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blacknedsoul-blog · 5 months ago

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Nevermore is a gothic tragedy. Part I: The Tragedy

This essay assumes that you've read the first season of Nevermore. If you haven't, you'll be eating spoilers.

First of all, a disclaimer: you won't find the term "Gothic tragedy" in theory books, because I just pulled it out of my sleeve. But it seemed appropriate to put it in those terms because, hey, beyond theoretical structuring, genres are also used as a guide to content, and that's kind of what I want to express with this.

Partly because I've noticed that I've called this comic a tragedy on more than one occasion, and talked at length about Lenore and Annabel as gothic characters, but never bothered to delve into these matters, and with the hiatus until (possibly) October, I think it's time to rectify that situation.

But also because I think there are a lot of things in this story that fall into place if you read it under the logic of those genres.

Originally, this was going to be a single essay, but it turns out it took over 2000 fucking words just to explain why it's a fucking tragedy, so I'm going to split this shit in two because I don't want to burn anyone's eyes out.

Tragedy and Types of Tragedy

This is the ridiculously abridged version because this is a really long story, if you want more information on the subject I highly recommend reading Aristotle's Poetics, Nietzsche's The Birth of Tragedy or watching this OSP video for a more proper introduction. If you're interested in Shakespearean tragedy, The Cambridge Shakespeare is a amazing compilation, and here's the essay that talks specifically about what the hell Shakespearean tragedy is.

Tragedy has been linked to the origins of theater as such, found in the festivals dedicated to Dionysus (if you want to know more about the cult of Dionysus, you can watch this video to start), where poetry contests were held, specifically of dithyrambs: lyric compositions dedicated specifically to Dionysus. This later led to the inclusion of an increasingly sophisticated chorus using masks. This was no longer poetry, but the first expressions of theater as we understand it in modern times, at least for Europe and the countries colonized by Europeans.

Nietzsche also points out that tragedy condenses within itself two opposing impulses represented in the gods Apollo and Dionysus, expressed in the terms "Apollonian" and "Dionysian": order, mathematics and music (understood by the Greeks as science) vs. party, debauchery and chaos. The clash between the beautiful and the grotesque (understanding that the "beautiful" can be disturbing and the "grotesque" can be strangely beautiful). This description is not entirely literal, of course, but it must be kept in mind that in order to have the fundamentals of a tragedy, one must have these two elements: order and chaos. A synchronized waltz between the rigid structures and the rupturing.

Yes, those two are enough.

Step by step, I think it is important to point out what are the transversal elements to tragedy - classical or Shakespearean - that are present in the comic.

The first important concept that appears on this page is Amarthia. The tragic mistake, the first domino that topples the whole stack, is the specific event that sets tragedy in motion, and we spectators of tragedy can only stare in horror at the situation, knowing that everything that follows will go terribly wrong.

At least as far as its protagonists are concerned, Annabel and Lenore's Amarthia has been said but not seen: the dinner party where Annabel will wear pearls, indicating to Lenore that she is in on the charade. From then on, every step they take will bring them closer to the fate we know: the arrival of both of them in Nevermore. This story ends with them both dead.

And if I had to point out the Amarthia of the comic's topicality, I would dare to say that this is it:

And this:

Annabel refuses to explain to Lenore why the plan has to be the way it is, while Lenore agrees to be part of it (the fact that she disagrees with the whole situation is a plus).

The interesting thing about this is that the roles are reversed: before, Annabel sealed the tragic fate of both of them by accepting Lenore's proposal, while in Nevermore, Lenore sealed the tragic fate of both of them by accepting Annabel's plan.

Another important term that comes up here is hybris. While it is true that hybris represents ego, this does not necessarily mean that the hero is self-centered in a personality sense; hybris is the tragic hero's (misguided, of course) belief that they can turn their terrible situation around. And, well…

That ends badly in tragedies. Very, very badly.

At this point, it is necessary to start pointing out the elements of each type of tragedy, because something interesting is happening: within the ancient walls of the purgatory that is Nevermore, a classical tragedy is taking place, while in the past, Annabel and Lenore were the protagonists of a Shakespearean tragedy.

Classical Tragedy

One thing to understand about classical tragedy is that these are stories of humanity versus divinity. The predestined fate that comes upon mortals at the hands of beings superior to them, even if those beings do not appear directly. The external forces superior to the characters do not intervene directly (at least not in most cases), but they put all the pieces in place for the tragic hero to fall headlong into his terrible fate "by their own hand". Yeah, that shit is so unfair.

In Nevermore, fate is represented by these two bastards: The Deans act as the ominous shadow of divinity that sets the rules of this battle royale. For all intents and purposes, this pair of bastards represents the tragic fate of the characters: only one will survive to have a second life. And there is (theoretically) no way to escape.

This is where we start to get into thorny issues. If I had to point out the classical tragedy that Nevermore most resembles, I think I'd get a smile out of Hadestown fans: Orpheo and Eurydice.

Okay, let's review: Orpheo is a highly talented musician who, after losing his beloved, goes to the underworld to find her. Hades and Persephone give him a chance to get her back if he doesn't turn around to see her until they leave the place, he does so at the last second, she returns to the underworld, and Orpheus spends the rest of his life in misery mourning her.

That's the thing, the story of Orpheo and Euridice is a tragedy for the most depressing reason of all: love. What seems like a generous gift from Hades and Persephone is actually a condemnation, because they ask Orpheus to do the one thing he could never do: stop looking at his beloved. In some versions of the story, he can't even hear her as they walk; will she really be her, or has he been tricked? Will she be frightened on this journey and he will not be there to comfort her? What if she has trouble on the road or an accident and Orpheus has left her behind? Orpheus loves Eurydice so much that he cannot save her under these circumstances because he cannot stop watching over her long enough to get her out of here.

Now let's go to Annabel and Lenore, the same thing is happening here, these two idiots love each other. It's probably the only thing they know for sure in this bullshit game. And for Annabel and Lenore, to love is to protect, it's to be the shield that will be there to defend their beloved in the face of adversity, she's been hurt in a terrible way and they will do anything to stop anyone from hurting her again.

But tragic fate, represented by the Deans, has set things in motion for this to quickly go to hell:

For Lenore to understand Annabel's actions, she would have to tell her that's why she's so afraid, why they shouldn't get attached to anyone, why she thinks it's necessary to pretend they don't remember each other. But Lenore can't be okay with Annabel carrying everything alone, because she sees how it hurts her, because Annabel is clearly hurting. She goes to great lengths to confide in Annabel, but she can't come up with a plausible explanation for all this crap either.

For Annabel, becoming a villain and enduring all this pain is slightly less horrible than dragging Lenore into the Deans' psychotic game. But Lenore just loves her too much to let her do that. Lenore could protect her if Annabel were by her side, so why does she keep leaving? She was hurt the first time, why do it to her a second time?

The feeling of not being heard, the frustration that the other just won't listen to her pleas and won't stop what she's doing to allow her to be cared for, runs through both of them because it's the exact same situation, "Why won't you let me do this for you?"

The answer is that Annabel and Lenore are asking the other to do the one thing she could never stop doing: stop trying to protect her. That's why they fight.

This relationship has become a power game that neither can win because they are both exactly the same. A tug-of-war that will only be resolved when something breaks. Hopefully not irreparably.

And speaking of the P-word, let's talk Shakespeare, people.

Shakespearean Tragedy

The good Bard took classical tragedy and brought it back, but changed enough elements of it that it had to be renamed because some of its fundamentals were rewritten. The most notorious of these is that while Shakespeare does not ignore the presence of higher forces or supernatural entities, the fundamental basis of Shakespearean tragedy is not the conflict between humanity and the Fates/Gods.

It is power.

Those who wield power, those who are corrupted by it, and those who crave it. These tragedies speak of moral corruption, the victims of power, and those who sink under the responsibility that power brings.

This is the reason why Shakespeare's tragic heroes belong to the nobility, come from opulent families, or hold important positions. In this case, we have as protagonists two women who were born in a cradle of gold: Lenore apparently comes from a family of old money, and while we do not know if Annabel also comes from a family of old money, we do know that there is no shortage of coins around here.

But status cannot protect Shakespeare's protagonists from the society in which they live, whose agency is sometimes literally represented by people with power. This puts them in a situation from which they cannot escape and which screws them from the start (in other cases the Shakespearean protagonist is the figure of power and seals his own fate). Here, the odds are stacked against them from the start because they are women and, as if that were not enough, lesbians.

I think it's no surprise to anyone that the Shakespearean tragedy most similar to Nevermore is Romeo and Juliet.

Let's review: Romeo and Juliet are two young people who meet at a party and fall madly in love. Their families hate each other, so they cannot be together. The two secretly marry, but after an argument Romeo kills a man and is banished, despite a plan hatched by a priest friend so they can run away together, things go terribly wrong and they both end up committing suicide.

This follows a similar logic to Orpheus and Eurydice: the tragedy here is that these two are in love. But where classical tragedy says, "They love each other so much they can't save themselves," Romeo and Juliet, like Annabel and Lenore, works with two layers of conflict.

The first is the social and political. These young people's families hate each other, so they can't be together. In the same way, Annabel and Lenore can't be together because they're both women.

This is also a reference to one of the central themes of Romeo and Juliet: the clash between tradition and modernity. I think if you squint hard enough, you can see the relationship between these two as Victorian conservatism and homophobia screwing up their lives in the same way that tradition screws up Romeo and Juliet's.

The other layer of the problem is the one that has to do with love: Romeo and Juliet love each other so much that they cannot live without each other. This is what drives them both to suicide, even when they are given the opportunity to continue their lives separately. They love each other so much that they cannot live without each other. Just as Annabel and Lenore desperately want to be together, this is what starts the engine of tragedy when circumstances prevent them from doing so.

Another thing it takes from Romeo and Juliet is the role of the parents as a representation of the power that oppresses the characters. In Romeo and Juliet, the Montague and Capulet lords pull the strings of their children's lives, and it is their resentment that creates the barrier between the lovers. In the case of Nevermore, Ira and Thaddeus are the personal jailers of their respective daughters: Ira wants to get Annabel into an arranged marriage by hook or by crook, and Thaddeus first gets Lenore a fiancé and then keeps her locked up in the fucking attic.

Finally, a tragedy that can be read as a reference to Nevermore, though more subtly, is Macbeth.

The plot is simple: a trio of witches tell Duke Macbeth that he and his descendants will one day be kings. This leads him to murder his cousin, King Duncan, and everything goes downhill from there, because Duncan's murder didn't even amuse the prince.

Yes, at first glance it doesn't seem to make much sense, but that's because it's referring to a specific moment. Specifically, the most discussed and controversial scene in the play: the dialog where Lady Macbeth and Macbeth discuss killing Duncan.

This scene has kept the Bard's fans arguing for centuries: is she manipulating her husband so that she can be queen, or is she just verbalizing Macbeth's wishes that he be allowed to commit the crime, and saying that she will support him in it? Impossible to know unless someone gets a working Ouija board.

This is the same logic that follows the flashback scene where Lenore talks to Annabel about the plan. The important thing here is that the comic decides that the answer is: it depends on who you ask.

Given Annabel's attitude toward Lenore, we can interpret that she does not think she was manipulated or anything. Lenore is not a devious woman who put things in her head, it was her knight in shining armor who came to save her from a marriage she didn't want. Yes, she may have had her doubts, but she definitely liked her chances, enough to accept them.

On the other hand, what this tells me is that Lenore thinks the opposite: that she convinced Annabel to be part of this hoax that ended with both of them dead. A crazy woman who dragged the only person she cared about into a dangerous game that cost them their lives, she considers herself as guilty as the perpetrating hand of the crime.

Conclusion

I think the first time I decided to do a review under this particular lens was when I started to notice where Annabel and Lenore's arcs seemed to be going.

On the one hand, given how things are going, it seems that Lenore has to start taking off the blindfold to realize that things aren't as simple as she thinks, and stop letting others make the hard decisions for her because it hurts everyone.

On Annabel's side, you have a character arc that seems to be aimed at being honest with other people, not letting her fears stop her from making risky decisions, and not dealing with all the bullshit herself.

If what I just said leaves a bad taste in your mouth, that's normal. Because it's fucking unfair.

That Lenore should be the one to stand firm - not out of guilt, but out of responsibility - for her actions feels like shit after everything the poor girl has been through. The same thing happens on Annabel's side, that she has to give in to a situation where it makes so much sense for her to shut down, where it makes sense, even without her background, for her to behave that way.

But that sense of injustice is one of the foundations of tragedies. The feeling that, in her situation, it is practically impossible to think that anything different could be done is the basis of catharsis: the pity felt for the character, the fear generated by identifying with their terrible situation.

The expiation of these emotions, which are produced in the spectator by the fall of the tragic hero.

Now, it is interesting to ask how the fall of Annabel and Lenore will be. The simple answer from a tragic point of view is death, a thing we know has already happened once, why not a second time? After all, that's what awaits tragic heroes. Unless you're Medea.

It's impossible to know how the comic will develop, but it seems to me that this is as far as the tragedy goes. For the next part, I want to talk about gothic novels, female vampires, the female writers of the period, and the last gothic. Believe me, buddies, there is no more obsessive romantic bond than that between a Poe protagonist and their dead bride.

#nevermore webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #lenore nevermore #white raven #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee whitlock #annabel lee x lenore #lennabel #nevermore webcomic #nevermore #You know how fucked up it is to realize that in this fucking comic a happy ending would be a plot twist?#I dusted off my notes for this shit #My Shakespeare seminar professor would be proud of me

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thequeenskeep · 3 months ago

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Self-Mastery

Pinp0int

Everything in your life is a result of your greatest thinking.

∞ = 0. It is everything and nothing simultaneously. 0 is a circle-an enclosed space that feeds into itself. Infinity is zero collapsed, where nothing becomes everything. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction reducing All to 0. All numbers, all energy, all dimensions. The YOUniverse is infinite. Self-mastery is the application and transcendence of infinity, reaching the 0-dimension. The In. Finite. Point. In everything we do, we seek embodiment and expect to achieve a specific result. Be specific. Become limitless.

The origin, or starting point, of a graph is also known as the point of intersection. A point where the x-axis, y-axis, and all quadrants meet.

All dimensions exist on the same plane, the first dimension (1D), and within the same point, the 0 dimension (0D), as demonstrated by infinity. Our inability to perceive mystical energy or entities stems from their exist in other dimensions beyond our comprehension. The unforeseeable exists outside of our third dimensional perception. Our minds, thoughts, feelings, spirit, etc. exist on different planes.

When you take a picture or video of the third dimension (3D), it is captured as a flat image observed 2 Dimensionally. Movies, for instance, are shown in 2D. When you turn that image on its side, it is a line or plane. That is the first dimension. Furthermore condensing it to a point, brings us to the 0 dimension. Multidimensionality is inherent; what exists is not absent, it is unseen or inconceivable. If you exist on point (3,2) in the graph that is physically (3D) all you know.

Our minds transverse dimensions. When we close our eyes and see darkness, we are observing 0. Within we can see everything. This is known as astral (a star) traveling. However, opening our eyes reinstalls us into the 3D plane binding us to the laws of physics. It is possible to elevate our perception to see other dimensions with our physical eyes. However, this can lead to psychosis for beings accustomed to the 3D world. Its infinite nature reignites our genetic code(DNA), and we are bombarded with the real Truth. Reality. This rebirth, or revelation, prompts an overwhelming influx of knowledge putting us into a state of infancy where everything feels new, unfamiliar, and challenging to process causing a possible loss in consciousness.

We are creators. Our souls are creating everything we experience in other, alternate dimensions. Our mind is the messenger. Everything our brain’s experience is documented and delivered to the soul as an Instruction Manual. Our 3D vessel is the anchor, or origin point for the rope grounded to the Earth while our being occupies the cosmos. We are tethered to our creations, alternate realities, or dimensions and birth them into the 3D by tugging on, or embodying that energy. Eventually these dimensions, or planes, overlap and generate a 2D image, visualization, and as we experience life we identify them in the 3D as synchronicities or coincidence. We and our subsequent creations are bound to the Universal Laws that govern how our creation manifests in life.

Mind/Matter.

The name of the ‘Game of Life’ is self sufficiency. This includes self-awareness, self-discipline, emotional intelligence, positive, realistic thinking, goal setting, time management, and stress management. To achieve self mastery one must transverse the 7 dimensions, or chakras, within the One by: learning to think; learning to intuit; learning to feel; learning to do; learning to communicate; learning to lead; and learning to be. We evolved from nothing; therefore everything is accessible within. We have everything we need to succeed. How will you access it?

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numinous-scribe · 4 months ago

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The winding patterns of prey were a constant feature in Bart’s mind. Dozens to hundreds of little fishes that banded together and adapted, swarming in complex figures at the slightest change in the current. The glint of scales, blue to silver to black and back again and again; synchronicity elevating graceful twists that looped and curled in intricate designs. When predators approached they coalesced with great arching swirls, their combined form stretching then condensing to appear large in the face of danger. It was survival. It was enthralling.

++++

My second time playing "Who Wrote That?" for the Haunting Heroes Discord, Round: Mer Edition. I had a lot of fun writing this and loved all the other submissions; be sure to check out the rest of the fics in the collection and give them some love!

#scribe's work #dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc fanfic #dcxdp #dcxdp crossover #dcxdp fanfic #haunting heroes wwt #haunting heroes: who wrote that?

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aphfanficwriters · 3 months ago

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Monthly Members' Fics — Aug 2024

A Snake With Blue Eyes by Tentaculiferous (America/England, Canada/England, America & Canda) While Arthur is thrilled that the King of Spades has been discovered, the King himself takes less joy in being found. Alfred was happy with his life as a commoner. Maybe he hadn't had fancy clothes or even his own bedroom, but he'd had freedom. He could go where he wanted, do what he wanted, live the kind of life he wanted. Now he's supposed to waste his days sitting on a throne being the Queen's good little boytoy. Fuck that.

Strange Magic by Tentaculiferous (America/Canada/England) With the threat from the Kingdom of Clubs looming, the King, Queen, and Ace of Spades resort to an old magic ritual to save their people. But the price for their kingdom's safety may turn out to be more than Amelia and Matthew are willing to pay. (Or, Amelia, Matthew, and Rose fuck for the good of the kingdom.)

Trick Cards by Tentaculiferous (America/England, Canada/England) After a heated disagreement between King Alfred and Queen Arthur, the queen decides to end things once and for all. But Arthur isn't the only one in the castle with a trick up his sleeve, and he may be the one playing the fool in the end.

Synchronicity by proosh (France/Prussia) Francis' pre-rut rolls around and it triggers something awful and unknown within Gilbert.

The Hidden Spade — Chapter 1: The Princess and the Prologue by Actually_a_horse (America/England) When Alfred finds he has the mark of the Queen of Spades, he knows he will be forced into royalty and the feminine role of Queen—dresses and all. There is no way Alfred can allow himself to be found out, not when his freedom and identity are on the line. The universe seems to have other plans for him, however. Can Alfred keep his secret? Or is fate too strong to allow a Queen to not take her throne? (UKUS, rating may change with future chapters)

acuerdo by southerngothics (South Italy/Spain) It’s still new to him; four months is an eternity for humans, perhaps, but perspective has shortened and condensed time into a coiled thing, folding over on itself until the entire stretch of it is thin as parchment. Four months is the blink of an eye. And the fighting has not stopped since he set foot upon that little island kingdom; he hasn’t had time to truly process it all. That Romano is his now. That they are together. That every morning he will wake up and Romano will be here, and that every night Romano will be asleep in this bed. It still seems like the far-fetched dream Pedro had cooked up in hushed tones, away from the menacing glares of el Papa. Spain is convinced, somehow, that if he blinks, reality will throw its punch and he’ll be back in Palermo, crushed under that damned France’s boot. In 1282, King Peter III of Aragon is crowned King of Sicily.

s'unifier by southerngothics (America/Canada) This does nothing, it seems, to deter Canada. Instead, he only burrows his head into America’s chest and snuggles closer, and it’s almost too nostalgic for him, dragging up memories that are still fresh, haphazardly stitched-up wounds. The colonial days are hemorrhaging within him and for a moment it’s hard to think clearly, sunny days mixing with gunpowder in a disorienting flat circle of history. He wonders if it gets easier or harder as time goes on. In the early 1850s, multiple American annexation movements take root in Canada.

Teach My Heart to Bend Instead of Breaking by Tentaculiferous (Canada/England) Matthew Williams is an unusual student, a diamond shining brightly amid a sea of clods. That’s how Arthur Kirkland, his history professor sees him. Arthur’s only intention in taking Matthew under his wing is to nurture a rare talent, but it’s possible to become too close to a student. Already on thin ice with his wife and the university due to his prickly personality, getting entangled with Matthew might be what finally deals the deathblow to his marriage—and worse, his career.

Felidae by Mossy_man (Russia/Turkey) Ivan gets cat ears and pussy. Sadik gets two cocks. That's it, that's the plot.

(Prussian) Dad Baby by ChibiDashie (Austria, Germany, Prussia, OC) Based on and inspired by the Bluey Episode "Dad Baby" While Prussia was helping clean Mary's bedroom, Mary finds a mysterious object stored in her closet that came from her own mother and father. Even as Prussia demonstrated how this object worked, this gave Mary an idea to play a silly game! Hilarity and shenanigans ensue between Mary and Prussia during this funny game. aka Prussia learns how it feels to be pregnant and suffer

#axis powers hetalia #hetalia world stars #hetalia #aph fanfiction #hws fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia writers' association #post: monthly fic round-up #august 2024

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poojagblog-blog · 5 months ago

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The global Synchronous Condenser Market size will grow to USD 811 million by 2030 from USD 661 million in 2022, at a CAGR of 2.6% during the forecast period. Synchronous condensers ensure a stable supply to the transmission grid. They can also supply and absorb reactive power and deliver voltage support and dynamic regulation. In addition, many renewable resources are remotely located and feed power into a single radial line. Synchronous condensers can be installed close to the connection point to strengthen the grid with additional short-circuit power. This improves the fault ride-through capability of the power installation itself and provides additional voltage stability.

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lil-shiro · 3 months ago

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A (hopefully) half decent guide to get into watching figure skating

With the Junior Grand Prix circuit starting this week, I wrote up a little guide for my online pals and anyone else interested in getting into the sport. I'm going to be focusing on Elite Level Skating.

Disclaimer in case I put this into the main tags: I may make a metaphors or two to F1 for comparison since I primary post F1 related things but I do have a #figure skating tag

Honestly if you want a really good write up/guide I highly recommend the website So You Want to Watch Figure Skating and they even have a Tumblr where they post updates.

If you want to read my more condensed, lower quality version, then stick around.

General Info

The International Skating Union (ISU) is the governing body for competitive ice skating disciplines (not just figure skating but speed skating as well). They're like the FIA in this case and decide/vote on regulations and changes.

Each country has their own individual national associations that administers the sport at the national level.

For example, USFS (U.S. Figure Skating), Skate Canada, etc. These associations do things like assign their skaters to competitions, decide funding, hold national level competitions etc.

Figure skating has 4* disciplines - Men's single - Women's single - Pairs - Ice Dance

*(There's also synchronized skating but I don't really keep up with it)

The two categories I'll be focusing on are: Junior and Senior. You can read about the specific age requirements here

Scoring

A final competition score is comprised of the total score of two programs (segments) added together.

A Short program (SP) score + a Free program (FP) score*

The main difference is that the SP is shorter and the FP is longer. But you can read into the different technical element requirements that I linked since they vary from disciple.

*In ice dance the SP and FP are called Rhythm dance (RD) and Free dance (FD)

To break it down even further, each total segment score is calculated based on the following:

Technical Element Score (TES) + Program Component Score (PCS) = Total segment score (TSS)

TES:

Each technical element preformed has a base value of points (following the code of points) depending on difficulty (it's comparable to gymnastics code of points scoring)

The judges then assign GOE (grade of execution) that increases or decreases the base value depending on how well it was executed

For more detailed info and to read about what makes up the PCS, the USFS has an overview here and guide here.

Competitions

I'm only going to focus on major and easily accessible competitions for this guide. The goal of competitions is to place high and get world standing points.

National Championships Typically held mid-season ish (Dec-Jan). Pretty straight forward, each country hosts their own national champion competition (most people just call them Nationals) for each discipline and age category. Depending on the country, these results may have a little or big impact on which skaters they pick to go to international championships for the rest of the season.

Grand Prix Grand Prix are a series of qualifying events (each held in a different country) that lead to the Grand Prix final. Skaters earn qualifying points at each Grand Prix event and the six highest-ranking qualifiers meet at the ISU Grand Prix Final.

A skater/pair can only participate in a maximum of 2 events. And each individual Grand Prix event can only have up to 3 skaters from the same country in each discipline.

Senior Grand Prix: 6 qualifying events

- for break down of how to qualify for the final refer to this page - skaters are eligible to be assigned to events based on results at the previous World Championships, season’s best scores from the previous and current season, and overall world standing

Junior Grand Prix: 7 qualifying events

- the same requirements apply for qualifying for the finals - eligibility wise, juniors have no minimum score required, as long as they're old enough their country can enter them - there is also no cap on the total # of participants unlike in seniors - # of spots for each nation are designated by previous world junior championship results

Europeans (European Figure Skating Championships) As the name states, Europeans is an ISU Championship in which only European skaters ("members of a European ISU Member") compete for the title. It is regarded as quite prestigious since it's the sport's oldest competition (first held in 1891).

# of competitors per country at Euros is determined based on results from the previous year

Four Continents Championships (4CC) 4CC is like Europeans but with all the other continents [Americas (North America and South America), Africa, Asia and Oceania]. Skaters must belong to a non-European member nation of the ISU.

Each nation can have up to 3 skaters from the same country in each discipline

Each skater must have obtained the minimum TES score requirement in the current or previous season

*Europeans/4CC are senior level only events

Junior/Senior World Championships Aka: the most important competition of the season! (Other than when the olympics happen)

Just like Europeans, # of spots each nation is allocated depends on results from the previous year. This is how they're determined (wording from this reddit post):

A country can have between one and three skaters/teams per discipline.

Each country automatically gets one spot in each discipline.

To get a second spot next year, that skater/team has to place in the top ten.

To get a third spot, that skater/team has to place in the top two.

For countries who already have multiple placements, both skaters or the top 2/3 entries:

must add up to ≤13 with their placements to secure/maintain a third spot (ie. 8th and 5th, 3rd and 9th, etc.)

or ≤28 to secure/maintain a second spot. (ie. 10th and 8th, 5th and 20th, etc.)

How to Watch

All the competitions I mentioned are live-streamed on the ISU YouTube channel. They also stay up so you can watch replays if a competition is held at an inconvenient time!

The Junior Grand Prix events were streamed on the ISU Junior YouTube channel but this year they will also be streamed on the main channel. You can still watching replays all the way from 2011 on it tho!

Occasionally you may find yourself Geo-blocked from a stream. I find this only happens when a competition is being hosted in your country because they want you to use the local streaming/TV service. For example, I'm based in Canada so I'm blocked from the Skate Canada GP event on YouTube because they're streaming it on CBC. I was also blocked from the World's 2024 Youtube stream because it was hosted in Canada. This includes full replays as well. But this is really easy to bypass with a VPN.

Refer to this page for more info

Resources

Here are a few resources to keep up with schedules, timing, standings etc.

Skating Scores: Overview of events, scores, and world standings

@/fskatecomptimes: Time-zone adjusted schedules for ISU-recognized figure skating events

So You Want to Watch Figure Skating: Recommending them again because they're awesome

Jackie Wong: Figure skating analyst, provides updates/live tweets from events

Notes :)

I hope this helps and is somewhat understandable. If you have any questions feel free to send me an ask or DM!

My advice is to just start watching and things will come naturally. I never thought I would be able to identify any jumps aside from an axel...but here I am watching competitions, finding myself calling under rotations on a 3T...

This season is the pre-olympic season and there's lots of skaters returning from injury/break so it should be exciting!

My figure skating tag

My favourite discipline is women's but I try to watch everything

I'm desperate for a Canadian skating revival (2018 you were everything)

Favourite ice dance team: Evgenia Lopareva / Geoffrey Brissaud

Current fave skaters (senior): Chaeyeon Kim, literally all of team Japan, Adam Siao Him Fa, Andreas Nordebäck, Alysa Liu + many more

*I would like to mention that just like any other sport there are a lot of issues within figure skating. It's an environment with a lot of young people whom are susceptible to mistreatment/harassment/abuse, so I just wanted to bring that to light since new viewers will probably discover shocking things that have happened/are happening. And overall raise awareness about being mindful viewers like not commenting on a skater's body for example and just advocating for the increased safety of the sport

There is also most definitely politicking involved when it comes judging, but we as viewers will never know how rampant and the details surrounding it. Some posts explaining it more here and here.

#this is for my mutuals...#but seriously though skating is so fun! join me 🥹#if there are any men and women skaters willing to switch to canada we need you #figure skating

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jasper-pagan-witch · 2 months ago

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Chao-Mines

Chao-Mines are not, strictly speaking, Servitors, but are formed using the same techniques. They can be considered as localised aetheric storage and transmission units for Chaos energy. They were generally visualised as spheroids with eight arrows or antennae radiating from them, which flash randomly with all possible colors. Chao-Mines are created to manipulate probability in favour of fortuitous occurrences, bizarre synchronicities, and the generally weird and wonderful. They are usually created at places which are habitually used for magical activity, or which generally have an association of 'good vibes' and pleasant happenings.

~Condensed Chaos: an introduction to chaos magic, by Phil Hine, page 119

#jasper post #chaos magic #chao-mines #linking sigil #sigils #books #authors #energy work #phile hine #condensed chaos #condensed chaos: an introduction to chaos magic #i'm tagging it as 'linking sigil' because it seems very related to that concept in my mind

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n3kk1tty · 4 months ago

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Hi ! I've seen your tlbxsoul eater au and, being a fan of both, I got to say I really love it ! Micheal, being his one-man army looks badass, and I love imagining Star and Mura dancing across the battlefield and gracefully killing baddies. Love it ! 😀

Inspired by this, I've wondered if you got any AU-related hc about Sam and the Frog brothers? Assuming the brothers are both weapons, what kind do you think they would be ? Did they rope Sam into being their meister, a bit how they gave him the comic books in canon? Would be funny 😁

Also, why do I feel like these three would be liable to go find *shudder* Excalibur?

Edgar and Allen of course roped Sam into being their meister. Set to be first years in the academy soon they were desperately begging people to take the role. But who really wants to partner with two comic nerds with a passion for army stuff. One day while Sam is practically hounding Michael about how he became a two star Meister so quickly after his old partner dumped him. *ouch* The frogs are quickly intrigued by the conversation as they snoop at a table next to the brothers pretending to read newspapers.

" Hey it's not like it's uncommon for weapons and meisters to not work out. And for your information dweeb Mura didn't dump me we both decided we weren't good for eachother. Look she's doing way better now she hit two stars before me so why don't you go bug her and buzz off. " Michael slumps in his chair chugging his drink at the cafe as his brother stares at him. " She's a weapon not a meister! When I asked Star about it she said something like soul wavelengths were like a dance and you needed a partner who could hear the music you were playing so they could dance with you. Obviously that doesn't help me! Michael you can synchronize with four different weapons and use them all at the same time! How can you not know what pointers to give me to matching wavelengths with a weapon. "

Michael grumbles at the mention of his four idiots who were probably off picking fights with Mura or getting into trouble. Wiping his brow and adjusting his shades he stares Sam down. " Why don't you ask Mom or grandpa. Both of them were excellent Meisters. I can't really give you pointers on matching wavelengths if you can't even find a weapon who will even try partnering with you. " Sam throws his hands into his hair frustrated. Why couldn't it be easy to just find weapons! He lived in death City now for peat sake was their no one in this town who wasn't already partnered up for the academy already! Sam was running out of time and he was getting desperate. It would be so embarrassing to show up on the first day with no partner.

As Michael takes a sip from his drink like a fifth sense tingling he looks over the cafe's balcony edge to see Marco and Paul chasing after Mura again as she's running away from the pair groceries in tow. Were those two perverts serious could they not chase skirts for one afternoon! " HEY JACKOFFS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?!" Michael quickly slams money on the table from his pocket telling Sam he will be back as his brother jumps off the balcony to chase down his two dumbasses before they got fucked up before there next mission. It was only a matter of time before Mura would put them in the hospital again.

Sam sighs taking a sip of his drink watching the brawl ensue below before a set of hands slams on the table before him. " We're the frog brothers we hear your a Meister?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That's exactly how the three's first meeting goes.

It's weird how the Emerson brothers always seem to get the best partners when they're bullied into something.

Edgar's weapon form is a Rambo style knife.

He's able to do close range combat and can extend the blade using condensed soul wavelengths.

Allen's weapon form is a Vietnam War style machine gun.

Sam can shoot shots with one hand if he needs to but it does the most damage when he has some distance between opponents and can line up accurate shots.

With the frog brothers by his side Sam is really keeping the family tradition of being a one man army alive.

Sam may be more of an assassin style fighter but don't try and pull one over on him he can handle himself in close combat just fine as Allen can help point out vital spots for him to hit while using Edgar.

They achieve this by using there shared consciousness through soul resonance to share the images so no communication can be used against them while fighting the enemy.

Sam is quick as well. Wether that be from fleeing an area after his shot. Or erasing his and the frog brothers presence to sneak up on kieshen souls.

While not on missions they are goofing off reading comics together. If it wasn't for Allen there collective grades would be terrible.

Speaking of Comics and Excalibur. They were reading this comic book about the holy sword and they thought it would be a wonderful idea if they could join it to their party. How they would blast past Star and Micheal in their greatness as a group.

Taking the long track to find the holy sword the three all but made it there alive surprisingly mostly by having Edgar scale the cliff with Allen in weapon form and Sam on his back.

After Edgar and Allen stood nervously by Sam's side ready to add a fourth to their group as soon as Sam pulled it from the stone they all three wished they never had eardrums.

It took everything in Sam's body not to stab his ear drums out while Allen was busy trying to prevent Edgar from water boarding the weird small talkative creature.

Faces turned in cringe as soon as Excalibur stopped talking and turned into a sword Sam jammed it so far in the stone he hoped it never escaped.

The three Scooby Doo ran away all the way back to Death city.

When they got back the big monument of flowers Excalibur sent them had them dieing of embarrassment in the classroom and as Mura couldn't help laughing before filling the three in on a secret.

Sam wasn't the first Emerson to try using Excalibur as a weapon. Before Mura Michael had shit luck with finding anyone to work with him thanks to his attitude and rugged nature. So he attempted to use the holy sword and he was stalked by the thing for months even after he paired with Mura.

Sam and the frog brothers were of course then curious of how he landed with the lost boys and the girl gladly told them the story of how David stalked him outside classes and public each day till Michael finally caved. It took a whole month of harassment from each boy for Michael to cave and by that point everyone assumed they were dating.

#soul eater #tlb au #soul eater au #michael the lost boys #the lost boys #tlb 1987

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obae-me · 1 year ago

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Tainted Reflections- CH 15

Start This Story From The Beginning!

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Misery Craves Company

Warning: This chapter contains Blood, Gore, Violence, Burning, Overall Disturbing Imagery.

As Always, Read Safely!

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Bodies. A seemingly endless amount. A torrent of grinding teeth and claws. The screeching roared down on them like a waterfall. Glowing eyes of different sizes and colors stared down at them, so many they dotted the darkness with their own galaxy. Spit and blood dripped onto their cheeks from the feral mass. Close. Closer still.

A snap. Sparks formed between the fingertips. Azure lightning bolted upwards, illuminating the area for a split second. A snapshot of horns and teeth. However many they originally imagined, there were more. Much more. The air clapped with thunder, the echo rolling around the stone walls. Deafening. Debilitating. Those closest to the initial blast exploded. Eviscerated from sheer power alone. The flash tore through the wall, cutting through demons, metal, and brick like butter. Yet, in total, it had struck only a tiny portion of the storm. Not enough. For every one destroyed, a dozen more would be there to take their place.

Wind whipped. Harsh gales spun around them in circles. The deadly forms were thrown off course, smacking against the enclosure with a lethal crack. But the hurricane wasn’t finished. The draft began to condense, taking shape. Gossamer crows with shining yellow eyes swirled protectively. With a single synchronized cry, they were sent spiraling upwards. Pulled off of walls, pecked from their places, torn to shreds, plenty of the hive was obliterated in seconds. Corpses fell to their place at the bottom of the pit, but there were still so many alive in comparison. Not enough. The army plummeted towards them.

A single breath. A flame in the palm of an open hand. Tossed into the air with a flick of a wrist. As soon as it struck a figure, the victim was instantly incinerated. Not even enough time to scream. Engorged, the fire grew bigger, consuming more, feasting on the souls of the damned. It spread, the inferno blazing. Blinding. Ash began to drift down in sheets. However, a few more resilient demons held together with nothing but bones and an unrelenting homicidal soul managed to come through, even if they were half melted. Quantity verses quality. Not enough. Something snuffed out the firewall.

Mammon was caught first. A demon who had been resorted to a chest, head, and one arm snagged his shoulder with a grasp of nothing but bone. Before Greed could do anything about it, Lucifer destroyed it, grabbing the demon by the back of the head and tearing it off his brother.

And then the rest came.

A flood of snarls and slashes. Cocooned, it was difficult to see where the others were. Every so often one could catch a glimpse of blue or yellow. But aside from that, they were all lost in the sea of flesh and bone. The demons were weak, that much was apparent. There were just so many. Staving off every single attack took every bit of concentration, trying to keep from getting pulled down in the current. However, if this was all they needed to worry about, soon they’d reach the end. Three of the most powerful demons in the Devildom could manage a simple army like this on their own.

Something in the air shifted.

Diavolo threw several bodies off of him. Taking the face of one enemy in his hands, he used the limp body to bat several others away from him. “Lucifer!” No answer. “Mammon!” The same. Although, to be honest, the prince could hardly hear his own shouting. Everything was drowned out by hundreds, perhaps thousands of angry voices. Most of which were incomprehensible howls of corrupt devils who had lost most of their senses eons ago. Although those who had clung to whatever sliver of wit that remained were squalling his name. Diavolo, Diavolo, Diavolo. A hum- a chant- from the mob who wanted nothing more than to see him dead. Or worse. Definitely worse.

Something smelled like sulfur.

Every attack was feeble, paltry at best. Against royal blood, none of these prisoners stood a chance. But still, if Diavolo lost his focus for even one moment, a grip at his ankles or his wings would push him back downwards. At this point, he had no idea where he was in comparison to the others. Was he close to the bottom? Had he only moved a few inches? Not even he could fully tell. The only thing he knew right now was that the rabble was beginning to bother him. Did he go full out and destroy the rest? Would his companions get caught up in it? Lucifer might be able to take a hit from him, but would Mammon? Too risky.

Something in the distance began to hum.

At this point, a bit of guilt began to root at the back of Diavolo’s mind. He’d dragged Lucifer and Mammon in with him, demanded it of them even. Had he made a mistake? Mammon was already a bit injured. Would they get hurt further? If something happened to the second eldest brother of the Sins, would the others ever forgive him? Would Lucifer forgive him? Your choices bring nothing but misery. A hushed whisper seemed to slip past the barbaric wailing and into his ears. Diavolo had nearly forgotten… Pain and suffering follows in your wake. It’s in your blood. You’re destined to create torment. The prison was a force to be reckoned with as well. Failure of a demon. Failure of a prince! Concentration lost for just a moment. A cluster of limbs latched onto his wings. A choked out gasp of shock bubbled in his throat as he fell. The weight sent him spiraling downwards for a moment. Flames sprouted from his pores, licking across his skin. Those touching him were soon turned to dust. A pant. A small bead of sweat running down his forehead. This was getting out of hand.

Apparently he was not the only one thinking such things. A little further below him, light began to pour out in all directions. Between the shadows, Lucifer stood out in the darkness. Bright. Shining. Steadfast. Like always. A beacon for him to turn to. A four-pointed glare. A morning-star.

Diavolo allowed himself to lower further down the chamber, diving to Pride’s side. “You’re okay,” the prince sighed a bit, allowing himself to smile even as he noticed blood running down Lucifer’s cheek.

“Get below me.” An order most would not have the audacity to even think much less say. Only three people could get away with such things. Barbatos, Lucifer, and more recently, MC. From the look on his face, Diavolo knew there was no reason trying to argue, especially not during battle. The prince hovered a little bit below his right-hand-man, his closest companion. Back to back, spines pressed up against one another, they tackled the cluster.

It wasn’t long before the third member of their party noticed the light. However, he was much further below, more off to the side, fighting to push upwards. Mammon was holding his own, but gashes and tears were clear on his body. Lucifer noticed these details, his eyes flicking between Diavolo, his brother, and the seemingly endless amount of enemies. Pride looked distressed.

“I’ve got him!” The prince broke away. A few weights crashed into his back as he swooped down. Diavolo shook them off, refusing to be swept away so easily. A ripple of flame spread out from his sides, culling the herd enough to dip down to the right. His hand grasped Mammon’s wrist, refusing to let him drown in this mess. A large hand dusted the demons off Greed’s body as if they were simple insects. “I got you,” he shouted, wings spread wide enough to shield Mammon enough to breathe. “We’re almost through.”

A pulling sensation. A vacuum created on the upper end of the chamber. The mob got pulled away, thinning. In the distance, there were twisted screams of anguish. Diavolo felt his breath torn from him. The space around him grew sweltering, buzzing, that same scent of sulfur so strong, his nose felt like bleeding. He suddenly had the sense that something far above him knew exactly where he was…

“Diavolo!”

The air stopped churning just a moment before the world went silent. Then a deafening thrum droned through the prison, sounding as if the depths of the universe had just been torn open just to bellow. Heat. Light. Experiencing every sensation at once so much so that it felt like white nothingness. There was no pain. Just this immense pressure, the faint observation that he was being crushed. Then as soon as the world began to rebuild itself around him, he blinked away the spots in his vision. Sound trickled back in slowly, giving way to a ringing in his ears. After far too long, his body jump-started, gasping for air and coughing out the ash and blood in his lungs. The stench of sulfur faded, the only scent remaining the nauseating and overwhelming aroma of death and decay.

He had fallen all the way to the bottom of the pit, where the corpses of all the enemies rested. A few still twitched, desperate to not let their light die out. But it seemed to be the end to all of them. No more rained down from above. And yet, Diavolo had the sensation that the fight was far from over.

Rolling over onto his stomach, it took him a second to find the strength to push himself onto his feet. This feeling of weakness… of disorientation, it was foreign. Perhaps he’d become complacent in his strength. He’d only felt something similar once. A long time ago, right after he’d made Lucifer and his brothers the new council. An icy-hot pain that had left faint branching scars over his chest. When he’d almost been killed by the old council. The markings of Revenge.

But there was no pain this time.

This world, this pocket dimension- whatever it was- contained many surprises inside. Most of them, as you had experienced thus far, were surprises better left hidden. Clearly this place had been abandoned. Better to leave sleeping dogs lie as the saying goes. Or in this case, terrifying biological and magical weapons of warfare. However, perhaps the biggest shocker of all was how eager and quick you were to strip yourself nearly bare in this frigid hidden bunker in this worse-than-hellscape. Holding the clothes you’d peeled off the mannequin in front of you, you had to wonder if it would fit properly. Although, it didn’t matter to you much if it was too snug or too loose. All that mattered was if it was warm. Warm enough to keep you from freezing out there. Warm enough to be able to not feel like a burden to the twins. Warm enough to get out of here.

Settling the dagger and worn-and torn-clothes on the desk, you began to tug the pants over your legs. The specific outfit you had picked out of the array of armor seemed the comfiest of the bunch or at least the easiest to get into. Too many of these sets contained metal plates or chain-mail or far too many fastenings and leather straps. This arrangement was as simple as you could get. Black pants created with a heavy, denim-like fabric. A single strap attached to an empty sheath tightened around your thigh with a simple silver buckle. A new home for your dagger. A deep green tunic was tugged over your head, a small ivy pattern embroidered around the collar. Dark brown boots laced up to your knees. The leather they were made of was almost splotchy, stained around the toes. You ignored that detail. Better for your sanity that way. There was also a matching leather chest-plate, one that wrapped your torso, stopping just above your midriff. It would be difficult to put it on yourself. The others could help with that later. A simple pouch rested against your hip with a new belt around your waist. But best of all- the article that stood out the most to you- was a charcoal-colored cloak. Tight woolen threads were woven together, created to be draped over the head and arms, pinned together by your left shoulder by a large circular brooch.

Thank the realms. It was sturdy. Insulating. Mobile. In addition to all that, there seemed to be some sort of magic knitted and stitched into every inch of fabric. For, as you slowly discovered, the outfit shifted to fit your body perfectly. It was as if Singrid knew someone would be by eventually. Perhaps she had expected someone to pick up the mantle someday. Another scorned human pushed too far, stumbling down here to find anything to keep them and their vendetta alive. A pretty apt description for you right now. Although, as much as you wanted Iktio dead, you wanted your precious Sins alive more. Hopefully such an attachment to the damned wouldn’t have the famous demon-hunter cursing you from whatever plot of dirt served as her grave.

With another passing glance at the weapons around you, you nodded your head. You’d be back. If miracles still existed, the weapons themselves wouldn’t be hexed. If you, Beel, and Belphie could get geared up… But, speaking of those two, you should return with food. Until you all were ready to leave the house, there was no sense arming yourself up to the teeth just yet.

Grabbing the dagger off the table and putting it into it’s new sheath by your leg, you walked out of the hidden room. It was easy work pulling the matching blade from the wall. With the ‘key’ removed, the stones glowed one more, shuddering as it swung shut, seemingly sealing. Looking down at your palm, you wondered what you should do with the second dagger. Take it with you, or leave it here in the unfortunate event that someone else gets trapped here? Squeezing the hilt tightly, you made your decision. Take it with you. Make it so no one else would need it. You also didn’t want to leave the opportunity for Ikito to find this place. Sure he was a demon, but who knew what he was capable of?

It tucked away nicely for now between your body and the belt around your waist. Then you quickly got to work grabbing whatever food would fit into your arms. Racing up the steps- careful to avoid the one you’d slipped on before- you fled from the cellar. As your head poked out from the entrance, you spotted Beel pacing nervously just a few feet away from the doors. His head perked up as he caught you in the corner of his eyes. In just three long strides, he was right in front of you, carefully helping you out with his arms at your sides. You could tell from the way his mouth moved, that he was about to express his worry. But then, as he took in your new attire and your armfuls of food, he simply smiled.

“This is great!” He exclaimed, looking almost normal with the way his eyes shined and his stomach growled. For once, though, he ignored his own hunger, sharing some of the load as he took various ingredients from you.

“More than great! We’re going to be okay!” Although as you said that, something in the back of your mind psychically slapped you. Don’t jinx it. Shaking your head a little, you returned Beel’s grin. “There’s more down there!” In a rather rushed and excited tone, you explained everything you had seen past the steps. Although, the more you went on to explain the weapons room, the more the smile on your companion’s face fell.

Taking the last of the food from you, he stared past your shoulder, back at the doorway. “Are you sure it’s safe to be wearing that?”

No. Was anything completely safe in this place? You weren’t even sure that this home was as safe as you were considering it to be. However, standing out here in the snow, you didn’t feel that deathly chill nipping at your fingertips. Your steps felt stronger, more assured. “Like I said, Beel. I think this place is meant as a trap for demons, not humans. The clothes are fine.” A doubtful moan left the base of Beel’s throat, but aside from that there was no protest. It’s not like you could blame him. These were threads of a demon-hunter. “Go take those inside the house. I’ll bring up more!” Without waiting for his go-ahead, you sprinted back down to the cellar, repeating the motions from before and frantically plucking anything you could, balancing some extra jars under your chin.

Struggling to get back into the house, you managed to twist the knob with two fingers, swinging the door open with the tip of your foot. Frantic footsteps could be heard coming in your direction. Gluttony snatched everything he could out of your grasp, shutting the door behind you. “MC…” Your name was muttered softly, dripping with concern. “Don’t take on so much.” Hypocrisy aside, you nodded, lowering the hood to the cloak as you practically pranced into the kitchen.

God might’ve abandoned this place, but Manna came graced to you under the guise of potatoes. Hunger overcame you like a savage plague, gnawing at your innards. You hardly remembered stepping closer to the table, a random vegetable in your hand that you were seconds away from sinking your teeth into. But Beel was faster, grabbing your wrist and prying the food from your hands. “What—“

“I’m sorry… I know… I know how hungry you are,” Beel apologized, looking truly torn up about this. “But I need to check it first. Please… to make sure you’re safe, let me check this all first.”

Jaw still slightly open, you actually looked at him with a bit of frustration before it fizzled out of you. Malnourishment pounded in the back of your head, but despite the pain, you agreed. How silly would it be for you to suddenly choke on poison? A tragic and ungraceful end, much like Snow White, except for instead of an apple, it was a dirty tuber. Beel pulled back one of the kitchen chairs for you to sit in. After you’d settled down, he began to use his culinary and olfactory demonic superpowers to good use. Although even among demons, his talent was rather extraordinary. Smelling for rot or mold or toxins. He’d pick something up, spend a few minutes being completely thorough in his findings, and then set it back down. Eventually he came across an orange, peeling off the wax shell meant to serve as extra preservation. Citrus flooded your nose. Your mouth actually watered at the scent, watching Beel strip the fruit before peeling it apart. A sniff, and then it was actually handed to you.

“I think it should be fine, but still—“ His words wavered as you began to shove the sweet slices between your lips, the nectar glistening as it threatened to slip down your chin. A swift flick of the tongue prevented that. It was magnificent, like you’d never eaten anything else like it in your lifetime. Is this what Beel felt at all times? Is it why he enjoyed food so much? Even now, as satisfying as it was, you felt your body screaming for more. As you ate, a bit more color returned to his face, as if your sustenance was sustaining him by proxy. He began to peel another orange for you. This time, despite the survival instincts telling you to devour it whole, you split it in half for him, holding it out in an almost pleading manner. Seeing Gluttony go without eating was all too painful to bear. He hesitated for a moment, but then gladly took it, grabbing another chair and bringing it closer to you. “Thank you,” he whispered, taking a seat, his knees touching yours. Slowly, he ate a slice. Success. You had eaten, Beel had eaten, and there was still plenty to go. “I think all this would make a nice stew. Or maybe a stir fry.”

“I don’t care what we do, just throw everything into a pot and I’ll eat it at this point.”

At that, the demon even chuckled a bit, a deep bubbly one that remained contained behind his lips as he chewed. “I’ll chop the vegetables?”

“I’ll boil some water I guess,” you said with half a shrug. “Plenty of snow outside to take from. I could probably use some to clean Belphie’s wounds too.” Silence filled the air. “He’ll be okay.” Although you knew you were trying to convince yourself just as much as him. Finishing your orange, you stood, a hand on his shoulder. “He just needs to sleep a little, and he’ll be just fine.” Please be fine, Belphie, you thought to yourself. With a knowing glance between the two of you, you broke off to accomplish your own tasks.

Old house meant old cookware. Cast iron pans and pots, Dutch ovens. Sturdy. Heavy. Very quickly you realized you had picked the wrong job. You lugged a pot outside, sighing a bit as you nestled it into a little mound of snow. A wooden ladle clinked inside. You squatted down a bit, beginning to use the spoon to shovel the frozen powdered-water into the pot. It was mindless work, but you were pretty glad to be doing something. Focus helped keep the thoughts away. Labor worked away the jittery anxiousness. Soon the pot was full. With a grunt, you lifted the whole thing, heading back towards the door.

A faint screech sounded off in the distance. An inhumane one that had steadily become more familiar to you the longer you stayed here. It echoed through the trees, making it all the way to your ears. When it did, the sound twisted, rasping, calling out your name. Beel had said they were little more than weapons. They should not have had any other goal aside from destroying demons. That being said, the cry that disturbed your ears and the fallen snow had a note of desperation in it.

It was alive. And it was angry.

But for now, it sounded distant. Hopefully it would stay that way. For now, you’d push it aside. Food and water were more important. Beel and Belphie were more important. You rushed inside the house a little quicker this time. Passing by Beel to head to the fireplace, you caught a glimpse of his face. He had heard it too.

Pain. There was no pain. A good thing. Yet a bad thing. There should be pain. Which meant—

“Oi!” A crack of a shout echoed through the chamber. Diavolo looked up and then over to see Mammon scrambling over a pile of bodies like it was simply rubble, tripping over crooked fingers and stubbed horns. Greed found solid ground, his shoes making crisp sloshing noises as he marched over the lake of blood. The prince had hoped a massacre like this wouldn’t occur, but… Mammon grabbed the thin golden chains that draped over Diavolo’s waist, tugging them, angry and desperate. “What happened?”

Despite the last several minutes being a complete blur, Diavolo had an inkling as to the event that had just taken place. A blast, a shadow, a familiar frame wrapped around his own, no pain. And the longer he thought about it, the easier it was to connect the dots between the blank spaces. Please, fates, tell him he was wrong. “I…” Hesitation is ill begotten of royalty, but in this moment, Diavolo couldn’t find the words. New plans, the next steps, things he normally knew how to think up in a heartbeat, they were gone. The only thing that flooded his addled brain was panic. If he was right—

“Diavolo!” Mammon screamed, the tail-end of his cry cutting out, his voice on his last legs. “Where’s…Lucifer?…”

The glow of the Morningstar was nowhere to be seen.

They needed to find him. Now. “He has to be around here somewhere,” he answered, a breathless pant to his words. Although, as he dashed off for the search, his eyes worked on scanning for not just one, but two people in particular.

Flipped, now at the top of the prison once more, Diavolo traversed through the dips of the vaulted ceiling that now served as the floor. Mammon searched the various bodies that lay clustered across the expanse, making sure not to stray too far from the prince. As they turned over corpses and dug out demons, they both shared the same bittersweet hope that one of them would be Lucifer. Just as long as he was alright… The space wasn’t too large, about the size of one of the castle’s grand ballrooms. However, in this manner, in the aftermath of a battlefield, it seemed endlessly vast. Not to mention, the prison was still working on breaking down his mind, attacking the weakest parts of his psyche and hoping he would turn as mad as the rest of these prisoners. He felt as if he was going in circles… You’re nothing without the people around you. But you could have everything, be the most respected ruler in the Devildom. You could have everything you wanted… if you would just…

“Lucifer!” The name bounced off the walls and snapped Diavolo out of his daze. Mammon grunted as he pushed a few deceased away, taking a set of ankles in his hands and pulling his brother free. “I found him!” Heart filled with sudden relief, Diavolo took a step forward.

A flash in the corner of his eye. A few seconds. A swirl of wind behind him as he scooped Mammon and Lucifer into his arms and managed to drag them a stone’s toss away. That same booming rumble shook them to their core as a line of light scored across where they had just been. Whatever had been caught up in the magic was dissolved. Diavolo raised himself from the ground, tensing his jaw to get rid of the ringing in his ears. Another flash, faster this time. Diavolo cursed as he dove forward once more. A searing pain. The prince gasped a little as the light flashed just above them, grazing the back of his leg. His skin burned, but was still intact. The blast had been weaker this time.

Before another attack, Diavolo wrapped each of his arms around the Sin’s waists, flying up quickly before diving down back to the floor, running, throwing random up random flames and unused bodies in the air with a gust from his wings. After several methods of distraction, Diavolo forced everyone behind the cover of an arch, hunkering down amongst some of the remains of the dead. Hopefully that would buy them some time. “Are you—“ He whispered, turning his head towards Lucifer. A jolt of panic suddenly ran down his spine.

Lucifer looked the worse for wear. It was hard to tell if he was even conscious. Eyelids hardly opened before they twitched shut again. Blood ran from somewhere under his matted black hair and from his nose. Breathing was shallow, little more than a gentle wheeze. One of his beautiful wings was crooked, feathers singed, falling off in bloody clusters. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The front of his body, from his neck down to his waist was… disfigured…defiled…devastated. Clothes that were burned away completely only clung to the back of him from weakened tatters around his shoulders. Skin had fried away, showing lower tissue and filaments of muscle. Although, even now, Lucifer’s body was hard at work trying to put itself right. Flashes of pale magical light sparked under the nerves and through the veins. He was patching himself up as best as he could, even if he was unresponsive. It was a terrible sight, but as much as Diavolo felt like crying, he knew Lucifer would be okay. Pride couldn’t be killed so easily. But this meant he was in a state of vulnerability… He could scarcely move now, much less fight.

They had to get him out of here.

Mammon’s eyes wavered, glistening with tears he refused to spill as he held onto his brother’s shoulders. “Hey… get up, won’t ya?” His voice cracked a little too loudly.

The air was sucked from the room again, a hum building up quickly. “Move!” Diavolo demanded, giving Greed a push as he held Lucifer up off the ground with both his arms. They both jolted forward as fast as they could. Once more, magic blazed behind them, a single heartbeat away from sweeping them up into it’s destructive force. A few rapid vibrations rippled through the air. “Keep running!” Four shots in succession. One hit the wall behind them. One nearly hit Mammon’s wings, but missed. One struck Diavolo’s foot. One struck Lucifer’s leg as it jutted out from Diavolo’s hold. It burnt a hole in Lucifer’s clothes and left a mark, but not one nearly as bad as the first time.

They weren’t desperate shots either. Diavolo could tell. They were deliberate, each and every one. Not full misses by any means. They told Diavolo that Mammon could hardly escape the shots and with Lucifer in this state…he was dead weight. Something told the prince that the next blasts wouldn’t be so generous. They had to get out of here.

Running for their next cover, Diavolo tried peering through the darkness. Through the shadows, one particular patch seemed darker than the rest. The hallway. If they got up there, it was a straight shot to the doorway. A straight shot. The fact settled into Diavolo’s stomach with a biting coldness. There would be no cover in that hallway. There wouldn’t be enough time to fly down there and open the door without getting engulfed in the spell of destruction. Not unless Diavolo took it head on. They knew that. The guilt in Diavolo’s soul nearly consumed him. This whole thing…was a clever trap. And he led everyone straight to it.

Humming. Charging. The next blow was building up. This next one would be deadly. Catching Mammon by the back of his jacket, he tugged him into a seating position behind a mound of ash and bone. He handed Lucifer over to his brother.

“What?…” Mammon wondered, a familiar flicker of realization in his eyes. Always cleverer than he let on.

“I’m heading to the door. It’ll take some time to open, so I need you to wait till it’s ready before you and Lucifer escape.” His head craned around the barrier, trying to see if he could tell exactly where the attacker was.

“Just me and Luci?” He gritted his teeth a bit, adjusting his hold on the limp Pride. “No way! He’ll kill me if he finds out I left you alone! You’re the prince!”

“I know.” Diavolo looked up at the swirling darkness of the prison, watching blood drip down the curved inner walls. “If I try to leave on my own, Beleth will kill you two without a second thought. If I let you two leave…” Well, he wasn’t quite sure what the end result would be. Would he die? Would his plans and his kingdom fall to ruin? Would there be outrage? Joy? Who would run the kingdom without royal blood? You’re making a mistake, the temptations of a demon seeped into his brain. Let them die for you and survive. Or, would he win this fight and escape? Was this a test? To see if he was strong enough to be prince? Beleth had always been the paragon of pure strength. Always believed that the powerful were the only ones worthy to rule. And once Diavolo took over, they believed him weak. That the humans were weak. That the angels were weak. And so trying to befriend them was a sign of fragility. If Diavolo could defeat Calamity itself… “I’ll lead this next blast and run to the door. If I’m right, Beleth will charge up another one for me. After that second shot, the door should be open, so take Lucifer and get out of here.”

“But—“

“That’s an order.” Diavolo’s authoritative voice stunned Mammon into silence. There were more words he wanted to say. Things he wanted to share should they be his last message… but he couldn’t think like that. There was always hope to be had, that’s what he always talked about. Countless times had people called him too positive, too naïve. But he had to be optimistic. He had to believe he was strong enough for this. He had to trust he was meant to rule. Time was running out. And so, giving the two brothers one last look, he smiled. “Take care of Lucifer for me,” he uttered, before dashing out from behind the barrier, his eyebrows furrowing, anger filling the base of his throat with fire as he screamed, “Beleth!”

The burst fired, heat instantly evaporating the sweat off his skin just by being close to it. Luckily, Diavolo had adjusted himself enough to the pattern of the signs by now. He dodged it completely, lifting himself up into the air as soon as the magic shot off. The light was blinding, the sound drowning out everything with it's resounding pulse, but the prince soared over everything, his wings tucking in closer to his sides as he shot straight through to the hallway. The magical flames tried to ignite themselves in his presence, but the sheer force of his body wheeling past them snuffed them out.

The door. Just up ahead, the stone slightly outlined through the fog. The magic of whatever twisted the prison didn’t affect it apparently. The walls around him seemed distorted, a twirling tunnel, spinning around his body until the world felt right-side up again. Diavolo landed before the stone door, the click of his feet summoning the pillar from the ground. Slow. It was so slow. Raising dramatically from the floor, each passing second felt like agony. Footsteps echoed far off behind him. His palm on the slab of stone as it reached his waist. The smell of sulfur, the hum and heat so overwhelming, his vision swayed. His wrist restrained like before. No getting out of it now. With a sharp pain, his blood was drained from him. The prison was satisfied with his sacrifice, but Beleth was not. The doors creaked. Escape just mere feet from him. A single ray of moonlight touched his face.

Then that’s when he felt the pain.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me diavolo #tw blood #tw violence #tw burning #tw gore #tainted reflections

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