they still talk to?: Yes, but he’s not overly fond of doing it, #1 Son of the Year. Maria and Randy are still firmly parked in Newburgh and it’s honestly just depressing to him to call home and visualize them sitting in the same shitty house on the same shitty couch living the same aimless repetitive lives.

Have a best friend?: It’s tempting to say Artemis again, real tempting in the kneejerk way, but he’s got way too much insecurity around their relationship and how much pressure his problems can put on a person once they’re close enough to know about them to weigh her down with best friend, if that’s even the phrase for what their relationship is. He’s not about to try and compete with the likes of Apollo and Dionysus either, not when he knows how much they both mean to her.

Want to get married and/or have kids?: Oh boy. Well, there’s a difference between wanting it and actually pursuing it. Marcus is of the give-your-kids-a-better-life-than-you mentality and he doesn’t think he could do that now that he’s pretty deep in an illegal lifestyle. As for marriage, we all know about his track record with that.

Want to leave?: He might, if he had any idea of where else he could go without immediately falling into the mental Pit of Despair. NYC has pretty much everything keeping him somewhat together.

THIS OR THAT?

CALL OR TEXT; texting is convenient but there’s too much in tone and word choice left up for interpretation and it can turn into a liability when he’s got time-sensitive information he needs to know. Marcus almost always calls, especially if it’s about a job; texting is for sharing contact information or an address, or more casual ‘off-duty’ plans.

WEALTH OR LOYALTY; loyalty wins out, but just barely. Wealth is mighty tempting to someone who’s never had it, but at the same time, he’s never had it. When it comes down to choosing one or the other, wealth is the one he’s most capable of living without (no matter how sweet it would be to have). There’s the added fact that genuine excessive wealth makes him almost uncomfortable?? There’s the conspicuous feeling off a sign taped to his back that tells more bougie people ‘this man considers Kraft the superior kind of cheese’ and that’s not gonna change if he suddenly pulls the winning lotto ticket at the minimart below his apartment.

LOVE OR LUST; not that Marcus is some heartbroken cynic cruising bars every night, but lust is easy and manageable and the occasional one night stand gets lost in the big city without any of those pesky loose ends; it’s been six years and the soreness of parting ways with Norah isn’t so fresh he feels her absence like he did first time he went home with a girl in NYC. He’s not about to entertain any fantasies of romance. The pool of people with shared life experience, or at least similar enough experiences to understand, is... small, to say the least. Why rope some poor unsuspecting soul into his personal whirlpool of bullshit?

5 FRIENDS OR 100 ACQUAINTANCES; that’s a lot closer to his situation now, Marcus doesn’t tend to accumulate close friends, or at least semi-purposefully he doesn’t. He’s good at that kind of (surprisingly) pleasant, simple interaction that tends to fix a version of himself in people’s minds that doesn’t invite further speculation or questions (though if you ask, he’ll nine times out of ten be an open book). What you see with Mark is what you get, unless you stumble into or purposefully try for something deeper.

SUMMER OR WINTER; you’d think summer, considering Marcus’ open air approach to his apartment (though that’s more of a claustrophobia thing than anything else), but he finds winter a lot more manageable and he’s had more than enough time in the Middle East to properly enjoy heat, even though going outside when it’s warm and he isn’t wearing 60 pounds of gear is a little treasure in itself. People are easier to track during winter too, their patterns are more predictable, there’s less roaming outside when it’s fuckin cold.

OTHERS:

Wanted plots/connections: will be linked soon!

#;about #olympustalk #why did this take so long? why did i write so much? we just don't know #also aside i love how tatted up most of the characters are what a treat

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thorne93 · 7 years

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Things Left Unsaid (Part 1)

Prompt: Imagine years ago, you used to work with Jonathan Pine and John Wick, and both of them were madly in love with you but chose to keep quiet for the job’s sake, and eventually, each of you went separate ways. When they find out you’re in trouble, they reunite and join forces to save you.

Warnings: language, death, killing....

Word Count: 5282

Notes: Spoiler alert-ish for the Night Manager and John Wick. Beta’d by my girl @like-a-bag-of-potatoes. Prompte from @theartofimagining13

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How were you in this situation? Easy - you killed for a living. Ironic, isn’t it? You take the life of someone else to earn your own. It wasn’t that simple though. You killed people who you were ordered too - thankfully, so far, they were like you. Mob men, bodyguards, people who posed a threat to whoever your boss was. You didn’t kill random people, that would be sick.

But apparently no matter how you tried to justify what you did, you were still in Beijing, at the hands of the Chinese Mafia. You had gotten in over your head on this one. The hit was a big wig in the Chinese Mafia, you thought maybe you could take him but apparently you bit off more than you could chew.

Somehow when you ended up at the bathhouse, you’d taken out seven of the ten guards but someone had come out of the bathroom where you hadn’t seen him and wrapped a cord around your neck and used a blunt object to knock your lights out. Now, you had woken up in some abandoned warehouse, with eight men standing around you, hitting you as you were tied to a chair.

You spit out the blood and stared up at them.

“You hit like a bitch,” you laughed. They put on brass knuckles and you rolled your eyes. “Oh I’m so impressed, you’re hitting a restrained woman.” You scoffed. Then the hard, stringing blow came to your right cheekbone, feeling like it had been shattered.

“Who sent you?” they asked.

“Fuck off,” you responded as blood spewed from your mouth.

“Give us something, we let you live. Give us nothing, you’re useless to us,” one of them tried.

“I don’t know. I get all of my requests anonymously. I don’t know who asked.”

“She’s lying.”

“I’m not.”

Someone got a phone call, he nodded and said he understood. When he hung up, he said, “Boss wants to talk to her. He thinks he can crack this bitch.”

“Let’s go,” one of them said as they grabbed you arm and lifted you out of the chair.

As they put a bag over your head, you couldn’t help but remember the good ole days, with Pine and Wick. Six or so years ago, you all were invincible. They called Wick Бугимен - or the Boogeyman. They called Pine the Shadow - for always being in the room but never knowing quite where he was. He was stealthy and good like that. You? You were known as Dame des Todes - or the Lady of Death. When you, Wick, and Pine walked into a room, everyone knew it would be you three - the Trio of Death - that would walk out alive, leaving no survivors. Where John was known as the leading male assassin, you were the female. No one rivaled your skill, stealth, or even body count.

You liked to think of yourselves as the Three Musketeers of Death though. Being best friends in murder may sound strange, but since when has mankind not bonded over the killing of fellow humans? What stronger bond is there than those of military comrades, gangs, brothers in arms? That’s what you thought....

Many people wonder how people end up in your line of work, but for you it was simple - your parents had done it. They were known as the best in their field in Germany, but due to a consequence on the job, they lost their life. You had many happy memories of your parents teaching you how to use guns of all kinds, how to be tactical, how to think five steps ahead.

When your parents left your life at the ripe age of 18, you had to find a way to survive, what better way than to keep the family business going? You had their contacts and started there. First hit being to avenge your parents. Being nowhere near as skilled as your parents, it took you eight months to finally find the group who did this to them, and how badly you wanted to torture them. Yet, you restrained yourself, knowing that your parents wouldn’t do that, and if you were to be in this business, nothing could be personal. You gave them a swift death after telling them who you were. That you were the daughter of Elias and Ava, coming to exact your vengeance.

Before you knew it, you had met Jonathan Pine, a rather gentlemanly British soldier. The circumstances were unusual, but it was a moment you’d never forget. Pine was assigned to extract a family of witnesses for witness protection in India. Your job was to eliminate the team that was contracted out to annihilate the family. You could only assume your contract came from the patriarch of the family, but most of your contracts were anonymous so you had no idea who requested the hit on other hitmen. Through a tangled web, ultimately, Pine’s mission and yours was the same - keep the family safe.

He and his team were just stepping out of the threshold of their house as he looked around vigilantly. He saw it about half a second before it all happened. He spotted the gunman and snipers and urged the family to get down as he went to cover them with his body. You had just showed up, you were told the extraction would happen 30 minutes later, so you were accidentally late to the party, but it didn’t take long for your score to catch up. You set up the rifle in record time and took out the two snipers, then shot the handgun assailant from the rooftop. Pine glanced up and saw you and you took off. You ran across the rooftop and hopped to another one. You continued to rooftop hop until you found a roof access door, entered it, ran down the stairs with your equipment and Pine caught you at the end of the stairs, his hands on your upper biceps. How the hell he knew you’d be in that building, you weren’t sure. That’s the moment you knew he’d be a valuable asset to your life.

“Where are you off to?” he questioned, his accent charming.

“I’m leaving. My job is done,” you said simply as he let you go.

“I beg to differ. We could use someone of your expertise to help them escape.”

“Speaking of, you left your objective,” you noted, crossing your arms.

“My men have it handled. Please, join us. Who do you work for? French?”

“Wirklich? Mit diesem akzent?” you questioned, your native tongue slipping out for purpose and accident. Usually when you got incredibly sarcastic or irritated, your German heritage took center stage.

“Ah, du bist Deutsch. Entschuldigung.”

“Das ist gut.”

“Tell me, why does the German government have to do with protecting them?” he asked.

“Who said I was with the government?” you asked.

“Touche. So, what do you say? Care to join me?”

“I don’t do this for free, got it? I did my job, so my work is done. If you want a babysitter, you better be paying.”

“How much?”

“For making sure they aren’t killed? Five K.”

He looked at you as if you’d lost your mind. “Five grand? To ride in a car with a family?”

“It’s my ass on the line. So yeah, you want me, that’s my price.”

“Fine, you have yourself a deal.”

You traded names and he led you back to the car. The ride was easy as you eyed for anything out of the ordinary and nothing else happened, you got the objective safely to their new house and within the night, the money for both jobs was in your account.

“If you ever need anything, you can reach me here.” You handed him a black card with a single phone number on it.

“Thank you,” he said.

And like that, your friendship and alliance formed. He kept your secret - it was in his best interest. He had called in your help for a few missions, even tried to recruit you to the British army a few months into your friendship, to which you had laughed.

“A German girl in the ranks of the British army? That doesn’t make you nervous?” you had teased as you took a puff off your cigarette and he sipped his bourbon.

“On the contrary, it would settle any anxiety I have in the field if I knew you had my back,” he countered. You smiled at each other again before tasting on your fineries.

“I am sorry, Pine, but the military isn’t for me. Too many rules,” you said as you leaned over and gave him a mysterious look.

For about six months after that, you two worked together off and on, keeping in touch. It was nice to have a friend, being a hired killer was a rather lonely life. But a soldier understood the mindset - being hired to kill someone you didn’t know, for a cause you weren’t sure about. You bonded over that and it was refreshing to have a friend, someone to trust. Things that were hard to find in this business.

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Travis POV - Present

“What the hell?” your tech friend said as he watched one of his twenty monitors. You were skilled with technology but Travis was much quicker and much better. You had hired him to help tracking IP addresses, phone locations, computer locations, files and all other things techie - you hired him.

He had put a tracking device in your cell phone without your knowledge. He did it because he cared. He may not be able to shoot the broad side of the barn, but dammit, he could hack into anything and make sure you were safe. But now, that device had gone offline. He knew vaguely of where you were going and the signal dropped about ten foot from the building where you were at.

You never turned your phone off - ever.

You never let it die, always having it charged and ready for a new contract or tip.

Something was wrong. He wasn’t sure what to do at first as he adjusted his glasses and pushed around the ramen containers and mountain dew cans. He knew he wouldn't be of any help, but maybe an old friend would.

He called your old friend, praying he would help.

“Hello?” the British man greeted.

“Hi, Jonathan Pine, this is Travis Herenbold. We met once or twice years ago.”

A few moments of silence hung between them before he answered, “Ah, yes, you’re Y/N’s friend.”

“Yes, yes, I am. She’s in trouble. You’ve got to help her.”

“Waht? Slow down. What’s wrong with her?”

“I think she had a hit for Han Zing, the leader of--”

“The leader of the Chinese Mafia, Beijing chapter,” Pine finished, his voice relaying an undertone of awareness. He knew just how dangerous this man was.

“Right,” Travis conceded. “Well she went to the bathhouse where he should’ve been and then her signal just dropped.”

“That’s not like her,” he said, his mind already working on a million outcomes.

“I know, that’s why I’m calling you. I know you’re retired but she needs your help. I’d help but I can’t do what you can.”

“You say she’s in Beijing?”

“Yeah, at Dragon Bathhouse, at least her phone checked in there.”

“Okay, I’ve got a call to make and I’ll be over there.”

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Reader POV

About a year after meeting Pine, you had met John Wick. You’d heard legends, stories, myths...But when you met the man in person, it all made sense. Ironically, you had the same hit. It was an open contract and you two were the closest in proximity to the target when it became available. You never dreamed in a million years you’d meet John Wick, let alone become best friends.

You had begun to follow the target outside of his club and before long, you noticed someone else was tailing all of you on the other side of the street. A tall man with dark long hair in a long black coat. To the normal person, it would seem like he had nothing to do with you or the man in front of you, but to you, you saw how he matched his pace with the target’s, his head tilted toward the group ahead of you. As soon as they rounded into the alleyway, you knew that’s when you’d have the greatest chance to take out the target and his guards. Right as you turned though, a bullet whizzed passed your head. You turned and it was the guy you knew was up to something. “He must be here for the same thing,” you had thought to yourself. You turned and shot at the guards as they all spun to face you and opened fire on you. Ducking and spinning, you dodged the bullets as you killed two of the five. As you tried to make your way through them, two others were taken down before you could get to them by the other guy. The other hitman was distracting you and fucking with your groove and with that, the last body guard had gotten the target in his car as he drove away, you and the other hitman shooting at the car didn’t phase it as they sped away.

“What the fuck, man?” you said as you spun to the stranger. “You could’ve killed me.”

“You got in the way of my shot,” he insisted in a husky voice, his dark eyes on you.

“Your shot? He was mine. Word of advice, when you go to tail someone, don’t make it so goddamned obvious.”

“Contract’s open, he can go to whoever claims him,” he argued. “But now, he got away, and that money will probably go to whoever gets him.” He glared at you before turning and running his hands through his dark hair, his gun still in his grip.

“Unless...we take it,” you offered.

“What?”

“Well, the way I see it, we both showed up same place, same time, right? It’s only fair to give each other a fair shake.”

“What are you proposing?” he demanded.

“I’m saying we take the son of a bitch out together, and split the money.”

“No way.”

“Why not?”

“I work alone,” he insisted, his dark eyes boring into yours.

“We all do, jackass. But maybe this time can be different. I’m not so selfish to think I should take all the money when you helped open his ass wide open for us.”

He just stared at you.

You sighed. “We’ll split it and go our separate ways.”

“I don't trust anyone,” he said in an even tone.

“Good, neither do I, but I bet if we worked together, we’d get to him faster,” you tried.

“Fine, only because I want this to be done.”

You shook hands and began to work on finding him. He knew quite a bit more about the target, down to his goldfish’s name. You were thoroughly impressed and in less than half the time it would usually take to track down the target, you had found him and you and the stranger took out twenty of his guards and the target. It almost became a competition on who could get the most kills in the most clever ways. You made your call to the contract holder who was happy to oblige splitting the money into your accounts.

“We should do this again sometime,” you said in a joking manner as you left the mansion that had a crazy body count.

“Yeah, maybe so. You did good. You could work on your stance a bit, and your gun shakes .5 seconds before you pull the trigger. How new are you to this?” he had questioned.

It wasn’t offensive or condescending, it sounded like he was concerned.

“Technically, I’ve only been in it for three years, but my parents showed me a few things growing up, here and there.”

“Kind of a strange thing to teach a child, don’t you think?” he asked as he lit a cigarette. You pulled your own out and he lit it for you.

“Not to me. They just showed me what to do, not how to do it on anyone. It was for my own safety, should anyone come looking for me or them.”

“Sounds like they cared a lot about you,” he said softly.

“They did,” you answered, the lump rising in your throat. You shook your head. “Well, pleasure doing business with you.”

“Hey, I’m John Wick by the way,” he said before extending his hand.

A tiny gasp escaped you as you shook his hand, your eyes growing a bit wide. “You’re the infamous Wick...Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Y/N.”

“Likewise, Y/N. Catch you on the flipside?”

“Absolutely,” you said before handing your card to him. “In case you ever want to share another body count.”

He smiled at you and you turned away from each other and headed opposite directions down the street.

After that, he showed you the ropes. He taught you how to fight better, how to be a better strategist, how to enhance your reflexes, even taught you more about guns. Before too long, he became your best friend just as Pine had. You two swapped stories over drinks, aspirations, thoughts. You shared a love of cars as well and you two worked on building his ‘69 Mustang Mach1 Coupe and he worked with you on your 69 Chevelle SS. When you weren’t killing or training, you were racing. And yet again, he was better than you were, there wasn’t much he couldn’t do.

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Wick’s POV - Present

“Hello?” I answered, recognizing the number, wondering what he wanted. I hadn’t talked to him in years.

“John, it’s Pine.”

“What’s up?”

“It’s Y/N, she’s been kidnapped.”

The air left my lungs. Y/N was too smart for this to happen so she must be in with some pretty big time shit.

“How? Who? When? Where?”

“Han Zing’s men, tonight, Beijing.”

“We don’t have long then.”

“I agree. Where are you now?”

“Jersey, you?”

“Egypt. Rendezvous at 567?”

“I’ll be wearing the gold hat.”

Long ago, you all had set up a code for several safe houses and rendezvous points. 567 referred to your Beijing location which was a warehouse. The gold hat referred to the guns I was bringing.

My emotions started running rampant within me. I had loved you for a long time. I loved you even before I met Sarah but because I didn’t want to complicate things between you and me or Pine and us, or complicate our professional and friendly relationship. I thought you were too good for me anyway. I never thought you’d accept any offer I had.

Now that you were in danger, it felt like I couldn’t breathe, like my chest was caving in. You were smart, skilled, and trained but did any of that help when the Chinese shit heads had the upperhand?

I lit a cigarette out of a nervous habit as I gathered my gold coins, guns, ammunition, and packed a bag of clothing. I petted my sweet pitbull goodbye, making sure she had enough food, and left. The entire time, my stomach in knots about you and what those assholes could be doing to you.

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Reader POV

Your life hadn’t changed except for having two amazing friends. Pine had still called on you occasionally and so did Wick. You knew Wick only asked you to come around because of an apprentice deal. He never needed anyone’s help, but it was nice to be asked, just the same.

Only after a few months of working with Wick, one day you two came up on a rather sensitive mission that would need a soldier’s help. You two needed to get into a compound in France to take out someone.

“I know someone who can help,” you informed. You made the call to Pine and he met you two.

“A soldier?” John had questioned as he paced in the giant study in his house. “What can a soldier help?”

“I can get you in the compound,” Pine answered.

“But couldn’t you be imprisoned? Lose your job? Why would you abandon the oath you swore to help out to hitmen?” John demanded. John trusted no one, for obvious reasons, so when someone threatened that, he was like a rabid dog, a bit protective, insane, and irrational.

“Because I’m not here to judge. I’m here to help Y/N. We aren’t exactly different you and I. You get paid to take out specific people, I get paid to take them out in droves.”

Wick arched his eyebrows in agreement while he nodded his head side to side. “Fair enough.”

With that, they shook hands, and the plans were underway to assassinate a French officer. Pine had helped you two into the compound, you located the officer, killed him, and left. You gave Pine some of your earnings as you always did when you used his help.

After that, the three of you worked together often, for five years.

You were smiling, recalling the memory of Pine offering to ask for a woman’s help on a mission that was quite a bit to handle, even for you three.

“What if we asked Andrea to help us?” he said, as he leaned on his fists on the back of one of the chairs in John’s house.

“No,” you had said emphatically in a flat tone as you cleaned your guns.

“Why not?” he questioned. “She’d be a great asset in this endeavor.”

“I don’t work with women.”

“That’s right, she doesn’t,” Wick had answered from the kitchen as he grabbed a glass of orange juice.

“Yeah, and why is that?” Pine had questioned with burning curiosity. He rounded the chair and sat down.

“Because women are untrustworthy.”

“That’s incredibly hypocritical,” he noted with a slight laugh and smile.

You grinned over to him. “Women are manipulative. See, a man, he’ll just shoot you or beat the shit out of you, right?” He nodded as Wick came and sat next to you on the couch. “But a woman, she’ll do everything she can to destroy you mentally. She’ll sleep with your brother, best friend, boss, partner. She’ll learn your weakness and exploit to the fullest extent. She’ll mangle your family, your self image. She’ll destroy your business, your reputation, your dignity. She’ll get inside your heart and mind and twist it until you don’t know which way is up.”

“That’s dark,” Pine noted.

“It’s true,” Wick agreed as he bumped his shoulder with you.

“So is that what you do?” Pine inquired.

“Me? No, but I’m not most women,” you said as you got up to make some food.

Pine and Wick silently agreed to themselves as they watched you walk away.

Time with them was as fun as it could get. Save for taking random people’s lives, you had a blast with them. You were able to travel together and Pine even took up some of the contracts that hit the market while he was away. His government had even given him some ambiguous black ops missions in which he would hire both of you to help him out. It stayed off the record and the job got done. You played chess together, target practice, training with each of them. In a very dog-eat-dog world that you lived in, none of you were selfish. Contrary to what most would believe, it was a caring friendship.

Then more and more, you worked together. Each job had a specific task. Pine would infiltrate, be the inside man. He’d pose as a caterer, bus boy, bartender, anything that could get you close enough to figure out their next move. He was the strategist.

Your job, was a lot of times to be a honey pot. You didn’t mind using what God had given you to take down men, it was actually a gift. Nothing was sexier than having a gun strapped to the inside of your thigh with a dress that made every head in the room turn. But behind the pretty face and body to knock someone dead--literally--was the job to plant information, you would tell them where to go or suggest some place that was ultimately a trap. You were the black widow, the seductress.

Wick was the man to start the job. He’d walk in, seemingly unnoticed, until the first bullet hit the first chest or skull, then all hell would break loose around you three. Wick was the executioner. He decided when and how to kill them. Once you and Pine gave him all the info, he would decide whether it was a suicide, mass murder, random attack (such as a bank robbing), mugging, chemical means, bombing.

Before long, the rumors turned to reputation, reputation to fact, and fact to legend. This is where you got your infamous nicknames from. Pine, being in the room, like a fly on the wall, a shadow, nothing out of place. Wick, was the man, the thing that lurked in the dark, taking every man alive. You were lady of death because again, no one suspected the boobs and pretty face to be packing heat between her legs.

Then, six years ago, they retired, leaving you alone.

Wick had met Sarah, a wonderful girl, and wanted out. You said he was crazy for thinking he could leave, but he did. You were beyond thrilled for him though. He seemed so...lonely in the five years you’d known him. But after four years of marriage, she passed on. He called you weeping, and you jumped on the first plane from Germany to New Jersey. You set up all of the funeral and paid for it. You’d never met Sarah but Wick explained her as wonderful. She seemed it - anyone who could make him happy had to be a saint. You had stayed at his house that night, sleeping in the bed next to him, trying to comfort him, to no avail. You couldn’t blame him, he’d just lost the love of his life. The next morning, he had asked if you could leave. He wanted to be alone to grieve. You wanted to stay and care for him but you didn’t press the issue. Of course, when you had heard about what happened once you left, you felt awful and enraged. You wanted to go back in time, but you couldn’t. You hadn’t heard from Wick in about six months since then. You tried to check in but he never picked up a call or returned a text. You didn’t hold it against him though.

Pine wanted to retire from the military. He wanted a quieter life for as he got older. The last you heard, he was a night manager. You talked occasionally, but you knew he was trying to leave the life behind and that probably included you. The last time you actually saw him was at Sarah’s funeral.

Ah yes, the good ole days. If only they were here now. They’d clean house, tell you you were careless, then bust you out of this situation. You sighed internally and you finally stopped on your journey to meet the boss. The reminiscing stopped as they removed the bag from your head.

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Pine and Wick POV

“So much for retirement,” Wick said as he entered the warehouse and Pine turned around.

“Yeah, well I wasn’t exactly sipping a pina colada on the beach,” Pine noted.

“Me either. So what do we know?”

Pine filled him in on what he had found out about the mission and your location and everything they knew about Han Zing and his arena. They began trying to figure out a plan of attack, calling all their somewhat trusted contacts in the area to assist. They finally had something to go on.

As they headed that way, Pine drove and Wick sat shotgun while he looked through his phone. He found a picture of you two being silly on a beach in Florida. You had your tongue out as the shore was washing in. He smiled at the memory.

“Is that Y/N?” Pine asked as his eyes danced over to the screen.

“Yeah. We went on a mini-vacation in Florida.”

“Were you two a thing or…?” he asked cautiously.

“No, no, never. But god did I want to be,” he admitted suddenly.

“Yeah? You have feelings for her?” Pine felt his throat start to swell and his scalp prickle. “Of course Wick would loved you, why wouldn’t he? You were you,” Pine thought to himself. Somehow incredibly sweet, despite being a hired killer. Yet, you completely separated yourself from your job. Taking a random person’s life was no more upsetting to you than cleaning your house. But it wasn’t because you were cold, it was more because that’s how you had to make a living. You certainly weren’t an open book though. But you were fun, sweet, vivacious, risk taker, exciting, and loyal. He had thought about asking you to come away with him when he retired, but something stopped him. He didn’t want the friendship between the three of you compromised.

“Yeah, man, I have for a while.”

“Even before Sarah?” Pine questioned.

“Yeah, I don’t know exactly when. I just...I fell for her pretty hard, then I sort of rationalized myself telling myself it would be a stupid move and just ignored how I felt. I met Sarah, and man, I loved her too. I loved her without question.”

“So how did Y/N fit into all of that?”

“She didn’t. Sarah was my world. I thought about her occasionally, told Sarah about her…” A pause stilled the air in the car. “Why do you ask? Do you like her?”

“If you must know, yes. I’ve cared for her for years now, just never had the balls to tell her. When I got the call that Zing’s men had her, it scared the shit out of me.”

“Me too.”

“The idea of never seeing her again…”

“Yeah…” Wick agreed. “So you love her then?”

“I think so. I almost asked her to retire with me, but...never did.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t think she saw me like that. I also didn’t think she could leave the life behind.”

“It’s easier than you may think,” Wick countered.

“That’s good.”

“When we find her…” Pine started, not sure how to ask the next part…”Are you going to tell her?”

Wick shook his head. “I don’t know, man. We both love her, telling her that might...complicate things.”

“Precisely why I never told her. We’re the Three Musketeers after all…” Pine smiled at the memory of the legends and Wick shared in a small laugh.

“Ah, haven’t heard that in a long time, man…”

“Tell me about it.”

“What do you think Y/N would do if she found out we love her?” Wick asked his best friend as he turned to face him.

“Probably kick our asses,” Pine responded.

Wick grinned. “True.”

“You think we shouldn’t tell her?” Pine inquired, his eyes flashing to his friend.

“I think it’ll be a lot for her to take in after whatever these fucks did to her.”

“Well, we’ve kept it quiet this long, what’s a few more days?”

Wick nodded, getting a little more animated. “That’s precisely my point, though, we’ve kept this to ourselves for years and what did it gain us?”

“Nothing.”

“Right. We can tell her when the time is right, how does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

#things left unsaid #john wick #jonathan pine #john wick fic #johnathan pine fic #jonathan pine x reader #john wick x reader #tom hiddleston #keanu reeves

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snarktheater · 7 years

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The Coldest Girl in Coldtown — Bonus (short story)

Someone requested it, so I'm doing it. I ended up liking The Coldest Girl in Coldtown more than expected, so I'm actually glad to be taking a look at the short story that came before the book. We'll see what it's worth.

The story opens with a girl named Matilda, who is drunk, and apparently this is not a rare occurrence for her. A guy tries to pick up on her (and the story immediately tells us that she is in fact underage, so…ew), and she goes along with it because…I don't know, either she has an agenda, or self-destructive urges. Possibly both.

The guy is named…Mark, or Dan, or Dave, Matilda isn't sure, and she settles on Mardave, because the author thought this would be hilarious. He's also with a friend, Ben. Because…it's more fun to sexually abuse a drunk underage girl with a friend, I guess?

It would be easy for her to close her eyes and pretend Mardave was someone else, someone she wanted to be touched by, but she wouldn’t let herself soil her memories of Julian.

So…yeah, self-destruction mixed with unhealthy coping mechanisms. Okay.

As they head for Mardave's place, Matilda sees streams from Coldtown on the televisions in a storefront, and so the book delivers the crucial information about the world. Remember, this came before the book. Also, wherever they are, Matilda and the boys are currently near Coldtown.

“We’ll protect you,” said Ben, smiling back at her. “We should do what other countries do and blow those corpses sky high,” Mardave said. Matilda bit her tongue not to point out that Europe’s vampire hunting led to the highest levels of infection in the world. So many of Belgium’s citizens were vampires that shops barely opened their doors until nightfall. The truce with Coldtown worked. Mostly.

Hey, why the Belgium hate? And yeah, I've complained about this in the book too, but I have a very hard time believing that Europe would devolve into vampire hunting while the United States of fucking America would choose the diplomatic route. It bears repeating.

Anyway, Matilda is sick…and by "sick" I mean she's probably Cold, judging by her symptoms and the surrounding descriptions.

Now she was the one who was counting. Fifty-seven days. Eighty-eight days. Eighty-eight nights.

I'm…honestly no sure what this is supposed to mean. Has it been fifty-seven days for her or did the book just throw the number at random?

Matilda ends up being found by a guy named Dante while she waits for Mardave and Ben to buy more booze. Dante knows her and has been looking for her, because everyone she knows thinks she's dead. She tells him she is indeed Cold, and cue more infodump as she explains to us why she ran away (which is…basically the same reason Tana did).

Dante tells her that Julian (who is Matilda's boyfriend, in case the earlier reference was too subtle for you) and his sister Lydia ran away together, with Lydia at least looking to turn into a vampire. Matilda doesn't really want to bother with other people's problems when she still has to hold out for thirty-seven days without biting people, but Dante ruins her plans for the night by telling the boys that she's infected. Well, dodged that bullet, I guess.

We get a flashback to fifty-seven days ago, when she got bitten by a vampire at a party, and then some infodump about Caspar Morales for good measure. Then it's back to the present, with Matilda coercing Dante into buying her alcohol so she can keep he bloodlust at bay.

“You can’t keep going like this. You can’t just stay drunk to avoid your problems.” […] “Let me spell it out: if you don’t get me some alcohol, I am going to bite you.”

After he gets her a drink, he explains his sister's situation in more detail: she used to be scared of vampires, then decided to become one, and Dante went looking for Matilda hoping she would have turned and that…what, she could turn his sister for him?

Yeah, pretty much. Lydia was already looking for vampires to bite her through online ads, so getting someone they could trust to do it is a better alternative, I guess? As for Julian…

Dante shrugged slim shoulders. “Maybe he was looking for you.”

Right, whatever you say.

We get some infodump about the token system for humans to get out of Coldtown, in order to establish the stakes: if Matilda and Dante can't find Lydia and Julian before they make it to Coldtown, they won't be able to get them out without hiring a vampire hunter, which they or their families can't really afford.

Also, this:

“Why did Julian go with her?” She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice. She didn’t think Dante would understand. He DJed at a club in town and was rumored to see a different boy or girl every day of the week. The only person he actually seemed to care about was his sister.

Is this a thing with Holly Black, that her male characters are bi? Or is it just this particular case, because the short story more or less inspired the book and so some elements are lifted from it?

They hit the bars around Coldtown looking for someone who might have seen Lydia and Julian, and eventually pick up their trail from a girl, from whom they bought blood that they could use for the transformation once they find a vampire to bite them. Um…ew.

“Said she was tired of waiting.” “What about the guy?” Matilda asked. […] “He said his girlfriend was a vampire,” said the girl.

Yeah, well, he obviously didn't do his research well, did he?

Dante checks his sister's blog to find that she made a new entry titled "One-Way Ticket to Coldtown", and…that doesn't really change anything to the stakes, but okay, I guess?

Instead, we go on a tangent about how Matilda should tell more people about her method of resisting the Cold by being constantly drunk. Because sure, that sounds like a good idea. Make the people infected with something that makes them violent lose all their inhibitions. I can't see that go wrong ever.

Dante also points out that Lydia's never going to be turned inside Coldtown, because the vampires need a food supply and not more competition. So Matilda makes a decision to save Lydia and Julian: complete the transformation.

Crawling over, she straddled Dante’s waist before he had a chance to shift positions. His mouth tasted like tobacco. When she pulled back from him, his eyes were wide with surprise, his pupils blown and black even in the dim streetlight. “Matilda,” he said and there was nothing in his voice but longing. “If you really want your sister, I am going to need one more thing from you,” she said. His blood tasted like tears.

I'm…not really sure why I quoted this passage exactly, but I just had to do it. There's something about it that's brilliant and poetic while also being insufferable. You're welcome.

So she goes to Coldtown to turn herself in in exchange for a voucher for a human to leave. They force her to wait until her transformation is complete first, and then, they do indeed let her in with a token. Cue descriptions of the place, and…Coldtown sounds a lot nicer than it did in the books, but then again, this might be a result of Matilda being a vampire and experiencing her new vampire powers. In fact, she's so overwhelmed that she almost stays out as the sun rises, if not for a random girl who spots her and gets her to come inside her place.

Said place is inhabited by a group of humans who trade on the black market and with the Coldtown guards. They immediately demand that Matilda bites them in exchange for shelter from the sun, and Matilda only agrees to do it at night, though mostly because she's starting to need to feed.

“Why would you want me to do that?” The girl’s expression clearly said that Matilda was stupid. “Who doesn’t want to live forever?” I don’t, Matilda wanted to say, but she swallowed the words.

So Matilda gets settled in for the night, gets a message from Dante (which means he is indeed okay), and sends a message to Lydia asking to meet. She goes to sleep for the day, and when she wakes up, Lydia replied and gave her a rendezvous point.

But first, Matilda has to deal with her hosts. By which I mean she bites one of them as promised…and then feeds on her until the girl dies. Oops?

The worst part is: this doesn't even discourage the others.

Another girl grabbed Matilda’s arm. “Wait,” the girl said, eyes wide and imploring. “You have to bite me next. You’re full now so you won’t have to hurt me—” With a cry, Matilda tore herself free and ran up the stairs—if she went fast enough, maybe she could escape from herself.

Which, for some reason, strikes me as pretty realistic. Right? Everyone thinks they would be the one who does it right.

But as the quote says, Matilda manages to run away, and goes to the Festival of Sinners, where Lydia told her to meet. And she does indeed find Julian and Lydia there, and explains what she did.

“I wasn’t in Coldtown,” Matilda said. “I came here so that Lydia could leave. I have a pass.”

Unsurprisingly, Lydia disagrees with that plan, since…you know, she wants to be a vampire. As for Julian, he doesn't look thrilled at the idea of being here with just Matilda, so…yeah, I guess this is an unofficial breakup right there.

Since Matilda won't bite her, Lydia…takes Julian hostage with a knife. Um…okay, that's a little extreme, girl.

So Matilda caves in…well, kind of. We get a scene break right after she bites Lydia, leaving some ambiguity as to what happened as the narration recaps that Julian ran away from Coldtown with the token after giving Matilda his money and credit cards.

As for Lydia, turns out Matilda didn't drain her dry. Instead, she locked her up to stream her going Cold.

You’ve probably seen lots of video feeds from inside Coldtown. […] Here’s what you never see. What I’m going to show you. For eighty-eight days you are going to watch someone sweat out the infection. […] It’s not going to be pretty. […] This is the real Coldtown. I’m the real Coldtown. You still want in?

And…that's it. That's the short story. And for what it is, it's…all right, I guess. It can't really play upon the same strengths as the book because it just doesn't have the time, but it does what it does well.

Honestly…that's about all I have to say on the subject. The short story's available online for free, so I'd say it's worth reading even if you went through this post, if only to check out if you like Black's writing for yourself. It's not quite as good as the book, but it should still give you an indication of what to expect.

And with that, I'm signing off and moving on to…the next book on the snark pile. shudders

#the coldest girl in coldtown #holly black #young adult #ya books #books #young adult books #book reviews #ya #reviews #book #book review #review #novella #novella review #st: the coldest girl in coldtown

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lucifers-ferris-wheel-blog · 7 years

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All Except The Sea (Ness-An 2.5)

The Rivalry BEGIIIIINNNNNSSSSS(@marysuewhyyyy @criticalcritques)!

Name (if multiple, most commonly used during said time): Birth to twelve, while living in hometown: Ness-An. Twelve to eighteen, while living in the Mission School: Mahala Of Wolves. Eighteen to twenty-seven, while on the Northbound Journey (it will all be explained, in a Backstory ™, which is basically just going to be a plot summary): Mahah-Leloo.

The definition of the first name she had is Wolf Of; because her mother was upset at people having given their children lengthy and over-specific names they didn’t live up to, or even did, so her mother decided to name Ness-An something open-ended. The issue is that in Ketempi culture many children, as aforementioned, have very long names, so most people who have not met her before assume it’s been cut into a nickname at an odd point. Many people ask for her “full name”, and she actually receives more inconvenience, or at least face-to-face rude comments, on her name than her eyes. Her second name was assigned so that she would assimilate better with the settlers and be more “civilized”. She actually didn’t mind it, and in fact, was quite neutral on the idea of newcomers for a time, but then things went downhill. Her third name is composed of Northwest trade jargon (which was/is an actual thing and is modernly called Chinuk Wawa), with Mahah meaning “to depart or leave” and Leloo meaning “wolf”, at least among several coastal groups, because yay hurrah dialects. So she, in a way, gets an “Of” after all. Wolf Of Leaving.

Time period of first book: 1845-1847

Duration of Ness-An’s life: 1835-1862 (27 years, t'was not a good time to reach old age)

Physical description: Ness-An has hair about to her waist, and it’s relatively straight dark brown, nearly black. Not dark enough to be considered an extremely valuable trait, like blueblack, nor light enough to be uncommon and special, like medium brown is. It’s rather unremarkable hair, and she has trouble remembering to brush it.. Ness-An is relatively short compared to a modern western woman, but is around average for a Ketempiken (Around 5″2). Her weight fluctuates heavily based on food availability, and it’s a bit lower before she hits puberty evidently, but if adequately fed she is rather squishy. She has a traditionally pretty oval face, and occasionally marks three charcoal lines beneath her chin, because it’s considered a luck symbol.

Her eyes are different colors, but one is greysih-brown and the other more completely greyish, and from distant range its hard to tell. However, when Ness-An was born, her greyer eye was paler and made the difference more pronounced (this has occurred with actual heterochromic people, where sometimes the lighter eye darkens slightly within anywhere from months to years of birth), and in a town where the number of inhabitants were around 700, everyone hears about this. It’s theorized about in a negative light as to why this occurs, but any asking, if asking is done at all, goes to her mother. By the time she’s old enough to have defined memories at around four, the few people who harped upon it have fallen silent, but no-one ever to go out of the way to interact with her.

Languages spoken: Ketempi, which is a language isolate, meaning it has no traceable roots or family (Isolates are fairly common, actually, especially among native groups, but i suppose its because there are often languages there that die before proper analyzation). I decided to make it a language isolate because i made it up and I’m excessively lazy. I've forged an entire fictional indigenous culture simply because I can control the history of it as long as I manage to explain why it isn't remembered to this day. If anyone happens across this who finds this offensive, most especially if said person has native heritage, please tell me. Slight topic drift back to original question: Ness also learns to speak English at the Mission School, because that’s what they’re teaching there, and Chinuk Wawa, because that way she can speak to the other children boarded there who aren’t of Ketempi heritage.

Here are the answers to some previous critiques that you may want to skip:

Why Ness identifies as an elf and not a Native American: She does fully claim to be Native American, but like many groups did, believes her personal tribe she descended from was a bit better than others, as this is often ingrained into origin stories for how people came to be. And yes, I understand I need a lot of research; I’m at 17 months of researching and counting. The thing is that ear pointing was practiced as a coming of age ritual, much like facial tattoos or lip piercing were for other groups, and also to better adhere to societal beauty standards. It helped make the Kentempi even more different, seeing as no other people were ever recorded to have practiced such. Immigrants from the East decided that they resembled elves, but they never actually themselves identified as that.

But yes, they were originally spoken of as having dark magic or negative powers, seeing as they had a native religion with a god that wasn’t Christian so of course they were seen as heathens and witches and satanistic people. Now most of us recall elves as more beneficial in their supernatural abilities. Also, when (spoiler warning to my nonexistent fans) they flee north once driven of their land, just as some tribes fled to Canada once they had their homelands removed from them, they are constantly referencing the Crystal Path (which sounds super hipstery but) from their origin story, a highly time-corrupted version of crossing over the sheet glaciers on the Bering Land Bridge from Asia to North America; and the North Star, which actually wasn’t in it’s fixed location when the Land Bridge was being crossed; which has a whole legend dedicated to why it stays still now, but anyway: they fled further north than any other group was recorded to have fled to, in relation to their starting point.

They also engaged in the whole “giving away things connotes wealth”, just as several other groups in the Northwest, especially coastal, did. The Chinook word for “to give”, patshatl, was turned into Potlatch, which is the modern name for these parties still hosted to this day where the host hands out free food and bountiful gifts to the guests; often over half of their possessions, at least in old days.These giving sprees varied by culture, with some being held primarily in summer because it facilitates travel and others mainly held them on winter, to add cheer to dreary times. Yet others had no seasonal tendency for when potlatches were most frequently hosted. They could take up to a decade to hoard for if they were especially opulent, but yes, it was a way of showing high social status that I wish most Americans still practiced today. The Ketempi people called the practice Hlák, and held it often once immigrants arrived, thinking that if they rewarded the newcomers with fine hospitality they would feel satisfied enough to leave. This was the opposite of what occurred, and the Europeans simply took the gifts and destroyed the ones bearing native symbols, but robbing the Ketempiken of furs and foods.

In the end, they gathered a reputation for being pointy eared, northern-living people who had some rumors of odd abilities and gave things away seemingly without incentive. While hiding out in the inland north, they ate primarily caribou, and the same while heading through parts of British Columbia. So there you have it. It was warped over time to the Santa-aiding, pale skinned toy-makers, who were first described so in 1856 by Louisa May Alcott, three years after the beginning of the northward movement. Seeing as both that she didn’t live in the area and probably would rather they weren’t of color, she most likely simply took them for an inspiration source. That’s the reason for all that.

Another critique was that you wish to hear more about the Mission School: Love, I’m writing nine books for a reason. I’m already too lengthy on my review, and it covers literally half of one book. The Mission School shows up in two and three, which i could send in as briefer summaries if desired by any of The Rivalry. Apologies, but to save my soul i couldn’t write a short story.

Context (Sort of a backstory, but mostly historical, can skip if a reader or delete if a part of The Rivalry): Europeans first made contact with the native peoples occupying the Willamette Valley in 1805, when the Lewis and Clark expedition came through. However, they came through to the slight north, thus not encountering the Ketempiken. More people, in small groups, started crossing the treacherous expanse of plains in 1812, but still far too few to constitute a trail. A few Ketempiken would engage in secondhand trade with the Europeans, meaning, say, that an Alsea would trade for glass beads from an immigrant, and then a Ketempi would trade with the Alsea, or such. Immigration numbers went up considerably around 1824, but were still relatively low. A few distantly nearby settlements were cemented. Still no-one came to Kiger Island, or the nearby land area, however, so being a tribe where townships kept to themselves, the Europeans proved no issue to them or the nearby bands of Kalapuya, although in pioneer towns being set up at the time to the northeast and southeast did have some mild clashing with the nearest original group.

In 1829, a case of smallpox was reported, which had come in from the immigrants and which the natives had no immunity (which often comes from exposure to livestock) from. By 1830, it was spreading uncontrollably all throughout the valley, including the neighboring Cascade Mountains and coastal areas. If in a more modern setting and with proper quarantine procedures, medication and cleanliness, one out of four people infected would die. The number rose far higher in that time and place, and it is estimated that a fair 70% of people in the area died of it, if you average them. It was most devastating, and didn’t subside until 1833. The Kalapuya, who are a real group and most likely numbered around 7,000 at the time, but under 1,000 post-illness. The Ketempi, who are the central focus, dropped from 8,000 to just above 5,000

Separate note on land use: the Kalapuya were more likely to gain the land around the rivers for frequent use, and the coastal hills and foothills, while the Ketempiken only took small sections of river and took more to the eastern half of the valley with a large amount of oak savanna, creeping up slightly close to the Cascades in seasonal gathering. Pretty much they share quite an amount on occasion, because the entire valley is places in sparse towns, and the whole area of valley only contained 15,000-16,000 people. The towns were, for both cultures, for wintertime, and then in warmer times both left to gather for gaining food, but they tried not to interact. During the time the story occurs, the total number of people in the valley has dropped from 15,000 to 7,000 at best. The Kalapuya were hit much harder by the smallpox epidemics.

The survival numbers of the Ketempi were higher seeing as they were so isolative from external contact in the first place, and rarely conjoined outside of towns. This is another factor which lead outside cultures to want to connect with them less: the fact they didn’t seem much to want to. For many groups indigenous to North America, traveling between towns to make or visit friends or business partners (as in people to trade, carve, hunt, or gather with, ect.) is considered a very good and wanted occurrence. The Ketempiken seemed to have seen it as rejection of the preexisting social connections in one’s birth town. Although people would often leave a town to marry, this was a permanent departure.

Trading was, to them, an awe-inducing act that commanded both great fear and admiration; a powerful position one was called upon to take (much like shamanism in many cultures) and was usually given as a main thing to do in life. One was not supposed to WANT to be a trader or a shaman, but one was not supposed to strongly dislike or fear these positions.

An agricultural note originally included at the asterisk* which probably belongs up here where it’s easier to skip: Seeing as it bears relevance, the people of that area and many chunks of California and the plains had an odd blurring of agriculture and non-agriculture, seeing as most groups had no proper crops, but would burn the large fields annually around autumn in a semi-controlled manner, which rid weeds, provided nutrients, and left only older trees to grow, help keeping the prairies and savannas healthy and allowing new seeds to take root. Considering most of their diets (generalization, but forgive me) would place high dependence on either bulbs/roots, which were beneath the earth and would sprout up again after the fire and reseed, or grasses (the seeds were eaten, sort of as rice), whose seeds blow around and root on every bare patch of ground they can find, such as a freshly burned area, this helped them take partial control of their environment.

Every year, the Ketempiken (and other groups, but I’m writing about the Ketempi) would burn an several areas, but they would let chunks of land go anywhere from two to ten years between burnings, depending on how things were growing. Besides the partial clearing of land, however, most groups did not do anything else to help assure food would be plentiful through agricultural means. There were groups who gathered grass seed and scattered it specifically, but most just waited to see what nature did. All the young grass shoots would lure in deer, elk, rabbits, and the like, helping up the odds of game concentrating near an inhabited area. Many western people have deemed this a half-assed approach to food collection, but personally I think it’s really clever. You can almost double your total yield in plants and noticeably heighten your odds at meat simply by sparking some dry leaves and not regulating the spread. How great is that? It also facilitates travel, because when many saplings get torched there are wide patches between trees, and you don’t need some set and worn path to go around gathering. Final note, flame helped harvest tarweed, a sunflower-like plant whose seeds provided oil, much as people who want to go on some random trendy cooking spree use sunflower oil.

Probably an actual backstory™ that talks about the character: This leave 1834 as the year where, while recuperating from losing nearly half their population, many people took pregnant, and thus Ness-An was brought into the world in 1835. Most of her friends she makes are of equal age or younger to her and the oldest children in their families. It takes her ages to question this, but there is a large gap without people between children who are (at the books start) of ten years and adults who are of around twenty, seeing as most children were more prone to infection. Many adults have little concavements on their face and hands and feet. In fact so many have these characteristics of recovery from smallpox that Ness assumes the pockmarring of your extremities is something that happens “when you grow up”, just like getting more permanent body fat or ceasing growing, which strikes me as rather sad but is probably sounding Edgy©.

She spends the majority of her childhood friendless, not because she is bullied or teased, but mainly because she is actually rather rude, and will often snap at or argue with other children and then chalk up their negative response to the fact they don’t like her eyes. Most of Ness-An’s younger life is spent tagging along with her family, especially her mother, but trying simultaneously to evade the day-to-day chores needed to sustain them. Eventually she is broken of this habit, around the age of seven, and takes to the expected tasks of digging camas and threshing grass for seed, or gathering acorns and washing them to remove tannin. At the series’ beginning Ness has two parents, both living, and three siblings, all younger (I hopefully explained why well enough): a brother who is two years younger, and a pair of sisters who are respectively five and six years younger. Funnily enough, both her sisters have longer and more flowery names. You get the impression that Ness-An’s mother gave up, and decided that something really extravagant would suffice over something short in an odd way. Her brother is named reasonably and his name is brief, but I suppose because of certain occurrences that are to happen combined with the fact the names are of my invention and thus may be harder to remember or tell apart than, say Steve from Bob, I am listing none of her original family’s titles.

I’m currently only referring to book one; I’m aiming for a total of nine, it looks like currently. Yes, in fact, I DO hate writing short stories, what on earth prompted THAT inquiry? The actual story begins during the Moon of Acorns and Fire, or approximately September* while the protagonist is ten and a half, and is still somewhat a conceited slacker. The town is celebrating with the annual Thricemoon, which is sort of a small festival held to celebrate the safe return of the traders who ventured away for the summer and the re-congregation of the town. Many left the island to make temporary, single-family camps out in good gathering areas, but have come back to reside with slightly more permanence in their winter homes: earthen domes with a smokehole and a door, much akin to those used by several tribes in southern California, like the Digueño, but more ovular in shape with a door on one of the longer sides.

Another reason for Thricemoon is the fact that it signals the end of the vision-seeking process for those who came of age that year. It is unknown even to the elders if Thricemoon is held when it is primarily because it marks an end to the time of vision quests, or whether vision quests are held when they are primarily because they mark the beginning of Thricemoon. Anyhoot, it’s during the harvest moon when there are three full moons in a row. Everybody’s happy, even though it so happens that no children came of age this year (hahahaha I was going to put “smallpox” in here but I accidentally wrote “smolpox” oh my god it’s like smallpox but it’s KaWAiiiiii), so that means there is plenty of food and joy and gift-givings, plus plenty of opportunities to set up your character to have their soul crushed.

So it’s Thricemoon and everything is holding up great. There is celebrating and joy, and then suddenly Ness realizes they seem awfully short on food (her family in specific) and appear to be partying awfully hard. She brings this up with her mother, and her mother admits that they are indeed not likely to make the winter, but that the younger children haven’t picked up on it yet. Then there’s this whole realizing-that-life-isn’t-perfect-even-though-it-seemed-so-as-a-child moment, and she has this whole screeching fit about how they’re going to starve. Her mother suggests to Ness that she should overwinter with another family, but seeing as Ness-An hasn’t really been that prolific in the friends department she must specifically seek out a family and basically fake investment in them to stay fed.

This causes Ness to basically switch into the mode of a child who thinks they’ve seen some serious shit and been through such soul-wrenching insufferable pain (such as dropping a blackberry in mud and still eating it), which is a trope I love and don’t see enough of. Dear authors, give me children who think getting green wrapping paper instead of pink warrants singing "wake me up inside”. (I can’t wake) WAKE ME UP… Alright, you get it, I’ll carry on but now that’s stuck in my head. She goes to the other family, and it turns out they’re lovable and she doesn’t need to fake her attachment to them.

Regardless, Ness actually has a great time, even though her harshness and occasional lack of filtering what she says gets her pretty close to rejected from them on several occasions. It turns out that her hardworkingness (hah she’s Ness and she’s hardworking) and creativity manage to provide useful help to the new family, however. Their oldest child, Ourealv'oi [Apostrophe is for glottal stop, not edge factor, but I’m thinking of just removing it so that it’s Ourealvoi. How about that?] Strikes it off decently with Ness-An, especially if you consider that they were an almost randomly chosen family. However, although Ourealv is less confrontational than Ness-An, she’s far more impatient in general, and once an argument is struck up she’ll be extremely harsh. Once one convinces Ourealv'oi to sit and work, though, she’s actually rather good at the more mundane aspects of choredom, such as flourgrinding and clothing repair. Oure seems to be more clear-headed than Ness and already has a vague idea for the future she wants, which is a lot of forethought for a nine year old. She’s become entranced by the idea of falconry, but is too young to actually be trusted with the responsibility, and of course she’ll need other means of sustenance. There is also a younger brother, named Teven, who is either six or seven, I’m still doing child development research. He gets angry about any violation of Normal, and collects rocks obsessively. He can apply sarcasm, though, so I’m still thinking non-autistic, even though I personally am an autistic who can use sarcasm. Then there’s Edolsi, who’s a four year old who hasn’t yet gotten over his stage of ramming stuff into his mouth and Kalo, a very young infant.

Ness is still rather impressed by her new family, seeing as they actually keep house and impose social etiquette onto their children and the like, things that weren’t there in her prior family. This naturally means she gets called out much more often on her errors, but they are accepting enough and have enough food and goods she keeps trying. She finds out along the way that the family were traders (o the horror) and not only people who changed towns in the summer, but people who lived on the road in a semicircular tent, and have only settled into Heron Speaks four years prior. This is a big deal, of course, but it’s especially big because this doesn’t bother Ness-An. She wants to hear about how things were in places besides her town, and actually begins pressuring them to restart their vagrant lifestyle. She asks about the sea, which she hasn’t heard of before, and imagines it as an enormous brown river with waves flowing parallel with the shore, and thinks that whales are enormous, bio-luminescent lampreys that sing by blowing air out of their mouths like a flute. She pictures baleen as algae that grows symbiotically, and such on. Ness has heard about the Crystal Path and always imagines it as incredibly distant: a full three days walk north. So yes, it’s been interesting writing for a character who has lived such a small life.

When Ness-An accidentally reveals how her home family is faring, Ourealv'oi’s family (more specifically, Ourealv’s parents, Adiir and Enolset) choose to adopt her. Yes, with most Native groups it was really casual, like borrowing a cup of flour. "I can’t adequately take care of this kid, do you want ‘em?” “Sure.” “K here you go”. Ness starts worrying that her new family is too decent, however, and she’ll keep being too rude and lazy to fit in properly. The problem is she whines so much about her fear of being an annoying nuisance that she this becomes an honest annoying nuisance. She basically just hangs around her new home chatting, griping, and having character development ™ for a week or five, and then they all as a family head out to the winter duck hunting camp. Ness-An’s previous family didn’t have any specific food they were annually sent specifically to retrieve, so this is an interesting experience. However, when after a few days she realizes that she is nowhere near to even Teven in hunting skill, seeing as she’s never been before, she gets exceptionally convinced it would be better if she went back to her birth family, which she assumes has starved nearly to death. Her new parents, when she at last brings this up, tell her that the community is very tight (😎hella tight bro) (I need to chill on the useless thingies in parentheses) and would not let a family be “a single hole in the basket which through all the water can run out”, and make sure everyone was properly housed, fed, and looked after, at least to the best of everyone’s collective ability. And yes, they had watertight baskets, look up Northwest Native American watertight basket. Neat.

Regarding the plot: Ness-An decides to try and look at things from afar, and realizes that it has some merit, the fact that her original family should be okay. Ness’ new parents also chew her up on being disrespectful by rejecting their hospitality. In the end, Ness-An decides to stay out the rest of the trip actually learning new skills instead of just griping about how she has no skills, and tries to make an actual effort at being kind continuously, now that a roof being over her head is no longer a variable. It’s a lot of fun, at least everything besides plucking the actual waterfowl and also: bird guts. But she makes some stronger bonds and tries to get bearings on the world, as well as learning more about drop-nets, archery, snares, and a bunch of legends that get told to pass the time while removing duck guts. When they at last get back, which is in a while but I’m condensing things, Ness, and Ourealvoi who came with out of curiosity but then decided to stay out of things, go to Ness-An’s former house. Surprise! Everyone is properly fed and cheery, and it turns out her family wasn’t short on food, and in fact, was better stocked than most years, causing the excessive celebration. When Ness first brought up that she suspected a food shortage to her mother, her mother ran with the idea in order to convince Ness to leave the house, because Ness had been unhelpful and bothersome, but greater yet the shamaness had apparently seen something regarding the Odd-Eyed Child, and the village healers were no small deal. Ness was indeed an unhelpful ass, though, in essence. Thus, her mother casually passed her off to another family whom she knew already had a low reputation for having been traders, believing no worse damage could be done to their status by having to rear a ride and “dangerous” child.

Ness is of course startled and becomes very upset. In the end, she returns to her second family. She feels rejected; and justly so because she was literally given up from her family without argument. She spends most of december trying to fit in and improve, but gives up a little as temperatures and food availability drop drastically for january. However, the lack of need to be outside, which is a byproduct of the lack of food to be gathered, means that there is plenty of time to sit on the round floor of the house and play around or carve or weave. In this way she becomes closer to them, and there are all sorts of small friendly and funny scenes I’m putting here. She’s evidently still mad with her birth family, but it’s turning out okayish. She starts taking better care of other people, but also stays believably immature, such as almost putting a rotting trout into Teven’s bedding after he drops a garter snake down Oure’s blouse. When the first turkey vulture (a first sign of spring, seeing as they move south in the summer and have a very distinct presence upon returning, with a six foot wingspan) is sighted in mid-march, the long and rather unnoteworthy winter comes to an end and people suddenly have things to gather again. While out in the fields with Adiir and the children (all of them, seeing as boys help mainly the mother until around age twelve) gathering young camas lily shoots, Ness begins once again bringing up travel, namely to the sea. Oure wants to go back as well, now that Ness-An has gone through the step of mentioning the topic, which isn’t recomended. Ourealvoi hasn’t been there since she was barely six years old, and doesn’t want to forget how it looked. Teven and the rest can’t remember anything besides Heron Speaks, though, but still add in agreement. Adiir and Enolset discuss this in depth, because although the excursion would retrieve valuable items such as salt, sea otter fur, and many other plants and meats, plus turban shells and other things that were valued somewhat like currency; it would immediately dock their slowly improving reputation. In the end, they decide to go to the sea. It takes two overnights walking westward, which to Ness that’s an a m a z i n g duration of time, basically three days walk, which is how far away she previously though esentially the edge of the world was. They spend a lot of time by the sea that i’m not going to go on about, but return after drifting up and down the coastline and trading some to the north. When they return in late August, something is very wrong with Heron Speaks. Downriver, there’s a house. A house made of wood. Everyone says it’s been there since early june, by which Ness and family were already gone. Nobody knows what to do, but everyone thinks Ness might have some answer, even though she’s just eleven, because of her being the Odd-Eyed Girl. There is much discussion, but nobody will let her go see the house. After people get more used to the fact there’s a house four miles away with a lone inhabitant, and that the mysterious immigrant seems to be staying, people start relaxing slightly and preparing once again for Thricemoon (i need to put a lot more description into the summer evidently, and i have in the book, but here I’m short on space and time). The celebration begins, and for the first time Ness is one of the people who has gone trading, and gets plenty of attention. When she awakes on the third morning of Thricemoon, however, the house is empty and the shore outside is crowded with canoes, from other Ketempi towns, even, which has never happened before. a full thousand people must be out there. She wades into the water, asking what on earth is wrong. There is now a second house, and a negotiation must be held. She hears from the people from other towns that far more settlers have been arriving in their areas, as well. But nobody understands that the Europeans are trying to actually build permanent homesteads, they just assume they’ve put up wood houses because they’re staying briefly, a year at most, because if you actually are going to live somewhere, you make an earth house. So everyone decides to go give gifts to the temporary guests, so that they feel welcome before they leave.This goes over much differently that planned.

Anyway, i must sleep, so there’s the first half of the first book. Tah-dah.

A/N: Like I said, delete literally anything you like, and feel free to ask for me to add information on something [feel free to google anything mentioned]. I have sixteen years of story left to tell for Ness, and once you know the universe already i can make things briefer, hopefully fitting two years to a post instead of just one. I’ve atted you, so go to town: delete half of it, point out seventy grammatical errors, harp on plot holes, basically do your worst. I hate myself already and nothing you say can change that. Go ahead and delete the whole thing; it undoubtedly deserves it, seeing as how much i yammer.

Also, @iloveshippingkitty @buying-the-space-farm @jovanafung @tjc2009-2018

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jodyedgarus · 5 years

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The NFL Is Drafting Quarterbacks All Wrong

No position in professional sports is more important or more misunderstood than the quarterback. NFL scouts, coaches and general managers — the world’s foremost experts on football player evaluation — have been notoriously terrible at separating good QB prospects from the bad through the years. No franchise or GM has shown the ability to beat the draft over time, and economists Cade Massey and Richard Thaler have convincingly shown that the league’s lack of consistent draft success is likely due to overconfidence rather than an efficient market. Throw in the fact that young QBs are sometimes placed in schemes that fail to take advantage of their skills,1 that red flags regarding character go unidentified or ignored2 and that prospects often lack stable coaching environments, and there is no shortage of explanations for the recurring evaluation failures.

All of this uncertainty makes the NFL draft extremely exciting: You never know for certain who will be good and who will be an absolute bust. Last year, much of the pre-draft speculation surrounded where current Buffalo Bills starting QB Josh Allen — who is tall and can hit an upright from his knees from 50 yards away — would be selected. This year, when Oklahoma’s Kyler Murray decided to forgo a career in baseball for a chance to become a top pick in the 2019 NFL draft, his measurables captured attention in a different way. Murray, listed at 5-foot-10 and 194 pounds, is 7 inches shorter and more than 40 pounds lighter than Allen, and he’s the the smallest top QB prospect in recent memory. While some scouts and NFL decision makers think Murray’s odds for NFL success are long — or have him off their draft boards entirely because of his lack of size — there is strong evidence in the form of metrics and models that he is actually a good bet to succeed.

Like the rest of the league, practitioners of analytics have a pretty poor track record at predicting QB success. It wasn’t just Browns fans who were high on Johnny Manziel — many predictive performance metrics liked him as well. If some of the world’s best football talent evaluators are convinced that Murray’s height is at least a minor red flag, how can we be confident that a 5-foot-10 college QB will be productive in the NFL? When it comes to the draft, deep humility is warranted. Still, there are solid reasons to be excited about Murray.

Completion percentage is the performance measurable that best translates from college to the NFL. The metric’s shortcomings — players can pad their completion percentage with short, safe passes, for instance — are well-known. But even in its raw form, it’s a useful predictive tool.

Completion percentage translates from college to the NFL

Share of NFL quarterback performance predicted by college performance in seven measures, 2011-18

share predicted Completion percentage 17.9%

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Average depth of target 16.7

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ESPN’s Total QBR 12.1

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Yards per game 9.2

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Touchdown rate 8.5

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Yards per attempt 7.0

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Adjusted yards per attempt 4.2

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For players who attempted at least 100 passes in the NFL.

“Share predicted” here refers to the amount of variance in the dependent variable explained by the independent variable in a bivariate regression.

Source: ESPN Stats & information group

Its kissing cousin in the pantheon of stats that translate from college to the pros is average depth of target: Passers who throw short (or deep) in college tend to continue that pattern in the NFL. These two metrics can be combined3 to create an expected completion percentage, which helps correct the deficiencies in raw completion percentage. If you give more credit to players who routinely complete deeper passes — and dock passers who dump off and check down more frequently — you can get a clearer picture of a player’s true accuracy and decision-making.

Another important adjustment is to account for the level of competition a player faced. ESPN’s Total Quarterback Rating does this, and we’re doing it, too. For instance, passes in the Big Ten are completed at a lower rate than in the Big 12 and the Pac-12. We should boost players from conferences where it is tougher to complete a pass and ding players whose numbers are generated in conferences where passing is easier.

When we make these adjustments, and then subtract expected completion percentage from a QB’s actual completion percentage, we get a new metric: completion percentage over expected, or CPOE. An example: In 2011 at Wisconsin, Russell Wilson had a raw completion percentage of 73 percent. We would expect an average QB in the same conference who attempted the same number of passes at the same depths that Wilson attempted to have a completion percentage of just 57 percent. So Wilson posted an incredible CPOE of +16 percentage points in his last year of college. CPOE translates slightly less to the NFL than either raw completion percentage or average depth of target,4 but it does a substantially better job of predicting on-field production. In stat nerd parlance, we’ve traded a little stability for increased relevance.

CPOE best predicts yards per attempt in the NFL

Share of an NFL quarterback’s yards per attempt predicted by college performance measures, 2011-18

share predicted Completion percentage over expected 15.5%

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Completion percentage 13.5

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ESPN’s Total QBR 13.2

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Yards per attempt 7.0

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Average depth of target 0.0

For players who attempted at least 100 passes in the NFL.

“Share predicted” here refers to the amount of variance in the dependent variable explained by the independent variable in a bivariate regression.

Source: ESPN Stats & Information group

The test of a good metric is that it is stable over time (for example from college to the NFL) and that it correlates with something important or valuable. Completion percentage over expected is slightly more stable than other advanced metrics like QBR. CPOE is also the best predictor of NFL yards per attempt. Since yards per attempt correlates well with NFL wins, and winning is both important and valuable, we’ve found a solid metric. It should help us identify NFL prospects likely to be good — so long as they are drafted and see enough playing time to accumulate 100 or more passing attempts.5

But before we stuff the metric into a model and start ranking this year’s quarterback prospects, it’s worth asking why CPOE in college might be a good measure of QB skill. One possible explanation is that it’s measuring not just accuracy but also the signal from other qualities that are crucial to pro success. The ability to consistently find the open receiver and complete a pass to him requires a quarterback first to read a defense and then to throw on time and on target. Throwing with anticipation and football IQ are both crucial to playing in the NFL at a high level, and they are likely both a part of the success signal in the metric.

CPOE is also probably capturing the ability to execute a system efficiently. A quarterback who understands how each piece of the offense complements the others and constrains the opposing defense is a huge asset for his team. The term “system QB” has a negative connotation in player evaluation circles that is probably unwarranted. If a quarterback is operating at a high level, he is inseparable from the system he’s being asked to run. It’s also likely the case that the mental and physical abilities to run any system efficiently are traits that translate — even if only imperfectly — to the pro game.

CPOE also measures accuracy, of course — which many believe is the most important trait a QB can posses. Some coaches believe accuracy is an innate skill and not something that can be taught once a player has reached college. Others believe that mechanical flaws can be corrected if other traits like arm strength are present. The Bills clearly hold this view or they wouldn’t have drafted Allen, a player with an incredibly live arm but who had a college completion rate 9.2 percentage points below expected. But regardless of whether accuracy can be taught at the NFL level, all evaluators acknowledge its importance.

With all this in mind, I built a simple logistic regression model that attempts to identify players who will go on to establish a career mark of at least 7.1 yards per attempt in the NFL — the league average from 2009 to 2018. The model took into account CPOE and six other metrics, all calculated for the player’s college career.6 There are 49 quarterbacks who have entered the NFL since 2012 who have also attempted at least 100 passes — except for small-school QBs for whom advanced college data wasn’t available. I randomly split those players into two sets and used one set to build the model and the second set to test to see if the model is any better than random chance at identifying which prospects will go on to play productive NFL football. Though the model is relatively simple — and it would be wonderful if the sample size were larger — the results are promising. The model correctly identified many players who went on to have NFL success and many more who didn’t. The best estimate for its generalized accuracy is that it will correctly identify a QB prospect as a hit or a bust in around 74 percent of cases.7 The table below shows the results of the model, labeled Predict, and includes players’ college stats.

Results from the quarterback prospect model

A random sample of the 49 quarterbacks who were drafted since 2012* by model probability, along with college stats including completion percentage over expected (CPOE)

College stats name CPOE YPA Avg. depth of target Total QBR Predicted prob.† Career NFL YPA Russell Wilson +16 10.3 10.4 94 >99% 7.9 Johnny Manziel +9 9.1 8.8 89 99 6.5 Jameis Winston +8 9.4 9.6 83 98 7.6 Kellen Moore +10 8.7 7.8 86 97 7.5 Deshaun Watson +5 8.4 8.8 86 93 8.3 Sam Darnold +5 8.5 9.5 80 77 6.9 Matt Barkley +4 8.2 8.1 77 73 7.4 Jared Goff +1 7.8 9.0 74 61 7.7 Kevin Hogan +4 8.5 9.3 80 37 6.1 Marcus Mariota +4 9.3 8.2 90 33 7.2 Kirk Cousins +4 7.9 8.5 58 29 7.6 Paxton Lynch +2 7.4 7.9 59 14 6.2 Geno Smith +3 8.2 7.3 74 5 6.8 Nathan Peterman +1 7.9 8.9 71 4 4.3 Zach Mettenberger +4 8.8 10.5 71 4 6.8 Trevor Siemian 0 6.4 8.2 53 3 6.8 Matt McGloin -2 7.2 8.5 60 2 6.7 Blake Bortles +4 8.5 7.5 78 1 6.7 Lamar Jackson 0 8.3 11.0 82 0 7.1

*And have attempted at least 100 passes in the NFL.

†Probability the player will meet or exceed a career yards per passing attempt average of 7.1.

Source: ESPN stats & information group

Humility is warranted at this moment, so let’s point and laugh at the failures first. After all, all models are universally wrong, but some can be useful. This one was wrong about Johnny Football, as it practically guaranteed Manziel to be an above-average NFL quarterback. What it didn’t know about was Johnny’s love of all-night parties and other off-field shenanigans. Kellen Moore, a lefty passer who had a decorated career at Boise State, is another hiccup for the model. Moore is an interesting case of a player who just barely reached the 100 passing attempt threshold and eclipsed 7.1 yards per attempt for his NFL career but still bounced around the league and never found success or even a starting job. So the model predicted his statistical success in yards per attempt but not his actual success on the field. The problem here is that our success metric — career yards per attempt over 7.1 — doesn’t perfectly discriminate between good and bad NFL QBs. Much like human evaluators, models can sometimes be right for the wrong reasons, and Moore is a prime example.8

The model was also suspiciously bad at predicting Lamar Jackson, ranking him as an almost sure bust as a passer. Jackson’s career yards per attempt — most of those attempts coming in just seven games — is right at the 7.1 threshold, and while he is no one’s idea of Drew Brees, a success probability of zero seems an overly harsh assessment for a player that has clear talent — especially running the ball — and has already helped his team to the playoffs.

Still, the good outweighs the bad. The only other false negatives in the bunch are Kirk Cousins and Marcus Mariota, both of whom have career yards per attempt figures above 7.1. Meanwhile the low probabilities assigned to passers like Nate Peterman, Zach Mettenberger, Paxton Lynch, Geno Smith and Blake Bortles all appear reasonably prescient.

Looking forward and applying the model to the current draft class, we find a few surprises. Kyler Murray sits comfortably at the top with a 97 percent probability of being an above-average pro quarterback. Murray’s physical and statistical production comps with Russell Wilson are especially striking. Wilson and Murray had roughly the same yards per attempt in college, identical average depth of target and similar Total QBR.9 Both are also under 6 feet tall and played baseball at a high level. As far as comps go for short QBs, you really can’t do any better.

Murray isn’t just a scrambler who excels working outside of the pocket and on broken plays, either. According to the ESPN Stats & Information Group, 91 percent of Murray’s 377 pass attempts in 2018 came inside the pocket, and 81.6 percent of those throws were on target and catchable. Murray faced five or more defensive backs on 82 percent of his passing attempts and threw a catchable pass 78.8 percent of the time. Against nickel and dime packages, he was even better when blitzed, with 79.1 percent of his passes charted as catchable when the defense brought pressure. And Murray didn’t just check down to the outlet receiver when the other team sent heat. Kyler pushed the ball downfield at depths of 20 yards or greater 21 percent of the time vs. a blitzing defender.

Meanwhile the other consensus first-round talent, Ohio State’s Dwayne Haskins, is viewed as much less of a sure thing by the model. While his CPOE is identical to Murray’s and his QBR is similar, the model rates his yards per attempt and low average depth of target as red flags that drag down his probability of success. Nickel is the base defense in the NFL, so a quarterback’s performance against it is important, and Haskins faced five or more defensive backs far less often than Murray, dropping back against nickel or dime on just 63 percent of his pass attempts. And when Haskins was blitzed out of those looks, he was not as adept at delivering on-target passes, with 76.4 percent charted as catchable despite only 6.6 percent traveling 20 yards or more in the air.

Kyler Murray’s accuracy and rushing put him atop his class

College quarterbacks invited to the 2019 NFL combine by their career statistics and predicted probability of success*

College stats Player CPOE YPA Avg. depth of target Total QBR Predicted Prob.† Kyler Murray +9% 10.4 10.4 92 97% Will Grier +6 9.0 10.2 78 90 Ryan Finley +4 7.6 8.5 76 78 Jordan Ta’amu +6 9.5 10.1 72 72 Dwayne Haskins +9 9.1 7.8 87 63 Brett Rypien +5 8.4 9.9 67 39 Jake Browning +3 8.3 8.8 73 38 Clayton Thorson 0 6.3 7.9 61 29 Trace McSorley +3 8.1 9.7 73 22 Daniel Jones -2 6.4 7.7 62 17 Gardner Minshew +2 7.1 6.8 70 4 Jarrett Stidham +3 8.5 8.3 69 3 Kyle Shurmur -3 7.0 9.0 59 1 Drew Lock -1 7.9 10.3 66 <1 Tyree Jackson -2 7.3 10.4 59 <1 Nick Fitzgerald -4 6.6 10.2 72 <1

*Excluding Easton Stick because of lack of data

†Probability the player will meet or exceed a career average of 7.1 yards per passing attempt

Source: ESPN Stats & Information Group

Other surprises from the consensus top-four prospects are the rankings of Duke’s Daniel Jones and Missouri’s Drew Lock — both of whom completed fewer passes than we would expect, and both of whom were assigned a low probability of NFL success. Teams should probably be very wary of both players. Since 2011, college QB prospects with completion percentages under expected — a list that includes Brock Osweiler, Trevor Siemian, Mike Glennon, Matt McGloin and Jacoby Brissett — have all failed to post career yards per attempt above the league average of 7.1. Meanwhile West Virginia’s Will Grier — a player few experts have mocked to go in the first round — looks to be the second-best QB prospect of the class. With his excellent college production and nearly prototypical size at 6-foot-3 and 217 pounds, Grier is a player whose stock could rise with a good performance on and off the field at the combine.

There are many weeks of interviews, testing and evaluation left to come for each of these prospects, and analytics are just one piece of the process. Models are certainly not a player’s destiny. Murray might end up profiling as a selfish diva who can’t play well with others. Lock could somehow morph into Patrick Mahomes. But ultimately the model and the metrics agree with Arizona Cardinals coach Kliff Kingsbury’s assessment that Murray is worthy of the top overall pick in the draft. Ship him off to a team with an early pick and a creative play-caller, and enjoy the air raid fever dream that follows.

from News About Sports https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/the-nfl-is-drafting-quarterbacks-all-wrong/

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angieburbidge9-blog · 6 years

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Deal better with email

Only powerful institutions had access to long distance communicating in the early days of mail.

Powerful groups of individuals have sought to restrain the flow of information throughout history. For a long time, just authorities and the Catholic Church had the resources to dispense information on a big scale. Empires and authorities have been using communication as a way to combine their power since antiquity. In the Persian Empire, as an example, messages could be transmitted by horse at the rate of 100 mph -- as early as 600 BC! A new horse had to be switched in along the route at each postal stop. The Abbasid Caliphate had over 900 postal stops in 860 AD, and Caliph Abu Jalbar Mansur formerly said in a language that a faithful postmaster was just as important as the Chief of Police or the Minister of Finance. Meanwhile, the Roman Catholic Church issued significant doctrinal rulings or governmental decisions by disseminating scrolls all across Europe. Frequent people, on the other hand, didn't have access to long-distance communication before the end of the nineteenth century. Sending email was quite costly, too. For just 1 letter, you had paper (that was expensive at the time), silk to wrap it in, wax to seal it and accessibility to an official indication. Matters were further complicated by the fact that folks didn't have fixed addresses. With addresses such as this, it was often difficult for letters to wind up in the right location! Communication fashions changed as mail services became more democratic and accessible over time. Not everyone enjoyed the change, however. In reality, The New York Times reported the nation had been afflicted by a postcard-sending "outbreak" later that same year! Massive governments also begun investing more in their postal systems to build up them. The British Royal Mail, for instance, used 42,000 people and had opened over 12,000 offices by 1873. By that point, mail had gradually begun to become a more regular part of people's lives. In 1840, the average American only delivered three letters annually; by 1900, that number had climbed to 69. People used mail for various different purposes, too. Emigrant groups composed letters to remain in contact with friends and relatives, and some people even begun using it for pleasure. Communication styles also shifted as mail became more widely available. In 1871, The New York Times published a complaint about what we currently call "flaming" as it happens online: competitive, violent insults sent out to individuals. There were even early types of spam! Some unlucky people got tricked into making false investments as early as 1887, when they received letters requesting them to claim the estates of allegedly deceased distant relatives. The telegraph provided the first means of real-time, long-term conversation. Letters have become much easier to send at the turn of the century, but they still took a very long time to get where they were moving. Overall, communication was fairly slow. But the telegraph changed that completely and irrevocably. The telegraph has been an incredibly powerful communication tool -- so powerful that it changed the way people perceived time and space. For the very first time, individuals and information in far off places were quickly accessible. Ahead of the transatlantic cable was laid in 1870, it took five months to send information from London to New York. Since the world grew smaller and communication became much simpler, even enemies started making long-distance small talk with each other. Generals from the American Civil War of 1860 sent every other brief, provocative messages like, "I see your condition through my telescope" and "We've intercepted your supplies. Give in like a good fellow." The debut of the telegraph even caused the very first era of information overload. People now had unprecedented access to news and communicating. William James, the famous philosopher, coined the term Americanitis to describe the perpetual fear of never being on time, and nervousness about missing out on something -- a myriad of stress brought on by the telegraph. Newspapers also began printing larger editions as the telegraph allowed people more access to news. Soon they were printing every day instead of once a week, covering news from all around the world; but not everyone liked this development. The Michigan newspaper Alpeno Echo even closed down its telegraph service because it felt it was becoming the voice of the world, in place of the record of its community. Emails are fundamentally different from any prior form of communication. The telegraph peaked around 1945, when roughly 240 million telegrams were sent per year. In 2007, the number of emails sent globally hit 35 trillion -- a figure more than 10,000 times higher. So just how did email get so successful and what exactly does it mean for us? Mail has made communication much easier and faster than ever before. Not only can it be instantaneous, it also costs virtually nothing! Ahead of email, folks needed to write addresses (or descriptions of a place!) On paper or envelopes and then send them out individually. Now, we can send messages to people, or even large groups of individuals, with just one click. You can forward a message or share a piece of news without thinking about it whatsoever. Email can also be free. Anyone with a computer or telephone and access to the net can use it everywhere, from any place. Communication is getting a lot more efficient -- but it might actually be too efficient. Now that it is so easy to send and receive messages, we are often expected to reply instantly. Online messages constantly interrupt our day. In fact, one 2006 study found that the average American employee was interrupted 11 times per hour, leading to an overall reduction of $600 billion. Another threat of constant email access is it may create a never-ending to-do list for you. When you can get new jobs or advice at any moment, your friends, family or supervisor may expect you to be accessible constantly, always prepared to change your aims. It goes without saying that email is efficient. However, it creates a lot of anxiety for us too. Emailing is highly addictive and changes the chemistry of your brain. Email is a digital form of communication, but it still generates problems in the physical world. Actually, email functions much like a medication. When you receive a favorable email, you are feeling a sense of recognition and validation. This, in turn, compels you to continue checking your inbox over and over so you may find that feeling repeatedly. The resulting addiction is strong: in 1 survey designed to measure email response period, the normal time was just 104 seconds. Seventy percent of the participants reacted in just seven seconds. Email withdrawal can cause distress and anxiety, also. In 2007, one real estate agent said that his "blood ran cold" if the Blackberry network went down for a few hours. Our brains just are not meant for the new challenges posed by email. Brain imaging has proven that repetitive behaviour, such as compulsive email-checking, causes imbalances in dopamine levels. Your dopamine increases when you check your email, so you start to crave it. Compulsive email-checking has a negative impact on your memory. When you attempt to do too many jobs simultaneously, your mind's attention is directed away from your hippocampus, which is responsible for storing information. It focuses instead on your striatum, which deals with repetitive jobs. This is why it's more difficult to remember what you're doing if you're multitasking. Emails also send very little info to our prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for empathizing with other people and addressing them at an appropriate tone. So, they can bring in a lot of misunderstanding. The prefrontal cortex is very vulnerable and impressionable through adolescence, so young men and women who develop email habits may also develop permanent problems with communication. Email interrupts our everyday lives. Our email customs have a significant effect on our emotions and everyday behavior. They change the way we socialize with our families, friends and kids! Because email is a significant disruption in our daily lives. The speed, frequency and anonymity of email can leave you feeling tired at the end of the day. We're also reading fewer books these days due to email, and also our eye movements have changed; we are now likely to skimming instead of reading. Email has an impact on our sleep patterns too. Studies have shown that individuals are now sleeping less than they did 20 decades ago, largely due to our need to always be connected. Madonna even confessed in 2008 that she and Guy Ritchie slept with their telephones beneath their pillows, so they could catch them whenever they needed. "It's not unromantic," she said, "it is sensible." The set is currently blessed. You also spend less time with your loved ones when you are ever looking at your telephone or computer. He always needed to create bad trade-offs, nevertheless. He ruined his son Lego figure at a play fight so that he can reply an email, leaving his son to reconstruct the figure on his own. The tyranny of email can be overcome. We've seen that email is extremely addictive and changes our brains. Nevertheless, it is possible for individuals to overcome this tyranny. Let us discuss some strategies for controlling your email so it will not end up controlling you. First off, you need to stay in control of when you're actually using email. Consider checking your email just a set variety of times every day, or only using it during work hours. Determine what quantity of email is healthy and necessary, and cut any excess use of it. In this way, you avoid unnecessary interruptions and may respond to a very long email thread without having to look at every single message as it arrives. You make things worse if you check your email just after you wake up just before going to sleep -- it implies you're subjecting your disposition to other people's messages at key points on your day. So, aim to have a couple of email-free hours on each end. We also need to alter the way we write our emails. Give your email a efficient subject line that summarizes the main parts, and be sure to keep your emails brief and just write information that is absolutely vital. Then, encourage other people to do the same. Let them know you do not always need a "Thank you message" and keep your inbox free of any messages that are not useful. Strive to locate a balance between email and other, offline tools for planning and communicating. Phone calls and meetings are far better than email if you're talking something sensitive. Group discussions must be held in individual, as group emails may get endless and disorienting. Try rearranging your desk, too. Desks are often organized around computers, but be sure you still have sufficient space to write on paper and make phone calls comfortably. Do not cut paper and pens out of your life! No additional kind of communication has affected our lives as deeply as email. It offers free, instant access to communication from anywhere with internet access. Though its benefits are manifold, email has its drawbacks too. Email is strong, so make sure you restrain drink Water it -- or else it can control you. Use your voice when you need to discuss something lengthy and complex. Nuances could be dropped in mails, creating accidental confusion or ill feelings. If you need to go over something important, it is ideal to do it in person. If that isn't an option, make a phone call -- otherwise, emails might actually be counterproductive. Some Guidelines for Getting the Most Out of Email Get a head start when you have a free moment. Instead of assessing Facebook for the umpteenth time while waiting in line or sitting in a cab, take a couple of minutes to lighten your email loading. You may begin with knocking out mails which you can tell from the topic line will not take very long to read and react to. This will make it simpler when you really do sit down to respond to emails. Put aside a particular time to answer emails. Because other jobs can appear more urgent, we frequently kick the email down the street and leave it for later. The outcome is that unread messages can pile up, and the only way to catch up would be to put aside a committed time whenever you're focused entirely on whittling your inbox. Take 15 minutes once you complete lunch each day or set aside 1 evening per week a "work night" to focus on email. Decide quickly if you need to respond. One very easy way to lessen the time you spend on email would be to not allow useless emails linger. Immediate archive emails if the sender, subject, and opening sentence indicate the email isn't one worth studying. Another suggestion is to immediately sort new emails into one of 3 categories: Answer now, rename and delete, and Star for later. This allows you to keep things moving while saving e-mails that require a longer response to get a more suitable time. If an email needs only a brief reply, do it immediately and get it out of the way. When you do respond, keep things short and sweet. Save time by getting to the purpose of your reply as quickly as possible. Replying to a lengthy email with a few sentences or even just a few words isn't rude. If you can effectively communicate your response in only a couple of words there's simply no reason to add fluff. Do not even say 'Hello, so'. A simple 'no' will suffice and will earn you lots of respect. You can also create canned responses to frequently asked questions when potential and ditching unnecessary responses such as "Cool." and "Thanks." Do not get caught up on email offers and newsletters. Instead of needing to operate around recurring email offers from retailers or updates from providers such as Facebook, set up junk mail filters which will automatically divert them away from your inbox. In this manner, they are not on your manner, but could still go back and examine them anytime. You'll be able to register for a free service such as unroll.me to unsubscribe from blast emails you are not interested in getting anymore. Give yourself an email break once you go on holiday. Among the greatest areas of taking a vacation is getting the chance to unplug for a little. On the downside, doing this generally means you return to a mountain of unread emails once you return. Leave your out-of-office reply set up throughout your first day back on the job. The magic is in adding a single extra day to it that you legitimately have a catch-up day to get your feet back under you when you return. Do not increase the clutter by sending unnecessary emails of your own. A surefire method to fill up your inbox would be to ask someone an open-ended question that will lead you into a back-and-forth exchange that performs over several days and heaps of emails. Rather, do not be afraid to give someone a telephone call, or, if they operate in your workplace, just walk over to them and have a conversation. In this manner, you receive the information you need in a timely manner and avoid a game of email ping-pong.

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rodrigohyde · 7 years

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Interview: NYCFC goalie Sean Johnson talks high-intensity training, the MLS Cup Playoffs, and why goalkeepers love to be 'villains'

Although it was only his first season with the team, New York City FC goalkeeper Sean Johnson made quite the impact in 2017.

The former longtime Chicago Fire keeper was traded to the club in December, and then went on to have one of the best years of his career.

[RELATED1]

Johnson started 32 games for the team, recording a career-best seven shutouts while finishing with 15 wins, his most since 2012. That performance helped fuel New York City FC to its best performance since starting play in 2015, earning a first-round playoff bye as the second seed in the Eastern Conference.

What sparked Johnson to such a successful season? The goalkeeper chalks it up to his intense position-specific training.

“As a goalkeeper, I do a lot of plyometric work, a lot of explosive work, and single-leg workouts in my training,” Johnson tells Men’s Fitness. “In this position, it’s crucial to have strong legs and a powerful lower body, because when you're making saves, you're diving off one foot or jumping off one foot. I make sure to focus a lot on my lower body and explosive power.”

[RELATED2]

He'll need every ounce of that muscle now, as NYCFC faces an uphill battle to advance to the next round after a 4-1 defeat to the Columbus Crew in the opening leg of the Eastern Conference Semifinals. But Johnson is confident the club can put up a fight.

“I think we have a really talented group of players, and we’re going to fight for it,” Johnson says. “It was a tough first leg, but now there has to be a reset button that’s hit. Everybody has to refocus and start turning their focus and energy toward really doing something special in this match. We’re going to compete as hard as we can, and give 100% effort on the field.”

[RELATED3]

Johnson spoke with Men’s Fitness about how yoga helps keep him healthy, why his training as a goalkeeper is a little bit weird, and his favorite cheat-day meal.

(Editor’s note: This interview has been edited for clarity)

Men's Fitness: What’s your daily training routine like during the off-season?

Sean Johnson: I typically take a little bit of rest to start. But once I start back up, my days typically consist of a light cardio workout in the morning, going to the gym, and doing some exercises for plyo strength and agility. I incorporate a little bit of yoga into my routine throughout the week just to stay flexible and keep everything moving in the right direction. That's about three or four times a week.

As a goalie, how does your workout routine differ from other players'?

The focus on core is similar across the board. But each player has a lot more work that is specific to each different type of movement. My teammates are doing a lot more dynamic movement, whereas our work as goalkeepers is a lot more explosive and in short bursts. We're rarely ever on the long trot, so to speak. When others may have to pass a fitness test, develop hamstring strength, and endurance, we focus more on the strength and explosive aspects.

[RELATED4]

What’s your favorite part about making a big save? How does it feel when you stop a shot from someone in a big moment?

We goalkeepers like being that villain. We like being that opposing force. You have to have some type of satisfaction in closing an opposing player down and stopping their shot. But I think the most satisfying thing about making a big save is just being able to keep your team in it; you know at any point in the game giving your team the confidence to go forward and really go attack the game and try their best to win it.

Do you like to use any supplements while you’re training?

I haven’t been huge on supplements. I always go with the protein recovery shake or maybe some branched-chain amino acids just to help with muscle recovery. I think it’s the most important thing just to feel at your best always.

What’s the best advice you’ve been given in your career regarding your training?

Just think about what it’s going to take to make your career as long as possible. That’s where yoga, Pilates, and stretching came in. I think those are a big factor in making your career as long as possible.

Do you ever use boxing or MMA training in the off-season? What are some of your favorite cardio and high-intensity workouts to use?

I think high-intensity interval training is important. I'll do bike sprints, work on a track where I’m sprinting for a little bit, jogging for a little bit—whatever I can do to start-stop-start-stop a lot. Explosion is really what our position is all about. I think that’s one of the fun things. Also, it’s important to incorporate a little bit of longer cardio in to have a base, so sometimes I jog to the gym. It’s probably about a mile and a half away from my house, so I jog to the gym work out and jog back.

[RELATED5]

What do you enjoy most about being with NYCFC?

Honestly, from the time I have come to this club, I have been welcomed with open arms. I think we have a really talented group of players that has gelled on the field and off the field, which is important. The hunger to win, the hunger for success—that’s apparent in every aspect of this club, whether it’s the coaching staff, the players, or the front office, everybody has the hunger to be the best, and that’s the culture you want to be a part of.

It’s a special feeling to have our fans behind us every single game. It’s tough to describe how much it impacts us as players. The fans are something that we believe propels us every single game to go that last inch, or make that last run or stretch as far as you can to preserve the result.

[PQ]

What are your favorite moments and memories from the season?

I would say the three derby matches we have played against the Red Bulls this season. Having a game of such importance and performing well against them was great. I also think MLS Decision Day was special. It was a good feeling to lock down the second place, and the first-round bye was huge for us.

How does it feel to be in the playoffs? What are your expectations for the team in the postseason?

It feels good to be in the playoffs, it was obviously one of our goals as a club this year to start. We know that it’s a long year, and you want to put yourself in the best position to make the playoffs at the end of the day. We have that opportunity now to achieve something really special. We are not going to take that for granted, and we’re ready. When it comes to the playoffs, you set expectations in what you can control as a team, we expect to go out every single game and compete as hard as we can, give 100% effort, and do all that is necessary to prepare.

What’s your favorite cheat day meal to have when you just want to stuff your face?

I have a really bad sweet tooth, so anything sweet I try to stay away from for the most part. But when I have my opportunity to sit down and dive in, I go with chocolate chip cookies, donuts, you name it if it has sugar in it. Chocolate chip cookies and donuts are my go-tos.

What are some of your favorite off-field activities to do?

One of my favorite things to do off the field is fishing. I love getting out in the water. It’s a peaceful place. You can go out there and just be in your own world for a little bit. Motorsport is another big one—I’m a big fan of racing, so just watching races, going out and experiencing that, and/or just working on my car back home puts me in my happy place outside of the field.

If you could give your younger self training advice, what would it be?

Probably to stay away from the number of sweets I put in when I was younger, when I didn’t believe in cheat meals and cheat meals happened every day [laughs].

No, I would say just learning as much as possible at an early age. As goalkeepers, especially, it’s all about the experiences you take in over the course of your career. That starts before a professional career, in high school. Just taking in every experience and learning from it and putting it in the memory bank.

[RELATED6]

Soccer

from Men's Fitness http://www.mensfitness.com/sports/soccer/interview-nycfc-goalie-sean-johnson-talks-high-intensity-training-mls-cup-playoffs-and

#Men's Fitness

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egooksconnolly · 7 years

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Interview: NYCFC goalie Sean Johnson talks high-intensity training, the MLS Cup Playoffs, and why goalkeepers love to be 'villains'

Although it was only his first season with the team, New York City FC goalkeeper Sean Johnson made quite the impact in 2017.

The former longtime Chicago Fire keeper was traded to the club in December, and then went on to have one of the best years of his career.

[RELATED1]

What sparked Johnson to such a successful season? The goalkeeper chalks it up to his intense position-specific training.

[RELATED2]

[RELATED3]

Johnson spoke with Men’s Fitness about how yoga helps keep him healthy, why his training as a goalkeeper is a little bit weird, and his favorite cheat-day meal.

(Editor’s note: This interview has been edited for clarity)

Men's Fitness: What’s your daily training routine like during the off-season?

As a goalie, how does your workout routine differ from other players'?

[RELATED4]

What’s your favorite part about making a big save? How does it feel when you stop a shot from someone in a big moment?

Do you like to use any supplements while you’re training?

What’s the best advice you’ve been given in your career regarding your training?

Do you ever use boxing or MMA training in the off-season? What are some of your favorite cardio and high-intensity workouts to use?

[RELATED5]

What do you enjoy most about being with NYCFC?

[PQ]

What are your favorite moments and memories from the season?

How does it feel to be in the playoffs? What are your expectations for the team in the postseason?

What’s your favorite cheat day meal to have when you just want to stuff your face?

What are some of your favorite off-field activities to do?

If you could give your younger self training advice, what would it be?

Probably to stay away from the number of sweets I put in when I was younger, when I didn’t believe in cheat meals and cheat meals happened every day [laughs].

[RELATED6]

Soccer

Article source here:Men’s Fitness

0 notes

junker-town · 7 years

Text

3 reasons to watch every team in the 2017 MLB Postseason

Looking for a handy viewing guide to the teams and players you want to watch? We’ve got you covered.

Two-thirds of the teams in Major League Baseball won’t play again until 2018. Another two teams will be cruelly defenestrated after a single three-hour game. That means the odds are good that if you’re watching the MLB Postseason, you’re watching a bunch of teams that you haven’t paid attention to for most of the season.

The goal here is to give you some reasons to watch every team, then. While there are all sorts of quirky things for you find out if you dig deep enough (Why does Edwin Encarnacion run around the bases with an invisible parrot? Is it possible for Fernando Rodney to kill the invisible parrot with an invisible arrow? Isn’t Rodney 58 years old?), we’ll stick with some of the basics.

The day is coming when there will be a delirious schedule with four different postseason games, which means there will be eight different teams whizzing around the spin cycle. Those are the very best days. What should you watch for with each team?

New York Yankees

Aaron Judge

You don’t need me to tell you to watch Aaron Judge, but I’m going to anyway. He is baseball’s biggest friend, always there for you with a tree pulled out of the ground if you’re in need of a makeshift bridge. If you like long home runs and walks on the beach (to find the baseballs he callously murdered), Judge is your new, temporary favorite player.

There’s a bit of a twist, though. Judge hit .330/.441/.787 against “finesse” pitchers, described by Baseball-Reference as the pitchers with a low strikeout-to-walk ratio, which is more than 400 points of OPS better than the average hitter. He hit .305/.466/.617 against pitchers with an average ratio, which is more than 300 points better than the average hitter.

Against power pitchers, the best of the best, he hit just .186/.337/.386, which is pretty close to the league average (.222/.301/.369) against those pitchers. It’s not that he’ll struggle against the best pitchers compared to other hitters, but that he’ll be an ordinary guy. And guess what kind of pitchers he’ll face in the postseason.

That’s if the Yankees advance against the Twins, of course, but I’m fascinated to see how Judge responds against the Andrew Millers of the world in crucial spots.

Luis Severino

The most underrated Yankees player in recent memory? I can’t think of another player who has slipped under the radar quite like him, and I can’t explain it. Severino boosted his strikeouts this year, striking out 29.4 percent of the batters he faced — an eight-percent increase over his career numbers — and he turned into a legitimate ace for a team that desperately needed one.

Severino is important for the story of the Yankees on a couple levels, though. He can pitch, sure, but he’s also a living testament to just how well the organization functions. He was signed for just $225,000 out of the Dominican Republic. He was developed quickly and efficiently, and when he looked like damaged goods in 2016, the Yankees calmly and effectively fixed him in time for the next season.

The Yankees are here because they’re rich enough to shake off overpaid contracts like the one given to Jacoby Ellsbury, yes, but that’s not the only reason. They’re smart and good at developing baseball men. They don’t get nearly enough credit for that par.

The Bullpen of Hot Death

Crikey, this bullpen. Aroldis Chapman hasn’t been the same kind of robotic strikeout machine that he’d been in the past, but he’s still a part of a nasty, talented group that the Yankees have cobbled together. Try not to remember that they had Andrew Miller at some point, too.

After Chapman is Chad Green, who is apparently one of the best relievers in baseball now?

ME: SIRI, FIND OUT WHO THE HELL CHAD GREEN IS FOR ME.

SIRI: Charred Greens is located at 4833 S. Daughtery Road in Plano.

Green struck out 103 batters in 69 innings, taking over for Dellin Betances, who struggled with wildness this year. Adam Warren was mostly fantastic this year, Tommy Kahnle has been superb, and I guess David Robertson is back to his old Yankees form now. This bullpen is absurd.

When you factor in the regular, scheduled rest their bullpen will enjoy, you’re right to fear the Yankees. They’re a team that’s built for the postseason.

So long as they win a single game against the Twins, that is.

Boston Red Sox

Chris Sale

In our rush to invent new adjectives for obelisk-man Aaron Judge, let us not forget that baseball is often dominated by a pitcher who’s shaped like a life-size IG-88 figure and throws like he’s trying to lasso his own toes. Sale is an absolutely marvel, and I would like to share with you a headline I wrote about him in 2014:

Let's not shovel dirt on Chris Sale's brilliant career just yet

It was a hyperbolic headline directed at the people who were just so sure that Sale was going to break down. When he went on the DL with a flexor strain, it was vindication for everyone who thought that, proof that he was a liability, not an asset. Since then, he’s pitched three full seasons, and he’ll likely finish in the top five in Cy Young voting for the fifth season in a row.

Just watch him pitch, though. He’s a strikeout demigod, for one, but he also throws like a pickup truck filled with didgeridoos swerving off the road to avoid a wallaby. It’s a lot of fun.

Craig Kimbrel

Kimbrel is less complicated. He’s filthy in a much more straightforward way, using a gnarly fastball/breaking ball combination that hitters can’t touch. He struck out 126 batters in just 69 innings this year, while walking only 14. As a reminder, the Braves brought him up a season after he walked 45 batters in 60 innings, and command/control were always supposed to be a problem.

As it turns out, nope. No problems there. He can throw harder than everyone else, make his breaking ball move more than everyone else, and he can put both of them where he tries to, for the most part.

Look at this nonsense:

youtube

You should watch the postseason just for this nonsense.

The outfield defense

The Red Sox didn’t hit as well as they were expecting this year, and part of that had to do with steps back from Mookie Betts and Jackie Bradley, Jr., as well as good-not-great numbers from Andrew Benintendi. The dynamic troika were led by Betts’ 108 OPS+, and none of them hit like a burgeoning MVP candidate, which is what we expected after last season.

They’re all center fielders, though, which makes them extremely fun to watch, especially when they’re playing in a park that’s a little more spacious than Fenway. They can do things like this ...

youtube

... and all of them can throw a bit, too.

youtube

Some of them can throw a lot of bit. My only regret is that Tal’s Hill isn’t around to make things a little more interesting, but that’s nitpicking.

Cleveland Indians

Francisco Lindor

The original header was “seriously guys, holy [swear word], Francisco Lindor,” and that probably undersells it. Lindor somehow lasted until the eighth pick of the 2011 Draft, and he’s exactly the kind of player every franchise dreams of when they go to sleep at night. He ...

hits for average

hits for power

takes a walk

runs well

plays Gold Glove defense at shortstop

makes people laugh

makes people smile

just makes people enjoy life more, you know?

is he looking at me right now?

don’t look at him, you idiot, just tell me if he’s looking at me right now

The Indians’ problem is that they didn’t have a Francisco Lindor. Now that’s the problem of every other team. Don’t bother the Indians with your problems. They’re much better now. Seriously, just watch Lindor do everything well and remember that he’s just 23 years old. If he put these numbers up in Triple-A, he would probably be a top-10 prospect in baseball. As is, he’s just a top-10 player in baseball. Allot your postseason attention accordingly.

Corey Kluber

If Lindor was the consolation prize for an awful Indians season, Kluber is your reminder that sometimes it takes a little luck, too. The Indians new they were getting something when they traded Jake Westbrook and his 4.65 ERA away, but they had to be thinking “middle reliever” or “fifth starter if everything breaks the right way” instead of perennial Cy Young candidate. His evolution is a reminder that baseball doesn’t always tape Baseball America’s top-100 list to its bathroom mirror.

Kluber somehow had his best season this year, setting a personal best in strikeouts per nine innings, while leading the league in wins, ERA, shutouts, complete games, WHIP, hits per nine innings, and walks per nine innings. He is the answer to the hypothetical question “What happens when a pitcher can throw whatever he wants, moving as much as he wants, wherever he wants to throw it?”

There are pitchers who throw harder. I’m not sure if there are pitchers who throw better. As a bonus, you can watch him to see if he shows the tiniest scintilla of emotion. It’s like a drinking game, but for people who don’t drink.

How Terry Francona manages Andrew Miller

The Indians had one good starter in the postseason last year because of horribly timed injuries to Danny Salazar and Carlos Carrasco, but they made the World Series because of Andrew Miller. And others! But with a huge assist from Miller, who was used like Terry Francona spent 30 days in a SABR think tank studying the history of the bullpen. The Indians had one of the best living pitchers ready for whatever mess came up, whether it was the fourth inning or the eighth. It was mesmerizing.

This year might be a touch different because Miller’s control hasn’t been otherworldly (3.0 BB/9) and he’s been dealing with injuries this year, but he’s still just about the perfect reliever, able and willing to pitch multiple innings to get the Indians out of whatever pickle they’re in. I’m not sure if Francona will be as aggressive with him, considering the Indians’ rotation is in a little bit of an improved spot this postseason, but he’s one of the best October weapons going.

He’s one of the best because of how Francona deploys him. Not all games are lost in the eighth inning, and it took a veteran manager willing to experiment to make us remember that.

Minnesota Twins

Byron Buxton playing center field

Okay, so here’s the deal. This is me telling you to watch the Twins because of a position player’s defense, right? It makes sense, but there’s a caveat: You might not see this player make a single outlandish play. The Twins might play nine innings. Eight of them might not mean a damned thing. And Buxton might not catch a single ball.

You just have to hope they do.

Really, this is a proxy for the idea that the Twins are good again with the help of their high-profile youngsters. Miguel Sano should be healthy enough to play in the AL Wild Card Game. Buxton will be in the lineup, firmly entrenched as a two-way contributor. It wasn’t that long ago that ...

Baseball Prospectus' Jason Parks told SB Nation that a non-Twins front office executive described Buxton's floor to him as Torii Hunter, and his ceiling as Willie Mays -- a Hall of Famer and one of the game's greatest talents and players in its long history.

Before you write Parks off as some internet goofball, remember that he owns a very diamondy ring from his time with the Cubs last year. That’s how talented Buxton can be — he can make people talk about Willie Mays.

Don’t know if he’ll ever hit .300, but watch him make a catch. You’ll get that part, at least.

The Yankees Death Ray

The Twins are 2-12 against the Yankees in four different postseason series over the last two decades. You’re watching the Twins for two reasons, then.

You want to see if they can overcome their historical nemesis, the team that has gobbled their souls and fertilized fields with the leavings. You want to see if baseball can sneak in a twist to the story.

You want to see their souls gobbled.

It’s not necessarily a binary thing, but it kind of is. What’s gonna happen? Dunno! We’ll figure it out in a few hours, but it’s going to be painful for someone.

That bullpen

This is not the same entry as the Yankees’ bullpen entry. The Twins traded away their closer at the trade deadline because their odds of making the postseason were so low. They are the accidental contender, and now they’re looking around, wide-eyed, wondering what in the heck they just did.

So don’t screw it up, bullpen.

Matt Belisle had a 2.55 ERA after the Twins traded closer Brandon Kintzler, with a strong 19-3 strikeout-to-walk ratio in 17 innings. Taylor Rogers was solid for most of the year, and Trevor Hildenberger turned into the high-strikeout, low-walk pitcher the Twins have been missing for too long. It’s not like they’re without hope; they made the postseason for a reason.

But I’m fascinated with the idea that the Twins tried to have their cake (deadline prospects) and eat it too (postseason). I want them to be rewarded, if we’re being honest. I like that kind of double-dipping, and there should be more of it.

Houston Astros

The best double-play combo in baseball

There are some of these categories that are a little too cute. This is not one of them. Do you like baseball, friend? Do you like it when the baseball men do good baseball things? Here are some of the best baseball men. They do the best baseball things.

Carlos Correa and Jose Altuve are Whitaker/Trammell, Fox/Aparicio, Utley/Rollins, Robinson/Reese, but with the potential to rack up even more stats. It’s unbelievable that these two talents, occupying positions that are so important, are both on the same team at the same time, ready to conquer the world together. Correa is the prototype, the big, strong shortstop in the Cal Ripken mold, someone with both strength and grace. Altuve is more in the Joe Morgan mold, all calculated twitch and muscle memory, with speed and power beyond what you’re expecting.

They’re basically Cal Ripken and Joe Morgan playing in the same infield, everyone.

The best part might be that Indians fans might want to fight me after that paragraph. I think I would take Correa/Altuve over Lindor/Ramirez, but am I really so sure? I am not. Now imagine them tussling against each other in the ALCS. Either way, you want to watch the Astros. They have a fine double play combination [whispers] with an outside chance of being the best in history [taps side of nose].

Justin Verlander

Justin Verlander is a postseason beast ... depending on which team you talk to. The A’s certainly never need to hear his name again. The Yankees don’t have fond memories. The Giants are cool, though, and so are the Rangers. The last time we saw Verlander, he lasted just five innings against the Orioles.

At the same time, Verlander’s second-half splits over the last few years have been bananas.

Coincidence? Perhaps! But the larger point is that the Astros were an excellent team without Verlander, but they’ve needed someone like him over the last few years. Or someone like his second-half version, at least. They gave up a lot of financial flexibility and some compelling prospects to make this postseason happen. The least we can do is watch.

The emotion

There are thousands of words in the idea that baseball can heal, that baseball is useless, that baseball is both, and I’m probably going to write them soon. For now, just know that Houston’s heart is heavy, and that most of the country is pulling for them in some capacity, and that’s before you get to the part where the Astros have a strong Puerto Rican presence, too. Between Correa and Carlos Beltran, the Astros might have two of the greatest Puerto Rican players ever, just at different stages of their careers, and they’re torn between two unfathomable situations in the two different places their souls just happened to land.

Keep this in mind, is all. When the crowd is cheering a little longer, a little louder, just keep that in mind. I don’t begrudge Rangers fans for maintaining their divisional and regional rivalries, but the rest of us should be invested in the Astros a little more than usual.

Washington Nationals

Can they win a freaking series?

The thing about the Nationals is they benefited from a changing system. They finished with the worst record in 2008, which meant that they got the first-overall pick in a draft with a consensus first-overall talent, Stephen Strasburg. They finished with the worst record in 2009, which meant that they got the first-overall pick in a draft with a consensus first-overall talent, Bryce Harper. This might not seem odd to you.

Except the draft used to have an AL-NL-AL order for the first 40-plus years. There were teams that finished with the worst overall record in two consecutive seasons without receiving a single first-overall-pick. But the Nationals happened to be the worst in a year in which they were going to get the first pick anyway, and then baseball changed the rules of the draft to ditch the AL-NL-AL order just in time for them to draft Harper. It’s a stroke of luck the Padres haven’t had in their entire organizational existence.

Now’s the time for the Nationals not to screw it up. The last time they won a postseason series was 1981, when they played in France, give or take. They’re led by Dusty Baker, who has an amazing reverse trilogy of brutal postseason losses in reverse chronology: the 2002 World Series with the Giants, the 2003 NLCS with the Cubs, and the 2012 NLDS with the Reds. Any one of those might be the worst postseason loss of any manager’s given career. With Baker, they’ve come in descending order.

It’s probably a good thing he’s not managing a wild card team. And the Nationals should probably win a postseason series. That’s all I’m saying.

Max Scherzer

Clayton Kershaw is probably the best pitcher in baseball still? But now I’ve added italics and a question mark to that statement, which is a huge step down. And I’m biased because Kershaw makes 18 starts against the Giants every year, which I have to watch, but the best starter in baseball might be Corey Kluber, yes. Or it might be Max Scherzer.

I’m starting to lean toward Max Scherzer.

He has a classic repertoire, a hard, darting fastball and an assortment of offspeed pitches that he can control at will. That’s it. That’s the secret. That’s all you have to do if you want to be as talented and rich as Scherzer. Throw that hard, and throw with that kind of command. It’s simple, and you’re wasting your time on the internet reading this crap? Buddy.

Watch Scherzer if you need some tips. I’m old enough to remember when he was an enigma, someone whose ERA didn’t match up with his strikeouts and walks. “Maybe he’s just one of those guy the advanced stats can’t figure out.”

Nah. They’ve figured him out, and he’s remarkable.

Trea Turner

I’m not rigging ways to point out that the Padres could have had Kluber and Turner leading the way in an alternate universe. The universe is rigging the ways for me. And Turner is a tremendous talent, albeit one who hasn’t ascended to the same heights as Lindor or Correa. Yet.

Still, let’s appreciate one of the most well-rounded base-stealing threats in the game, a dynamic player who can take second and third if he didn’t hit a triple to lead off the inning. He might not be an MVP just yet, but he’s still the kind of player my eyes are drawn to whenever I watch a game he plays.

Players this fast shouldn’t be able to do anything else well. It’s like the start of an old RPG when you get to spend all your skill points on magic ... and strength. One or the other, pal!

Los Angeles Dodgers

Clayton Kershaw and his ... history

It’s been a common theme around these parts since 2012. Kershaw is already a Hall of Famer, a few months before his 30th birthday, but he’s annually been pantsed on TBS or Fox. It’s uncomfortable to watch, and I’m telling you, it’s not his fault. The Dodgers have taken great pains to build their team around Kershaw on short rest, and it almost worked last year.

Another possible strategy might be something like, oh, not using Kershaw on short rest? Just spitballing.

To that end, the Dodgers got Yu Darvish, who was putting things together in September. Alex Wood was never going to go 20-0, and he stumbled a bit toward the end, but Rich Hill looked even stronger by the end of the year. The Dodgers should be able to use four pitchers, like a normal team, and go to Kershaw on short rest if they absolutely need (or want) to.

That should help him. But you still get to watch one of baseball’s greatest talents skeptically, as if nothing he did in the previous nine years counts. That’s brutally unfair, and it’s probably unreasonable. It’s compelling, though! Super compelling.

The pressure on the Dodgers after their wild rollie coaster of a season

It’s not just Clayton Kershaw who’s feeling a little pressure. It’s the entire organization. They haven’t made the World Series since Madden games looked (and sounded) like this:

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That was a long time ago.

GAHHH. But, yeah, the Dodgers already had a history to fight against. Then came this season, in which they were the most dominant team in history, depending on where you started and stopped your search. They were going to threaten the 1906 Cubs. They were going to threaten the 2001 Mariners. They were going to obliterate the 1998 Yankees.

And then they lost. A whole bunch. They had the longest losing streak since they moved to Los Angeles, and you wouldn’t believe what Madden games looked like back then.

They won more games than the Indians, but which team would you rather be? The Dodgers stumbled to a 12-23 finish, and it took a little roll at the end to get them that far. I’m not a big momentum guy, but, uh, check out the momentum on these guys. It’s not so hot.

Which means you can watch the Dodgers to either prove that teams don’t give a rip about momentum, or to prove your secret theories about how momentum really means everything. There isn’t a team that’s less relaxed than the 2017 Dodgers on several fronts, so check in on them when you get a chance.

Clay Bellinger swinging like he’s trying to send himself back through time to court your mother

I don’t know why he would ... do that, but that’s between you, him, and your god. The point is that he swings hard. So, so hilariously hard. He’s a perfect representation of the new era, the best example of a kid who was told to swing as hard as he could, strikeouts be damned. He’s Joc Pederson after the software upgrade, and it works.

While he didn’t keep up the absurd pace he set earlier in the season, it’s not like he ever slumped dramatically. His lowest OPS by month was .835, in July. His OPS in the second half was lower than the first, but it was still .901. If the advance scouts and wizened old coaches around the league have figured out how to pitch to Bellinger, they haven’t done it consistently enough to show up in the stats.

Bellinger is still just 22 years old, and it’s a young 22, which means his wild-yet-patient approach can be refined to simply patient. And if he starts spitting on the pitches he can’t hit, woof, look out. That freaky-fast swing is going to set records.

Chicago Cubs

The fans

Specifically, the transition from desperate to entitled. You want to punch Red Sox and Giants fans now, but you used to want to leave a little saucer of milk out for them, the poor things. The Cubs fans are the same way. They haven’t quite turned on you yet. But they’re planning to.

And until they do, you’ll get to watch how the react to new successes and failures. Are they still stuck in the past, waiting for that third shoe to drop, even though they counted two shoes already? Or are they emboldened by their ability to withstand a devastating blown save in Game 7 of the freaking World Series, on the road, against the only fan base in the world that wanted it as much as them?

I don’t know! From experience, I’m remembering that it’s the second championship that makes you take off your shirt like a drunk guy and pretend you’re bulletproof. So until then, they’ve got feet in both worlds, and it’ll be a delight to watch. As long as you’re not one of them.

Kyle Schwarber

Jon Tayler of SI made an important clarification earlier this season, and I’m as guilty as anyone of ignoring this fine point. I spent a few weeks referring to Aaron Judge as America’s large adult son, and it seemed to fit. Except that was wrong.

You see, a true Large Adult Son isn't just a young man of oversized proportions. He's also a galoot; a big boy; a bit of a lummox who nonetheless provides joy to all who know him. He's a Hawaiian shirt in human form; he's the kind of guy everyone refers to as "Spud" or "Bubba;" he is, in short, a big fat party animal.

I mean, “fat” is a relative term here, but everything fits, and this is absolutely correct. Kyle Schwarber is America’s large adult son, and it was easy to forget about it after his injury last season. It was especially easy to forget about it when he was hitting like Dave Kingman at his last old-timer’s game and got sent down to the minors, but he’s back. After that absolutely ghastly start to the season, he still finished with a .467 slugging percentage. His defense is still very much “where do we put this large adult son if he isn’t catching?”, but he’s still walloping baseballs.

Since August: .888, with plenty of beef. My advice is to pay attention to the beef.

How Joe Maddon will manage a lineup that isn’t as dominant as you remember

If Schwarber is hitting, the lineup is on the right track, but there have been some developments since last year. Ben Zobrist is 36 with a vengeance. Addison Russell is still stuck on the glove-first part of his development. Jason Heyward is apparently Al Kaline with the glove and Michael Tucker with the bat. There are still players who can dominate, like Kris Bryant and Anthony Rizzo, but it’s not an unstoppable gauntlet quite like last year’s.

Enter wily Joe Maddon, who has tools to work with. Does Javier Baez start over Zobrist most of the time? What about Tommy La Stella, who was willing to retire last year, but is apparently excellent this year? Ian Happ could get some at-bats, as could Jon Jay. Was that Alex Avila at first at the end of the season? I mean, sure, pile it on.

It’s a bench that’s better than the lineup they faced in last year’s NLDS, and a little creativity can go a long way. Not too much creativity, Joe. but a little.

Baseball fan: *through sobs* you can't just say every player is a utility player.... Please....

Maddon: *points at Ian Happ jogging past* utility player

Just a little. It’ll be fascinating to watch Maddon juggle, though.

Arizona Diamondbacks

J.D.F. Martinez

There is a scenario in which J.D. Martinez reaches the World Series and exacts his revenge against the Astros. It’s half-summer camp movie, half-Tarantino, and it’s just about the worst possible nightmare for them. Be warned.

Until then, Martinez is the quiet, Pacific Time Zone version of Giancarlo Stanton and Aaron Judge, and he has a chance to be an October legend. If the Diamondbacks can win one lousy game and advance to the real postseason.

Looking back, it was always absurd that Martinez went for a prospect package that underwhelmed minor-league experts. Which teams right now could use Martinez, other than all of them? I get that Jay Bruce had some big hits for the Indians, but come on. Howie Kendrick was a fine addition for the Nationals, but look at this Martinez freak. Don’t get me started on the Dodgers messing around with Curtis Granderson.

Instead it’s the Diamondbacks who got Martinez, and he fit them perfectly. He hit more home runs in 62 games with his new team than anyone on the Red Sox, Braves, Tigers, Phillies, Pirates, Giants, or Cardinals hit all year. If it sounds absurd, that’s because it is, and he’s every bit the sideshow that Judge is in the American League.

Archie Bradley

I’m a big fan of the struggling-starting-pitcher-turned-ace-reliever conceit, and it’s always fun when it happens for the team that had the starting pitcher in the first place. Bradley started the season as something like an Andrew Miller-type, pitching two innings or more in several relief appearances, but he settled into a more traditional eighth-inning role quickly. Which is fine. He has electric stuff, and it deserves to be shared with the world.

It’s his potential to be something even more like an Andrew Miller-type that’s making me daydream. He has the stamina of a starter, and the Diamondbacks can use Fernando Rodney in the boring and brainless up-by-three closer’s role. We’ll see if they can use Bradley with the same creativity.

They should, mind you. Provided they get out of Wild Card Thunderdome.

Zack Greinke

In 2015, I pointed out that Zack Greinke looks like Joaquin Phoenix in Parenthood, and the tweet got four likes and zero retweets. The delivery wasn’t ideal, and I guess it’s admitting that I’ve seen a comedy from 1989 about three dozen times, which is about three dozen more times than most millennials have seen it, but, dammit, pay attention. It works.

The point is that Greinke is an interesting cat, half in the light, and half in the shadows.

Photo by Christian Petersen/Getty Images

Yeah, like that. And he’s a fascinating pitcher to watch, a real artist. He mixes and matches, takes off the fastball and adds to it, and it’s a delight. He was a mess last year, to the point where I wondered if the Diamondbacks should ditch as much of his contract as they could and start over.

The correct answer was nope. He was still good. Everyone’s entitled to an off year or two. He’s back, and he’s as good as he was with the Dodgers. That sure happened at a fortuitous time for his new team.

And looking back on it, I guess he just shares the same morbidly uncomfortable glare with Joaquin Phoenix. That’s what I was going on. The occasionally long hair just seals it.

Except, my god, hold on.

Joaquin Phoenix.

Phoenix, Arizona.

Arizona Diamondbacks.

This means something. I need you to deliver a letter for me.

Colorado Rockies

Nolan Arenado

This is the benefit of the imbalanced divisional schedule. This is the curse. I have to watch Arenado play defense and hit in approximately 48 games every year, and it’s the absolute best-worst. Charlie Blackmon might win the MVP, but I don’t check under my bed for him at night.

If it makes any sense, Coors Field might be making Arenado underrated? His .959 OPS (a career high) and gaudy RBI totals can be waved off by observers who are a little too cavalier with how they apply park effects. His career 118 OPS+ is closer to Pablo Sandoval’s golden years than Kris Bryant’s, so you can understand at least a little skepticism.

But it’s underrating his defense, which might be the best I’ve ever seen. I can’t claim to have seen a lot of Brooks Robinson. I’ve watched plenty of Manny Machado and Adrian Beltre, and both of them are outstanding. Arenado is better, and the nerd stats back me up. Watch the Rockies just for Arenado’s defense if you get the chance

Then watch him hit the snot out of the baseball. Because he can do that, too.

The chance that Coors Field will mess with hearts and minds

There’s a chance that the 2017 postseason won’t swing through Coors Field, which is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because maybe there won’t have to be a game there, and that place is a beautiful hellmouth that lulls you into complacency, and then the bloop hits start falling in front of your outfielders in the 68-acre outfield. Then your pitchers, whom you know so well, start leaving curveballs up, like there’s nothing on them, and then they’re tired sooner than they usually are, that’s odd, huh.

It’s a curse because that’s really, really funny when it isn’t happening to your team and you get to watch from the outside. You think you know how good Stephen Strasburg is? Well, here’s some COORS FIELD, SUCKER*.

* 7.20 career ERA at Coors

Oh, awesome, Jake Arrieta found his groove, and he’s back with the All-Star form. He’s rolling, the Cy Young winner you remember, and look out National league. Except here’s some COORS FIELD, SUCKER*.

* 14.54 career ERA at Coors

Everything you think you know about every team will be wrong in the prism of Coors. That’s why it’s a shame that we might not get even one series in this hideous hall of baseball perversions. It’s a lot of fun if you’re not emotionally invested, and I was looking forward to that.

Jon Gray

Gray is the prototypical right-handed power arm, the kind of pitcher who gets drafted in the top three picks of a draft. Except that kind of pedigree doesn’t mean a lot when you’re fed into the gaping maw of Coors Field, as the old gods demand. The Rockies have spent 23 first-round picks on pitchers since coming into the league, and the most successful one was probably Jason Jennings. Jeff Francis comes after that, and he’s tied with Jamey Wright at 9.4 career WAR.

The fourth-most valuable homegrown pitcher for the Rockies according to WAR is Gray. He’s thrown 319 innings in his career. It’s not that he hasn’t been excellent, because he has, especially this year. It’s just that Coors Field is where pitchers go to become sad pitchers, and the Rockies haven’t had a lot of success.

Here’s their best chance, then. Gray was outstanding this year, and his peripherals suggest that he’s a freak who can succeed while pitching half of his games at Coors. He allowed four earned runs on July 19, with the Rockies winning 18-4. That was the last time he allowed more than three runs in a start. He made 13 starts after that, with five of them coming at Coors, and he was still immune to the stray disaster start.

He’s that good. And while we don’t know if the Rockies will play more than one postseason game, you’ll at least get a chance to watch Gray pitch one. Take that chance.

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jotawakening-blog · 7 years

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5 Septober, 5A 169: Sq’irky!

So, after finding one treasure and finding out I’m not yet in a position to get the other, where does that leave me? Well, there’s one last thing I need to do around here, and it has to do with the task Boric set me of clearing out the living rock golems from the mines in Lumbridge Swamp and Al-Kharid. Although I highly doubt that the mines are still booby-trapped in this way, given the weeks that have passed since Boric gave me the job, I reckon it’s worth a look anyway. S I go down to the mine and dig around a little until… a golem jumps out from behind a coal rock! Who would have thought! But it’s easily dealt with, leaving only one mine un-patrolled, the one north of Al-Kharid.

Now, there are a number of good reasons why it might be a good idea to make a short side trip to the desert. The first is that both my enchanted key and the cosmic talisman I bought point to that general area, and that’s definitely worth investigating. Second, there’s that mine to sweep for golems. Third, there are a number of little errands that I should work on there, such as obtaining the neck bone of a camel for… whatever the old man with the sack of bones is planning. So I get going, travelling through Lumbridge Swamp, where the cosmic talisman is pulling me. Weird, I don’t recall there being another altar there…

Oddly, the talisman pulls me not to an altar, but to a shed that’s empty except for a few shells and boxes, and nondescript but for green cloverleaves carved out of wood. Huh— maybe the altar is buried beneath the shed? That might be worth investigating at some point. Anyway, merely lifting the boxes and peering beneath yields nothing, so I keep going.

As I’m approaching Al-Kharid, I find that a storm surge has washed away the pilings of the city dock, leaving no easy way to cross the river this far downstream! With a little creativity, however, I happen upon a solution: I have my crossbow with me, as well as the grapple bolt I bought just for fun at the exchange. What if I could shoot the bolt at that tree on the far bank, tie my end of the rope to a tree on my side, and shimmy across? Worth a try…

Hey, it worked perfectly! Satisfied with my ingenuity, I retrieve my grapple and head up through the gate into the pearl of the northern desert. My plan is to follow the tug of the enchanted key, which pulls somewhere to the north, but before I can get very far, I run into Osman the spymaster, who pulls me aside. After sharing a few words about Ozan’s progress in infiltrating Menaphos (it’s been difficult so far, but he thinks he’s getting somewhere at last) he asks me for a favour: he’s far too busy to be stealing around the Sorceress’ Garden, but he’s parched for a glass of freshly squeezed spring sq’irk juice. Could I get some for him?

I tell him I will, but in a while: I have to run a few errands first. To begin with: the enchanted key. It seems to become really, really hot (and it’s not just the desert sun) as I go north. Finally,, by the time I reach the oasis by the pass to Lumbridge, the key is steaming hot, so hot I drop it! That’s my cue to dig, and the treasure I unearth here is quite special. Not only do I find ten chunks of mithril ore and a small stack of rune essence, I also dig up a large staff tipped with the symbol of Zamorak. It looks quite fragile and unsuitable for combat, but it may have once had some ceremonial use. It’s a neat find, so I think I’ll be keeping it in my personal collection.

When I feel the key again, it is warm, but no longer quite as hot as it was. Since it’s unlikely any other treasures it’s pointing to are around here, I stick with my original plan and go north to the open-pit mine near the mage training arena. It’s the last of the four places Boric told me to investigate, and so I do, poking at the rocks until— aha!— another living rock golem pops out! It seems like Boric was right on all counts. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that.

I return to Al-Kharid with the intention of making good on my promise to Osman. I head toward the sorceress’ house through the market, but before I can get very far, a very Kharidian, very importunate merchant calls out to me: Ali Morrisane. Thinking he just wants to sell me some crap again, I try to excuse myself, but it turns out he has a business proposition for me. Seeing that I was going south, toward Shantay Pass, he asks me whether I could help expand his business by persuading his nephew, a guy named Ali, to come up from Pollnivneach and help his uncle out. In return, I would get the first month of Ali’s salary. Well, as a matter of fact, I was planning to go camel hunting in the southern desert, so it wouldn’t be very much of a detour. I agree to do it and continue on my way.

But I don’t get very far up the road after that encounter before I have another one, this one with my old acquaintance Sister Cecilia, one of the survivors of the murders up at Citharede. She pulls me over, but it’s not pleasantries she’s after, but advice. You see, she’s been trying to reconcile her faith in Saradomin and life as a nun with the events concerning Sister Anna, but has found it quite difficult, and she wants me to tell her whether she should stay at the Abbey or leave for other pursuits. It’s a tough decision, she says, because she’s been here since she was a child, and now more than ever she’s clearly needed. What’s more, if she leaves, she can never come back. Well, it’s a hard choice, but… I tell her she’s risking something by leaving, but that I feel this is the best choice for her, not remaining in this place with so many bad memories and never getting a chance to try anything different. Sister Cecilia thanks me, and tells me she will head my advice, then turns up the Abbey road, I suppose to pack her bags.

Besides her, though, there’s nobody else who flags me down, so I reach the Sorceress’s Garden without incident and get the old hag’s apprentice to teleport me in. This time, I head for the part of the garden that’s kept in perpetual springtime and pick the lock to go in. The spring garden, it turns out, is much like the winter one, with the same sort of hedge maze and elemental guardians, but it’s a lot greener than the winter one. Thus begin my attempts to get the fruit, which aren’t initially a success because of how much tighter the timing of the elementals’ movements in this garden is. After about ten failed tries, though, I crack tie timing puzzle and get my hands on one of the fruits! It seems these are quite a bit riper than their winter equivalents: squeezing the one I got yields about a quarter of a glass of juice! (It’s minty and fresh in taste.)

Getting the three more sq’irks I need for Osman’s liquid refreshments is not that big a deal, once I’ve figured out the pattern of the sentries and gotten it into my head just how limited their field of vision is. Still, by the time I’ve overcome my initial blunders, gathered the fruit, brought it to Osman, and listened to his lesson in spying and subterfuge (today’s topic: thieving from a thief!) while he drank it down, it’s late in the afternoon. Still, I figure it’s not too late to head out into the desert, at least get to Pollnivneach, and perhaps hunt down that camel, so I head out to Shantay Pass, grab several waterskins, loop them into my belt, and venture forth.

My journey to Pollnivneach is smooth and uneventful, save for the one lucky pot-shot I shoot off that takes an Ugthanki camel in the heart, killing it cleanly without any damage to its neck bone (which I salvage and take with me). It takes me little more than an hour’s brisk march to reach the desert city, which I actually have never visited before!

Upon reaching the city, it quickly becomes apparent that all is not well in town. The buildings have a run-down look to them, and those in the northern part are occupied by what’s quite clearly a gang of desert bandits. I try talking to them, but they’re not interested in chitchat, so I move on to a building just down the way that catches my attention for all the colourful cloth displayed inside. The owner is a fairly young woman who’s clearly a dyer. She’s much more talkative than the bandits, and tells me the story of how she entered the trade (she learnt it from her mother, who also was an embalmer) and how business is doing (not well, since the locals mainly wear white against the desert sun). Since I don’t need anything dyed, though, I thank her for the conversation and move on.

Further into town, I pass by a shabby market stall. I ask the owner if he’s Ali Morrisane’s nephew, but he apparently is not. He’s got a bunch of goods on offer, including exotic desert fruit, local garb, and even fake beards (what the hell for, I wonder). None of it really interests me, though, so I move n toward the centre of town. There, I finally hit upon a stroke of luck when I ask a street urchin for directions. It turns out he knows exactly what’s going on in the city, including with Ali Morrisane’s nephew. The urchin tells me he was a rather mean market trader, who apparently got into trouble with both of the gangs in town (wait, there’s another one as well?) a week ago and disappeared (or was disappeared). The urchin speculates he might have tried to double-cross them, but claims not to know the truth: if I want that, he says, my best bet is to gain the trust of one of the gangs and ask them.

Since the kid is quite generous with information, I ask him to fill me in about the two gangs. The first one, which rules the south of town, is called the Menaphites because, well, they’re some sect from Menaphos, said to be led by some deranged priest. Few have seen the leader, though, as he deals through a fellow named Ali ‘the Operator’. They’re known mainly for starting fights in the local pub, but the urchin claims they’re planning something big— they’re such a tight-knit group, though, that little leaks out. The other gang, meanwhile, is the desert bandits, who are exactly that: toughs led by the strongest among them. There’s not much to be said about them, and they lack grand ambitions.

I ask the urchin whether there’s any legitimate political authority in town, or whether the gangs just rule as they please. He tells me that there is a Mayor, but that he’s a spineless coward and, in fact, largely responsible for the bandit situation. When the Menaphites came into town, he at first did nothing to expel them, and only belatedly hired out the desert bandits to chase them out. But, sensing his weakness, the thugs turned on him, and… well, here we are.

In fact, the urchin spots the mayor in the crowd of the town square and points him out to me. I go up and introduce myself, and receive a very warm welcome. The mayor gives me a glowing pitch about how his town is the gateway to Menaphos and Al-Kharid, but when I actually ask him for his help in locating Ali the trader, the limits to his helpfulness come out glaringly. For one thing, he claims to be too busy to give me any assistance; for another, he tells me Ali is a very popular name in this town, and tracking down my man might be a challenge. Drat. Oh well, the sun is going down anyway, so I find lodgings in a nondescript inn north of the market square and bed down for the night, making ready to resume the search tomorrow.

#runescape #journal #roleplay #sorceress #spring

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