#Cobbling them together like some sort of horrible machine

[hughmanbean]

Are You Not Entertained?

The High Queen has a problem. Boredom! Just a tad. But boredom can lead to many things, like mischief and meddling. And the Ancients know what happens when the High Queen is bored.

So Ghost Writer has teamed up with some other the other playwright and novelist ghosts to find something to entertain her.

With a little advice from Clockwork, they find the perfect dimension to amuse the Queen. So they all draft up a plot and set off, influencing various events to lead to a way for the Queen to come along and watch as every little plan unfolds.

They're done now, so it's time to bring the Queen to watch something interesting.

---

Constantine inspects the various runes, glowing items, and green smudges on the table, the rest of the JL watching him expectantly.

"Well, what are they?" Flash speaks out nervously, fidgeting. He'd found several traces of this stuff in Central city, from cars to buildings to even people. The rest of the JL members had reported the same.

"Nothing good. From what I could gather these things are the work of the subjects of the High Queen."

"The High Queen?"

"Well Bats, officially it's the High Queen of the Infinite Realms. Ruler of All and whatnot. I'd say that this is the work of some of the Realms Beings that she controls. Though none of it is her directly doing anything from what I can tell."

The rest of the JL look at him for more explanation, Zatanna gives him a look that he's on his own for this one, and John inwardly curses at the fact he's the one that has to explain this.

"The Infinite Realms are the In-between. They're also The Beginning and The End at the same time. Anything is, was, or will be has at one point been there. The High Queen, as a result, controls all of this."

"What does that mean, Constantine?"

"Well dark and broody, that means that we're royally screwed."

[raeynbowboi]

BnHA Crossover Class 1-A

I saw a post this morning about the Teen Titans in UA, and it got me thinking about the quirks that would be found with other characters, so I cobbled together a class of 20 students from popular media, and tried to either turn their existing powers into quirks, or gave them quirks. It was a lot of fun, and I’m thinking of doing a class 1-B as well.

Name: Dick Grayson Hero Alias: Robin Quirk: Deductive Reasoning When Dick touches things, he can deduce their origins. He can tell the sort of gun that made bullet holes, whether something was written with the right or left hand, the way a knife was held while attacking a victim, or the height and weight of a culprit by finding their footprint. This makes Dick an expert in criminal profiling.

Name: Koriand’r (Corey Anders) Hero Alias: Starfire Quirk: Heartfelt Koriand’r’s quirk relies heavily on her emotions. She must be feeling a certain way to make use of her quirk, and cannot summon her powers unless she feels that way. To fly, she must think happy thoughts. For super strength, she needs boundless confidence. And for her starbolts, she must have a righteous fury.

Name: Garfield Logan Hero Name: Beast Boy Quirk: Animal Kingdom Garfield can turn into any animal he has seen before, but he can only copy the features of the animal that he knows about. This can include extinct and fictitious animals, but in order to become those, he must understand their biology and genetic make-up. Creating wings is pointless if he doesn’t know how to make them aerodynamic. This also means he can’t produce a dragon’s fire breath unless he can figure out a biological process to achieve this. Due to a mutation quirk he inherited, Garfield and any animal he becomes are permanently green.

Name: Rachel Roth Hero Alias: Raven Quirk: Psychic Soul Rachel’s soul is a semi-conscious entity within her. It is highly sensitive to the presence and emotions of others, and due to its link to Rachel, allows her to feel these sensations through her soul. This means she can tell how many people are in an area, and what they’re feeling. She can send pieces of her soul out into objects, allowing her to lift them with her mind, giving her telekinetic powers, or she can project the soul itself to create platforms, forcefields, or a bird-shaped battering ram. She can even use her telekinesis to lift herself, floating through the air, or envelop herself in her own soul and pass through solid objects. She requires daily meditation to focus and sharpen her mind, or risk letting her psychic powers become destructive and untamed.

Name: Victor Stone Hero Alias: Cyborg Quirk: Mechanical Infusion Vic has the ability to fuse technology into his body, a quirk which saved his life after his sports team bus had an accident and he was almost a casualty. The hospital technology infused with his body, and kept him alive. Since then, he’s focused on upgrading and improving his cybernetic enhancements, with a wide variety of technological detachments and gadgets built into his body. But his pride and joy is the sonic cannon he designed himself. While he can infuse any machine into his body, he’d be a horrible mechanical blob if he didn’t know how to compartmentalize. He maintains his humanoid appearance by understanding how to fold and store things inside of himself to fit as much in without overstuffing himself.

Name: Ruby Rose Hero Alias: Black Rose Quirk: Petal Storm Ruby’s quirk allows her to turn her body into a scattering of rose petals that move at a windswept speed. The petals can separate to move around objects, but must come back together for her to take human form again.

Name: Weiss Schnee Hero Alias: Ice Queen Quirk: Fairydust Weiss’ body naturally produces Dust, primarily in the form of powder. She has outfitted her revolver rapier to turn this dust into a variety of magical attacks. With enough dust, she can even create glyphs, a stationary magical property whose effect varries by the kind of dust she uses.

Blake Belladonna Hero Alias: Noir Quirk: Copycat Blake can leave a shadow duplicate of herself to take a hit for her. She can launch herself off the clones as well. However, the clones are not solid and cannot hit enemies for her. Instead they disappear after being hit by anything.

Yang Xiao Long Hero Alias: Dragonfire Quirk: Burn When Yang takes damage, it builds up in her muscles, allowing her to retaliate with tremendous strength. Her quirk causes her body to produce flames when angry, and she can shoot these flames with her punches, but not her kicks.

Name: Steven Universe Hero Alias: Pink Diamond Quirk: Gemstone Steven has a gemstone in his belly, which allows him to summon a shield made of hard light, and lets him give sentience to plants, as well as heal injuries and repair inorganic material. He can even merge himself with another person, creating a hybrid that shares a combination of their quirks.

Name: Aang Hero Alias: Avatar Aang Quirk: Force of Nature Aang has the ability to manipulate air, water, fire, or rocks within his vascinity. He has the greatest control over Air, but can manipulate the others as well. When he bends all four at once, Aang becomes able to tap into the raw power of nature itself, and awakens his full power, but becomes destructive and uncontrollable when he does so.

Name: Katara Hero Alias: Arctic Fox Quirk: Waterbending Katara can manipulate water, snow, and ice near her. Her body is highly acclimated to the cold, and with practice she can even create water by drawing moisture from the air and plants. She can even control the water inside of living things, but she doesn’t like using this unless she feels she has to.

Name: Sokka Hero Alias: White Wolf Quirk: Pack Tactics Sokka’s natural senses are hightened to the skill of a wolf’s, especially his hearing and smelling. This natural mutation quirk he inherited from his father makes him a master tracker. Sokka’s physical abilities improve when he’s around other people. As such, Sokka tends to avoid one-on-one fights if he can help it.

Name: Toph Beifong Hero Alias: Blind Bandit Quirk: Earthbending Toph can manipulate the earth underfoot, and bend it to her will. Her connection to Earth has become so finetuned that Toph can feel the vibrations of things in the ground and relay those signals to the entirety of her body. Because of this, she can see in 360 degrees, and detect small details others easily overlook.

Name: Zuko Hero Alias: Blue Spirit Quirk: Firebending Zuko can produce flames from his body when he uses proper martial arts form. However, he is highly disciplined in combat that doesn’t use his quirk, being a master in stealth and infiltration tactics. He is trained in the use of twin dao swords. His family is a prominent superpowered mafia, with his father being a notorious crime lord kingpin. Zuko applied to UA in secret, and covers for his absence by claiming to be undercover.

Name: Lance McClain Hero Name: Sharpshooter Quirk: Eagle Eye Lance’s quirk gives him extremely focused ocular perception, which makes his use of a stun gun highly effective. Lance’s gun has a built in freeze ray that turns his bullets into ice pellets. He has some skill with a sword and carries one in case he needs it, but due to his focus on ranged combat, he’s at a disadvantage once melee combatants get within close range of him.

Name: Keith Kogane Hero Alias: Yurak Quirk: Galran Keith’s appearance becomes more animalistic as he becoems angry, turning purple and developing feline-like traits. This includes the growth of fangs, claws, and animalistic eyes. This form is faster and stronger than his base human form. Keith is also very adept with a sword, carrying one into battle.

Name: Katie Holt Hero Alias: Pidge Quirk: Hacker Any technology Katie comes into contact with, she can rewire and reprogram. Because of this, Katie always has a stash of robotic drones to aid her in her field work. She had a promising future in the Support course, but she insisted on pursuing the hero course at UA.

Name: Hunk Garrett Alias: Gourmand Quirk: Iron Stomach Hunk is a walking tank whose body can dampen the damage he takes. This natural defense is increased when he eats. Especially when he eats good food. Certain spices and flavors also give him other temporary bonus features, such as spicy food dampening heat and fire damage, or mixed drinks letting him breathe underwater for a short time. He can even store energy in his stomach and fire it like a projectile, but this tires him out and makes him hungry.

Name: Allura Hero Name: Supernova Quirk: Alchemy Allura has a number of magical abilities she can perform, such as healing, creating blasts of magic, and other such magical things. Allura is skilled with a bo staff and primarily uses a segmented whip-sword. Her father was killed by a supervillain, and Allura swore she would become a hero in order to avenge his death.

[kaibacorpbros]

Stalling

"And again," there was an air of exasperation to Kaiba's words, but he didn't skip a beat after they were spoken. Before Aigami could as much as say a sarcastic 'brilliant' they were already barreling down the street in this alien dimension. Though, given that the people chasing them were just tooling around with guns out in the open like it was normal may have been an indicator of that state of this dimension.

"Maybe you should really start considering bringing a weapon to dimensions like these!"

"I can trip you right now, you know that?" Kaiba snapped. "If I had gotten a heads up of 'aggressive locals' I would have considered it--"

As they rounded a corner and cut through some alleyways they were soon met with a barricaded fence too high to jump, all the while the shouting was getting closer.

A holographic timer flashed in front of Kaiba's eye. They needed more time. These people wouldn't let them get out of this situation with cards.

"How tall are you?" Diva asked.

"Is this really the time?"

With a scathing glance, the ex-plana stepped up to the barrier. The blockage was approximately...

"Lock your fingers and boost me up and I'll pull you up once I'm there."

"Absolutely not--" Flashlights started to round the corner and Kaiba hissed.

"You'd better not run off," Kaiba put his back to the obstacle and locked his fingers to form a step.

But right as he'd managed to loft Diva over their pursuers caught up. He didn't know what they were saying, and he made a mental note to work on translators for some dimensions, but it wasn't at the top of his priorities at the moment. He froze, showing there was nothing in his hands. At the very least they didn't look too organized. A cobbled-together gang or something? But still, Kaiba said nothing, just in case it could be interpreted as a threat.

Where had Diva gone? Was he still on the other side? Kaiba hadn't heard him run off... or maybe he managed to keep quiet. Or gotten grabbed on the other side. Or more likely, he bailed.

These people were eying his tech, likely for parts. Seto needed that to get home. But he can do nothing when too many of them have a clear shot on him. They figured the duel gazer must be some sort of communication and decided to take that from him first, yet never saying anything.

"I need that but I can give you something else--"

That was the wrong thing to say, going by the bruise that was undoubtedly forming on his head from a blow.

Right, all bets off, he didn't even know if these people could understand him. And left to his own devices he needed to get out of here before his technology became damaged to a point where it couldn't be reversed, or he ended up with a bullet in him. If he could just... get one of their weapons. If he could hold the one closest to him hostage he may have a--

--And then Diva seemed to almost drop out of the sky, hitting one of their attackers in the side of his head with a pipe. Kaiba took the gap the distraction gave him and disarmed one of the other one closest to him and knocking him out with the butt of the gun. By the time he was down, Diva had taken care of his buddy all before a single shot could go off.

"Nice stick," Kaiba said with a roll of his eyes as he picked the duel gazer off one of the now unconscious people. 

"'Thanks, Diva, what wonderful improvisation skills' is what you mean by that, right?"

"Yeah, sure. Not like I thought you ditched me or anything. Just be glad you didn't hit them hard enough to draw blood. Where'd you--"

"That roof," he said with a nod toward the neighboring building, "It was easy to climb up on the other side, bunch of junk piled up. I ran with a crew of kids on the streets for quite a while. You pick things up." Yet instead of keeping the weapon he wiped off any fingerprints and laid it on the ground. "Though I dislike such means. They're primitive," Diva sounded as if he were about to say more, but decided this wasn't the best time.

"A bit more time that's all we need. We have to get out of sight though." 

And with that, they took off once more. However, their pursuers weren't done.  As they turned the fourth corner they were met with more people drawing weapons at them.

"How annoying," Diva muttered.

The leader barked some question at the two that they didn't understand as they  bided for time.

"Now that's quite a loaded question. Seriously, it would take all day to answer." 

Of course, there was truth to what Kaiba was saying, but really it was all just to buy a few more moments. They just needed about twenty more seconds and they could make another dimension slide.

"I can confirm. But I assure you that this is all one big misunderstanding," Diva added.

Of what, they didn't know. Only that they had shown up and not too long later they were being chased after. Kaiba wasn't sure whether these people wanted to kill them or mug them or both, but he didn't want to find out. They just needed a bit more time. The CEO glances at the timer on the duel gazer's HUD.

Ten seconds.

"But give me the chance to explain and I'm sure we can work this out." Never mind that they had left a group of these people unconscious in an alleyway.

Zero. The duel disk flared to life.

And thankfully, not too long later they appeared back in Kaiba Corp. The machine spat them out and hit with a wall of vertigo, like getting a sledgehammer to the head. They both collapsed on the floor.

"Red dimension," Kaiba gasped out between his exhaustion of doing jumps in quick succession. They were both dizzy, panting, and fatigued. and Kaiba could already feel a headache coming on. He'd pay dearly soon for this one.

"Definitely a red dimension," Aigami added. 

But Kaiba didn't move his arm to add the new filter to his ever-growing list of dimensions. He was too tired and was blinking as if it would help clear the black spots in his vision.

"I expect a pay raise for all the life-threatening worlds."

"I don't even pay you," Kaiba snapped. Not directly anyway. The financial security for Diva's siblings and a place to live was it. The ex-Plana better not actually be trying to win a salary.

"Fine then, if I die while on one of these field trips, I expect the life insurance to pay out generously."

"I shall speak to Isono to see what can be arranged in the event of your untimely, horrible, and gruesome death." At this rate, Kaiba would find a way to ensure it was just that.

"Can you move your arm? Your stupid tech is jabbing my side."

"No."

Perhaps it was from recovering from the adrenaline rush, or maybe the timing, or the completely neutral voice Diva had said it in. But neither of them could keep a straight face from it. Seto didn’t quite laugh with him, but he didn’t hide his smirk in the slightest.

And just to rub salt in the wound Seto was about to disconnect the disk from his arm and perhaps leave it there just to spite the ex-Plana. He turned to do so, only for them to have both moved at the same time. Kaiba to remove the duel disk, and Diva to get up.

They were far too close to each other now.

It caused them both to freeze, and Seto didn't know what to make of it. Surely it was getting late into the afternoon going by the sun shining through the test room's windows, didn't Diva have school projects to get to? Seto wasn't counting the seconds, but certainly, this was longer than would be considered normal?

Yet still, neither broke the eye contact. 

"I think I want to kiss you."

With that barely audible admission, Diva slowly got closer. And Seto was too confused to know what to think. He remained frozen in place as Diva inched closer to close the distance between them, giving Seto time to object. He didn't, and Diva planted a slow, light kiss on his lips.

It was such a blur that the CEO couldn't properly comprehend if he even recuperated in any fashion, or remained like a statue. 

Silence still stretches between them, and he can tell the ex-Plana is scrutinizing what he just did. His face remains neutral for a moment longer, before he's scrambling to get up.

And by the time Seto has as well, Diva is already out the door, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

[twitchesandstitches]

What kind of design does the different factions have when it comes to their ships?

In general, its important to remember that ship production is hard to come by; the technology to create particularly large ships is all but unheard of, and those with the power to create new ships is very rare and subject to great battles and conflicts; each ship is often super important! (most space travel is done with larger convoys of dedicated ships that act like cosmic buses; the faction fleets are a special case)

Endowed Fleet: They mainly live on the margins and outside places, and they don’t really do pretty, clean-cut or overly shiny design aesthetics. Most of their ships are literally cobbled together from derelict junkers, abandoned space hulks, or old space habitats mashed together and fitted with engines; they look quite rough, rugged and built to take an impact. They’re also very weird looking and tend towards baroque, over the top design elements; huge armor-plated bits that resemble monster faces are common, as are ramming ports made to look like huge fists. Its a careful balance of ‘scavenged from the garbage heap’ and ‘that is FUCKING WEIRD, WHY DO THAT’. Their ships also tend towards round, large shapes. They also tend to live in them, so their ships are generally huge communal cities and towns, and tend to come across as a traveling nation of sorts; a very laidback one at that. Popupar Sci Fi examples for inspiration: 40k Orks, Quarians from Mass Effect.

The Fleet also has a very spiritual outlook to its machines, and the aesthetic of them can be very elabroate; complicated markings of chrome, like enormous mile-wide murals detailing the nature of the ship and its deeds, shine across them like cave paintings. The skulls of fearsome monsters may even hang from the ships like trophies! This spiritual, reverent attitude of adorning their ships is VERY important to the Fleet, and they attach great religious feeling to painting their ships, adorning them in trophies, and are very protective of their ships.

They tend to prefer tanky ships over firepower; techniaclly speaking, the Fleet’s people ARE the firepower.

Cobalt Stingers: SHINY. SO SHINY. SO GLAMOROUS, SO COOL. They demand only the finest things, including their ships! Generally their ships are long and extremely sleek, patterned after sharks and serpentine designs, with extremely elaborate magical propulsion systems that might resemble huge mantles. Invariably they are covered in priceless, rich materials, often made by the Cobalts; gold treated to have the strength of uber-strong metals, diamond-hard and bright coatings, pearlescent luster from protective force fields, and a combined magical field that makes their ship fleets a massive jaw-dropping spectacle of sheer glitz and glamour.

They do have access to factories that can make new ships, and often mass produce smaller fighters or escort ships, ranging from cheaply made ones (though still more fantastically adorned than the richest of personal ships elsewhere) as disposable drones, to extremely elaborate glitter-bombers for highly decorated crewmembers. Their largest ships are effectively mobile space stations, and may even have their own ecosystems where crewmates may hunt ferocious beasts at their leisure; their ships are absically pleasure palaces and monuments to their immense love of shiny things. For inspiraiton, consider the Eldar from 40k, with a touch of Andalites from Animorphs, and add all the shiny gold, sparkles, diamonds and glitter you can possibly find.

The Ringers: As the Ringers are a secret conspiracy, they don’t really advertise. They don’t have heraldry or clan allegiance iconography, as the Fleet does, nor do they blare their theme songs as they come like the Stingers do; their ships are usually patterned after whichever group they are currently operating through, all the better to stay hidden. However, the leadership does have access to their own personal warships, each of which are customized to their tastes and sizes (Condy’s are far larger than Javik’s, for instance) but there are some commonalities.

They are very, VERY large. The Ringers have access to more lost technology than anyone else, and they are capable of creating extremely massive dreadnoughts and war-world class ships, and they show off their raw power. Spikes and sharp edges intimidate from every edge, hologram-faced walls show a tally of their victories to intimidate their foes, and gargoyle-like protrusions stick out as weapons indivdiually bigger than geographic measurements. These massive ships outsize almost any other ship in the AU, and are further amplified by the amount of victories under the belt of the one commanding it, as well as their personal/physical power. If the Condesce, with her untold eons of battle, takes to a ship fight, it will be a slaughter, but if a random person does the same thing, the ship will likely not even respond.

Apart from that, though, these ships are a callback to a more peaceful age, when such ships were not expected to be used as weapons, but as testaments to personal power; while they are fearsome, they have a very elegant and smooth design aesthetic, their metal a bright sheen akin to polished marble. Think of a mash-up of classic sci fi (raygun gothic) and the general look of space opera ships, but really big and imposing.

And some more minor factions:

Imperial Commonwealth of Humanity: Blocky, in the style of modern military shooter-type sci fi elements. It’s a weird combination of a moving brick and the Commonwealth’s disturbing taste in decoration: they attempt to honor the human body by designing the outside to look like a mixture of human limbs, bones, and disturbingly realistic faces. The hull might resemble a mass of ribcage, for instance, a further section twisting like a mass of arms curled around, and finally the front of the ship looks like a human face. Also, it appears to be breathing. Factor in a lot of steampunk vibes (magical essence puffing out from big engines outside, vast gears turning in response to its speed) and you have their basic look.

Miscella Inc.: Extremely high-class, top of the line and fancy ships, though they are quite rare. The ones they do have take decades to build, or centuries for the largest ones, and those tend to be life-prolonging chambers for the ancient oligigarchies that run the worlds underneath its iron grip. They are fairly grounded in design; Miscella doesn’t really have hyper advanced magic (like the Cobalts), alchemical recycling and digestion powers that let them reuse every single bit of material they can find (the Fleet) or ancient technology that allows them to just churn out whatever they want (the Ringers), so they tend more towards a mix of modern shooter-type sci fi and designs that look more realistic.

Cartels: lots of spikes and a generally nasty look. Kind of like a dark reflection of the Fleet, in that they scavenge their ships and jam space stations together with slapped-on engines, but they LOOK super threatening. Lots of spikes, possibly with enemies impaled upon them or trophy heads everywhere (admittedly the Fleet also takes trophies but it’s intended to feel less horrible than what these guys have going on). They’re floating cities not intended to go fast, but drift in order to get away from anyone they cannot instantly destroy. They LOOK bad, brutal and vicious, because its an image their leaders want to send.

[nerdybubblebee]

Transcendent

Chapter 2: Found You

Chapter Summary:

Frantically running through the crowd in pursuit of his dream lover, Jon ponders whether this was all too outlandish? Would he even find her? If he did, how would he convince her that they were meant to be with each other?

Ao3 link here: Prologue. Chap 1. Chap 2.

Hope you guys like this update~ 

Gonna thank you every time i post an update hehe @midqueenally Thank you for the moodboard and the constant support in everything Jonerys I do. :)

Skirting around a stall selling an assortment of roasted nuts with a string of ‘excuse me’s and ‘coming through’s upon his tongue, Jon darted through the crowd, oblivious of the disgruntled sounds of exclamations and curious looks from the nameless people roaming the market. His eyes frantically scanned the throngs of flâneurs and tourists, searching for that one person whose visage had only thus far lived in his mind. Even the delicious smells of various food items swirling around him did nothing to draw his attention away from his search. Where was she? How could she even exist in this time? She couldn’t, could she? If she did, was she immortal? Why the heck was he even trusting the words of a psychic who was very likely to be a complete whack job? How was he to even find her when all he had was the occasional glimpse of her face in his sleep? What if she didn’t even have that face anymore?! So many questions ricocheted about in his skull as he wove and ducked through the crowd. He had to try. If there was even a slim chance that the queen who ruled his dreams day and night could be living in this reality, he’d be an idiot to not seize it. Passing through a gush of steam from a nearby coffee machine, a flash of silver gold amongst the cattle like herd of humans ahead of him had his heart lurching to a momentary stop. A woman with a head full of strands that shifted between a warm gold and silver that gleamed like the stars under the light of day. Could it really be her? He had to know for certain. Hugging his groceries closer to his chest with renewed determination and a glimmer of hope flickering like a minute flame within his chest, Jon pushed his way through the hungry shoppers waiting in line by the falafel truck and onto the path of that mysterious woman. Eyes never leaving her, he observed as she lingered by the fruit stand. He couldn’t hear what she was saying yet but he could see her gesturing at the pile of shiny red apples up for purchase. He had to get closer. As the distance shrunk between them, he could see her profile and boy was she a vision to behold. The woman looked so much like the queen in his dreams. Her hair, her skin, her eyebrows, her nose, her plump lips and especially her smile that seemed to light up her whole face. There was no way someone could be the exact carbon copy of another person from a dream his brain cooked up. Seeing this woman smile and laugh as she chatted away with the rotund shopkeeper roused a foreign but so very splendid sort of emotion from the very depths of his being. Something clicked, like a switch being flicked on to illuminate a hidden room within his heart, an empty space made just for that woman right in front of him to belong. A joyous breath of laughter found its way out of his mouth. He had found her. Now, how was he to convince her that they could very possibly have a connection that tied them together. Sucking in a breath to calm his nerves, he decided to take the leap and hope for the best that she wouldn’t run for the hills when he approached her. “Excuse me miss, could I speak with you for a moment?”

Hearing a Northern accented voice from behind her, Dany turned around to see a man. His deep brown eyes were peering intently at her. The man had a messy head of curls that matched his dark eyes. A lock of his curls fell gently to rest over his left eye. To top off his already handsome features, a scruffy well-trimmed beard framed the bottom half of his face. She had to admit, he was really, really good looking, in a masculine, rugged heartthrob sort of way. Her heart skipped a beat followed by a pang of familiarity and fondness washing over her as she took in his visage. An image of a man reaching out his hand to caress a dragon’s snout floated through her mind. Had she seen him somewhere before? “This is going to sound very forward and stalker like. But, um... Do you know me?” His eyes scanned her face for any hint of recognition from her, only to be met with a blank stare. The man squirmed on the spot, further explaining: “You see, I’m an artist and I’ve painted many, many pieces of art. A number of them feature a woman who looks like you. I’ve been trailing you for a while now. You really look just like her!” Her large violet eyes scrunched up into a squint, trying to place that sense of familiarity, to recall if they’ve met in the past. Nothing came up. “You must have me mistaken with someone else. I have never seen you in my life before today.” “Oh, we haven’t met in real life. I meant, I’ve seen you in my dreams.” The man stated. “Have you by any chance seen me in yours?” That crazy fortune teller better be right about this. Jon prayed. “What?” Dreams? “Is that supposed to be a pick-up line? If it is, it’s horribly cheesy.” Dreams. “No! No, no. I’m not hitting on you. Not that I wouldn’t, you’re gorgeous.” Realizing his slip up, the man’s mouth snapped shut as his ears turned red. This woman was even more mesmerizing up close. Tracking her for a good while to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, he could tell she was just as beautiful as the woman he saw in his dreams. Other than her brunette locks, they were the splitting image of each other. And the way his heart sped up when he laid eyes on this petite lady, weaving her way between the market stalls, browsing the wares was exactly how his dream self felt, stepping into her throne room. He had found her. The woman of his dreams. “Why thank you.” Dany smirked. This stranger was surprisingly cute. She won’t believe you until you show her. “Anyway, I know it’s hard to believe but....” he sighed feeling frustrated. How do you convince a stranger that you saw them in your dreams without sounding like a lunatic? “Look, I’ll prove it to you. Come with me, please?” Dany didn’t know why she agreed to go with an unfamiliar man with a simple ‘Okay’ slipping out of her mouth. An intuitive impulse to follow a perfect stranger was completely insane but the sincerity in his eyes and that innate sense of familiarity compelled her to do so. That inexplainable tugging on her heart was an added push. “Thank you for this. I’m Jon, by the way. Jon Stark. I’m very sorry for the abruptness, for ruining your plans if you had any. Not to mention, I’m a total stranger. I must come off as very random, if not creepy. You must understand, I really need to show you this.” The painter rambled on. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dany Thorne and you didn’t ruin anything. I didn’t have much planned for this holiday anyway. Also, something tells me, you’re not a creep. You wouldn’t do something like this if it weren’t of great importance, would you?” She reassured him with a kind smile, matching his stride along the cobble stone streets, as he guided her through the streets back to his loft, groceries in tow. This man, this stranger, for some reason made her feel so safe with him, like a space that she hadn’t noticed before in her chest had been filled.

Turning up laneway, Dany followed the painter up a gently inclining slope before coming to a stop in front of an open doorway.   “My apartment is just upstairs.” Climbing up a flight of rickety stairs, each step creaked under their weight. “I do apologize again for the abruptness of my behaviour.” “It’s all right, Jon. Really. Don’t apologize. Oh! Do you mind if I called you Jon?” Glancing down at her from under that lock of raven hair over his left eye, Jon murmured: “No. I’d like that actually.” Dany caught a slight hint of a smile on his lips which had her smiling back. She could have sworn she’d seen that smile before. But where? “I have to say I am curious myself. I’ve never met you before today and the same goes for you. So, how would you possibly have painted portraits of me?” “I don’t know... Your face just comes to me out of the blue.” Jon reflected aloud. That really was how it happened after all. Down the hallway to the right they went, passing one, two, three apartments before halting outside a white wooden door. “I hope you don’t mind the mess. I wasn’t expecting guests today.” “I’m an unexpected guest then huh? Can’t remember the last time I’ve been one. People usually want me around.” Dany couldn’t resist a tease at him as she watched the raven haired man fish out the right key from a bunch of three and insert it into the key hole. “Yes. You are a very unexpected one.” Jon nodded as he turned the key. The door unlocked with a click. “I am however, finding you to be very pleasant company and I most definitely want you around.” He added with quiet chuckle. Dany bit her lip with a light roll of her eyes, cheeks stained a slight pink. She was not expecting him to be flirty. Before he could turn the handle, the door to an apartment opposite his creaked open and out popped the golden unkempt head of a man. The man was shorter than herself, Dany observed in surprise. His height appeared to reach the middle of her torso. A pair of dark shades were perched on the bridge of his nose and in his hand, he clutched a clear glass beaker that held a rich purplish maroon liquid. “Ah! Jon! I thought I heard your dreamy voice! I’m hosting a party in about half an hour in celebration of my wine. After months of experimenting, I’ve finally managed to brew some that taste less like rancid grape juice and more like the delicious ambrosia of the gods. Everyone in the building is coming and you....” Waving the bottle before him like a conductor with his baton, the man exclaimed with a distinct slur to his voice. “Oh!” Pushing his glasses down his nose, the man paused mid speech to look at her almost like he suddenly noticed her presence. His blue eyes were unfocused and blurry as he swayed like a leaf in the wind before leaning heavily against his door frame. “And who is this gorgeous creature?” “Good afternoon, Tyrion! Umm this is Dany. She’s a... friend. Dany, meet my neighbour, Tyrion.” “Hello there!” Dany gave Tyrion a quick wave and a laugh. The man was three sheets to the wind! “You’ve finally got yourself a girl! Let me drink to that! Well done, boy!” Tyrion mimicked the motion of giving a toast before taking a swig of the purple liquid from his beaker. “Unfortunately, we’re a bit busy at the moment. So...” Jon said to him, hand still around his door knob as if poised and ready to flee into the confines of his home. “Congratulations on the success of your wine though. I know how hard you’ve worked on it.” Dany’s brows rose up high as she looked between Jon and the shorter man in amusement. Did Tyrion really make homemade wine? Was that legal? “Ahh.... I see what you mean.” Just then, a chorus of girly giggles and sensual moans erupted from somewhere behind the shorter man. “Well... I best leave you youngsters to it then. I’ll send you a sample of my wine soon, Jon.” Tyrion left them with a waggle if his brows and a wink, before sidling back into his apartment. The meaning behind said waggle and wink were no mystery to the two individuals standing in the hallway.  “Good lord. I’m so sorry about that.” Jon muttered, thoroughly embarrassed. “Tyrion can be a bit much.” “That was... something else. Are all your neighbours like him? Are they all so… colourful?” 

“Well....” Jon thought back to his interactions with the fellow residents of his building. From the cat lady upstairs who had ten cats, to the dancer who loved to bust a move in the nude two doors down, his building housed some of the most eccentric of individuals he’d ever met. “I’m not going to lie. Yes.” That drew another giggle from Dany. This trip was definitely turning out to be far more interesting than she anticipated. Turning the handle, Jon pushed the door in. Light spilled out from inside of his home and onto the dimly lit hallway, casting a trapezoid shaped glow of white on the floor. “Welcome to my home. Finally.” Jon said, holding the door open and gesturing for Dany to enter with a smile. Crossing the threshold as she allowed Jon to shut the door behind her, Dany took in the place that was his abode. There was a small living room on the right, complete with a comfy looking grey couch, a tall standing lamp and a glass coffee table a top a cream coloured rug. To the left was a small kitchen area with an island where Jon was pattering about, opening and closing cabinets and stocking the fridge with his groceries. Just by the living room was a pair of doors that swung open to a little balcony. It appeared to be a very cosy space, simple, but very quaint. A brightly lit home awash with sunlight, streaming in from the windows. A haven where creativity could roam free.

“You have a lovely place and it’s not the least bit messy.” There wasn’t dirty laundry or rubbish strewn about anywhere to be seen. In fact, everything looked impeccably neat, without a speck of dust. “Well, you haven’t seen my work area.” Jon said closing the door to his fridge. He’d have to bring her there to show her his art in a bit. Cocking her head to a side, Dany thought for a moment before saying: “Doesn’t creativity usually come with a degree of messiness? You should see my writing desk. In fact, you should see my office when I get busy writing. I don’t come out for days on end and if somebody comes in, they don’t even realize I’m in there. You know why?” “Why?” “Because I’m usually hidden behind piles of paper, books and empty mugs stained with tea, so high that as you can imagine, someone as small as me would easily be drowned by them all.” Dany told him. “God knows how that hasn’t happened already!” Jon laughed at Dany’s sudden revelation. Chuckling along with him, Dany clasped her hands together in front of her belly, rocking a little on her feet as peals of feminine laughter swam through the air, coalescing with his deeper ones. He could just envision them laughing together about the silliest things over breakfast in the morning or any time during the day really. How strange to think like that of someone he just barely became acquainted with? “You’re a writer then?” “Mhmm. Well, I’m currently an editor for my father’s books. When he wants to publish one of course. One day, I’d like to have a book of my own. In the meantime, I write stories and post them online for fun.” The tone of pride in her voice was palpable. Jon instantly knew that she was someone who loved what she did for a living. She was adorable and a fellow creator! He liked her very much already. “So.... where are your art pieces, Jon? My curiosity is just dying to be appeased!” Dany admitted after their laughter quietened down, looking around the space once more. Her startlingly violet irises were glowing with eager anticipation and her grin sent his beating heart skipping like a gleeful child. Gosh, she was so very lovely.  

“Oh! That! Right this way, Dany. I’ll show you.” Jon lead them further into the apartment, towards a room in the back. Shockingly, he almost completely forgot about the whole reason he had brought her to his home. Being with her seemed so easy, so enjoyable. It felt as if his worries had all been thrown out of his mind to the furthest reaches of the earth! What a funny occurrence this was. But they did have things to do. Reeling himself back on track, it was time to get on with the main event.

“Woah.” The likeness was uncanny. The woman really looked like a splitting image of her, down to the freckles dusting her cheek bones. They even had the exact same eye colour - a rare lilac purple. Growing up, people used to call her names and make fun of her for them. She hated them and would always go home crying when the school day was done. One fine afternoon, her mother calmed her down and lifted her onto her lap. Tenderly brushing away the last of her tears, her darling mummy told her astutely that there was no point in hating her eyes because one shouldn’t change what they were born with. Instead, she should love them. She was beautiful the way she was. So, from then on, little Dany faced her bullies head on, scaring them away with the promise to bite their heads off like the monster that they called her. As she grew older, she found people envied her purple irises, saying that they were so unique, going as far to ask her what contact lenses she had on. Turns out, being different wasn’t too bad. The people who love you will stay with you regardless of what your appearance was. The painted woman had her silver hair braided and coiled around her head with the rest falling freely down to her waist. The image captured strands of silver being picked up by the wind as she stood at the edge of a cliff, dressed in black, looking into the distance watching her children frolic in the sky. An odd sense of Déjà vucrept up upon Dany. The dragons are my children. Children? There were three of them, the biggest one was red and black, the middle one was green and red and the smallest one was a beautiful cream and gold. Drogon, Rheagal and Viserion. The names resounded in her ears. Except.... How? How did he know what she dreamt?  All that she’d been seeing since she was a little girl. Her heart pounded. Taking a stumbling step back from his work, Dany sucked in a ragged breath as a scene flashed through her head. Dragon eggs heated by the fire amidst a funeral pyre cracking, hatching, her babies huddling close to her naked body, unburnt by the licking flames as the wood around her charred and turned to ash. “How? What?” Shaking her head in disbelief, she breathed asking the handsome stranger as much as asking herself. “Like I said, I saw her in my dreams. So, I painted her.” Jon walked over to join her by the painting. “Ever since my childhood, I’ve been having these dreams at night about someone who was me, but not me. When I woke, I would paint the things I saw.” Tracing a finger over the canvas, over the rough, bumpy ridges of the brush strokes under her finger tips that created the orange, purple horizon the dragons were flying towards, Dany listened and her pulse started to race. “The things I see, they are just so realistic. It feels like an out of body experience of a life that isn’t my own. Definitely, not this life.” Swallowing deeply, she knew what he meant.

Trekking through the haboob blowing across a desert, following a blood red comet. Her sweat dripping down her face, so famished she could faint from hunger and dehydration.

She had never in her life been to a desert before. There weren’t any deserts in London. “These days, the dreams have changed from being focused on a man who looked like me to a woman.” Looking straight at her, he continued. “A woman, who looked just like you.” 

Tilting her head to observe the man beside her, her eyes drifted over his features. Her mind finally placing where she had seen him before. He was the man of her dreams. The man who made up the half of the union of fire and ice with the queen who wore her face. 

“Wow, okay. This is really anomalous.” Taking a deep breath, she blinked rapidly, trying to gather her thoughts. Logic and reason were battling to accept the impossible. “These dreams.... do they happen to be set in the medieval ages?” “How did you know?” Holding up her hand indicating that he let her continue. “In these dreams, did you see yourself as a King?” The queen of the Seven Kingdoms and her king stood on their balcony of the Red Keep, their new home, looking down at the city. The king had his arms around his queen, holding her close, looking forward to creating a new future for Westeros. “Umm yes.” He saw himself addressing his people as he sat upon his throne, looking to his right, he smiled at his silver haired queen, a feeling of warmth and love blooming in his chest. Jon felt that sensation once again just thinking about his dream. Looking at the woman in front of him who looked just like the queen in his dreams, oddly that sensation only swelled. Glancing up at him, Dany asked: “In your dreams, your queen who looked like me and your doppelgänger.... were the two of them involved?” His eyebrows drew into a deeper furrow with each passing question. “Yes. They were in love.” Jon nodded in affirmation. “Well, at least I think so. I could feel it in here.” He pointed at his chest. “The way the man and the woman looked at one another. They were very much besotted with each other. And the amount of snogging they did...” He coughed. “This is going to sound absolutely bonkers, but I think you deserve to know this.” Dany laughed a laugh of disbelief. “I think.... I may not be a hundred percent certain, but I think… I may be having those dreams too. The very same ones as you but from the queen’s point of view. In my dreams I saw myself married to a man from a snowy place in the North who looked just like you.” “Seriously?” Jon’s mouth fell open as he processed her words, trying to wrap his mind around her disclosure. His eyes were so wide they were almost bulging out of his head. He looked so comical Dany could have snorted.  “We ruled as monarchs together over a place called Westeros, I believe.” she replied, moving to the next art piece, leaving a stunned Jon with his mouth agape. This one was equally beautiful. It was a painting of a wolf. The wolf was so white he blended in with the snowy background behind him. His intelligent eyes seemed to glow like garnets the deepest shade of red. Or, like the very blood pumping through my veins, Dany noted with morbid fascination. “He’s magnificent, Jon. You are very talented.” “Thank you. His name is Ghost. He’s the trusty dire wolf companion of mine or well, the guy with my face in my dreams.” Jon laughed wearily, rubbing a palm over his face. “I’m never going to get used to all this. We’re clearly not the people we see in our dreams, but are we really not? This is so confusing.” “Don’t I know it.” Another painting propped up against a cupboard with Jon’s art supplies of dragons in flight, breathing fire caught her eye. “For example,” Walking over to it, Dany pointed to them and said: “These are my children. Drogon, Rheagal and Viserion. And I...” She waved her arms in a flourish. “am the Mother of Dragons. How do I know that? Dragons don’t even exist.”

The two of them shared a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation they were embroiled in. “How are the dreams like for you? Are they frequent or occasional?” Jon queried. Moving over to Jon join who was stood by his work table, Dany tucked a strand of her hair that behind her ear and began recounting her life. “Since I could remember, almost every night, I would dream and see a girl who could very well be my twin. She seemed to grow along with me from a child, into a teen, into an adult. All the while, I had to witness her life.” She frowned as she recalled the nightly movies playing in her sleep. “Her life was.... hard. From being homeless to being sold by her brother, then raped by her so called husband, defiled, humiliated. It was absolutely terrifying. I still remember the dread that stayed with me long after I woke in the morning, almost like that all happened to me.”

 Jon wanted desperately to reach out and hug her as he watched Dany’s arms curling around herself subconsciously. 

“That’s horrible.” Jon empathized. He wanted desperately to reach out and hug her as he watched Dany’s arms curling around herself subconsciously. The woman beside him must have been experiencing the dread and the fear the girl from her dream experienced. Just like how the death and the pain of being stabbed still lingered in his flesh. “It was. Fortunately, she was strong, she survived it all and rose to queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I don’t think I could have survived what happened to her.” Dany sighed, a small little smile curling at her lips for the pride she felt for her dream twin. “Recently though, the dreams have been frequent but considerably less... dreary. These nights I would see snippets of the life of her and her King, your twin.” A genuine smile graced Dany’s pink lips along with a tinkling laugh. 

“What did you see?” Jon was eager to know.

Did she see their alter egos in love as well? They looked so happy together. Happiness was rare and hard to find. In the medieval times, even more so. From the bits of his dreams and from what Dany just told him, he could tell that neither of their dream avatars lives’ were too great, up until the King in the North met his Dragon Queen. He wondered if she also saw their more risqué activities like he did on some nights, when the heat of summer grew too unbearable leaving him aroused and frustrated under the covers. His mind conjured up images of the adventurous young rulers in bed. Boy, were they wanton. Jon cleared his throat and wedged his index finger between the collar of his shirt and his chest, pulling at his clothes. Was the room getting warmer? “Well, I saw them…” Glancing at Jon, Dany saw that his ears were turning red again. Interesting. “What are you thinking about, Mister Stark? Something naughty?” Dany narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “No.” Jon replied, his voice rose to a suspiciously higher pitch. “Just answer the question please.”

Messing with him was fun, she thought as she stifled a snigger. “As I was saying, I saw a lot of them lately, such as their first meeting, I saw them talking by a cliff and riding into battle together on the backs of their dragons. I saw the love in their eyes they had for each other. I also.... Oh.” So that’s what he was remembering. Dany voice grew smaller as a blush rose up her neck to grace her cheeks. “Well.... I....” “Judging from your blush, you know very well what I was imaging earlier.” Jon exclaimed with a bark of laughter. “Shut up.” The young aspiring writer grumbled. “It’s not my fault that those two were so damn passionate and in love!” He couldn’t agree more. “This is all very voyeuristic isn’t it?” “Very.” Dany mused. “How do you feel knowing that we’re both going through this?” Jon couldn’t tell from her expression if she was glad or upset. He certainly was pleasantly surprised. He wasn’t alone in this confusing situation. Was she happy? “Honestly?” Dany smiled. “I’m not too miffed about it. I think it’s pretty cool. Just imagine, we’re probably the only two people in the world going through something like this.” “It’s very likely.” The both of them stood in companionable silence for long moments before he spoke up again. “So... listen, I have an unusual request to make. I know I’ve already taken up a lot of your time and you can definitely say no. But, could I.... paint you? One day in the future… I’d like to do that.” “Me? What for?” “Sentimental reasons I suppose. To commemorate finally meeting the woman of my dreams. Well, sort of. It’s also a guise for me to keep you around a little while longer.” Bumping his shoulder with hers playfully, Jon told her. Hearing to her breathe a chuckle and return the gesture, taking a leap of faith, he further professed, “I do want to get to know you as well. I want to give this weird, special connection between us a chance.” And keep you with me, if I’m lucky, forever, because I think I’m falling for you. A fairly absurd occurrence for a new acquaintance, but was this what people called love at first sight? Dany considered his request for a moment. This was not what she had foreseen at all of this holiday. However, just by spending such a short time with him, she could already tell that something was simmering between them. This dream connection they had could very well blossom into something very real and magical. There had to be a reason why they had the same dreams. Maybe spending more time together, they could figure out why this was happening. “Yeah okay. Why not?” She replied with a shrug. “This could be fun. I’ve never sat for a portrait before.” Jon beamed in delight at her. “Thank you so much, Dany!”

“How about tomorrow? Paint me like one of those French girls if you will, Mister Stark.”

“Wha… What?!”

[arizaluca]

Just read your mcsm stories today and OH MAN they’re so well-written!>w

Ah, thank you! I’m really glad you like ‘em. I’ll do my best!

“ARGH!!” Xara practically let out a scream in frustration, throwing her hands into the air and almost throwing the wrench. “Notch damnit why can’t I f*cking get this right?!”

She usually wouldn’t have freaked out like that– at most, maybe muttered a swear under her breath before trying again– but having Romeo somewhere in the vicinity had torn her patience levels down to Underneath-level. 

Porkchop had been very pleased when they dumped a tied-up and gagged Romeo on the ground in front of Xara, trying to talk through the gag but failing miserably.

They seemed to be even more pleased because Romeo didn’t seem to be an Admin anymore. 

Normal, overly pale skin (probably because he was terrified that Xara was about to murder him, if his wide eyes were any indication), gold eyes with only the irises colored and the whites actually being white, normal t-shirt and jeans and sneakers that were a little muddy.

Five responses flashed through Xara’s head in the time that it took for her to blink slowly at Romeo, ranging from killing him on the spot to tackling him in a tight hug because holy crap it was Romeo, it wasn’t the Admin anymore, it was just her old friend.

Her old friend who killed her other old friend.

Finally, she simply stepped forward and ripped the gag off with such force that she wouldn’t have been entirely surprised if she’d ripped his tongue off along with it. “What are you doing here?”

Romeo didn’t flinch at her tone, which was so sharp you could’ve used it to cut someone’s head off, although she did see him wince. “I, uh… I came back. To fix things. Down here.”

After a short, awkward (on Romeo’s part) explanation about how, in short, Jesse had taken his powers away, and he’d decided to come back to the Underneath to help everyone out if they needed it, he finished on saying, surprisingly meekly, “Well, but, uh, that’s if you… are okay with it.”

F*ck no, I’m not okay with it. You killed my best friend.

Xara thought about vocalizing that, but in the end just let out a growl in his direction. “Don’t come within twenty feet of me. I don’t want to ever speak to you again.”

This time Romeo did flinch a little, but she didn’t care as she stalked away, his mouth opening silently as he tried to say something to her retreating back.

She didn’t care, she didn’t care, she didn’t care.

Periodically, the scavengers would stop by to give Xara random updates. Mostly letting her know if they’d discovered anything interesting (the guy in the Enderman head brightly told her that the giant Enderman had stopped showing up) or if anyone had fallen down there (no).

Rarely, they’d include a bit about Romeo, although they tended to ask before telling her in case she didn’t want to hear.

Porkchop had stopped wanting to dismember him on sight and had actually started up a small trading system with the guy. Val, Soup, and Llucy were helping Romeo figure out how to gather certain materials to build… something. (Porkchop hadn’t gotten details.) He’d helped them when the guy in the creeper head (Xara was sort of crap with names and couldn’t remember it for the life of her) had hurt his leg. 

The first few times, Xara had waved it off. It’s just his way of trying to apologize. He’s hoping I’ll hear. He’s just trying to fix it and once we get comfortable he’ll just revert to being a total ass.

The next few times, she didn’t wave it off. She’d silently listen as these little things (and sometimes big things) would build up. Val no longer sent him the evil eye whenever he got too close to Llucy. He’d periodically come back with some wood or some materials that someone needed. He’d started working on the extra mobs that weren’t supposed to be in the world.

After that, Porkchop and the scavengers stopped asking if she wanted to hear. She stopped cutting them off if they started telling her. 

The reports of Romeo being a nice person, not stopping being a nice person but on the contrary getting nicer at times, were starting to confuse her. And when Xara got confused, she just got pissy.

Trying to fix the Oasis was a good distraction. At least she could slam a hammer into something and claim that she was trying to fix it.

Except she’d been stuck on getting this one building right, because the logistics of this one involved too much redstone, and when she placed blocks sometimes the actual machine would screw it up or get stuck, and she had been working solidly on this for three weeks.

It had been a very long time since she’d actually done any redstone or building– about a hundred years, to be precise– and she couldn’t remember the logistics properly and she was just so out of patience at this point that she practically threw the wrench. It flew out of sight, probably lost until she went scrounging around in the ruins of her city for it tomorrow.

Or next week, or next month, forget it, she might not ever get this building back to normal at this point.

She can’t say she cares that much.

The same way you don’t care about Romeo seeming to go back to normal? 

She swore loudly, voice echoing through the empty remains of her city.

Xara was so glad she could actually sleep that whenever she did, she’d just conk out. You could probably blow up a grenade outside her window and she’d just go right on sleeping.

So she’s not sure why she can’t do it tonight.

Maybe it’s stress. After all, she’s been working on this one building for what feels like ages. Maybe. But probably not.

Maybe it’s anger. She has every right to be angry, really. Romeo did something horrible, and then had the nerve to come back and apologize. As if that would ever fix anything. Too little too late. Maybe. But probably not.

Maybe it’s Romeo himself, because his behavior of late has been such a huge contrast to what she’s used to that she’s confused and irritated, she knows he’s somewhere down here but she doesn’t know exactly where, she wants to hate his guts because he killed her other best friend and he hasn’t apologized.

Maybe it’s because you haven’t let him try.

Maybe.

For whatever reason, Xara had been trying to sleep for the past three hours, but hadn’t been able to get to it. So she just sat up and looked out her window, at the building with the machine that she hadn’t been able to get right.

She blinked. Squinted. Looked again.

And then she quickly tossed the blanket aside, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and then walking out of her house, staying to the more shadowy areas as she tried to get a closer look.

When she got within thirty feet, her eyes finally accepted what she was seeing as real and not a hallucination.

There, on the building, is Romeo, frowning bemusedly at it as he raises a finger in the air, waving it around and looking like he’s doing a mental math calculation. 

Xara watched as Romeo took down a few blocks from the walls she’d set up, before shifting those around, adjusting everything as he went, continually stopping and doing his mental calculations or whatever they were.

He was fixing her building for her.

His hair was messed up and looked like he hadn’t combed it in three weeks, his t-shirt was torn badly at the collar and peppered with little burn marks, his jeans looked as if he’d tossed it to a rabid wolf, and his sneakers were scorched, and even in the dim firelight surrounding everything she could see the shadows under his eyes and the unnatural pallor of his skin indicating that he hadn’t slept properly for, well, a while at least.

But he was still fixing her building for her.

Slowly, she slipped through the shadows, closer, until she was standing near the bottom of it. Romeo probably would’ve noticed if he wasn’t so intent on repairing her building for her, but he was focused on it that even when he looked up and was staring right at her at one point, he didn’t notice her.

The clock that Xara had managed to cobble together one day ticked resolutely onwards. It passed midnight, passed 3 in the morning, and was almost six AM when he finally finished, stepping down and giving a little sigh, barely ten feet from him.

“Romeo.”

He flinched in surprise, bonked his head against the wall, and then spun around to face her.

Close up, she realized he looked even worse than when she was watching him try to build this one building that she hadn’t gotten for months. There was one long scar from the corner of his eye to his chin that hadn’t been there the last time she’d spoken to him, he had a makeshift bandage that looked suspiciously like a part of his shirt wrapped around his head, soaked with almost greenish blood, his eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red, his lips were chapped and cracked, and he had bruising all down one arm. Not to mention he was a lot thinner than she remembered.

“Oh– uh– hi Xara– I didn’t mean– sorry, I’ll– I’ll leave–” Romeo spluttered, stumbling over his words almost sluggishly, as if he couldn’t quite figure out how speaking worked.

Xara interrupted. “Where’s this from?” She touched the corner of her eye and then traced down her cheek to her chin to indicate the scar.

Romeo stammered a bit, as if he was about to answer, but then Xara interrupted. “Never mind. When’s the last time you slept?”

“Uh…” Romeo’s gold eyes blinked slowly, before he glanced down and started counting on his fingers. He got to the the second hand before he looked confused and then started over.

Xara watched him do this three times, looking more and more confused each time, before she sighed. “And this?” she pointed at her head, the area where Romeo had wrapped his bandage.

“Zombie.” It seemed to be easier for Romeo to speak in two-syllable words at the moment, because this came out easily, as did the next two-syllable sentence. “Clawed me.”

Xara felt her eye twitch in irritation against her will. “Don’t tell me you didn’t disinfect it.”

Romeo’s lips barely twitched up at the ends. Blood immediately started leaking from a crack at the corner of his mouth, but he quickly reached up and smeared it away with one hand, the one without bruising along it. “Okay. Then I won’t tell you.” 

Xara had to repress a small smile at that, which surprised her. She hadn’t expected to remember how to smile. “And let me guess, you haven’t eaten or had anything to drink for at least a day.”

“I had some water…” Romeo trailed off, eyes glazing over. He apparently couldn’t remember. 

Maybe Xara couldn’t forgive him yet. And she couldn’t forget either.

But she could at least keep her former friend from running himself into the ground.

“Get some sleep. There’s a mostly-intact sofa in that house over there.” Xara jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll check on you later. I’m going to get back to it.”

Romeo opened his mouth to protest, apparently thought better of it, and let out a sigh. It devolved into a cough halfway through, each hack making his shoulders shake violently as he clapped a hand over his mouth. Some more blood leaked out of the corner of his mouth, but this time it seemed to be coming from his mouth. 

What the hell had this idiot been doing?! Eating ashes?!

“And you are going to let me check and make sure you’re not killing yourself later. I don’t care how much you dislike the taste of healing potions,” Xara snapped as an afterthought.

When Romeo’s coughs finally subsided, he lowered his hand and gave Xara a weak smile, more blood leaking out of his cracked lips. “Still as much of a tough love mom as always, huh.” He let out another sigh, this time trying to keep his exhale more shallow, and nodded. “Fine. I’ll try to come out and help–”

“No. No helping. You sleep. I don’t care if you sleep for three days straight, because right now you look like a pile of crap and your body is probably about to self-destruct.” 

Xara grabbed him by the shoulders, ignoring the way Romeo’s shoulders tensed slightly in surprise, before she spun him around and literally steered him into the house, grabbing a random blanket that she’d put there (sometimes she slept there too. Why do you think she knew about it?) and almost literally throwing it into his face. “I’ll be back tonight. And I want you to look like you at least slept for eight hours, got it?”

He let out a dry laugh that ended up sounding more like a smoker’s cough. “No promises.”

She made a half-joking swipe at his head, which he barely dodged under, before turning and preparing to leave.

She stopped at the threshold of the door, just for a moment. She’d forgotten to say something.

“Thank you.”

Before Romeo could say anything (actually, if he had, she would’ve turned right back around, made him lie down, and force-fed him a narcotic potion if she had to), she was out the door.

She didn’t forgive him. Not by a long shot.

But she did at least take a tiny step in that direction, and any progress is good progress.

Notch, if she’d ever said that aloud to Fred he would’ve started teasing her.

[entergamingxp]

Half-Life: Alyx review – a legend returns in elegant form • Eurogamer.net

The Strider is the greatest of all Half-Life’s creations, if you ask me. Sure, you could argue that it’s just another spin on HG Wells’ tripods, but seriously, look at the thing! Those legs, so horribly long and horribly jointed, that hideous hint of poultry flesh and machinery spliced together, all pain and wrongness. In Half-Life 2, I watched one of this awful lot stoop to duck under a bridge, and the thing about the Strider is that it never reminds you of just one thing, always a horrible bodging-together – almost a flamingo as its joints worked, yet almost grandparent nipping up into the attic for something heavy too. An internal life: that sense of self-preservation and cruel intelligence they have, of seeing only their own priorities. That sense of being autonomous in the moment, but also deeply mission-driven. They give me goose-bumps because it’s so entirely clear that they can probably get goose-bumps themselves.

Half-Life: Alyx review

Developer: Valve

Publisher: Valve

Platform: Reviewed on PC with Index

Availability: Out 23 March on PC

I had been waiting for this moment, then. Half-Life: Alyx, set five years before the events of Half-Life 2 and delivered sixteen years – is that possible? – since Half-Life 2 and thirteen years since Episode Two, the last installment. (How we had talked at the time about that gap between the first two Episodes. We had no idea.) Suddenly, City 17 lies before me once more. I am on a rooftop somewhere: Alyx Vance, 19-year-old daughter of Eli Vance, on reconnaissance for the resistance.

The metropolis is a mess of alien cables, black and heavy, draped thoughtlessly and sagging over honey-coloured European architecture with its weary finials and tiles and crenelations. It’s VR, so a moment or two to look at the creamy skybox dithering into distant mist, then another moment to delight in a nearby radio, fiercely analogue tech, that can be picked up and heaved around, the dials turning and moving a little marker along the display, an aerial that properly extends and everything.

Behind me, inside a little conservatory, there is a video call from Dad, and more importantly there’s a range of felt pens that have been used on the dirty glass to map Combine movements, but which can also be used to – what? – do anything really. Graffiti, Killroys, my daughter’s name in my own instantly recognisable handwriting, somehow captured inside a video game space. I’m on the move, so I heave back a hidden door and explore a few dingy Winston Smith bedsit rooms. Then out again onto a different ledge and, do tell me, what in the world is that sound?

That sound is a strider, horribly large and horribly close, heaving its carcass body up the side of a building, stepping where it wants because the crumbling world of human things is not really a concern for an alien invader. It stops. Has it seen me? I stare up – because it’s VR, I’m actually staring up – at this awful, wretched thing that I have always loved, and which is now here more fully than ever before, its knotty joints bolstered with servo-motors and shards of the Combine’s black-slate tech. It hasn’t seen me. It doesn’t care. It turns and unplugs a clump of cables from a nearby building – the human world is its junction box – and then it’s off into the distance. And yes! I had been waiting for this moment. And this moment did not let me down.

Not my only encounter with a strider in Half-Life: Alyx, but I’ll honestly try to spoil little more than that. What I should say is that for the last few days I have been a bit of a strider myself, strangely focused on a private agenda, strangely blind to the finer details of the human landscape around me, as I have navigated City 17 with a VR headset covering my eyes – two worlds, one laid over the other. All this, as I’ve taken on headcrabs and Combine troopers and all the rest, all this as I have puzzled and rewired and upgraded – while simultaneously bodging around my own PC set up by my desk. House cats and scarves dumped on the backs of chairs startled me when I brushed against them at the wrong moments – generally moments involving headcrabs. My daughter, moving a doll’s house behind me one afternoon, almost finished me off in a boss fight when we bumped together. “When you’re behind me, tell me you’re behind me!” I said. Five minutes later, when I was deep in the horror of the underground somewhere, she obliged, having snuck up close before announcing, “I’M BEHIND YOU, DADDY.”

In other words, Half-Life was always going to work in VR. But what’s fascinating is how it works. If you’re expecting an explosion of let’s-try-anthing creativity a la Boneworks, a game in which every conceivable kind of physics interaction is gleefully gimmicked together as you tumble through its wonderfully scrappy campaign, you’re going to be a bit disappointed. Half-Life would rather focus its ambitions – and in turn rein-in the scope of what you can do – than risk breaking the illusion or frustrating the player. Something is lost in that decision, certainly. It’s Alyx’s way or the highway. But a lot is gained too.

As a result, Alyx is marked by restraint. Which is to say, I think, that it understands that VR itself is still such a continuous gimmick for many people that it can play things straight, paring the Half-Life concept back closer than ever before. Yes, it has radios to play with and the inevitable VR piano to prod out a Goldberg Variation on, but it’s not one of those VR games that serves as the equivalent of those early 3D movies where people were forever throwing knives at the screen. Most of the time, it uses VR to steadily put you deeper and deeper into the fabric of this grimy, flaking Victory Gin world.

This is a simple story, direct yet consequential, studded with wonderful set-pieces, most of which are pitched towards a sort of sci-fi-tinged survival horror: you, a gun, ammo scavenging and them lurking all around as you slowly inch towards your next destination. VR is used to continue the Half-Life ambition, begun with that tram-ride back at Black Mesa and extended via the Gravity Gun and the magnifying glasses and the facial animation tech of Half-Life 2 to truly embed players in its reality. Cats, children, scarves and bookcases aren’t just victims of this approach. They feel like an important part of it.

The basics are straightforward. All I’m going to tell you of the plot is that you’re trying to meet up with your dad and figure out what big strange thing the Combine’s currently so excited about. Events zip along quite briskly and objectives are always clear. If there’s a problem, it’s that the game is hemmed in a little, in terms of narrative, because it so clearly has one specific job to do.

The controls are as clear-headed as the narrative. Playing room-scale or simply standing with a more confined space, you can choose one of four movement options, two of which work brilliantly as teleport jobs while the other two offer continuous movement guided by either the hand or the head and seemed to me pretty clumsy and nausea-inducing. Whatever movement you choose, one hand generally holds a weapon or gadget – switching them is as easy as pressing a button and waving your arm up and down – while the other is always free for interacting with the environment, opening doors, grabbing ammo clips from your backpack and ramming them home, priming grenades before lobbing them.

Both hands wear gravity-gloves, a cobbled-together precursor of the gravity gun. They’re beautiful things. Hold your hands up and it’s like some addled genius has built mittens for your out of diodes and Technical Lego, while little displays show you your health and ammo levels. These things are not for pulling sawblades out of walls and firing them into crowds of zombies, though. They’re precision affairs, a little flick of the wrist yanking a highlighted object out of the environment and bringing it into your hand with a neat little slap.

The gloves have been created by a new character, Russell, played by Rhys Darby, who despite being cast as a genius, stays wonderfully close to Murray, the dim and easily bruised band manager from Flight of the Conchords. Because Alyx also speaks – a performance from Ozioma Akhaga that is forever revealing different facets of personality, while being wonderfully alive to graveyard wit – the game is essentially a two-hander, Alyx out in the world while Russell monitors her progress from a distance, cowardly, prideful, tender and quirky by turns. I love this combination. Beyond anything else, following up the biggest video game in the world with a Rhys Darby simulator is a total power move.

The texture of the game these two travel through is relentlessly – and gloriously – practical, pragmatic and down-to-earth. This is a game about navigating space and killing everything you meet, but it’s all so carefully wrought. A nervous skittering on the soundtrack is ultimately the buzzing of an old fluorescent light tube. Puzzles are made of gravity, stacked boxes, and wood used to prop open windows. These challenges can be maddeningly clever, but Newton always keeps them honest at the same time. Elsewhere, a vaguely celestial sounding clue in the main plot turns out to have a very mundane solution, while car posters you pass on the remains of the subway show boxy Soviet saloons accompanied by ad-talk that’s even more oppressive than usual: Reality Defined. This is science-fiction with both feet on the ground.

This works because the interaction, enlivened by VR, is tangible and playful. It elevates everything, from wiring puzzles – a real theme of this game, using both a gadget that allows you to see electricity flowing through gates inside the walls, and a bit of good-old-fashioned cable-following – to hunting for ammo and other supplies, including the worm-eaten hockey pucks of grey stuff you use as currency in the machines that allow you to upgrade your weapons.

Weapons are real presences because of VR. It’s not just that you have to change clips and pull that slidey thing at the top of the pistol before you can shoot the zombie that’s already groaning towards you. It’s that they have a complex, weighty, rattly presence in your hand. You can sense these guns are each one thing made from many smaller things working together. Valve has always been good with this stuff, and the upgradable weapons of Alyx are very special. From that pistol and a shotgun to something a little more exotic, they’re filled with character and a sense of power, even before you start adding laser sites and bigger clips.

Gun management as well as gunplay, wiring puzzles as well as hacking challenges, traversal with physics hurdles so nicely weighted that you can predict the outcomes in your head: all of the various aspects of Alyx appear simple, but they all work together to bed you deeper and deeper into the game until you reach the point where, if you’re like me, you’re talking back to Russell out loud as you catch up after each fight.

Oh man, but never forget: at the very center of it is all is those incredible gloves. The gravity gun has always had a habit of working its ways into other games for me. Not directly, of course. It’s just that I’ll be playing Gears of War and I’ll see a grand piano or a panel truck and think: I wish I could just lob that somewhere. The gravity gloves have already gone beyond that. They have a habit of getting into my head. I’ll be lying on the sofa and thinking: I wish I could just flick that book from the other side of the room into my hand. At the front door I’ll wish I could turn around and grab my keys from the stairs. The things I could do with Jaffa Cakes, mate.

The gloves are a less ostentatious kind of magic than that offered in Half-Life 2 – again, you won’t be chucking a car at anyone with them – but in some ways they’re a more startling kind of magic. I was half an hour in and pausing mid-reload to pull an interesting bit of set design off a distant shelf and inspect it. The levels are filled with bits and pieces to pick up and examine: cutlery, pipes, video cassettes. Chuck in the reloading and this is stuff you can get good at – you can master it until you’re fighting through the apocalypse and foppishly checking out the detailing at the same time. Half-Life has always sought to startle, which is probably why the last instalment came out in 2007. The right material, the right opportunities, take time to present itself.

What detailing that lost decade or so has allowed for! This is a game that has been allowed to percolate. City 17, strangely noble in its ravaged state, a faded relic being steadily eaten by alien technology, is still one of the great locations in video games, even if you tend to just see bombed out apartment buildings, train yards and subway stations for a lot of the campaign. But the greatest details this time around are the Combine tech, which has never been so monolithically grim. Outside it’s grey sheeting and stark angles: designs that could give you a nasty cut. Inside, though, it’s often big chunks of offal instead of circuitry, as if Darth Vader had teamed up with Fergus Henderson, the man behind the nose-to-tail eating movement. Health stations, pretty much unchanged from the first game, are so much more visibly present in VR. You inspect the squealing white worm that is squished to make the lurid Mountain Dew healing substances, and then you have to pull down a plate and rest your hand on it, enjoying the dancing jabs of a dozen little syringes while you scan the surroundings for oncoming threats.

All of this stuff comes together with wonderful set-pieces. Due to the exhausting nature of VR combat, massive pile-ons like Nova Propsekt are out of the question, ditto the open-world ram-raiding of the White Forest. Instead, troops are dropped in surgically – their strangled tannoy barking giving you a moment to panic and hunt for ammo and hopefully come up with a plan. As for the bestiary there’s a shocking new enemy who I won’t spoil, but even the old guard return and bring a vivid kind of enhanced fear with them. I had dreaded VR headcrabs, and then the game not only introduces them but immediately loses the first one in some pipework. That was a nice two minutes. (I regret to inform you that there’s a new kind of headcrab now too, even if its design can’t quite match the queasy supermarket horror of the original.) Elsewhere it feels like a testament to the brilliance of the original creature design on this series that you feel dread rather than nostalgia whenever one of the classics turns up again. Or maybe it’s another sign of the sheer weight of immersion Alyx can conjure: there’s a real sense of apprehension when the game leads you out of the light and back underground for a spell. You live in these spaces while you move through them.

There are ingenious set-pieces, increasingly piling up towards the end of the campaign, but I’m so struck through by the sheer thrift of a lot of it. It’s that restraint again: make the VR work, get a handful of killer things out of it, and then repeat and remix without breaking the spell. There are Hollywood moments that will stick with me, but I also remember being in a room filled with oil drums while a tank of explosive gas was being winched up towards the mouth of one of those horrible limpet things that sit on the ceiling. That’s the kind of clock Valve likes to put in a scene to add suspense. Hitchcock would be proud: you can see all the moving parts and yet the magic is still there.

And the more I played of Alyx, the more I thought about how VR and Half-Life were made for each other. And the more this left me thinking about the G-Man, the shadowy figure in a suit who turns up at crucial moments throughout the series and does intriguing stuff. The G-Man is the focal point for a lot of lore conspiracies in Half-Life. Who is he? Is he human? Is he Gordon Freeman himself?

Let’s not worry whether he makes an appearance in Alyx or not. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Because throughout the course of this game, I think I worked out who he really is. He’s Valve. Think about it: inscrutable Valve, a company that seems to see further than most, that seems to have a separate agenda to that of most developers – and who, granted, doesn’t always seem to be entirely benevolent. The G-Man disappears for long periods of time, but then turns up just as events have caught up with his intentions. It’s his way or no way at all. He waits for the right pieces to appear, and then he makes the most of them with little apparent effort.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/03/half-life-alyx-review-a-legend-returns-in-elegant-form-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=half-life-alyx-review-a-legend-returns-in-elegant-form-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

[junker-town]

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:

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 ...

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

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:

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.