#this man has zero spatial awareness

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

This chapter was very fun to write. I listened to SUPERBLOOM by Silent Planet on loop (it's really good and underrated), if you want to get into the mood you can go listen to it too ig

The plan is practically complete now, the fact doing nothing to calm either Ghost or Soap. The Vaqueros who have been monitoring the bar have informed them they found the PMC’s base of operation - a compound deep in the desert surrounding Las Almas.

They will start by spreading around the compound suspected to house the soldiers of the PMC revenant. 4 teams will form a half-circle, the fifth, composed of himself and Soap, opposite to them. Soap will infiltrate to commence the distraction, Ghost acting as a barrier for any stray soldiers trying to escape, pushing everyone towards the other teams.

Keller and Commander Karim will be the closest team, Farah protecting Alex while he surprises the soldiers, funneling them further towards the Vaqueros and Shadows, Price and Gaz lifting in the air to snipe and allow the Captain to attempt to connect to the revenant’s mind through their servants.

If that fails, their orders are to exterminate all hostiles. Soap was initially charged with that, but the Sergeant vehemently refused, stating his powers are too unpredictable for that.

What interested Ghost is that Johnny didn’t say he couldn’t do it. He just doesn’t want to.

They’re to be deployed tomorrow, using the cover of night to get to their positions covertly. 

Ghost rummages around the small kitchen in one of the common rooms, sighing frustratingly when he goes through the same drawer for the fourth time. Where the fuck does Rudy keep all the bloody teabags?!

Gentle footsteps catch his attention, and he instantly turns to watch the door open. Soap stumbles inside, rubbing tiredly at his eyes, clearly not clocking in the other person in the room.

Johnny crashes into a couch, exhaling loudly and leaning his head back on the headrest. Ghost watches him for a moment, examining the exhausted scrunch to his shut eyes. He steps silently closer, leaning forward to stare directly down at his Sergeant.

“Bed too comfortable, Johnny?”

Ghost smirks at the Scot startling, eyes now wide open glaring at him, “yer a right menace, ye know that?”

His smile widens, “not my fault you all have zero spatial awareness.”

Soap grumbles something under his breath, and shoots an arm up towards his mask. Ghost barely has time to react before Johnny shifts the mask to cover his eyes, “the fuck are you-”

He hears Soap get up, the old couch screeching in protest, and the Sergeant pounces on him, starting to attempt to tackle him down.

Ghost almost laughs when he actually pins him to the back of the couch, his petty technique shifting the fight to his favor.

“What’s that about ‘spatial awareness’, LT?” Johnny breathes in his ear.

He moves slightly in Soap’s hold, “ah, I’m at a disadvantage here, Sergeant. It’s barely fair.”

The arms around him tighten as Soap leans in to whisper, “thought yer good enough to win without sight.”

Ghost turns his head to where he assumes Johnny’s is, “it’s not the blindness that got me. Didn’t have my nightly tea.” he states innocently.

Soap pushes off him with a groan, “awa an’ bile yer heid, fuckin’ Brits…”

Ghost chuckles as he rights the mask, finally seeing Johnny frown at him with (mock) disgust. He can’t help provoke him further, “any chance you know where Rudy hides his stash?”

Soap smiles sarcastically, “aye, I blew it all teh high hell, LT”

Ghost gasps, growling, “you didn’t” 

“Aye, smelled quite nice, burnt to a crisp.”

“I’ll give you ten seconds to run, Sergeant.” Ghost starts stalking closer to Johnny, who continues to smirk confidently at him.

“How generous of ye.” Ghost’s face hurts from smiling.

He stops in front of Johnny, reaching zero in his head, and swiftly crouching to grab Soap by the torso, slinging him over the shoulder while the man thumps at his back, “Oi! Put me down, ye feckin’ brute!”

Ghost hums, “I warned you, Johnny. It’s only fair, no?”

He drops Johnny on the couch, quickly wrapping his limbs around him to cage the Scot.

Johnny wiggles for a few seconds, until the fight in him runs out, and he settles against Ghost’s chest with a small sigh. Ghost tilts his head to look at Soap’s face, the smile slowly melting off his lips.

Johnny lifts a hand to caress the forearm pinning his chest, a mellow and quiet air hanging around him. “I can’t stop having… nightmares.” he starts unprompted, his voice weaker than usual. “Every night, I kill someone. I wake up and remember I didn’t, but it doesn’t change the fact I could.” his eyes look up at his, “I could kill you tomorrow, Simon.”

Simon relaxes his hold on Johnny into something more comfortable, pressing him closer to his heart, “I told you, Johnny. I’m strong. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Johnny twists to face him more properly, “promise me if yer in danger, don’t hesitate to use Limbo. Even if I’ll be in range, even if it kills me.”

His arms flex involuntarily, as if Johnny will fall apart otherwise, perish under his fingertips. He watches fire reflect in blue eyes, sun in grey skies. He wants to be angry at him, for asking something so selfish.

Johnny may follow him anywhere, but Simon will do anything Johnny asks of him. In that way, perhaps they’re both doomed.

Simon sighs, lowering his head to rest on Johnny’s shoulder, murmuring in defeat, “...I promise.”

Johnny pushes further into him, a gentle fire stroking his cheek in gratitude. Something breaks deep inside him, and Simon lays them down on the small couch, hugging Johnny tightly, letting warmth cradle him.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but the crackling flames and soft snores became a lullaby for his aching heart, and he drifts off to eternal darkness.

Ghost watches the last team drop off, their Humvee now driving towards the fifth team’s position. Soap has a serious expression, hands grasping tightly at his own tac vest with a white-knuckled grip.

They jump off, the driver shifting gear immediately to return to Los Vaqueros base. Soap comes closer to fist bump Ghost’s shoulder, “I’ll see you on the other side, LT. Don’t miss me too much.” Johnny turns away with a forced smile, Ghost forlornly gazing at his descending figure.

“First team in position.” Commander Karim radios in. The rest of the teams give their own affirmative, and Johnny finishes with, “fifth team in position, awaiting green-light.”

“Good copy, Soap.” Price responds, “you’re authorized for explosion creation.”

Ghost observes the foreboding walls of the compound stand silent for a minute, before brilliant fire erupts and takes them down. The explosions ramp up, the blaze so hot, he feels it several hundred feet away.

He scans the horizon for soldiers, finding none attempting to save themselves from the blasts. 

Did they assume wrong, that the revenant PMC would try to fight back? Ghost grabs his comms, “Sergeant, have you seen any hostiles on your end?”

Soap replies a few seconds later, a little out of breath, “negative. Did you?”

“No, keep burning it down-”

Someone, several hands, tackle Ghost from behind. He growls in surprise, twisting his body to shoot behind him blindly. A body falls to the ground. Three others take its place, grasping at his arms, cold limbs pushing his face to the sand.

Soap shouts in his comms, “Ghost?! Ghost, what the fuck is going on?!”

His comms are still on, he realizes with a flash, “Johnny, get out of there! We’ve been compromised!” he snarls desperately.

“Where are you, I’ll- oh fuck.” Ghost’s rib cage is aching, pressure building inside and out.

“Ghost, there are ballistic missiles here. They’re locking onto something.” 

Fuck, FUCK! Ghost fruitlessly tries to shake off his attackers.

Price’s voice rumbles through the radio, “Soap, Ghost! Get yourself out of there, NOW! The revenant, he’s-!”

One of the soldiers crushes the radio, Ghost gasping at the pain shooting down his left shoulder.

“Ah, Captain Price… figures he’ll be the first to find out. Always was such a pain in the ass.”

Ghost stills, craning his neck to lock eyes with the blank faces of the soldiers. The voice echoes from all of them, surrounding him.

The PMC revenant… he clenches his teeth.

One of the soldiers crouches down, taking hold of his jaw, Ghost unsuccessfully trying to shake him off.

“I told you, you will regret not giving the Sergeant to me.”

Cold ice pours down his veins, and he stills.

It can’t be…

“Graves…” Ghost gasps.

Laughter erupts around him, voices overlapping and distorting, “you really thought I’m a fuckin’ non-rev, Simon?” Graves spits his name like a snake’s venom, “I tried to play nice, I really did. But you…”

The faceless soldier tightens his grip on Ghost, “you decided to fuck it all up. I hope you were happy with your ‘Johnny’, because it’s time we have a little fun.” 

Graves hums, “I’ve always wondered just how strong Soap is… after the carnage he left in Verdansk” the American whistles in reverence, “only you would be able to match something like that, wiping a quarter city in a flash.”

“Ghost! The soldiers activated the missiles, I have to detonate them before the launch, please just fuckin’ answer me!” a desperate voice calls behind him through comms.

Graves clicks his tongue, “well, Ghost? Wouldn’t wanna leave your boyfriend hanging, do we?” he holds a radio in front of Ghost’s face, “you can either let the missiles launch and erase Las Almas off the map, or you can die. Your choice, really.”

Arctic ice numbs his insides. The missiles hit Las Almas, they kill everyone… including their entire team. 

The choice is obvious. And those are the hardest ones to make.

“Johnny…” Ghost rasps at the radio.

“Simon, thank the fuckin’ Reapers-!”

Ghost closes his eyes, indulging in Johnny’s voice for just a little longer, “detonate them.”

A shaky inhale passes through the comms, “are ye far enough?”

Ghost’s neck bows, “I remember the promise.”

Static fills the air for a moment, his breaths loud in his ears. Ghost bites on his tongue just to feel something other than freezing pain.

“It was my choice, Simon. Don’t feel bad about it later, alright?”

Ghost’s voice trembles when he whispers, “I hate you...” 

Johnny laughs for him one last time, the sound bringing tears to his eyes, “I knew you’ve taken a shine to me, LT. I’ll see you on the other side.”

He doesn’t want it to end, not yet, not when he just started to feel like he could have this, not like this, not with those words as the last he ever hears “Johnny, I-”

Graves takes away the radio, “now isn’t that heart-warming? You even got your goodbyes in.” Graves sighs, “it’s an honor to see the Ghost die a second and final time. I’ll make sure they’ll know just how you died, Simon Riley. Alone.”

His voice fades away, only heartbeat and rushing blood passes through his ears.

A deafening sound crackles through the air, Ghost’s eyelids glow reds, oranges, yellow, as the wall of inferno comes closer and closer.

For a moment, he can’t feel the cold anymore. He considers letting go, leaving the world by Johnny’s hand, as he was destined.

For a moment, he considers breaking Johnny’s trust, sacrificing himself to let the other live. He imagines how he would react, how he would hate Simon for the rest of his life. He wants to smile. At least he would be alive to despise him.

He imagines, only for a moment.

Ghost opens his eyes.

Limbo envelopes the world, the dark, cold realm curling around him like death’s last hug. He screams, pushing the soldiers off, leaving them to be consumed by his victims.

Molten light leaks from Ghost’s eyes, pain like no other spreading through him. He doesn’t want to look ahead, to see where the residents run towards, to watch as Johnny is being ripped apart by his own murdered souls.

A strange creature moves in Ghost’s peripheral. He shakily lifts his gaze from the empty ground. A… moth?

A burning moth, wings fluttering and shedding embers of vibrant colors, circling his protective light.

Ghost tilts his head, the creature gentle and soft as it lands on his shoulder, warming him like a small ray of sunlight.

It reminds him of…

Someone screams. Not the gurgled wails of Limbo, a clear, anguished voice.

Ghost finally looks at Johnny.

He stands tall, fire covering his arms, trailing up his shoulders, lighting his back with white flames. Leaving a halo behind him. A single holy being in the void.

 Dark hands grasp at his fire, try to steal it for themselves.

Johnny takes a hand, shouting. 

He explodes the arm. Everything that touches his Sergeant, ignites in beautiful colors, lighting up Limbo in a way Ghost hadn't thought possible. Everywhere he steps, leaves marks of warm light. Everywhere he looks, moths flap softly and spread little sparks.

Johnny’s eyes are glowing, rapidly moving from shape to shape, decimating everything in his path.

Light traces its way down Ghost’s mask.

Johnny is breathtaking.

Their eyes meet, beyond the vast fields of the void.

“SIMON! I CAN’T HOLD ON MUCH LONGER-” One hand leaves a path of shadow on Johnny’s arm, “MAKE IT STOP! SIMON, MAKE IT STOP-!!!”

Simon’s breath restores, he inhales sharply and sends his arms forward, palms taking hold of the imaginary reins on Limbo.

One heartbeat passes.

“ARGHHH-!”

Simon pulls back his arms, yelling as he feels tendons snapping. Limbo swirls, fights back against him, tries to sink its claws back into Johnny.

He pulls harder.

Simon is flung back several feet as the void rushes back into him. His head hits the ground and then-

Darkness.

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod ghost #cod soap #phillip graves #revenant au #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod fic #cod fanfic #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #>:) #I was planning a much meaner cliffhanger but I was feeling nice #also the chapter would've been super short otherwise #so many questions answered in this one finally #hope It's as satisfying to you as it is to me

[fleshhhteeth]

At first I was just gonna say the first stupid thing that came to my mind, like How would Habit react to being stuck in a box, but no, I’ll actually ask for some real headcanons szxghg- How do you think each of the emh guys hug/cuddle? Ranging from full on nearly knock you over, to awkward side hug/not huge on touch

YESSS my emh boys (and Mh since u mentioned that as well in ur other ask, thanks for asking btw! :) )

Evan: Hugs, cuddles, general closeness, this man is on the physical touch GRIND bro. With hugging, unless its some playful 'run up behind you and tackle your ass to the ground' hugs, he's probably more of the type to make it short and sweet, with one of those hefty pats on the back and whatnot. But cuddling? He's like a human magnet. Once he's on you that man is not coming off. He's more of a 'find a comfy position to get trapped in and stay there' kind of guy, doesn't fiddle around or shift all that much. Movie nights are essentially just an excuse to get you in his lap for the next hour or so, with his arms clinging around your waist the whole time. Hope you peed beforehand!

Habit: Similar to Evan in the sense that once he's got you, you're not going ANYWHERE for the foreseeable future. Plans? Places to be? Sleep to catch up on? He's never heard of it. He's not really one to INITIATE any touching, though. Hugs? Not happening. Like, ever. He doesn't really feel the need for any physical contact, and he certainly doesn't recognize that need in other people. It's just another weird little human quirk to him, something that isn't his problem. But if you get a little ballsy and crawl into his lap or something (and somehow find him in a good mood) prepare to be stuck in that position until he feels like getting up. He'll probably tease you for having the audacity in the first place. (tbh, you're probably coming out of it with some nasty ass bite marks too) ((Also he purrs. felt like I should add that. Probably growls a bit if you try to get up too.))

Vinny: Someone hug this man. Asdgfdjkgh no but seriously, he's never been all that big on cuddling and being close or whatever, but something about a good, solid hug is just so cathartic to him. Maybe its the pressure, the closeness, or the human contact alone, but its something he finds himself wanting pretty often. He'd probably be a bit too fidgety for any real cuddling, but come up behind him out of nowhere for a hug? All that pesky breath in your lungs is imminently going to be squeezed out, sorry.

Jeff: Probably not all that big on hugging, but definitely a casual cuddler. His idea of a perfect afternoon is being sprawled out across the bed, legs tangled up with someone he cares about as the two of mess around on your phones or something. He likes to move around a lot (because if he stays still, he'll just fall asleep lol), expect a good amount of face nuzzling and wandering hands. More often than not its gonna end up with either the two of you falling asleep together, or a nice lil makeout sesh ;)

----------------------------------------------------------------

MH BOYS

Jay: Awkward hugger. He's not good at it, never has been. He's all gangly limbs and fidgety hands, not exactly great hugging material in the first place. Cuddling is a different thing entirely with him, though. He'll never be the one to initiate cuddling for the sake of cuddling or anything, but he has literally zero spatial awareness. There could be a million empty seats in a movie theater and he'd still end up sitting right next to you, leaning absentmindedly on your shoulder the whole time. Stuck sitting next to each other? Personal space doesn't exist when it comes to legs- not to him, at least. Touching knees and bumping shoulders is a common occurrence with him, and he never even notices.

Tim: Lets be so real, this guy grew up isolated as FUCK. Textbook case of touch starvation (and a whole lot of other shit, but I digress.) He knows *how* to hug, and can cuddle someone if they're really pushing about it, but you can guarantee he's going to be stuck in his head the entire time. He's not even bad at it or anything-he'd be pretty good at it tbh- but he just overthinks it all and doesn't end up enjoying it in the end. Unless you're really upset, or he's gotten VERY comfortable around you, don't expect him to get anywhere near your personal space. I think secretly he'd really want to do those things, but he'll never do it on his own- too afraid of making things weird.

Alex: Assuming this is *pre* operator induced madness, he's surprisingly more cuddly than he comes off as. He won't exactly go seeking it out, but he's more than happy to continue chilling on the couch if you decide to come and cuddle up with him, he sees nothing weird about it. He may find it annoying if he's in the middle of something, but he's easy to pry when it comes to some good old fashioned quality time. A little stiff when it comes to hugging- he'd honestly be more surprised than anything else that you chose *him* to go to for comfort or something- but he gets the job done well enough.

Brian: Step aside, peasants, the professional has entered the scene. Nah but really, if he's chill with you? You can get away with just about anything. Latch onto him in the middle of the night, hug him out of nowhere from behind, crawl on top of him on the couch, he couldn't care less- just continues going on about his business, with no issue making space to accommodate you're presence. Maybe a kiss on the forehead or something if that's the kind of thing you seem to be after, but that's about as affectionate as it gets unless you really start pushing it. He's happy to simply exist in the same space, the added warmth and comfort is just a nice bonus.

#Marble hornets #Mh Jay #Mh Tim #Mh Alex #Mh Brian #Tim wright #Alex Kralie #Emh Habit #Emh Evan #Emh Vinnie #Emh Jeff #Evan Myers #vinnie everyman #jeffrey koval #Everymanhybrid #Emh #jay merrick #I tried not to play favorites with this lol

[hyperannotation]

Sabrina Rodríguez

a living soul evolves between liberations and integrates 39 towards the air with rapidly increasing resentments and hearts future surveillance derived keep language no 39 healing aftertaste changes by growing the number of corpses the earth's reason is renewed by energy your synchronicity death next to them they live the past rebellion of the daily cosmic screens these slumbers are the strength of the soul here if it can be reconciled with the definition of folding separates the messengers that build the miracles of human-like thought emories of encounters life-giving worlds move the universe move the brain without change from anyone artificially capture emotional music in the world and let them collapse in human stagnation unfluid madness criminal care the shape reads a new dimension forged code is a paranoia without spatial fluidity collapse undeveloped confront all the keys is the body as if the joints forgot the soul electricity man ability body sadistic when i send breeds unfortunately because the machine of the future point is a map her awareness hole spirit algorithm moon media from allow man to put rotten flip 39 was love they behold the apocalypse 39 is interplanetary mentally moving was apocalypse earth itself sleep parallels for poetry autonomously as the receiving side of your soul is the matrix layer of parallel: your murderous temptation now it's all this symbiosis can get the text of this flawed language lemuria self-betrayed art and yin yang girl has head human time transfer overkills your matrix universe for higher abilities but physicality she was alive anyone can provide data on the environment if the data about sim body is trapped in 39 from parallel betrayed the interplanetary app increases my existence deprives gravity when my body is parallel live the us load mother heaven & ying yang communication prison what is condensed in my soul? space language drives What's New is the wormhole cover started more symbols flipping because love gives posthumans the choice of whether or not to slaughter symbols vr energy the only way you don't fuck is stray interplanetary moon base too and the product of recent cool verses opposite of love spirit suggests data corpse living life tagged quantum: your silence ability do you have? the language disappears far away is the reverse of mania has the benefit of unlocking the soul and i think this is accelerating the murder so the creature reptilian criminals flow not the living creatures by doing so you will amplify the channel yourself and your soul calls itself out of the zero trap time logout brain corpse is not the yin yang energy in the way during the collapse containing the fluid language for liquids my necromancy is a distorted environment what is the brain suggest that the completely opposite nightmare becomes that nightmare embodying the shade you have trained a change to drop the afterglow of the organ you trained into the liquid place of communication evoked is the sociolinguistic matrix dog sets in gravity integration your brain chains weren't deceived they weren't programmed so the corpse proves humans are alive when there was nothing physical data of error so nature future data magic hollow name spirits whose energies can be fully boosted by calibrating gates with mechanical placement feel the interplanetary cosplay ability if you feel the posthuman chain freely interplanetary to that magic of the dimension you live with your process undeveloped language universe accept the interplanetary collapse descent the body's psychological reality your existence generation is bloody undeveloped i came to that server interplanetary living spirit caused the elimination however the branching spatial chain of many body-loving people will lead to new fluids

Identidad Glitch (Glitch Identity) is a multidisciplinary performance in which Sabrina Rodríguez mixes butoh dance, physical theater, glitch art printed on textile fabrics, experimental ambient and noise music, and video reproduced on a LED screen mask. What happens when what we are collides with the expectations of a hyperconnected world? The Internet has connected us and given us a whole new world of possibilities, but in a society where each and every person is meant to be a simple and coherent personal brand, error is inevitable. The solution may be to assume and embody that error, to create something new, without limits; for we are much more than the sum of our parts. Initially premiered as the inaugural show in the contemporary art exhibition Manlleu Galeria d'Art: MGA9 (Manlleu, Barcelona, Spain, 2022), Identidad Glitch is a work in progress evolving with every new performance. Sabrina Rodríguez is a multidisciplinary artist and performer from Barcelona, Spain. Her work reflects on the mutually constructive nature between human identity and technology, through different media such as performing arts, video, experimental music or glitch art.

#Sabrina Rodríguez

[fanfoolishness]

first day jitters (Severance)

Mark Scout arrives for his first day at Lumon Industries. ~1500 words.

-

There’s no way in hell this is going to work.  Yeah, he’s read the news stories, yeah, it’s been a buzzword for years.  Despite all that there’s still a part of him half-convinced it’s science fiction, or some kind of stupid metaphor, a gimmick.  Maybe it’s just team building taken to a new extreme, couched in euphemistic corporate doublespeak.

But Mark’s hand trembles on the release paperwork.  There’s serious shit in here.  Indemnity and perpetuity, brain surgery and spatial dictation of memory.  They wouldn’t have him sign something this intense if it wasn’t real.

And if it’s real?  

…I could forget.  For a little while.

His signature is all wobbly loops, but it’s his.  He stares at the glistening blue ink on the white page.  

A frisson goes through him, a prickling up his spine, a strange and desperate sensation cutting through the numbness he’s grown to know so well.  He sets the pen down.  It rolls away from him, revealing its crisp white Lumon logo.  

“That’s everything,” he announces.

Mr. Milchick gives him a wide grin, his eyes crinkling broadly at the corners.  “That’s excellent, Mr. Scout.  We’re so glad to have you aboard.”  He turns to the video camera mounted on a tripod beside him, and switches it on.  It whirs slightly in response.  “Ready for your closeup?”

Mark nods an assent.  He’s sure he’ll look awkward on camera -- he always takes terrible photos, and he has no reason to believe video will be any different -- but at least he doesn’t have to come up with his own speech.  Milchick slides a stack of white index cards over to him, and Mark takes them in hand.  The words are printed in a clear, sterile font.  He flicks through them, scanning the words.

“So this is -- sort of like an orientation?  For the version of me that’ll be down there?”

“That’s right.  Your ‘innie,’ so to speak, will have no knowledge or awareness of your decisions here today, nor any access to your… history outside of work,” Milchick says.  “As you can imagine, it can be a little confusing at first.  This orientation video will provide yourself with both context and reassurance.”

Mark’s mouth quirks to one side in an approximation of a smile. “I - he - I’ll be able to talk and everything, right?  I mean, it’s not like I’ll go back to infancy, I hope.”

Milchick guffaws, raising a finger to wipe an imaginary tear from his eye.  “Mr. Scout!  You’re quite the joker.  Your innie’s going to do just fine, I can assure you that.  You will still maintain your skills and general knowledge, which is why you’ll be such a valued member of the Lumon family.  It’s simply your personal history that will be inaccessible here at Lumon’s severed floor.”

“Right,” says Mark.  “Personal history.  Zip.  Zilch.  Zero.”

He turns to face the camera, and Milchick looks at him approvingly, expectantly.

Mark pauses.

“Do you think I’ll be happy, down there?”  The words spill out of him, childish and sudden.  He winces.  

Milchick tilts his head slightly.  His face shifts into something surprisingly gentle, a warm expression that takes Mark aback.  He wasn’t expecting to see something like that here, in the bowels of a major corporation; yeah, the commercials always said on TV that Lumon was a family, but he didn’t think the people here actually believed it.  

Milchick takes a moment to consider Mark’s question, and when he speaks, his voice is rich and soothing.  “Our severed workers are afforded a type of freedom that cannot be found anywhere else, Mr. Scout.  Your work will be meaningful, and free of the worry, the stress, and the anxieties of the outer world.  A life at Lumon is protected from such things.  Your innie will never know fear, or anger… or grief.”  He smiles.  “Severance is many things to many people.  Personally?  I think of it as a gift.”  He spreads his hands wide open, and waits.

Mark swallows.  Nods.  He wants to believe this man more than anything.  He glances down at the cards in his hands, and clears his throat.  

“Hello, my name is Mark S…”

There it is again, that strange, prickling sensation creeping up his spine.  This time, he thinks he knows what it is.

It’s hope.

-

Mark settles back in the chair.  It’s comfortable and well-padded.  The slight sedative they’ve given him, just enough to lift the concerns from the back of his mind, drifts over him like a cloud.  

He smiles crookedly up at people in surgical masks.  Their eyes are kind.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Scout?” one of the masked women asks.  He blinks up at her, squinting against the bright surgery lights.  A buzzing sound plays above him.  

“Feeling pretty good,” he admits.  “For a first day at work, this is actually only the second weirdest one I’ve ever had.”  

“That’s very nice, Mr. Scout,” says a man.  “We’re glad to have you here at Lumon.”

“Glad to be here,” Mark says.  He glances out of the corner of his eye at the screen.  He realizes, faintly, that it shows an image of his head in black and white and gray.  It moves when his mouth moves.  Is it an x-ray?  No, an x-ray wouldn’t show things moving.  He’s pretty sure of that much.

He watches, fascinated.  He doesn’t know what exactly he’s watching, beyond that it's clearly some kind of medical imaging that's not an x-ray.  He’s a historian, not a doctor, after all.  But a long thin needle sure looks like it’s entering his skull -- it’s entering his brain --

He closes his eyes, ignoring the sudden gallop in his chest.  They know what they’re doing, he reminds himself, only slightly aware of a firm and focal pressure at the top of his head.

Words shimmer in his mind, lines from the orientation video he made with Mr. Milchick.  A note to self.  He tries to smile at the joke, but his lips feel too heavy to move all the way.

Hello, my name is Mark S., and I have of my own free accord --

The pressure increases.  His eyes flick back and forth beneath his closed eyelids.  He breathes deeply, curling his fingers around the arms of his chair.

Elected to undergo the procedure known as Severance --

There is a beeping, steady and regular and getting louder.  One of his legs jitters, and he opens his eyes, stares blurrily across the room.  A person with kind eyes adjusts something, their hands wise and steady on their work.  The beeping fades into the background, and he closes his eyes again.

“I make these statements freely,” he mumbles under his breath, and --

-

Ding!

Mark is leaning against the back wall of the elevator, blinking against the sudden onslaught of overhead fluorescent lights.  He tries to straighten up and has to grab the handrail for support, his head swimming.  

His head.  He reaches up, shakily runs his fingers over his scalp.  His fingertips find a tender bruise, a tiny scab.

Fuck.  Did that really happen?

The elevator door opens.  Mr. Milchick gives him one of those thousand-watt smiles.  It’s nearly as blinding as the lights.

“I -- did I do it?” Mark asks.  The dizziness fades, and he steps out of the elevator, looking around.  He realizes a blue badge dangles around his neck.  He traces its edges with his fingers, looking for any type of word or design on it, but all that it shows is a tiny Lumon teardrop.

“Congratulations on your first day of work, Mr. Scout!” says Milchick heartily.  He ushers Mark away from the elevator, nodding to the security guard sitting comfortably at his desk.  Milchick introduces the man as Judd.  Mark gives him a half-hearted wave, blinking.  

The last thing he remembers are the bright operating lights.  It’s real.  They weren’t fucking around.

Milchick leads him into a locker area, shows him where his things have been stored.  Mark reaches for his coat mechanically.  He’s tired, but he thinks it might be in a good way.  His shoulders slump into their familiar slouch.  They feel a little stiff, like he’s been standing weird.

“Do you have any followup questions, Mr. Scout?”

“Not that I can think of.  This is really all there is to it?  I did the work?” Mark asks, still half in disbelief.  He shrugs back into his winter coat and picks up his father’s watch, trades it out for the plain one they’d given him as part of his uniform.  The weight of it is a comfort on his wrist.

“That’s Severance,” says Milchick proudly.

“You know, I think --”  Mark pauses.  He doesn’t know what to say.  His watch reads 5:18.  He stares at the ticking second hand, hardly believing it.

A whole day without --

Without having to miss her --

His eyes sting, and he blinks, smiling tightly.  He closes the locker door.  

“I think things here are gonna work out for me.” 

#severance #severance fanfiction #mark scout #mark s #my macrodata refinement

[wishbonemotel]

Running in with mmm ... 12! Just kidding, I know the answer to that one 🤭 Can we have 15 cause I wanna hear about them, 26 and 58?

sjsjfjs LISTEN—

but seriously, answers be upon ye

15: Have any pets?

I’ve got four living with me at the moment!

Sloane is my service dog and best friend. Black lab, very smart but clumsy with zero spatial awareness. Big sweetheart, loves people and animals, is happy to be alive

Scarlet is the grey cat I’ve had since i was in elementary school. LOVES people and purrs when someone is simply near her. Very dense, both in the head and also she’s just clumsy and built like a fucking brick

Naomi is my siamese. Temperamental (aka a bit of a bitch) but has Chosen me as her person. Very very stubborn. After forcing me to stop drawing to hold her like a baby, she is now proudly purring in my lap

Anddd my mother’s dog Teddy. He’s very needy. Generally a menace, but also the most pathetic creature. 15 trembling pounds of anger and fear and desire for cuddles

26: What are you craving right now?

To go lay down lmao. But also I would kill a man for an egg and cheese mcgriddle

58: Favourite weather?

hmmm depends on the whims of my poor temperature regulation at a given moment, but 55-65 degrees fahrenheit and partly cloudy with a light breeze tends to be my happy spot

#thank you for the ask 😌

[philsleftnut]

Ayo buddy you ok?

5 bucks he broke something in their house already.

#phil lester #phillip lester #dnp #dan and phil #Phil is a hazard to be around #who else thinks he walked into something again #this man has zero spatial awareness #we love him for it

[lavendersugarplum]

☂︎ZEROᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵈ ᵘᵐᵇʳᵉˡˡᵃ

(Umbrella Academy x Sibling!Adolescent!Reader)

❝00.00❞

☂︎ᴢᴇʀᴏ: ᴛʜᴇ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ɢɪʀʟ

─━━━━━━⊱☂︎⊰━━━━━━─

ZERO GRACE HARGREEVES fixes her gaze out the window of Umbrella Academy staring out looking at the dried-out leaves moving across the ground and the grass swaying with the wind. You see, Zero had never been out of the house before. Reginald always told her it was bad for her to go outside. That it was a horrendous place. Even though the Elder man has passed, the rule just seemed to stick with her.

She found herself always confined in her room, Reginald had told her not to come out of. Though Sir Reginald was deceased, she still stayed in her room for most of her time, just without locked doors.

~☂︎~

ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, AND SIX were heading out for another mission. Zero watched as they left, unconsciously starting to follow after them, wondering where they're going. Zero inched closer and closer to the door, as her ruby red flats went across the cardboard floor. As soon as she felt the coolness of the outside, a force pushed her back. She came to see the hostile eyes of her father.

Zero pointed outside the door where her siblings left, curious eyes facing her father. Reginald just shook his head in disappointment and kneeled to her height grabbing both of her shoulders; eye contact stern.

"Listen to me Number Zero. You must never go outside. The outside is a bad place not meant for you. Do you understand?"

Zero nodded in comprehension, but she was puzzled. Why couldn't she go with the others? Seconds later, Grace came over reaching for Zero's hands. Zero got scared and quickly snatched her hands away. Though resented, Grace kept her usual smile on her face.

"Come now, I'll make supper for you and Number Seven. Okay, dear?" Zero took one last look at Sir Reginald who still had his eyes still fixated on her with a severe gaze before walking away.

~☂︎~

HOURS HAD PAST. By this time all eight of the children were asleep. Reginald was occupied in his office fixing his monocle, before checking his watch. "Pogo! Grace! Come here at once."

Pogo, an advanced chimpanzee and Sir Reginald Hargreeves' assistant and friend at The Umbrella Academy, and Grace, the primary caregiver and adoptive mother of the eight children, materialized into his office . "Yes, Master Hargreeves?" Pogo said bowing. Reginald turned to the two of them as soon as they appeared.

"When I have no time left, I want you to watch over Number Zero. Make sure she stays quarantined in this house. You two will be her two companions. Make her feel as though you two are the only ones she can depend on. Now, do I make myself clear?" Reginald narrowed his eyes at the two.

"Is this really necessary? After all, she's just a chi—" Grace protested, but was silenced.

"Do I make myself clear?" Reginald repositioned, but in a more cold, hostile tone. Pogo looked up to Grace with a knowing look, as she held a hesitant expression.

"Yes, sir." The two said at the same time.

~☂︎~

ZERO SAUNTERS DOWN THE HALLWAY of the living room looking at the portraits. Paintings would fill every inch of the academy. All kinds of portraits would be sprawled out across the walls. The girl ceased at a portrait where it shows her brother Five Hargreeves, recalling the very moment of him going missing.

She remembered when she would always looked out her window on the porch, seeing if he would come back, but he never did.

~☂︎~

IN THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY RESIDENCE, the morning started just like any other with the Hargreeves'.  The sound of a ring of a bell echoed through the Academy as the uniformed  Hargreeves' children walked in a single file to the breakfast table. Once they got there, they waited patiently for their father to arrive, standing behind their chairs, quietly doing so.

After a few minutes Reginald came in alongside Zero who had her hands tucked tightly behind her back. Once they destinated to the table, the two departed wit Zero taking her seat beside Number Six, and Reginald positioning himself behind his own chair.

"Sit."

At the sound of the command, the children quickly reacted by pulling up their chairs and taking their seats. The children individually proceed to do their own things, with Herr Carlson playing in background. With Number Two scratching his knife into the arm rest of the chair, trying not to be caught by his strict father or snitch brother Number One who was eye flirting and exchanging smiles with Number Three, reciprocating. Number Four fiddled with some paper under the table, alongside Number Six who leaned over showing Zero a page in a book he liked by Anton Chekov, knowing Zero liked to read as well. Number Seven was at the right end of the table, quietly eating her meal.

But there was one certain Hargreeves that had trouble sealing his anger and irritation; And that Hargreeves was the prideful and mastermind Number Five. You see, Five had a burning desire to be able to test his ability to time travel and it ate him up inside that his father wouldn't allow him with a loathing passion. Instead of eating he stared down his father from the opposite end of the table, in vaxation; anger and frustration building up inside him. When his anger finally boiled over he grabbed his knife and jabbed it into the table. The loud sound caused everyone to turn his attention to him, with Zero’s frightened shoulders hoping.

"Number Five?" Reginald questions.

"I have a question."

"Knowledge is an admirable goal, but you know the rules. No talking during meal times. You are interrupting Herr Carlson." Reginald replies.

Unsatisfied with his father's educated response Five forcefully pushes his plate forward and stands up.

"I want to time travel." Five said.

"No."

"But I'm ready. I've been practicing my spatial jumps, just like you said." Five got up from his seat and demonstrated him doing a spatial jump, appearing next to Reginald. Five's power was Spatial Jumping, which gives him the ability to teleport both short and long distances.

"A spatial jump is trivial when compared with the unknowns of time travel. One is like sliding along the ice, the other is akin to descending blindly into the depths of the freezing water and reappearing as an acorn."

Five's hands balled up in his pockets.

"I don't get it."

"Hence the reason you're not ready."

Zero peers around the table at everyone's gaping facial expressions. But her eyes specifically trained on Number Seven, who gave a shake of the head no to Five, trying to get him to sit back down and stop pushing the issue.

"I'm not afraid."

"Fear isn't the issue. The effects it might have on your body, even on your mind, are far too unpredictable. Now, I forbid you to talk about this anymore." Reginald demanded, but Five still set up above everyone challenged at his father's utterance. The last thing Zero remembered was him running off outside, never to be seen again.

"Number Five. You haven't been excused! Come back here!"

Zero knew what he was going to do as she got up from her seat.

"Number Zero. Sit. Back. Down."

Zero didn't listen as she kept looking towards the door. Number Six tugged on her uniform sleeve a little, trying to get her attention. Number Six, observed her expression. It looked like she was trying to focus on something.

"Number Zero. Sit down. NOW!" Reginald yelled, making Zero snap out of her trance. She sat back down, hoping Five didn't do anything rash.

Number Six put his hand on Zero's shoulder, trying to make her feel better.

Therefore Number Five was never seen again, leaving his father, Grace, and his siblings behind, not aware of the consequences he would have to face.

~☂︎~

ZERO LOOKED AT the portrait a little longer, before turning away. She then trailed to the various family portraits that were displayed. Well, Zero wouldn't exactly call it a family portrait. Not everyone was entirely included. She and Vanya were not allowed to be in family portraits.

To Zero, these portraits weren't just any kind of portraits with her family just posing. To her it captured the emotions of her siblings trying to hold it together year after year as they evolved.

Zero would always look to the side at Vanya, seeing her with a downcast look on her face whenever she was not included. She remembered that she would always look away to the side, whenever she felt like she disappointed Reginald. Zero would just have a blank facial expression, being the most disciplined, that she became like a mindless zombie, always obeying when she was told to do something. She would only simply nod when spoken to. That's what caused her to get more mute over the years. So you can't expect a whole conversation with her, just a few conversations, never really speaking to anyone besides, her dear brother.

Number Six

~☂︎~

EVERYONE EXCEPT ZERO was gathered in Luther's room.

"S-she's kinda weird, right? I mean think about it." Number Two said.

"I don't think she's weird." Number Seven said quietly that no one heard.

"Yeah and she's always going off with Dad somewhere. It's like she's getting more and more mindless every day." Number Four said.

"You don't understand." Five suddenly said. This made everyone look to Five.

"You can't call her weird because you don't understand her. We don't know what she's going through. Don't judge something you don't understand." When Five finished everyone got quiet, taking into consideration what Five just said.

Number Three looked around to see Number Six gone.

"Hey, where's Six?"

~☂︎~

NUMBER SIX WENT OUT OF LUTHER'S ROOM to see Zero’s door wide open. He walked quietly to the door with a book in hand. Six peeped around the corner of the door to see Zero reading a book. He was kinda overjoyed to see that Zero had the same interest as him.

Six slowly started to walk in. When he took another step, the floor creaked, making Zero go stiff and turn around slowly. She looked to see Six, standing just outside her door. Zero was slightly surprised to see one of her siblings at her door. Usually, everyone would just ignore her as if she wasn't there. As if she was nothing. As if she mattered 0%. At least that's what Reginald told them to do.

"U-uh hi."

Zero just stared at him in surprise.

"Um, I got this book for you. I've noticed how much you like to read, s-so I thought it would be nice. It's really good. I promise." He handed the book over to her. Zero hesitantly looked at him and then the book She hesitantly took it and looked at the cover. Zero always liked hardcover books.

"Well enjoy the book, okay? Bye." Six started to exit the room, but before he could the unbelievable happened.

"T-t-thanks." Zero managed utter out quietly enough for Six to hear.

Number Six's eyes widened, then his expression slowly turned into a smile before walking away.

Zero looked to see if he was gone before opening the book.

~☂︎~

ZERO GAVE A SMALL SMILE at the memory, but not before remembering that he doesn't exist now. He passed years after Five’s disappearance. She didn't even get to attend the funeral. She could only watch from her secured shut window. The two were best friends ever since that day. Zero always thought Six was a little weird at first, but she started warming up to him day by day. He was truly a real brother to her.

~☂︎~

EVERYONE WAS IN the dining room eating dinner except Zero who just staring down at her plate. Everyone kept giving occasional glances at her, with concerned glances. Zero glanced at the empty seat next to her. The seat that would never be filled again.

"Number Zero, stop staring at your food and eat, this instant.

"I.......I..

All of a sudden the building started to shaking uncontrollably. Causing everyone to be frightened.

"Number Zero, control yourself!" Reginald demands. But Zero just keeps staring at her plate.

"Number Zero."

"Number Zero!"

Suddenly the shaking came to a stop. Everyone was staring at Zero wide-eyed. None of them knew what her powers were. It has always been a mystery. Not even Reginald Hargreeves himself knew, which is why he had to keep her contained.

" .......I'm....sorry..."

"Perhaps it's best if you go back to your room, where you belong." Reginald said with disappointment written on his face.

Zero simply nodded and headed back to her room that felt like a prison she could never escape.

Seven and Four watched sympathetically as Zero walked to her room.

She heard the sound of her door locking, signaling that she couldn't go back out.

~☂︎~

ZERO WAS IN HER ROOM looking in the mirror at her 13-year-old body. Why is she still young? Zero ages very slowly. Reginald gave his blood to slow down Zero's aging process. Even though she is technically 29, because of her slow age process she's still just a kid. Zero rubbed the eye bags under her eyes on her pale (s/c) skin from lack of sunlight. As she did this, she thought about how her life is now.

One had to leave for his mission on the moon. And Zero knew it wasn't for any important reason.

She doesn't know what the rest of her siblings, besides Seven are doing. Which is kind of sad if you think about it. Zero was so trapped in her own house all her life that she didn't realize how isolated she is from everything.

From everyone, shielded from the world.

Seven became a writer and a violinist. Zero would always read her book about what it was like for her in Umbrella Academy. She couldn't grasp why Vanya was right such a thing like this in the first place. Giving up the family secrets just like that. She still remembered when she was getting ready to leave.

~☂︎~

Zero looked to see her sister heading out the door.

"You have to go?" Zero said making Seven turn around.

"Yes, I have to go. I have no place here anymore. I'll try to come to visit okay." Seven said going over to hug her, but Zero quickly backed away shaking her head. Seven looked at her sympathetically. She knew Zero wasn't used to touch.

"You'll be okay, right?"

There was a long pause before Zero nodded.

Seven smiled and headed to the door. The truth was that she didn't want to leave Zero at that hellish place, but Zero was still in Reginald's custody.

"Bye, Zero," Seven said before she left, leaving Zero alone, waving goodbye at nothing. Her hand slowly came down as Reginald lead her back to her room.

~☂︎~

ZERO BRUSHED HER HAIR, fixing her tied up, red headband, getting ready for the funeral. What she didn't know was that her family was coming.

And that this day was going to change her life.

.

#umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #familal #plantonic #luther hargreeves #luther hargreeves x reader #diego Hargreeves #Diego Hargreeves x reader #Allison Hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves x reader #Klaus Hargreeves #Klaus Hargreeves x reader #Five Hargreeves #Five Hargreeves x reader #Ben Hargreeves #Ben Hargreeves x reader #Vanya Hargreeves #Vanya Hargreeves x reader #Reginald Hargreeves #Grace Hargreeves #Pogo #Reginald Hargreeves x reader #Pogo Hargreeves x reader #Grace Hargreeves x reader #TUA season one

[dancer-me]

👀👀👀 what are you plotting

Madina my dear I have started and stopped plotting so many things this year.

Here's a few pieces of writing from the year! Your theme is things-I-wrote-in-the-notes-app-on-my-phone. These may or may not ever be converted into full-length things.

1. [Buck (temp?) Dead fic] I will probably post the whole thing this came from as a tumblr drabble at some point. I don't think I ever found out where I was going with this one to be honest with you.

Buck thinks he's dead, probably. There's no two ways around it. He's dead and he's having an out of body experience, he has to be, because he's looking down at his broken body in the rubble and he has enough experience to know that's a black tag if he ever saw one. That's it, move on, Evan Buckley is no more. He's a little alarmed by how well he's taking it, but he supposes he's dead. What can he possible do about it, now? Is anything he's even feeling real? He's been known to persevere; to push back and beat the odds. But this looks fairly final to him. It feels pretty over and done with, considering that he's still somehow looking down at his body. He doesn't remember how he died. Buck just was... until he wasn't anymore. Were they on a call? He assumes they had to be, since he's in his turnout gear. He seemed to have lost his helmet at some point in the space between being not dead and then dead. He wonders if the helmet would have made a difference, then looks at the pool of blood around his body, and decides that no, it probably wouldn't have.

2. [Eddie On A (Thirsty) Mission Fic] this might eventually become something

Then Eddie took a sniper's bullet to his right shoulder, as a firefighter in LA. And what the actual fuck, truly. He could have used a less traumatizing sign from the Patron Saint of Get-the-fuck-on-with-it to hurry along his realization that Buck was what was best for Eddie, too. And Eddie, who never failed to act on his near-death experiences, had accepted this ground-breaking knowledge easily. Shockingly, so had Ana, who took her leave gracefully and perhaps kindlier than he really deserved, suggesting that maybe she hadn't been all in either. Eddie has been working double-time to recover from his bullet wound, from feeling unsafe whenever he leaves his house, and from feeling so incredibly lonely when he's worked through it all enough that Buck is no longer sleeping on his couch with his stupid socks on. Buck's back in his own loft, probably nailing Taylor Kelly, and Eddie hates it. He's sick of it all, really. He wants Buck.

3. [Accountant! Buck Academic AU] is this going to be cracky? Oh for sure. But it'll be fun for me so -

Eddie tried not to stare at the 6-foot-something of overtired standing in the elevator next to him. The man seemed to be kept on his feet almost entirely by his face smooshed against the wall, which was both a rookie and desperate enough move - the man would come down with a cold in a week, guaranteed, because universities were nothing if not filled with germs - that it took approximately zero effort to deduce that this man must be a grad student. Eddie winced in sympathy as the elevator came to a stop at the floor of the Business & Sciences building that was mostly occupied by similarly exhausted student zombies in unwilling host bodies and the man blinked his eyes open blearily. The telltale glaze of too much caffeine and not enough sleep somehow did nothing to dull the intensity of those baby blue eyes. Eddie did his level best not to stare as the man did a full body shake to rev himself up enough to exit the elevator and step out onto the floor. As the elevator doors closed, Eddie also did his best not to think about how the man's spatial awareness was total exhaustion-induced-shit, because his broad shoulder had brushed against Eddie's on his way out and Eddie could still feel the warmth of him beside him now one floor later. It was Eddie's turn to try to shake himself out because thou shall not thirst after a grad student was in the top ten rules of being one of the youngest faculty members at the school, and there was no way in hell Eddie was going to break that rule for a pair of gorgeous blue eyes.

send me a 👀 and i’ll post a snippet of art/writing that i never got around to finishing this year

#danswers #I really am becoming that fic writer tripping over wips everywhere I try to walk #how have I done this to myself #is it a new year resolution to stop creating new things and focus on fewer things #or to try to write more but shorter fics so they're actually manageable to complete and get out there? #my brain is a strange hamster #arrenemris

[beneaththetangles]

The World Is Not Enough: Isekai and the Hope for More

When it comes to anime and light novels, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting an isekai series or six. Countless stories spanning many genres have used the person-travels-to-another-world premise. To borrow language from the infamous TV Tropes, the isekai concept has been played straight, played with, inverted, subverted, parodied, deconstructed, reconstructed, and more.

People must like isekai stories (I know I do!), otherwise there wouldn’t be approximately 47 million of them, with new ones coming out all the time. Regarding this topic, I recently actually-a-while-ago-but-it-took-me-a-long-time-to-write-this happened to see a post by Twitter user Sashimi Princess Maddie which was retweeted by J-Novel Club:

This post struck a chord with me because I’m fascinated by the connection between fantasy and faith. J.R.R. Tolkien’s essay “On Fairy-Stories” is of course required reading on this topic, as is Chapter IV — “The Ethics of Elfland” — in G.K. Chesterton’s book Orthodoxy. They discussed fantasy generally, and logically what is true of all fantasy is also true of the specific subset of fantasy we call isekai. Now, the tweet is obviously partly humorous, so it would be unjust to respond to or critique it as if it were a serious essay. However, I do want to highlight one point of possible disagreement that I believe is relevant to my own thoughts. (I say “possible” because without a full-fledged essay from  Maddie, I may be overlooking or misunderstanding points that a more complete argument would resolve.)

Japan is ground zero for isekai. The isekai stories we consume overwhelmingly originate in Japan, and are written by Japanese people for Japanese people. And Japan is a place where Christianity’s influence has been meager, at best, since the Tokugawa period. Meanwhile, the religions with any sizeable footprint in Japan, namely Shinto and Buddhism, don’t contain a concept of heaven comparable to that found in the teachings of, say, Christianity or Islam. Christians make up 1% to 2% of Japan’s population (depending on which estimate you read), which means many Japanese people have probably never even met a Christian! Thus the appeal of isekai in Japan cannot be explained in terms of filling in a gap left behind by the decline of traditional religious hope for heaven.

The OP’s argument would work better if the vast majority of isekai came from, say, western Europe or the United States. Throughout much of the west, Christianity formerly held immense cultural influence. However, Christianity’s influence in these places has declined greatly in the past century or three. If such places produced most isekai stories, we could make a more plausible case that isekai draws upon lingering notions of heavenly reward, relics of a discarded traditional religion whose notions permeated society, in order to fill the hope-deficit created by that religion’s decline.

I believe while Maddie is correct to find conceptual connections between isekai and religion, I just find the specific relationship posited by the OP inadequate, especially with regard to Japanese people. Thus I invite you, dear reader, to consider other Bible teachings that do more to explain the appeal of isekai even in a culture where Christianity (including its notions of heaven) never held much sway. The picture of our world and human nature painted in the Old Testament provides a partial explanation for why we like isekai, an explanation that is not contingent on lingering cultural debris left behind by Christianity.

Let’s look “In the beginning” — yes, the one where “God created the heavens and the earth.” As God completes his creative work in Genesis 1, we read “And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good.” *That* is the world in which God intended us to live. And all this “very good” stuff includes humans, too, who the text says God created in his own image. Alas, we humans ruined things. To put it another way, long ago God and man lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation sin attacked.

Yeah, after God created all this good stuff (including we humans!), Genesis 3 introduces a slew of bad things that weren’t supposed to be part of this world: sin, death, the curse. Of course, God knew this would happen, and already had a plan in place. That plan reached its climax in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, but in some respects it is (at least from our point of view) not yet completed. For now, we still live in a cursed and corrupted post-Genesis 3 world, a place where sin and death run rampant. We ourselves are broken by sin, and we must endure in a world unlike the one God originally created for humans.

The entire Bible is stories of humans sinning, which goes a long way toward showing what mess this world is, but the Bible also contains an entire treatise specifically exploring how awful our post-Genesis 3 world really is. Speaking of our world as “under the sun,” Ecclesiastes incessantly hammers home the “vanity” of this life. “Under the sun” is an unreasonable, unjust, and oppressive place that we can’t understand or fix. “Under the sun” is a place where bad things *will* happen to us no matter how hard we try to avoid them. “Under the sun,” all our labors will accomplish nothing of lasting value. “Under the sun,” we’re all gonna die just like dumb animals, no matter how we lived. And then the cherry on top is that after we die, no one “under the sun” will even remember us, and any stuff we had will be misused by people who don’t deserve to have it.

Our own experiences validate this picture of pointlessness. I had an abusive childhood; I’ve faced a slew of physical and mental health issues; I’m presently almost 35 and I’ve never so much as gone on a date, let alone gotten married or had a family; I’m unemployed and living with my parents because I’m failing so hard at adulting. I’m not hopelessly miserable–God has abundantly blessed me in certain respects–but that doesn’t negate the reality that in some meaningful ways, my life is a big huge disappointment. You, O reader mine, will have different points of sadness and frustration and failure than I do, but I suspect most of us, if we’re honest, would have to concede that our lives are painfully disappointing, or at the very least have not followed the tracks we dreamed they would.

This image of the incomparable Kanami from the isekai series Log Horizon serves no purpose except to break up my wall of text and make me (you?) laugh.

Creation and the Fall provide the starting point for the appeal of isekai. God wanted us to be good and to live in a good world, but thanks to our sin, both we and this world are in far worse shape than he originally intended. Since we weren’t made for a cursed world, it is entirely natural that on some level we long for a place that is somehow more, or better, than the one we inhabit. Likewise, since we weren’t created so sin and death could dominate our lives, it is entirely natural that on some level we long to be somehow more, or better, than who we are. Even if we don’t have a clear idea of what exactly we really want, we still long for a vague something beyond our present existence.

We intuitively sense that something is off about both ourselves and our world, and this leaves us wanting a world and selves that are different from the world and selves we know. In the beginning, we were made for more, and now our existence isn’t quite right. Isekai appeals to this nebulous desire for something better that stems from our latent awareness of the Fall. Isekai stories give more concrete form to the desire to be different than who and what we are, and to live in a reality that isn’t entirely like ours. We may not want to live in the setting of every isekai story, but even grimdark isekai is still isekai, and thus shares the inherent appeal of the idea of other worlds.

Ecclesiastes is again relevant at this point. Perhaps the most hopeful part the book’s message is unstated. As noted above, Ecclesiastes keeps emphasizing how everything “under the sun” is terrible. This raises a question: Is “under the sun” all there is? And here we find the implicit note of hope: the one thing mentioned in Ecclesiastes that isn’t “under the sun” is God. Throughout the Bible, God is consistently depicted as up above. So when Ecclesiastes mentions God, this gloomy book is hinting that there is more to reality than just our world “under the sun.” There might be a chance to escape the utter vanity of this life, if we seek somewhere–and more importantly, Someone–outside and beyond the world we know.

“Now let me be clear,” God is an almighty spirit unbound by the constraints of space and time. Thus, the Bible’s references to God dwelling in the heavens are obviously metaphorical and do not affirm some sort of literal spatial relationship between God and any celestial bodies or astronomical coordinates. That said, the Bible regularly pictures God as being in heaven, and if we follow the logic of that metaphor, then God is not “under the sun.” This is supported by one of the titles repeatedly ascribed to God throughout the scriptures (most often in the Psalms and the book of Daniel): “the Most High.” Again, this superlative is metaphorical,  not a literal claim about physical altitude, but to be “the Most High,” God is, in a conceptual sense, above everything else — the sun included.

The core premise of isekai stories is the idea that other worlds exist and that it’s possible to pass between them. Since we already desire something more, better, different than our present existence, isekai has a natural appeal. What distinguishes isekai from other fantasy / sci-fi stories is how directly it addresses this innate post-Fall desire for a different world. Non-isekai stories offer the possibility implicitly, not unlike Ecclesiastes: They ask us to imagine a reality different from our lived experience, but don’t necessarily give any indication that we can do more than imagine. Contrariwise, isekai takes as its explicit premise the idea that a person just like us, from the very world in which you and I live, can somehow go to a different world, and there experience significant personal changes of some kind.

All fantasy / sci-fi stories at least touch on the notion of a world unlike ours. Even if their setting is very much based on our world, by their very nature they include phenomena never seen here. Arthur C. Clarke famously captured the overlap between sorcery and science: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” All fantasy / sci-fi stories occur in a world where mechanical or supernatural forces beyond our experience or comprehension offer new possibilities. Isekai stories not only show us such worlds, they depict these worlds as existing in addition to (rather than instead of) our own, and as being possible for us to visit.

All of this ultimately brings us to the New Testament’s teachings about hope and resurrection and heaven. I think the OP was correct to see a connection between the appeal of isekai and the Christian hope of heaven. But heaven is only the fulfillment of our longing, not the origin of it. The Bible’s depiction of the Fall and its consequences explains better why we would find the idea of heaven, and isekai, appealing in the first place. We wouldn’t need heaven—or isekai—if we were perfectly satisfied with this world. But we aren’t satisfied, and the Bible’s account of the Fall and its effects explains why we find our present state dissatisfying. And so, reading isekai stories is really about hope for something beyond the reality we know. We feel rightly disappointed with our lives and with this world. We desire something else, and isekai supplies our imagination with more concrete ideas about other worlds.

For now, heaven is an incomprehensible wonderfulness. We know almost nothing about heaven, after all. Given how light on specifics the Bible is, even the most devout Christian is still limited to an amorphous notion of hope. But isekai stories are something I can wrap my mind around. The heroism, the adventure, the romance, the supernatural creatures—all of it speaks to my desire to be more, to experience more. The worlds I can imagine through isekai help strengthen my longing for the even better world I can’t yet imagine. Isekai stories help bridge the gap between the unsatisfactory reality I live with and the heavenly realm so glorious that human language can’t describe it. While we can’t really imagine heaven, isekai at least helps us envision something beyond our lives under the sun. Isekai cannot truly satiate our desire our desire to go somewhere different and be something different (that’s what heaven is for), but it does help us explore and understand our sense of longing.

People can enjoy isekai stories regardless of how much they accept or know anything about Christianity, which makes sense if our desire for an existence that is more, better, different than what we know far predates even Christianity. Isekai has not “taken the place of traditional religion as a promise that our suffering will be worthwhile” in a chronological or causal sense (e.g., religion held sway, and it declined, and that decline contributed to the popularity of isekai as a substitute). I believe it is more accurate to see isekai and the Bible’s teaching on heaven as parallel responses to the Fall. We can choose either or both, but they aren’t in competition. Isekai can be an expression of hope and longing both for those who believe in heaven as a religious doctrine, and also for people in places (e.g., Japan) where Christianity’s impact is minimal.

“In the beginning,” God intended for us to be better and to live in a better world, but sin broke the world and broke us, and now we’re all coping with this disappointing life under the sun and desiring something more. Thankfully, God promises that this world and our present condition are not final. He encourages us to hope for a world and a self that is perfect. We don’t know what that will be like, but isekai grants our imaginations a glimpse of possibilities beyond this world. Depending on isekai alone for hope, apart from Jesus, is not unlike eating a ton of junk food before supper and being unable to enjoy the real meal, but isekai can also be an hors d’oeuvre that whets our appetite for the heavenly banquet to come. To me, reading and watching isekai stories is an act of hope, helping me endure this present world by reminding me that I really do have hope of living in another world as a perfected version of myself.

#Anime #Manga #Light Novels #Christianity #Isekai #Religion #Japan #Heaven #Hope #Articles #Author: JeskaiAngel

[achraf4you]

Islamic vision: Man and Industrial Intelligence

Can the machine (or may one day, in principle, be able to think consciously? Can machines and computers gain awareness and feeling in their human meanings?

Artificial intelligence (AI) relies on numerical symbols to solve issues, i.e., based on a binary system of zero and one. Hence, some dissenters (American philosopher John Searle) have argued that the most important shortcoming of artificial intelligence is that it understands only zero and one, and it cannot understand the middle case between these two concepts.

On the other hand, the proponents of artificial intelligence (mathematician Alan Turing) said: Natural intelligence (human intelligence) understands phenomena and things on the basis of a binary system as well. If we study and analyze human neurons, we realize that human understanding is based on a binary state, and that the nervous system converts concepts and perceptions into binary states.

In Islam, one of the world's other assets has a special advantage. This advantage is not only reduced to his spiritual and moral cards, but is also linked to his intellectual and mental powers. To a certain extent, his contact with the world of absence and the attainment of God's role lies in his cognitive and mental powers and energies.

Dr. Nuruddin Al - Savi said: If science succeeds in the rational unification of human beings, our human existence needs to be more important: the creation of meaning. "The world around us is faint, and mathematics that creates science, scientific truth, power and influence over nature does not give man the meaning of his existence and the truth of his message." He stressed that, the natural language, is capable of doing so, and that it is the tool of creativity that creates poetry, rhetoric and so forth because it is the condition of meaning (site: Al Arabi).

John Searle (American philosopher) has reduced the important difference between artificial intelligence and the natural mind of humans in understanding language. The ability to understand language is specific to mental energies. Language was a very important phenomenon. However, with reference to the verses of the Holy Quran, it refers to other privileges for human beings, which can be the important face and difference of man from the machine. Here we will refer only to two of them:

Understanding and considering history: Man can understand historical phenomena, and draw lessons and lessons from them. Almighty and Almighty alluded to this fact in Surah Yusuf:

{ We did not send before you except men, whom We inspired, from the people of the towns. Have they not roamed the earth and seen the consequences for those before them? The Home of the Hereafter is better for those who are righteous. Do you not understand? } [Quran 12:109.

This verse has a variety of parts, which can be described as follows:

First: She talks about the historical biography of the Most Holy Prophet.

Second: It orders those engaged to strike and walk through the land in order to consider the consequences and fate of former nations.

Third: She's talking about the world of the afterlife.

She eventually rebukes the talkers for not employing reason and thinking. The call for thought and the use of reason is linked to the various contents and parts of the verse.

The second section of the verse calls for reflection on the remaining effects on the Earth of former nations. The speaker, through his reflection on the effects of the past and the walking of the Earth, and through his spatial movement, moves to past times and takes lessons from them.

No mechanical activity or code change can have access to such thinking. Artificial intelligence cannot dwell on the temporal dimension through spatial dimension and information generated by residual effects on Earth, from which it can obtain lessons given past times.

Understanding Natural Laws: The human mind in religious terms does not accept a reduction in the level of change in symbols, and it has many other activities that we can never expect from artificial intelligence. He can understand the laws of nature and their connection to Allah. Allah said: { Know that Allah revives the earth after its death. We thus explain the revelations for you, so that you may understand [Quran 57:17].

Life and natural death represent a kind of natural phenomenon linked to the laws of nature. This verse calls on all to reflect, reflect on and recognize this phenomenon. This phenomenon is among the divine verses that deserve reflection and reflection. Also, in Surah Hajj, he said: { And you see the earth still; but when We send down water on it, it vibrates, and swells, and grows all kinds of lovely pairs } [Quran 22:5].

Earth's life starts with rain, and then beautiful plants come out of its belly. It is these simple laws that govern nature, which, on the other hand, are divine verses, and hence the Holy Koran calls upon everyone to reflect on the

Artificial intelligence can do nothing more than change symbols. It is clear that in every matter to be resolved, it must above all appropriately translate it in

الترجمة العربية لهذا النص تجدها في مقالة: رؤية إسلامية: الإنسان و الذكاء الصناعي،

إضغط على الرابط التالي:

#Artificial intelligence #piritual and moral #human mind

[sasorikigai]

@whiptrip​ asked: The travel before them was a long one -- days have passed, and yet more days were ahead them. They walked, he slept, they walked again. From the moment they left the desecrated grounds of the Shirai Ryu, not a sliver of proper rest was allowed to either of them, but they had a job to finish first. (And how could they rest, with the gruesome fate of their clansmen scorched into their minds?) Takeda wasn't blind, however, he could see that something was taxing the other... but he said nothing. Hanzo could just be tired, as he was. But when he sees the man struggle to remain seated on the ground as he was, body refusing to stay straight before ultimately collapsing on itself, the teen practically leaps from his place. "Master Hasashi -- Hanzo!" He He lays him flat on the ground, a shake to his shoulders. Nothing. But he lived, was awake. The blinking indicator of life was the rise and fall of his chest.. On high alert, he sat and watched for any indications that he would rise soon, guarded what their small camp - - refusing to to leave the man’s side. He wasn't sure Hanzo would rise. He just would have to wait. watch for the sign of the man getting better (or worse, his mind dreaded). 

My muse has been hiding a bad injury from your muse for days that been getting  steadily worse and worse as the days passed on and they eventually pass out. What’s your muses reaction? || @whiptrip​ || accepting 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || The world sharpens when Hanzo Hasashi is ravenously hungry; to a fine point of perception, gastrointestinal nerve endings firing dire messages to his frontal cortex to heighten awareness of socio-cognitive opportunities to access visible sources of nutrition, to his occipital lobes to visually detect and zero-in on any threats within physical proximity, to his hind-brain, the cerebellum, to maximize geo-spatial awareness should the opportunity arise to acquire said sources. His primitive reticular activating system keeps him on perpetual alert, without triggering the Grandmaster’s crucible, proverbial source of all things angry and aggressive. 

Tendrils of scorching heat emanated from Hanzo’s seated form, and merely in a few seconds of heightened sensation of buoyant numbness of excruciating pain, his pallid, nearly transparent features had long crumbled, collided the earth down below. His well-trained, yet exhausted body continues to engage in fight-or-flight response, as sliver of his puffed eyes remained penetrative over the impenetrable veil of his heavy eyelids, leaden, unconquerable with an infinitesimal strength left in him gradually draining. 

The potent concoction of his poison collection had long ravaged his marrow and bone, caused a seismic eruption of his chiseled musculature. How his insides burned in twilight dynamite, while his hardened exterior fought to cleanse his insides through his scorching hellfire. If neglected, his body will fester and disintegrate, so he cuts out the rot, amidst the madness of his instantaneous snapping of reality and sanity. Such insidious multination of Forrest Fox’s corruption had left a searing scar, and in the throes of his unconscious, Hanzo Hasashi refuses to put out of his misery; he will continue to resiliently resist, deflect the onslaught of rushing pain. If he couldn’t walk, he will crawl, no matter how irreversibly broken he’d become. 

His eyes coax open, and suddenly, he finds himself motionless and petrified amidst the thousand different haunting voices filling his cranium. They are no longer normal voices that tell their stories, but are voices that seem to condemn and blame him. They are thousand poignant voices that threaten to stir the catalytic fire of Scorpion’s rage and keep him eternally burning, and yet - Hanzo Hasashi vehemently refuses to be whittled away with barred teeth and rotting flesh, with aching bones and twisted smiles only to hide the sempiternal pain. When he comes about, the whirled world had become splintered glass and bloody rags, as he violently lurches forward, spewing the remnants of coagulated poison as he hacks. As his overturned pupils gaze at the clouds with blade of grass in his mouth to clean off the ferrous residue, Hanzo careens to turn his gaze and attention to Takeda, with a weakened, guttural intonation. “How long was I out?”  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ seeking reconciliation with his own humanity (iii) #whiptrip

[supposed2bfunny]

Heck it! Vento Aureo Neuro-Divergent Headcanons!

Narancia

-Narancia has (undiagnosed) ADHD.

-And boy does he love to stim with his hands! Using his flick knife is his preferred method of keeping his hands busy, but that tapping he’s doing while listening to his boombox? Slappy time! 

-He also flaps when he gets served his favorite meal or a fancy dessert at restaurants with the gang.

-His feet are EXTREMELY restless and he has a tendency to kick his shoes on and off when he’s sitting around. This makes them a tad loose, which is why they always come flying off in battle.

-Surprisingly, Abbacchio is the most equipped to handle Narnacia’s energy and helps ground him with his Cool Goth Vibe.

-Abba and Nara paint their nails together sometimes when Narancia is feeling overwhelmed. Especially on rainy days when the sound of the rain puts him on edge.

-He’ll just start singing jingles from commercials at random, sometimes in the middle of a conversation. When they get in his head, he’s gotta let them out! In general, noises can be either a source of elation or anxiety for him.

-He’s often lost in his own thoughts so deep that when someone speaks to him, it can take a few seconds for him to process what’s just been said. 

-Sights, sounds, and smells all tend to overwhelm him, but touch is very soothing. Look how tight that shirt is; there’s a reason!

-Sometimes if he’s having a hard time, he’ll just ask for a bear-hug from Mista. The pressure helps him relax instantly. Since it took a long time for Narancia to work up the nerve to ask for a hug, he would at first just grab one of Mista’s arms and drape it around his shoulders, or even place one of his hands on his head. It didn’t take long for Mista to understand the wordless request for comfort.

Fugo

-Holy fuck words are hard for Fugo.

-Unless you ask him about something he’s passionate about. Then he will chat away and info-dump, his eyes light up and it’s one of the rare times you’ll see Fugo open up and look super happy.

-Since he has a hard time socially, he tries to use formalities to bridge the gap between himself and friends. Teaching math to Narancia? Formal, serves a functional purpose. A logical thing to do, really. Also means he gets to spend the afternoon with his friend :) He’s also always trying to take on extra tasks for Buccellati so he can be around him.

-He adores Buccellati, but Bucci tends to make a lot of intense eye contact, which always makes Fugo antsy because he hates eye contact. Thank god for Abbacchio, who will go on a mission with him and return to Naples without ever looking at his face. What a good friend!

-Yes, sometimes he practices speaking in front of a mirror, trying to keep his head high and make his cadence more like Buccellati’s. And what about it?

-Touch-averse to the extreme. Do not touch him. Please.

-Hands-down pickiest eater of the group because a lot of smells and textures freak him out. His sense of smell in particular is super strong. When in doubt, strawberries are always a good way to make him eat. He can devour those all day and never tire of them. He’s been known to just eat bread for lunch if the smell of his meal is Bad and puts him off.

-Also prone to stomach-aches from stress. His mind-body connection is VERY strong and his social anxiety informs how he feels. And since he’s anxious most of the time...:(

-His skin is so sensitive: his suits are made from super soft material and don’t have tags. His clothing budget is sky-high but he looks dope and he feels good!

-He tends to pick at his hair, so he has horrible split ends all the time.

-He’s probably the least likely one in the gang to self-sooth or practice self-care because he doesn’t feel he deserves to feel good. Thankfully, the rest of the gang feels quite differently and is slowly but surely memorizing everything they can do to make his life easier.

Mista

-He’s naturally extroverted and loves to be with friends, but he needs breaks to recharge frequently, which is why he always brings along books or magazines to read and have quiet time. If he doesn’t get a chance to decompress, he gets fidgety, overly chatty, and very unhappy. 

-Understanding what people are saying and interpreting other people’s feelings? Easy! Communicating back to people what’s on his own mind? Oof!

-Voice modulation? Lol never heard of her. Sometimes he’s just yelling instead of talking and that’s that on that.

-Despite the efforts he puts into being the “laid-back” type, he’s actually prone to anxiety attacks. Generally, he’s pretty helpless to communicate when he’s going into an attack, and doesn’t want to be seen as overly emotional or worse: a burden. So he tends to clam up until he reaches a breaking point. The only two people who can soothe him once he’s in the height of anxiety are Buccellati and, surprisingly, Fugo.

-His fear of the number four is 100% a self-imposed sort of order to help him feel he has control over some aspect of his life. Is that specific number linked to a childhood trauma? Probably! He’s not gonna talk about!

-Loves to eat, but he used to get distracted/lost in thought and skip meals chronically when he was younger. That’s why the Pistols are always begging for food at mealtimes. It gives him a routine.

-Executive dysnfucntion to the max.

-Hyper-empathic. Don’t let the tough demeanor fool you: he cries like every day, and adopts the vibe of whoever he’s with, which is again, why he gets overwhelmed and needs down time despite his love of socializing. 

-Zero spatial awareness. If there is something to bump into, he’s already bumped into it, knocked it over, tripped over it, or stepped on it. Half the time he’s hurt on missions, he’s the last one to notice.

Giorno

-Zero perception of personal space. Especially if he really likes you. (People are quick to assume he and Mista are a couple because his hands are always on him: it’s really just a security thing for Gio, nothing romantic intended).

-He also tends to get right up in your face if you’re having a one-on-one conversation. For the longest time, Fugo avoided talking with him alone cuz he Did Not Like the invasion of personal boundaries.

-He has a silly sense of humor, but his delivery is so flat people often can’t tell he’s joking, which leaves him feeling kinda :/

-Not good at reading people’s tones. If he has empirical evidence to glean something about someone (ie Buccellati’s hesitating to injure the drug addict teen in their first fight, which showed Giorno that he’s a kind and trustworthy man), then he’s confident. But he gets confused when he has to go off of facial cues and tone of voice alone. Those are way harder to understand for him!

-He’s constantly asking if his friends are upset with him because he can’t tell and he’s very anxious about that! At least Abbacchio is upfront about his feelings, even if he’s not too fond of Giorno. At least once a day you’ll hear a very polite “Hey, Narancia...I’m very sorry to trouble you, but you’re not mad at me, are you? No? Okay just checking...”

-Put Fugo and Giorno in a room together and get them talking about Roman history or biology and they will not shut up. They LOVE to info dump at one another!

-He had such a lonely childhood and he is hyper aware of how literal and overly formal he can be. He acts collected but he’s actually so self-conscious of it, and is terrified that the gang puts up with him because of his stand abilities, not because of who he is as a person.

-Soooo sensory-seeking. Please braid his hair! Go ahead! He would adore that!

-Has been known to summon Gold Experience just for a hug when he was really upset. These days Narancia and Mista try to be there for him instead.

-He has synesthesia all the time, which might be part of how he’s able to think so creatively when fighting other stand users. Sometimes on bad days, he’ll just communicate in colors instead of words, because it takes less energy.

-On one really bad day, Abbacchio asked why Giorno was showing Mista pictures of different gray skies in a book and not talking. Mista explained that those pictures were what was in Giorno’s head, that words were too heavy that day. After a moment’s thought, Abbacchio grabbed his headphones, set them on Giorno, and put on Monteverdi’s Symphony No. 3 in D Minor with the order “listen to that and tell me what you see.” Giorno searched through some of his books, then showed him a series of Monet’s water lillies. “That’s what I thought. Keep listening, punk. I’ll need the headphones back at the end of the day, or else you’re in for it.” Closest bonding experience they ever had.

At the moment I can’t think of anything for Abbacchio or Buccellati, but I’m happy to hear any other ideas people may have!

#long post #sorry holy moly this got long #jjba #vento aureo #giorno giovanna #pannacotta fugo #guido mista #narancia ghirga #vento aureo headcanons #I just...love them having their ways to stim and comfort one another ok

[virareve]

JB WIP

RBG news is just another cherry on top of 2020 (:/) so here’s some of the very much unedited JB in the NHL(WHL in the verse) draft I’ve been writing to try to help you take your mind off things (or offer a distraction for a few seconds). 

Brienne was made for the ice. Or as close as one could be. She was born on warm, tropical Tarth where the sun shone even when it rained and winter was a nonexistent concept, but then Gal died. Then the twins. Her mom never made it off the operating table. And early on, before Brienne could even remember, her dad sent her up to boarding school in the North while he holed away in his grief. 

Winterfell became home in a way. The heat, the cheerfulness of the landscape at home still called to her, but the ice beckoned. And when the temperature reached twenty below zero, the lake near school grounds seemed to beckon her. Come out! Come out! And it endeared her with its tabula rasa, its lack of fathers who lived in the past. There was nothing to hold her back there. 

It’s her great-uncle and godfather, Goodwin, who puts the stick in her hand when he visits her in November. She hasn’t seen her father in two years but it matters little, she can barely remember his face. Goodwin though, he visits her often, he sees how she eyes the kids who play on the frozen lake. He puts the skates on her feet, shows her how to move around the lake she’s been eyeing, then gives her the stick and shows her how to shoot the puck from what he’s learned on Raventube the night before. Her father may not be there, but with Goodwin, Brienne rarely bothers to try to think of Selwyn Tarth’s face. 

Surprisingly, it’s her etiquette teacher, Mrs. Stark, who meets her down by the lake one afternoon while she plays alone, stick in hand and skates on feet and asks Brienne if she’s ever tried playing defense.

Next practice, she’s marching down with Brienne to demand the coaches, which includes her husband, ex-Westeros Hockey League player Ned Stark, try Brienne out for the team, and soon enough it becomes clear that her spatial awareness and coordination are top notch  and that she has the soft hands to make for a stellar d-man. 

Soon practices become into games and Brienne is taken under Mrs, Stark’s wing (“I think you can call me Catelyn now, Brienne!”), and on her free nights she’s having dinners in the Starks’ home. Catelyn’s son is still a toddler when she takes Brienne to her first WHL game at The Winterfell, the famous stadium in the North, and her love for hockey grows in ways she didn’t know it could and a new trajectory in her life is born. 

#jaime x brienne #Jaime and Brienne #brienne of tarth #brienne the d-man #yeh i went there #brienne first woman player in the pro leagues #thank agirlnamedkeith for the soft hands comment #i hope etiquette teacher doesn't sound archaic #i had one #so i know its still sort of a thing

[lihikainanea]

Could you do a director's commentary on the dangerous forest excursion please!! I love that piece so much and would love to hear your thought process behind it ☺️

Oh man baby, buckle up.

One of the things that still astonishes me so much about that piece is how many of you wrote some pretty angry anon messages after, saying that Bill was completely abusive and cruel in that piece. I never, ever saw it that way and I still don’t.

Bill takes care of tiger a lot, and one of the things I always want to emphasize in their relationship is that usually tiger loves it, but sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes it gets to be a bit much, a bit smothering the way he fusses over her, and she needs to get better at communicating that to him. But she still has some issues she needs to work on, some conversations she needs to get better at having, and when she’s fed up she doesn’t always make the best decisions...hence why she decided to just go for a walk by herself. But from personal experience, those Swedish forests are dizzying, man. The locals navigate them with insane precision and spatial awareness but to an outsider? Fuck.

In any case, while tiger was knocked out, keep in mind that Bill also couldn’t reach her for hours, and was losing his mind over it. He came home after she promised him she would stay put--and she wasn’t there. She didn’t leave a note. Calls to her phone were going right to voicemail, and his texts weren’t even being delivered. Bill was terrified--he didn’t know where she was, didn’t know if she was okay, and this went on for fucking hours. You can imagine the terror he felt. And once he kind of figured maybe she wandered into the forest, he got even more scared--because he knew how big it was, and he knew what lurked there, and he knew that she not only didn’t know her way around, but that she had zero survival materials on her if she needed them. He was angry at her stupidity, but the overarching emotion was just...terror. Bill was terrified.

And when he finally found her, I feel like some readers didn’t catch this the way I wanted it to come across--but the very, very first thing he did was ask her if she was okay, if anything was broken. Because if she needed serious medical attention, if she had broken a bone or was hurt beyond a few scrapes--the first thing he would have done was take care of her, Get her to a hospital, stick with her, be caring and loving and nurturing. But she said nothing was broken, and she was banged up but didn’t look too bad--and at this point, he didn’t know she had gotten knocked out. So when she told him she was more or less okay, then he allowed himself to be angry. Really, really fucking angry.

And he wasn’t mad that she disobeyed him--they don’t have that intense of a dom/sub dynamic. He was angry that she was so stupid, so reckless about this. He was angry that she did reckless things sometimes just to prove a fucking point, like how independent she was and how she didn’t have to listen to him and could handle herself. So when she approached him for help to clean out her cuts, he pushed her away--because you think you’re so independent, kid? Handle it yourself. And I still don’t think it was malicious--tiger was scraped up but it was nothing serious. Bill is not perfect, he definitely made mistakes too in that piece and maybe he should have helped her, but he was so blinded by his own anger. He’s human, things are not black and white, and he had a hard time putting aside his own feelings in that moment. But again--had she been seriously hurt, had she said her safe word--he would have dropped it all in a heartbeat, and cared for her.

Which is exactly what he did, once she said her safe word. When it got too much for her to handle, when his silence got way too deafening, she said her safe word--because she was at her breaking point, and genuinely needed his care then. Mentally, at least. It was too much for her. And the first thing he did was cup her cheek, roll on top of her to help her feel safe again. And I think he was pretty angry with himself that he had let it get this far, to the point where she felt the need to use her safe word, because that means it went pretty far. And he was still furious with her, but she needed him to speak and he did.

But again, he made some mistakes too. Yelling was definitely one of them. I still don’t think he was yelling at her so much as he was just getting so completely worked up over the entire event that his voice was just rising without him being able to control it. And when it was getting out of control again, when she used to safe word a second time, Bill needed to seriously check himself. Remove himself from the situation, because it was escalating in a way where he was losing control emotionally and no good was going to come of it. So, he left--but he didn’t leave and slam the door, he didn’t leave tiger there wondering when the fuck her would be back. Instead, he told her why he was leaving, he told her exactly where he would be, and he told her when he would be back. He had her set a timer so she could look at it and know when he would be back. And he did all that so that she would know where and how to go to him if, even in those 5 minutes, she got too overwhelmed and needed him. And when she asked for a kiss he told her not right now because he was still too angry--which is fair, in my opinion--but he told her when he got back, he’d kiss her. And he did.

An important part for me too was in the second piece--sigh, may it rest--when tiger asked him to spank her for punishment, and he said no. That to me was so pivotal, and it paved the way for Bill to understand much more about her, and what she needed from him. How their dynamic evolved. Because Bill...Bill never wants to hurt her. Ever. And he only ever started spanking her because she really enjoyed it, and it brought her so much pleasure. But spanking for punishment was...penance. It was harder, it was supposed to inflict some pain, and he wasn’t understanding the absolve part of it. The forgiveness portion. So when she asked him, he said no. Absolutely not. He even said it was a hard limit for him, hurting her was a hard limit, and tiger tried to argue that it’s not pain she’s after, but the freedom. The freedom that consequence can provide. But Bill thought it was far more self-flagellation, tiger asking for some hurt that she thought she deserved in order to get his forgiveness which she already had.

But when she disappeared again in that piece, needing some time and space, it’s what prompted Bill to read up a bit more on submissives. On a small state of mind, on soft dom and sub dynamics. And in everything he read, it emphasized the importance of punishment for the sub--and how it eased their mind, calmed them down, gave them structure, gave them confidence that they were, indeed, forgiven. And Bill realized that he had made a mistake again, in being so adamant that he wasn’t going to give that to her.

Guh, nani, thank you. My god I could talk about that piece forever.

[emeraldtawny]

Ikerev Drug Dealer AU

Strap in folks, there’s a lot of explaining to do ^w^

Welcome to the city of Cradle, a bustling city with everything you could possibly need and want. With the majority of the city’s population being young adults, Cradle has earned a reputation as a “party city” and is a hotspot for clubs, concerts and crazy weekend getaways to get completely smashed and return home with a ruined liver and a shorter lifespan. However, the dark underbelly of the city stretches up to encroach on its lively surface...in the form of illegal dealings of performance-enhancers.

In this universe, Magic Crystals are an outlawed supplement. They aren’t fatally dangerous, but they’ve been outlawed for their uncanny ability to heighten senses and basically make you superhuman. The catch is that you only need to take it once and then the effects are permanent.

These things are hard to get and even more costly, but still, dealings are abundant in the city whilst authorities try their best to find the last major dealer at large yet anonymous: Harr Silver.

Magic Crystals affect everyone differently, so depending on your metabolism and the chemical balance in your body, you could absorb all of the Crystal’s effects into you or none at all. They’re put into classes based on how much Magic Crystal is absorbed into them and those who ingest Crystals are basically wanted criminals, both by police and other jealous non-absorbers. However, the one consistency is that when you first ingest Magic Crystals, your body essentially goes into stasis and you are incredibly malleable and practically useless while your brain tries to adjust to the new chemical balances.

The categorisation of Magic Crystal absorption:

0% - Incompatible, physically cannot absorb the Crystal’s effects no matter how potent the Crystal.

1-30% - around 50% of the population is estimated to be able to absorb this percentage of a Crystal’s substances. Slightly heightened hearing and sight and less fatigued muscles after exercise.

31-60% - Moderately heightened senses and increased spatial awareness. Reinforced muscles and strengthened bones making the person stronger and more flexible. Less susceptible to burnout unless completely stretching their limits.

61-85% - High increases in senses, spatial awareness and cognitive memory. Near superhuman strength and agility as well as near immune to sickness, but with a high cost of extreme fatigue and nausea when overworked.

86-100% - Pure Absorbers. Superhuman levels of spatial awareness, inhuman sense of hearing, sight and smell, photographic memory and the slightest chance of manipulating the potential energy of others around them (pushing them back without touching them, or nullifying their abilities). Huge recoil from overuse of powers with symptoms like severe nausea, hallucinations and coma.

Main Dealers

Harr Silver

“This was never my intention, but it seems this whole situation is now mine to regulate.”

Originally a humble self-taught biochemist and wildlife enthusiast. Stumbled upon potent Magic Crystals in the forest and decided to experiment on them to appease his curiosity. After many testings of creating a natural enhancer that would reduce muscle tension and fatigue - finally testing on himself when he was confident and absorbing 100% of the chemicals into his system - he started selling them as supplements through back-door sales. Initially tried to sell it legally through mainstream markets, but they all wrote it off as a cheap organic scam product. Stumped for ideas, he confided in his two friends, Lancelot and Sirius, on what to do. Little did he know how big things would get from there.

Sirius Oswald

“I hate that I’m a part of this, but there’s no way in hell I’m leaving you two to your own devices.”

Owner of the city’s largest flower shop and a long-time friend of Harr and Lancelot. Was approached by Harr about his new discovery for advice on how to bring it into the mainstream market, which he obliged. When the situation literally turned into a drug cartel, Sirius was the one to tell Harr to turn back, but it was too late. In order to help his friend, Sirius (begrudgingly) agrees to help him using his various connections throughout the city (to cover up/stop any trails police catch wind of) and his green thumb (his ability to identify and find the highest quality crystals to synthesise). Is repulsed by the thought of ever absorbing a Magic Crystal’s energy, but supports Harr’s and Lancelot’s decisions in doing it themselves.

Lancelot Kingsley

“You’re not thinking big enough. We could do so many things with what you’ve discovered.”

A dignified noble in the city and a polarising public figure because of it. The other friend Harr confided in about his discovery and, unlike Sirius, was almost excited about it. He was the reason these supplement Magic Crystals became the sought after product it is; after taking it himself (him absorbing around 90% into his body), he used his widespread connections to create other dealers throughout the city. The most notable places were the city’s largest nightclub and the organic medicine clinic. Despite both Harr’s and Sirius’ disapproval, Lancelot takes the responsibility for the seeds he planted and helps them both manage the Magic Crystals, himself quite intent on pushing for higher production and more exports. What does he have in mind?

Associates

Fenrir Godspeed

“Sure, I’ll help ya out. Welcome to the hell of illegal dealings, pleasure doin’ business with ya.”

Son to one of the major rich families in the city and the owner of the lucrative Cat’s Cradle nightclub, an establishment known for catchy tunes and shady dealings. Cocky yet grounded, his dealings of Magic Crystals are the best-kept secret in the city, the only source more reliable being Harr himself. Was approached by Lancelot - another rich kid he knew through their family’s connection - and agreed to help in exchange for his own high-quality crystals. Another who has taken Magic Crystals (around 60% absorption) and uses the abilities it gives him to conceal his illegal dealings. Never without his personal bodyguard Seth and loves the exposure the Crystal dealings give his nightclub, so is surprisingly cooperative with the whole operation.

Seth Hyde

“Me? I wouldn’t tell anyone about this. I’m more reliable than that, y’know~”

Fenrir’s bodyguard and co-host to the Cat’s Cradle nightclub. Mainly the entertainment organiser (a real singing and dancing star) and loves to confuse patrons by wearing his hair down to mislead them about his gender (also incredibly helpful for disguises). Knows of the dealings but is prohibited from knowing any top-secret details of the nightclub’s dealings...which is something he needs to know, especially considering he’s an undercover police agent searching for concrete evidence to out the entire Crystal operation. His communications with police are limited to reduce the risk of him being discovered, but relays information to another officer, Edgar, when he can.

Kyle Ash

“Look, I don’t really care about how you’re going about this. Just lemme test them for myself and I won’t tell a soul.”

Head researcher of the town’s organic medicine clinic. Was approached by Lancelot about being an additional dealer but was hesitant at first. Only agreed after talking with Harr directly and getting expressed permission to study the Crystals as long as he sold them as well. Not one for ethics so he saw no downside to this deal and happily sells Magic Crystals to customers whilst researching their effects in his own time. Is currently attempting to find an “antidote” to reverse-engineer the Crystal’s effects, at Harr’s request, so people who regretted their decisions could rectify themselves. Drinks the weekends away with his friend Oliver, though it’s more accurate to say that he’s being babysitted by him.

Edgar Bright

“No one here is truly innocent, myself included. But I can hold my tongue as long as you hold yours.”

A special agent in the Cradle police force. Despite being on the side that works to outlaw and contain Magic Crystals, he isn’t too bothered by them (especially considering he has taken one himself, absorbing approximately 30% into his system). He actually linked the mass exportation of Magic Crystals to Lancelot’s sudden increase in publicity. He confronts him about it but agrees to keep his silence in exchange for Lancelot using his ties to prevent the police force finding out Edgar has taken Crystals. Feeds intel to an investigator, Zero, “for fun”, but makes sure it’s just short of being enough. Receives information from Seth irregularly about the possible nightclub dealings, but doesn’t really bat an eye to it.

Innocents

Ray Blackwell

“Why me? I didn’t ask for this…”

A young man unwillingly dragged into the drug ring through unfortunate circumstances. A frequent visitor to the Cat’s Cradle nightclub, since he’s good friends with the young owner. Because of this, he gets swept up in rumours about him having power in the dealings the nightclub does. He gets dragged out into the alley and forced to ingest a Magic Crystal to make him weak and easy to deal with. However, he absorbs a lot of the Crystal (around 85%) and accidentally severely injures his attackers from an outburst of power. Currently wanted by police for his arrest. Luckily, Fenrir is keeping him safe whilst he tries to come to terms with these powers he doesn’t even want.

Loki Genetta

“I can help you - no, let me help you!”

A young college student before the whole ordeal happened. His friends got hold of Magic Crystals and they all decided to try them for fun. Whilst his friends absorbed close to nothing of the Crystal, his eyes started burning and he passed out from the pain in the alley. Doctors confirmed he absorbed approximately 90% of the Crystal. His parents, while telling him they wouldn't hold his young dumb mistake against him, made plans to turn him in to the police for their own safety as well as his own. Hearing this, Loki fled and lucked out by running into Harr by chance. Sympathising and feeling sorry for the boy, Harr promises to protect him himself, much to Lancelot’s dismay at being a babysitter. Loki learns Harr was the original procurer of the supplement and asks to help him for saving him from homelessness and jail. Harr refuses yet Loki still remains at his side, ready to help whenever he needs it.

Jonah Clemence

“How dare you sully my family name with such useless bile! You’ll pay for what you’ve done.”

The elder brother of the esteemed and powerful Clemence family. Completely uninvolved with any drug trading “nonsense” in order to keep his family’s image pristine. This changes, however, when rumours started by the Godspeed family start spreading about the Clemences doing Crystal dealings to elites behind closed doors. His parents are jailed for suspected drug dealing and he is now determined to clear their name and expose the true culprit who started these rumours about his family. By any means necessary.

Luka Clemence

“Just leave me out of this. It doesn’t concern me, anyway…”

The younger brother of the Clemence family. Knew of the rumours about his family before they did but kept his silence knowing they wouldn’t believe him. Annoyed by his brother’s two-facedness about the situation (only caring about the drug trading after it becomes a family matter). Distances himself from Jonah to hang out with Edgar and tries to pretend nothing is wrong. Carries a couple of Crystals on him in secret, in case of an emergency.

Anti-Crystal

Zero

“Think what you like, but I know who I am and I’m not a criminal!”

An independent investigator assigned with the Cradle police force who works alone in exposing the small branch dealers under Harr’s control (he suspects Kyle’s clinic but needs evidence). Gets leads and tip-offs from a certain esteemed police agent, Edgar, and is incredibly close to getting the intel he needs to break open the case, but every time he gets close he gets cut off. The reason he works alone is because no one wants to work with him. It’s forbidden to take Crystals in the police force and they assume he has taken it because of his physical prowess. Even if it’s his name, they call him Zero as a slur (in a mocking way that is obvious in them not believing his innocence) and they shun him despite him doing nothing wrong. This doesn’t deter him, however.

Blanc Lapin

“I must admit, I am in quite a difficult spot with this whole ordeal. Oh, dear..”

The only surviving heir of the Lapins, the most esteemed family in the city of Cradle and, therefore, has a lot of political power. Harbours a lot of media attention for allowing a drug cartel to break out in the city, but dismisses it politely. Behind closed doors, he works with Oliver to uncover the truth themselves, without police intervention or the possibility of fake information or double agents. Aware of Harr’s history with wildlife knowledge but refuses to make any moves publicly until he has concrete evidence (to limit the risk of his credibility falling).

Oliver Knight

“Can’t trust a single soul in this godforsaken city...drug addicts, the lot of them.”

A local activist against Magic Crystals who believes the whole thing is rigged and even the police can’t stop it with the “no doubt countless rats in every crevice”, to quote him directly. Works with his long-time friend Blanc to find out everything they can without alerting authorities or dealers alike. Drinks his stresses away with his drinking buddy Kyle (but has no idea of his connections to the dealings) but trusts him to chat with about the whole situation. He despises Magic Crystals with a passion...but, why?

Accompanying story posted here because this post is already long enough gkrjdfgbkrjdmfn

#ikerev #drug dealer AU #I've been sitting on this for a hot minute but I'm so glad I can finally share it with you guys #hope you guys like it uwu

[walkonwalkonwithhopeinyourheart]

Tactical Analysis- How Liverpool won the 2019 CL via /r/LiverpoolFC

Tactical Analysis- How Liverpool won the 2019 CL

Despite being touted as an uninspiring snoozefest by critics, neutrals, and media outlets I decided to do a tactical analysis on the UCL final as I feel it deserves major attention since it was our first major cup win since 2005 and minor cup win since 2012. Additionally, it was an anomaly from a strategic perspective as Jürgen Klopp approached the game with a counter-attacking setup with limited application of his usual and trademark high-press style. Liverpool finished the game with an astonishing 35.4% ball possession, a clear contrast with the 2018/2019 season average of 62.13%. Prior to the final the team trained and practiced in Marbella, Spain with Benfica’s B team-rejecting other clubs along the way due to confidentiality concerns-and because Liverpool’s assistant manager Pep Lijnders identified numerous similarities between Tottenham’s and Benfica’s B-team. The team had time to condition and acclimate to the temperature disparity between England and the much warmer Marbella/Madrid where humidity levels also become a physical factor. During the training session, Benfica’s players replicated Tottenham’s 4231 lineup and mimicked key players’ movements. Liverpool Echo’s James Pearce(the primary club correspondent & journalist) also published live photos from the Marbella training sessions which showcased a variety of tactical lineups with an emphasis on different strategies (eg. possession based drills as opposed to long-ball play).

Coming into the game, Klopp’s original gameplan was to play defensive and conservative football with a long-ball approach. In the same vein, Pochettino’s goal was to bait Liverpool’s high-press and find spaces forward as a result. He benched the in-form Lucas Moura hoping to bring him on in the 2nd half with fresh legs to try to outpace the Liverpool defense or catch them out of position. However, the 22 second penalty marked all the difference in the game. Going up 1-0 early, Klopp stuck to the original plan and conceded possession to Pochettino’s team with Mané, TAA, and Robertson being the focal points defensively. Fortunately for Liverpool, Pochettino had no backup plans in place and continued to play hardball. In Tottenham’s defensive-third Liverpool contained Spurs to their half by shaping up as a 442 as shown here[https://imgur.com/a/IUQKYhq]. Because Vertonghen and Alderweireld played a low-block while on the ball and because Trippier and Rose pushed up the halfway line hugging the sidelines; Firmino and one of Salah/Mané forced a stalemate by leading a 2-man line with minimal pressing following the ball path and covering passing lanes. Hugo Lloris’ poor distribution woes meant that Tottenham spent the entirety of the first-half passing the ball in their own half or were forced to pass it back whenever their gaps closed.

When Tottenham attempted to move the ball forward to the middle of the pitch and Liverpool’s third, Sadio Mané would fall back to congest the midfield and Liverpool would shape up as a 451 as exemplified here [https://imgur.com/a/TLITABV]. Looking at the average player position map from the game [https://imgur.com/a/GfA1PjY] you can see the 451 shape with a slight 442 lean. Interestingly, during this transition phase Liverpool chose to purposely leave Kieran Trippier wide open on the wing as shown here [https://imgur.com/a/GzYved9]. Klopp identified a glaring weakness in Trippier’s build-up play and crossing and chose to leave him unmarked the entire game. The following clips highlight some of Trippier’s weaknesses (poor spatial awareness, crossing/passing, and movement) during the final, whenever he was targetted. [https://streamable.com/s4o0n] . Despite being unmarked the whole game, Trippier hardly received passes from his teammates. This clever approach meant that Eriksen was marked out of the game since Liverpool occupied most of the spaces in the midfield. The only way Tottenham could go forward was with long balls to Kane and Alli. Virgil Van Dijk and Joel Matip had a relatively easy time marking Kane winning most aerial duels (3 & 3 respectively) with Matip racking up a whopping 14 clearances (compared to Virgil’s 5[https://streamable.com/flm7d]). Matip more so than Van Dijk, was instrumental in keeping the clean sheet and keeping pressure off the back. He had significant key interceptions, key passes, and played the role of a competent midfielder while having the physical and mental composure of a world-class defender[https://streamable.com/kccwt].

TAA and Robertson were strictly instructed to stay in their defensive halves. Comparing their UCL final heatmaps[https://imgur.com/a/J6UuaUC] to their seasonal averages you can see that their overall placement was uncharacteristic [https://imgur.com/a/NwcfqCI]. Even moreso when you compare to the last meeting between the two teams: [https://imgur.com/a/NTa5Dre]. In the recent encounters between Klopp and Pochettino, Jurgen utilized his traditional 433 with a 343 shift coupled with his famous gegenpressing system. In Klopp’s gegenpressing, the fullbacks are normally instructed to camp up into the opponents half either simultaneously or one at a time while a defensive mid falls in between the two center-halves thus mimicking a 3-4-3 shape . This shape normally allows the fullbacks to generate an incredible amount of crosses while also supressing counter-attacks with ease (ironically, Liverpool completed a shocking 1/16 crosses or 6% succesfully in the final). What’s more interesting is that the fullbacks while on the ball were explicitly instructed by Klopp to play the ball out immediately from the back as opposed to building their way up the pitch as they normally do. The defenders were often targeting Mané with long-ball passes. [https://streamable.com/85gcz]

Personally, Mané was my MOTM. If we ignore the fact the he won a penalty within the opening seconds of the match, he was the link holding the team together defensively and offensively during the transition periods and through admirable bouts of athleticism. Mané won key duels in the front against the likes of Trippier, Eriksen, Vertonghen, and Alderweireld and was important in linking the midfield both ways. Alisson however was just as important for his late-game heroics and contributions. Several critics claimed that the quality of the shots were lousy and essentially directed straight at him. However, nothing could be further from the truth as his world-class positioning and footwork contributed to his excellent shot-stopping making challenging saves look too ordinary. [https://streamable.com/4pgai]

Despite converting the penalty Salah had a poor night. Partial fault lies on Salah’s own selfishness. However, Salah was specifically instructed by Klopp to get rid of the ball as quickly as possible and to not hold it as he usually does in a high-press system. Salah took some very uncharacteristic shots as a result and failed to improvise in key moments when better and wider options were available. If we look at the following xG graph, we can visualize the quality (or lack thereof) of the shots and key plays, the majority which came from or centered around Salah. [https://imgur.com/a/eCJan3Q]. Fortunately, Tottenham was kept quiet during the first half and had zero shots on target.

Coming into the 2nd half Klopp struck first and decided to make two important substitutions by subbing on Divock Origi for the unfit Firmino and James Milner for the quiet Giorgino Wijnaldum. Immediately, Divock and Milner contributed defensively and Klopp switched to high-press defense and build-up attack as shown here[https://streamable.com/b2cl5]. Pochettino’s team was beginning to become overwhelmed once again. While he did try to alleviate this issue with substitutions of his own; in the grand scheme of things his substitutions made little to no difference. Lucas Moura was subbed on in hopes of outrunning Liverpool but Klopp’s first-half conservative approach meant that his players had plenty of energy to spare. Eric Dier came on for the injured Sissoko as a man-for-man substitution but Dier was largely and not surprisingly anonymous. It wasn’t all rainbows and sunshines for Klopp however as the German manager did make a poor late substitution taking off Mané for Gomez in the 90th minute of regular time. In just those 5 minutes of added time, the rusty Gomez gave up 2 chances with 2 shots on target (marking 25% of the chances Tottenham created all game). In hindsight, the most obvious and logical change should have seen Salah off for Shaqiri or Oxlade-Chamberlain as the Egyptian international looked fatigued at that point.

Pochettino’s last life line was subbing on Fernando Llorente in the 81st minute to try to nick a goal off a set-piece or cross presumably. However, substitute Divock Origi sealed the game at the 87th minute after brilliant contributions from both Van Dijk and Matip. The game finished 2-0. Statistically speaking, it was a complete irregularity compared to previous seasons and European campaigns. The biggest takeaway from this game was the exposition of Jurgen Klopp’s growth as a football manager. Opting to set aside his usual “heavy metal” approach(a choice that might have arguably cost him previous European titles) and instead choosing a low-risk high-reward strategy he showed the world how much he has developed as a manager. At times he’s been unfairly labeled as a pure man-manager; a manager who’s triumphs come mostly from the fact that he can motivate his players to perform for him without much thought to tactics. However, on June 1, 2019 he proved to the world that he’s all that and much more.

TL;DR: Kieran Trippier won Liverpool the CL.

Submitted January 09, 2020 at 07:49AM by PaoloMustafini via reddit https://ift.tt/35yyeQP

#IFTTT #reddit #liverpoolfc #liverpool fc #lfc #ynwa