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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

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2k followers blurb. Can I request a Theo Raeken x fem reader smut. They're dating and he takes her on a date and it ends in smut??

Old Town Road

theo raeken x reader / masterlist / 2k masterlist

summary; based on the request /warnings; fluff, smut, public sex, oral sex (male receiving)

“Full moon tonight.” As you spoke, you bit your lip, revelling your head back into the car seat head rest, as you felt it’s pull on your body. Theo’s amorous contact with your skin was not helping with controlling yourself, you had to squeeze your hands expressively into fists to blatantly refuse the prospect of your claws emerging from where your nails were rooted.

“It seems to be taking quite the toll on you, are you sure you don’t want me to turn around now and take us back home?”

“You only say that because you don’t want to go on a double date with Ethan and Jackson!” You retorted, lifting your thigh as to attempt and rid your skin from his touch, but his hand only travelled higher up, and beneath the end of your skirt.

Theo had quite the composition within your relationship, he had practically been accepted into the pack, however, it did not mean that he enjoyed doing mundane things with the other members. He happened to get along with Jackson and Ethan quite well, but despite that, it did not mean he wanted to spend additional time with them, such as a double date.

Date night had always been reserved between you and him, it was a private sector of his life that he did not want to exploit to any one else’s eyes. During it, he reckoned in similarities with a docile puppy, always seeking approval from you, it wasn’t particularly a sight that he wanted other people to witness.

He knew the fact well; he was whipped. Malia had sneered remarks at him when he had been resurrected from the depths of hell, concerning how his eyes pled with you for forgiveness, and after a while, he had managed to succeed in earning your forgiveness, after time of making amends with your friends that he had done wrong, and helping wherever aid in wolffish muscle had been needed.

“Well...” you knew well enough what that meant, as per usual when your boyfriend was concerned, you were right. An eye roll exhibited from you, as you scoffed all to knowingly, crossing your arms as you tapped your foot, sliding his hand from your thigh, slowly turning to him with a look of empowerment.

“That’s not good enough Raeken; I’ll tell you what, if you can get through this one date, we don’t have to have an encore, and I’ll let you pick desert.” It was a fair exchange, being inclusive of euphemisms and options that were certain to intrigue the chimera.

“I don’t even like deser- oh.” He promptly nodded, licking his lips as he imagined you sprawled beneath him, profusely apologising for dragging him out on a double date, before he gagged you with his cock, sliding the length into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat.

“I’m assuming we have a deal, since you’re still heading in the direction of the diner and it is now about five minutes away.” A smug expression formed upon your face, and slyly, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Theo smirked. He would wipe that cockiness off of you, replacing it with an apparition of sinful submission.

The truck pulled up, Theo parked the vehicle in a secluded spot, beside to a Porsche, that was far too recognisable, it was practically a statement piece when it came to the werewolf kanima mix. Exiting the midnight blue pickup, the two of you walked, you in front, as a particular antsy, get moody man trailed after you.

The diner was no unmet environment to the pair of you, in fact, for a first date when he had first arrived into your life during senior year, you had told him about this place, and thus, the pair of you had ventured there, to Stiles’ dismay.

Ethan stood, waving the two of you over to the table that they had opted to save, the pair of you slid in the booth across from them. The two males could practically smell the reluctance that was rolling off from Theo’s pores, it was pungent, gravitating a tension to fill the room.

To draw attention away from it, you plucked a menu into your hands, scanning the list of available options. Your tongue swiped over your top lip as you speculated what you were keen to digest, and then your eyes landed on the most appealing substance they had to offer. As you stared up at the boys, you noticed they were on their phones.

Boys. And they called themselves men, yeah, they still all acted like they were still in high school, and you could vouch for your behaviour back then. “So what are you guys ordering?”

“Get in the car.” Your boyfriend growled, having suffered through an hour of the pack members’ company, watching as you laughed with your old friends, and denied him of the one thing that you were aware he wanted all too well. He had been patient, but he could no longer wait, he needed you, and that was sufficed enough.

Ethan and Jackson had already driven away, leaving the car park half empty. “Technically, to put it in correct terms, it’s a truck.” You corrected him, earning an earnest growl out of your partner, whom caught your hand before you could reach for the door handle.

“The back.” He lowly spoke, watching with eager eyes as you pulled the door he had hinted at open, climbing into the backseat, him following closely behind, shutting the side of the vehicle, as he quickly began unbuckling his trousers. In turn, you tossed your shirt over your head, licking your lips as you moved closer.

“Poor Theodore, having to wait for what he wants. Not fair, is it?” Mocking him, you pouted at him, though you quickly stopped as he reached his left hand behind your head, grasping a handful of your hair in his fist, the action coercing your eyes into flashing its animalistic ambience.

“Put your mouth to better use baby girl, otherwise we’ll sit here in this parking lot all night.” It was a foreseen threat, he was far too aware of coursework for your online college that you had to finish, and you had no time to waste sitting around in the back of a truck.

You steadily blinked as you considered your options, lulling in the idea that if you did this one deed for him, you’d be off the leash for an hour to get as much work done as possible, that would be until he dragged you to bed, ravaging your body until you couldn’t comprehend sentences to type in due constables for your course.

He finished undoing his pants, reaching his hand into the depths of his boxers, and extracting his length, and you could feel yourself give in, as your mouth watered. You hummed as he dipped your head down with his grip, moving you closer to his growing cock.

Opening your mouth, you allowed him to enter, pushing down along his length, hollowing your cheeks, as he moved you down, moaning around the taste of his intimate skin. “Come on, put more effort into it.” He growled, and you could feel his claws itching the back of your scalp, egging you on further.

Theo thrust his head back against the seat, as you bobbed your head, wriggling your hand beneath your chest that was flush against the seat, to cup his balls, stroking them softly to aid to succumb him to pleasure. Your tongue swirled around his tip as your head came back up, pleasuring him serving as a great distraction to the work and pack business that bothered your life.

“Shit.” The chimera swore, bucking his tough hips up to descend his cock further into your mouth. “Gonna cum baby girl, open your mouth.” He pulled you off, just above his tip as he stroked his hardness, his cum shooting up into your mouth, and you shut your mouth to catch as much as you could, the rest landing on your chin.

Some spilt back down his cock, as you ducked your head once more, using your tongue to mop up his mess. You licked his spilt cum, swallowing it as it raced toward your tonsils. “I love you T.” You leant up, kissing him, and he huffed as he tasted himself upon your lips.

“Love you too darling, how about we go home?” He asked, pressing another kiss on your lips, as he lazily grabbed his cock, and tucked himself back into his clothes. “I can show you what I really want to do to you.”

“I don’t mind the sound of that.” You admitted, stroking his jawline, before you crawled over the centre console, and climbed into the passenger seat.

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hieromonkcharbel · 2 years ago

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How tedious to me are the counsels of human leaders and wise men–oh how tedious they seem to me–ever since Your wisdom caused my heart and mind to tremble, Holy God.

Those whom the dark desires of the heart are dragging into the abyss do not believe in Your light. There are no obstacles for a stone while it is rolling down a hill. The higher the steep slope and the deeper the abyss — the swifter and more unrestrained is the rolling of the stone.

One dark desire lures another with its success; and that one hires yet another, until all that is good in a person withers, and all that is evil gushes out in a torrential flood–until, along with everything else, all that the Holy Spirit has built is washed away, both inside and out;

Until the scorners of the light begin to scorn themselves and their teachers;

Until the sweetest sweets begin to choke them with their stench; Until all the material goods, for which they killed neighbours and razed cities, begin to mock their monstrosity.

Then they stealthily lift their eyes toward heaven, and through the dung of their profaned and putrid existence, they cry out: “Holy God!”

How it irritates me like a burning arrow to hear men boasting of their power, ever since I came to know of Your powerful hand, Holy Mighty!

They build towers of stone and say: “We are better builders than your God.” But I ask them: “Did you, or your fathers, build the stars?”

They discover light inside the earth, and boast: “We know more than your God.” But I ask them: “Who buried the light beneath the earth for you to discover?”

They fly through the air and arrogantly say: “By ourselves we have created wings for ourselves, where is your God?” But I ask them: “Who gave you the idea of wings and flying if not the birds, which you did not create?”

Yet see what happens when You open their eyes to their own frailty! When irrational creatures show them their monstrous power; when their mind becomes filled with wonder at the starry towers, that stand in space without pillars or foundations; when their heart becomes filled with fear of their own frailty and insanity–then, in shame and humility, they stretch out their arms toward You and cry: “Holy Mighty!”

How it saddens me to see people overrating this life, ever since I tasted the sweetness of Your immortality, Holy Immortal!

The shortsighted see only this life, and say: “This is the only life there is, and we shall make it immortal by means of our deeds among men.” But I tell them: “If your beginning is like a river, then it must have a source; if it is like a tree, it must have its root, if it is like a beam of light, it must come from some sun.” And again I tell them: “So, you intend to establish your immortality among mortals? Try starting a fire in water!”

But when they look death in the face, they are left speechless, and torment seizes their heart. When they smell the flesh of their dead brides; when they leave the empty faces of their friends in the grave; when they place their hands on their sons’ chests that have grown cold; when they realize that even kings are not able to buy off death with their crowns, nor heroes with their mighty deeds, nor wise men with their wisdom–then they feel the icy wind of death breathing down their necks too, and they fall down on their knees and bow their heads over their toppled pride, and pray to You: “Holy Immortal, have mercy on us!”

~St Nikolai Velimirovic

Prayers by the Lake

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cienie-isengardu · 4 years ago

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axelzp replied to “The Bad Batch”:

I think most people take issue with Omega and TBB due to concerns over whitewashing. Also, what do you have against the explanation of the biochips? Personally, I always thought it fit Palpatine's controlling nature better than the idea of clones just getting a command from some random guy in a hood, telling them to kill the Jedi.

First off, I apologize it took me so long to answer. I tried to explain my reasoning in a short and coherent way as possible, but apparently the years of frustration about this issue needed more space to be properly addressed. So, in advance, sorry for text length.

From all TCW changes done to star wars, the chip-in-brain is one of my top 3 reasons to dislike the whole TV show, despite many of its good moments. I understand why authors chose this sub-plot that allows them to separate the visibly individual "good" clones (thus making them more likeable for the audience / marketing) from the “bad” that kill the Jedi but frankly, I find it a cheap and kinda problematic excuse. Clones were victims regardless of which version people will accept but I really despite the idea that Jedi were their beloved generals and commanders - so beloved that clones actually had nightmares about killing them waaay before Palpatine ultimately won which undermines the whole point of Order 66.

Jedi could never expect clones to shoot them in the back because they were used to their unquestioned obedience from the start of war. It was common knowledge, repeatedly mentioned in sources like “Jedi Trial” that clones were “bred to war, bred to discipline, bred to obey without question the orders of the powers that paid for their services”. Clones were made that way by genetic manipulations and years of intensive training; an indoctrination that makes clone troopers believe they have obey, no matter what cost.

Some sources, like Clone Wars Adventures’ “Orders” outright show us the mindset of clones:

and We’ve got nothing but each other ad our orders.

Because of that worldbuilding, I prefer Legends take on clone obedience and the Jedi approach to the problem than what TCW created. I talked about it more here, but the general sense is that I feel cheated by the idea of chips that turn people into some “programmed” machines because in such way, TCW erased the Jedi & Republic part in abuse & enslavement of clone troopers, while at the same time giving an unrealistic idea that Jedi were so liked / respected when most of clones did not have any special bond with them. And this is less about if Jedi were good military leaders or not and more that as generals/commanders they didn’t interact that much with common troopers. Because the chain of command doesn’t work like that. I’m willing to buy the close(r) bond between Anakin & 501st because frankly Darth Vader himself from the start was built as someone with better relationships with common troopers / “normal” officers than with most of the high ranking officers presented on screen. I’m pretty sure some other Jedi were caring and liking clones (and vice versa) but it is impossible for generals to know and be so close to all of their troopers.

Above everything else, Legends created an interesting situation in which the Jedi Council / Order knew clones would follow orders no matter if those were right or not and were aware how dangerous it could be yet they still didn’t do anything about it, because the obedience of clones were beneficial for them. Jedi not only took for granted their obedience, they mistook it for respect.

Which really speaks a lot about Jedi's own moral failing and/or lack of understanding the difference between those two terms.

In the Legends sources, there was no need for chips, really, when from the start Kaminoans tinkered with clone genome, created the effective system of “proper” education to mold clones into obedient soldiers and Republic wasn’t really interested to undo the damage done by such indoctrination.

Before TCW brought the chips and “nightmares haunting clones” there were officially established Contingency Orders for the Grand Army of the Republic: Order Initiation, Orders 1 Through 150. A guideline for unexpected and/or critical situations, so the Great Army of Republic [GAR] would know how to proceed - especially when troopers were given contradictory orders. The orders (also known as Clone Protocols) weren’t secret and there is a big chance that Jedi knew it, if someone bothered to learn the manual. The whole formula of Order 66 was described as:

"In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander (Chancellor), GAR commanders will remove those officers by lethal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander (Chancellor) until a new command structure is established."

And here how the scene played in the RotS novelisation:

That concealed compartment held a secure comlink, which was frequency-locked to a channel reserved for the commander in chief.

Kenobi nodded and spoke to his mount, and the great beast overleapt the clone commander on its way down into the battle.

Cody withdrew the comlink from his armor and triggered it.

A holoscan appeared on the palm of his gauntlet: a hooded man.

"It is time," the holoscan said. "Execute Order Sixty-Six."

Cody responded as he had been trained since before he'd even awakened in his creche-school. "It will be done, my lord."

The holoscan vanished. Cody stuck the comlink back into its concealed recess and frowned down toward where Kenobi rode his dragonmount into selflessly heroic battle.

Cody was a clone. He would execute the order faithfully, without hesitation or regret. But he was also human enough to mutter glumly, "Would it have been too much to ask for the order to have come through before I gave him back the bloody lightsaber. . . ?"

The order is given once. Its wave-front spreads to clone commanders on Kashyyyk and Felucia, Mygeeto and Tellanroaeg and every battlefront, every military installation, every hospital and rehab center and spaceport cantina in the galaxy.

So there is really no “random hooded guy” calling clones to kill Jedi but Chancellor himself using an appropriately secured military channel with confirmation of his identity to issue a legal order in a critical situation (an opportunity created by the Jedi Council themselves who went into the Senate building to kill Palpatine). So why the clones shouldn’t listen, when the order came directly from the Supreme Commander of the Great Army of the Republic?

Of course, the movie (and novel based on it) alone has this weird addition like “yes my Lord'', what I personally consider as the cinematic way to show the switch from Chancellor Palpatine to Emperor Darth Sidious. Still, I’m willing to give some benefit of doubt about the modification made by Kaminoans and if Order 66 could trigger anything hidden in clone subconscious. But even if there was something, it didn’t erase their personalities or changed the way clones behaved like it happened in The Clone Wars and The Bad Batch.

One way or another, the Order 66 worked out because clones “have no malice, no hatred, not the slightest ill intent that might give warning. They are only following orders”. Which I guess comes down to how clone troopers were presented - or maybe rather how they were seen by other characters in the Legends. As more detached, combat pragmatic, toned down, to some degree isolated from the outside world, less individual. Regardless of what Jedi or Republic citizens thought about clones, it did not make them any less human beings.

And here comes the paradox of The Clone Wars. The TV show made great effort to humanize clones by presenting them as very individual, outstanding people which in itself is a great thing. The names, the tattos, the different paintings of armours, visible variety of behaviour. All great to make the audience see clones as human beings, to get emotionally invested into them, because the more likeable clones were the better for marketing the story (and the cynical part of me thinks it really comes down to making money, isn’t it?)

But this effort became also the trap and the inhibitor chips is the excuse to make such loved, caring and brave characters into the detached clones gunning down the Jedi in Revenge of the Sith.

The things that irks me a lot about this situation is the feeling like fans started care for clones because they were made into different type of characters than what they were (similar like Anakin’s movie characterization was thrown out of the window, to make him more suitable for fans who wanted the badass typical male hero instead of introverted, conflicted and traumatized young man). The clones get the visible individuality to make them the heroes we should root for, but then there is the “magical” switch that will cut down their heroic deeds because now they are “bad” and stormtroopers can’t have any personality. Which is just… frustrating.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore how clone troopers get more visible individuality (even if sometimes if felt too exaggerated), but the “not standing out from the group” was something that kept clones alive on Kamino and I can see why it was used as coping mechanism (the safe option) during the war. I regret that The Clone Wars didn’t show the transition from AotC nameless troopers into such individuals and how much it happened thanks to Jedi, what may help to build the feeling of supposed strong bond between Jedi and troopers. Because frankly, when we met TCW!clones, they already have names, different colors and marks on armor plates and helmets and for all we know, they could create their own “culture” without Jedi influence.

The final part of why I hate the chip-in-brain sub-plot is how it changed clones. Because even if that was a means to force clones into killing Jedi & ensure that Order 66 will be carried on no matter what, it shouldn’t change them into bullies toward their own brothers. But now in The Bad Batch, the clones don’t speak between themselves, are aggressive toward others and generally act like assholes for no real reason. And yeah, I get this may be a cinematic metaphor for a change from “good” republic soldiers into “bad” imperial stormtroopers and most likely something along the way “Republic/Jedi gave you individuality, Empire takes that away” but frankly, Republic did not give anything to clones. It did not acknowledge their human right, didn’t have any plan for their future, didn’t pay for their service or more expensive medical treatment for that matter, did not teach them they could - should - make their own choices.

Now clones are cheering for the Empire because inhibitor chips! They are assholes, because inhibitor chips! They shoot their *beloved* Jedi generals because of the chips!

And in a way, I get this resolution, the chips make it clear clones were victims. But even without them, they were victims from the start. Except now clones are “programmed” while in Legends the senate (a power paying for their life) officially and legally renamed Republic into Empire and clones were glad for still having a purpose in life. The war ended (thus their usefulness), but they were still needed - still wanted - instead of being put down or closed at Kamino or whatever. I can see why the uncertainty of the future made clones cheering up for the Empire. And frankly, I personally prefer them not caring for the political change (because why should they? It never was their job to *judge* the rightness of their superiors) instead of being “programmed” like some droids and playing the role of fodder to kill for the “good guys”.

Dunno, if I explained properly my issue with inhibitor chips, it just feels to me as not really convincing and a too risky concept in the bigger picture of the things and the fact that Jedi just like that ignored this suspicion matter of Tup and Fives and biochips doesn’t help either. Like I said, I understand why the chips were introduced to the story, as the excuse in the change of clone troopers’ behaviour but at the end of day, Legends worldbuilding will always make more sense to me. I don’t need overly done differentiation of clones to care for them as an individual human beings (and it kinda seems to me like that, clones suddenly became fan favorite when every looks or act differently but not when the AotC literally presented them as an army created to blindly obey Jedi/Republic) and I don’t blame them for sticking with Empire because what better option they had, considering their upbringing and the pathological system in which they lived all their life?

Dunno, I’m biased and may just have allergy to TCW in general.

As for Omega, I’m not really surprised about this concern, especially after seeing TBB’s version of padawan Kanan (that if not for A) some basic knowledge about his backstory and B) Depa Billaba calling him by name, I would probably never have figured out who he was supposed to be). But for Omega alone, I don’t mind her look, because I’m used to Legends!Jango’s biological family in which his mother and sister were both blond haired women and frankly, some “defective” clones (including Rex?) apparently could be blond too, so it seems like Jango’s genome has a recessive gene somewhere for that color of hair. I try to hold my judgment about Omega and her appearance until the full backstory will be revealed because there is still a chance that Fett’s DNA was mixed with someone else's (still I hope Omega is not force sensitive…). I mean, Hunter has heightened senses while Wrecker has almost supernatural strength and both traits seem to be not really human, so who knows what Kaminoans really did with them.

I understand people’s emotional response to Disney’s approach to characters and their visual look, especially since it isn’t the first screw up in New Canon (the models for characters in general and New Mandalorians especially). I’m totally okay with people’s criticism of that matter and demanding from Disney more diversity and respecting the already established ethnicity of certain groups. I’m aware I may not be sensitive enough to that matter as some other people (even more with barely watching TV shows to have any current and up-to-date comparison to trends in cartoons) and I’m pretty sure more qualified / invested fans already wrote or will be writing soon great metas about that. But the thing that irks me is hearing people saying that Omega *can’t* be Jango’s clone - I don’t like this sort of exclusion based on someone’s look alone. She may not look like Fett or other (male) clones but it is not something Omega chose for herself and does not erase her connection to the rest of the Bad Batch. Being angry at Disney/creators for her look is a different matter I don’t have any problem with.

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greatqueenanna · 4 years ago

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Delving deeper into Agnarr and Iduna's story.

Ever since I wrote the first part of this analysis, I’ve gotten a pretty positive response for it - most fans recognize that, while reckless, the choice of separating and isolating the girls was the only choice Agnarr and Iduna had with this unique situation. Tragic in every way, but necessary.

However, one of the things that are still being discussed to this day is whether or not Frozen 2 addressed the separation and isolation properly - that is, if the more subtle approach and scattering it across multiple installments was enough to really delve into the complexity of the separation and the trauma the girls faced.

The main content that addresses this element was Frozen 2 (obviously), Forest of Shadows, Dangerous Secrets, and True Treasure. Given that not everyone has access to or is not aware of a lot of the side books, it makes it difficult for everyone to get the full story. Because of this, I want to explore the full story of Agnarr and Iduna and go over how each of these installments, including the film itself, addressed the separation.

Part 1: Frozen 2

While Frozen 2 left out a lot of complexities when it came to the separation, there were indeed two scenes in particular that really delved into this element - particularly for Elsa.

When the sisters find the ship is the first of these scenes. Here is where Anna and Elsa witness what their parents were willing to do in order to give Elsa a better life.

"Ahtohallan is the source of the magic - We keep going. For Elsa..."

Here, we clearly see that while it wasn't directly stated, Iduna and Agnarr realized that the separation wasn't working and that they were willing to fight the storm if it meant that they could fix their mistakes.

Elsa: This is my fault, they were looking for answers about me.

Anna: You are not responsible for their choices -

Elsa: No, just their deaths.

Anna: Stop. No. Yelana asks why would the spirit reward Arendelle with a magical queen? Because our mother saved our father. She saved her enemy. Her good deed was rewarded - With you - You are a gift.

In this conversation, we see Elsa recognizing that her parents wanted to find answers for her in order to give her a better life. Thank goodness Anna is there to redirect the conversation and explain that they made this choice on their own and that Elsa is not to blame for it. She then helps explain to Elsa that she is a gift, not a bad omen that caused misery to others.

It is through this scene that Elsa (and Anna) see that their parents wanted to try and find answers, to give them a better life. This is the sisters witnessing the parents agree that their situation needed to change and that their choices were not working.

The second scene that explores this is Show Yourself. This entire scene is Elsa finally realizing that she is allowed to be herself.

Throughout Elsa's childhood, the parents thought that Elsa should hide her emotions with her gloves in order to conceal the magic (due to their own traumas that we will explore more in part 2). Elsa felt that she wasn't allowed to be herself as it would lead to someone being hurt.

In this scene, Iduna confirms to Elsa that she is indeed allowed to be herself, directly contradicting and going against whatever fears they themselves gave her or what Elsa may have instilled into herself during the separation.

"Show Yourself. Step into your power. Grow yourself into something new. You are the one you've been waiting for all of your life."

Here we see Iduna letting Elsa know that she can be herself, and no longer needs to apologize for her powers. This leads to Elsa's full self-fulfillment because not only does she have the love of her sister and the respect from her people, but also the approval from her parents that she is ok.

Part 2: Dangerous Secrets

In this novel, we get more explanation as to why Iduna and Agnarr thought that giving Elsa the gloves to conceal her emotions was an acceptable plan. In my original post, I argued that Agnarr never intended for Elsa to hide her emotions. However, this was proven to be false in Dangerous Secrets, as we are given the origin of this mantra.

Agnarr was taught this from Lord Peterssen, his father's advisor. Because the young boy was scared to be King at such a young age and thought that his emotions would be a weakness, Petersen told him that he needs to "Conceal, don't feel" in order to appear stronger. Given that this was the only way he was taught to deal with emotions, both from this man that acted as a guardian to him and his own father, Aganrr thought that it was appropriate to teach Elsa as well.

Iduna was taught the same thing from Peterssen, but for a different reason. As Iduna was Northuldra, she had to hide her true self from the Arendellians in order to stay safe - something that was further pushed by Petersen when she wanted to tell Aganrr the truth of her origins before their marriage.

Later on, we see Iduna especially, given how she relates to hiding her true heritage to Elsa's struggles, realizes how wrong this thought process was.

"Since then (the accident), Agnarr had tried to help her (Elsa) do just that - control her emotions, control her magic(....)It hadn't worked, In fact, things had only gotten worse. "

I cringed at the idea of the coming explosion, which at this point seemed unavoidable. It could be devastating not only to her, but perhaps to the entire kingdom. That was why we had her here, tucked away, I tried to remind myself. But all the rationality in the world couldn't quash the guilt. The kind of thing villains did in the storybooks - not heroes."

"My whole life I was told to hide," I said after a pause. "I don't want Elsa to have to grow up doing the same."

We also see Iduna telling Elsa directly that hiding her emotions was not a good way to control her magic, and would only make her feel worse.

"I know that's what your father has told you," I said, slowly. "And maybe it does help, for a time. But squashing down your emotions can only work for so long. Before you feel like a powder keg. Ready to explode."

Iduna later confronts Aganrr about this, convincing him that they needed to find a better solution. Agnarr agrees, setting the expedition himself to Ahtohallan.

Part 3: Forest of Shadows

Many people put forward that Anna's trauma from the separation was not addressed. Frozen 2 focused more on Anna's dependency on her loved ones for validation. She had to lose everything in order to depend on herself. It was written very well, but there was still an element that seemed missing from Anna's development - Anna's feelings of low self-worth that stemmed from the separation. This is where Forest of Shadows comes in.

While I feel that Anna did not need the validation from her parents as much as Elsa did, given that her relationship with her parents was not as strained, it would still be nice if the story acknowledged where these feelings came from in the first place.

This book covers Anna's feelings about herself, and whether or not she can be trusted with important information and tasks. The book has Anna directly relate this fear to her parents hiding Elsa's powers from her.

"Something scraped in Anna, like a rough crumb caught in her throat. Because...well, her family's burdens and secrets hadn't been for everyone. Or at least, they hadn't been for Anna. Her father had let a mountain troll bundle away Anna's memories of Elsa's ice magic, and he, her mother, and Elsa had all worked together to keep it a secret from Anna."

This is important because it shows that Anna realizes the root of her feelings of inadequacy comes from - not from anything she herself has done but from how her family chose to approach the situation.

Throughout the story, Anna struggles with the idea if she is capable of handling important and serious situations. Anna finally gets her answer when she sees that Elsa was planning on leaving Anna in Arendelle while she went on a grand tour. Anna wanted to go with Elsa but felt that she didn't want her to go because she didn't feel Anna was capable enough. However, we come to find out that this is not true.

"I, Elsa, Queen of Arendelle, do hereby proclaim my sister, Anna of Arendelle, Keeper of the Kingdom while I sail on the grand tour. She is kind, thoughtful, and loves Arendelle with the whole of her heart. There is none better than her to watch over the kingdom while I am away."

Anna realizes that the only person that felt she was incapable was herself, not Elsa or anyone.

Of course, this is nice but wouldn't it have been wonderful for Anna to hear it from her parents as well? I agree, and this is one of the many reasons why Anna fans were upset that this deleted scene was removed. While the feelings of the parents in this scene were made canon by Dangerous Secrets, Anna still never got to hear it directly from them.

We can have some comfort, however, in the next part.

Part 4: True Treasure

Psst, you all can read the full story here. After you read, please support the writer and artist by purchasing the comic when you are able to.

True Treasure is unique in that it is a comic book that explores the sister's relationship with Iduna during the separation years. The sisters later find out that Iduna had set up a treasure hunt for them, and the girls use their memories of different events to discover the prize.

However, what is especially amazing about this book, is that it has Iduna (and Agnarr) directly apologizing to the sisters for separating them.

Later, Elsa and Anna say that they are ready to move forward and make their own futures together.

Conclusion

Thus, from all these sources, we see that the separation and the trauma it caused to the sisters were indeed addressed. Given that it was done in multiple installments, it might be difficult for everyone to see the full story. So, I wanted to provide it all for you here, so we all can know the parent's full story.

Iduna and Agnarr were taught their whole lives that they needed to conceal their emotions and true selves in order to stay safe or appear stronger. Wanting to keep both their daughters safe, and Arendelle, they thought that separating the girls and isolating Elsa would be the best choice. This was never meant to be permanent, as they both wanted their daughters to be together again. While Agnarr worked directly with Elsa to help with her magic, Iduna worked behind the scenes doing expensive research.

As the years went by, Iduna started to feel incredibly guilty about the separation and confronted Agnarr about it, who had actually come to feel the same way. They both realized that what they were taught and teaching Elsa was wrong, and the only thing it did was make Elsa's fear that she already had even worse. After creating the Treasure Hunt in hopes that the girls would be together again, the parents went to Ahtohallan to find answers for Elsa's magic, and finally, end the curse of fear that was plaguing their family.

Unfortunately, they were never able to see their daughters together again. Agnarr and Iduna are very tragic figures and knowing everything that happened only gives their story more meaning.

#greatqueenanna/analysis #Agnarr #Iduna #Agduna #pro-agduna #Frozen #Frozen 2 #Frozen 2: Dangerous Secrets #Frozen 2: Forest of Shadows #Frozen: True Treasure

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k7l4d4 · 4 years ago

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A Miraculous Manifesto: A list of my thoughts on Miraculous Ladybug

Hello ladies, gentlemen, and germs of all ages! Everybody clap your hands! Today, I am going to talk about a show that I very much enjoy, but also drives me up a wall: Miraculous Ladybug!

If you don’t know the show, feel free to ignore this, this is mostly to get my head together and my thoughts posted down. It’s basically just a collection of my opinions on topics within the Miraculous Fandom and show.

First off, and it’s a doozy, Chloe Bourgeois. For those not in the know, Chloe is one of the singularly most bitter, mean, and utterly selfish characters ever invented. But, she isn’t a one-note hate sink. Chloe’s mother, who is an even BIGGER bitch than Chloe herself is, abandoned her to focus on the fame and adulation her career in the fashion industry afforded her, never remembering her Birthday and often not even bothering to remember her NAME. Ouch! Chloe’s father, Andre, while not without his faults, being a formerly corrupt, and still kind of shady, politician and all, but he deeply loves his daughter. Unfortunately, Andre is by all accounts and absentee parent, relegating Chloe’s rearing to Nannies, Butlers, and the like, and burying her in presents and gifts to avoid actually parenting and teaching Chloe. All in all, a bad combination.

By all accounts, Chloe was originally a very sweet and kind hearted girl, reaching out and befriending the lonely son of the Agreste family, Adrien. However, her loneliness, her dad’s spoiling behavior, and her pining for her mother combined to turn Chloe into a monster. Chloe, as she currently is, has a massively egotistical and selfish demeanor, and has no real friends, lashing out in the cruelest and most spiteful ways for the pettiest of reasons, or just for laughs. The closest thing she has to a friend is the socially awkward and unwaveringly loyal Sabrina, who often serves as her lackey, and is regarded as such as even her family’s staff don’t believe she has friends. Again, Ouch.

When given the chance to be a superhero as Queen Bee, a role which even Marinette, Ladybug herself, thought might help her change, we saw more signs that there is more to Chloe than just a dumb bully. Despite what people might think, Chloe actually is capable of feeling remorse for her actions, and her deepest desire underneath all the hate and bile is too be useful. To not just be another burden.

Unfortunately, show creator Thomas Astruc sank that idea. Turns out, Chloe is apparently utterly incapable of change and will always remain a self-centered monster. Now, I do NOT condone the fandom that was rooting for Chloe’s behavior against Tommy-boy, as all they did was give him vindication by acting like a pack of rabid jackals going in for the kill. On his official Wiki page for Miraculous, Thomas gives what appears to be a poetic and thoughtful detailing as to his decision and why he is right for it. Honestly? It rings hollow. For all his fancy words and attempts to illustrate Chloe as solely being a toxic, hateful individual without redemptive qualities, his reasoning, as well as his apparent intent from the start to have Chloe becoming a SuperHero to be a fake-out, comes across as crass and tacky.

Thomas perpetually portrays Chloe as being a bitter and spiteful shrew, with any kind deed she does having a duplicitous motive, that she is utterly incapable of showing genuine kindness and remorse as she is, and that is the way she always will be, but the thing is? When you give a character a sympathetic backstory and motive for how and why the way they are, you should expect people to sympathize and relate to that character, as well as acknowledge the you are opening them up to the possibility to change for the better. These are all things Thomas denies ruthlessly. In his narrative, Chloe can never be good, and all her pain has only served to ruin her, nothing more.

One of his arguments to justify this? Supervillains don’t sell toys. To explain, while a tragic backstory might make kids and folks sympathize for a villain, they still won’t consider them good or support them. That is true, of course. But the biggest flaw in his logic? Supervillains are just as capable of changing, becoming better than what they are, just like EVERYONE is. Villains can become heroes, it’s true! Not without trials and tribulation, of course, but they can be more than the label society gives them. Thomas has refused to even entertain the possibility that Chloe can ever be more than what he dictates she can be. In his narrative, people who have done bad things can never attempt to redeem themselves.

Chloe’s a baddy. Case closed. Thomas has repeatedly pointed to moments in the show that “illustrate” that Chloe is beyond redemption, that she can never grow beyond her faults, but the things is? He’s the creator, one of them, and a writer for the show. He has the POWER to CHANGE that narrative, to have things happen that force Chloe to grow and become a decent, if he can’t bring himself to make her good, and make amends, even if others don’t accept it.

Thomas likes to draw comparisons to abusive relationships when it comes to Chloe, but when you look at the show? It doesn’t actually hold water. The only people she has any kind of relationship with that isn’t straight up antagonism are Adrien, Sabrina, Audrey, and Andre. While it could be argued that Chloe is abusive towards Sabrina, and the dynamic they have is NOT healthy, I wouldn’t call it abusive. Chloe in no way forces Sabrina to do all that Sabrina does for her, even if she is barking orders, and Sabrina is cognizant of the fact that they do not have a standard friendship, enough so that even Chloe’s family’s employees don’t actually view Sabrina as actually being Chloe’s friend. Chloe might be harsh with Sabrina when they are on the outs, but she is never shown forcing Sabrina into anything, and Sabrina is often the only person besides Adrien or herself that Chloe shows compassion towards, particularly as Sabrina is one of the few people completely aware of Chloe’s childish and geeky side and accepts it utterly; at the worst interpretation, Sabrina is Chloe’s ENABLER, not her victim.

For Audrey and Andre’s relationship with Chloe, it is definitely toxic, but, if anything, Chloe is the one being abused! Audrey frequently belittles and ridicules Chloe, forgets her name, HER OWN DAUGHTER’S NAME, abandoned her when she was too little to truly take care of herself or have proper knowledge of right from wrong, and generally treats her like a particularly incompetent employee, when all Chloe wants from Audrey is her affection, her approval, and her love. Andre isn’t really bad with Chloe, but he’s neglected to be a parent to her, showering her with gifts to avoid having to actually be there for her when she needed him for all those years, which probably didn’t do any favors for how maladjusted she is.

Adrien frequently makes excuses for Chloe, apologizing on her behalf, and only occasionally standing up to her when she acts up. But Chloe isn’t abusing him, emotionally or mentally, as Adrien could be considered Chloe’s sole true friend; whenever Adrien scolds or gets upset with Chloe, Chloe backs down and off, and on the few times Adrien has threatened to stop being friends with her, Chloe has nearly broken. The only real thing keeping Adrien in Chloe’s life is the fact that she was his first friend, and he is her only friend aside from Sabrina. Chloe has no leverage to be abusing Adrien, or anything to use to keep them in each other’s lives; Adrien is friends with her by choice. Nothing else.

The worst part of it all? Chloe never got a chance. Thomas denied Chloe the possibility of growth, and will most likely keep denying it to her. So, I say we mourn. We mourn the loss of what will never come to pass, because one guy with a TV Show said so.

#miraculous ladybug #character study #chloe bourgeois #andre bourgeois #audrey bourgeois #sabrina #sabrina raincomprix #adrien agreste #feel free to ignore

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spiders-hth-is-an-outlier · 4 years ago

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Honestly the Supernatural ending was fucked all along, because to have a strong ending, a work has to resolve whatever tensions and questions it set up in the opening – not necessarily in an uncomplicated way, but it has to offer a kind of answer to the fundamental story questions.

The premise set up in The Woman in White is: Sam has a good life, Sam is an up-and-coming guy on his way to happiness and success, but Sam's father is not doing well; Sam is angry at his father, who he remembers as, at best, a habitual drunkard who kept Sam's life in chaos and then disowned him. So question number one is, given that Sam is better and happier now that he's no longer entangled with his father, should he revisit any of that? Does he continue to owe his father anything, should he help look for him, should he even care at all that his father might be in trouble? That feels like a clear no, not really, let John solve his own problems – until Jessica dies in the same way Mary did, and that introduces a twist. Has Sam actually misunderstood who his father was? Does John know, has John all along known something that Sam needs to know about his own past, that he can't live his happy life until he understands? The search for John is now about not just “does Sam owe his family anything?” – it's about “does Sam need his family?” And there's a plot resonance, but also a thematic resonance there: do you need your family? Even if your family's pretty fucked up? Does going back to your unhappy childhood serve some necessary function on your road to a successful adulthood? Can you pretend forever that you don't come from the fucked-up place you come from, or do you actually have to go back and understand the truth about who your parents were because the past is never just the past?

So the early seasons are largely about answering that question, through the vehicles of Sam, who would prefer not to admit that his fucked-up past can't really be run away from, and Dean, who would prefer not to admit that there was anything fucked-up about his past at all. Both of them learn and change: Sam begins to understand where he really comes from and why he can't separate himself from the forces that made him, and Dean begins to understand that yeah, actually, he should separate himself a lot more from the forces that made him, that it's foolish to hold up his father as some kind of infallible god, because even God isn't that. All the stories that spin out in the early seasons about Earth as the cosmic battleground for the family strife between Michael and Lucifer are linked to the pilot by that question: is there any escaping the reach of your family and its history? And the show decides, yeah, we have free will, we shouldn't just lie down and die because that's our inheritance. We should change the script. We can be better than our parents were. Better than we were ordered or prophesied to be. And the clear mechanism for all of this is love: Sam falls to Lucifer's influence when he's rejected again (Dean following in John's footsteps), but Sam is able to shake off that demonic control long enough to thwart Lucifer because Dean loves him and accepts him and remains with him when it looks like it's too late to save him (the thing John never did, couldn't do). Dean changes the script by being more able to love Sam unconditionally than John could, and the basic question of the premise is answered: you do have to go back to your family – not to accept or replicate their mistakes, but to do better, to love them better this time. You have to heal from the root. As a viewer, you can accept or reject this resolution; I personally like it, but I'm from that same cultural background, I have a family history that vibes with the things the show is discussing, I'm primed to like and agree with the conclusion. Maybe you're not, and that's okay! The point is, it is a conclusion to something. The show asked questions and then provided answers.

The problem is...the show answered its own questions in 5 seasons, and in such a way that the naturally satisfying conclusion was – literally anything else except more hunting. You can't say the Big Answer is loving and forgiving your family in spite of their flaws, and then also say that what you want to do with your life is The Family Business just as your father practiced it. Once you say that the prescription is to heal at the root, something should change. And it doesn't, really, because the show can't change. It has a formula. It's about hunting. Dean can't give up violence and become a family man, even though that's been clearly established as something he'd be better and happier doing. Sam can't pursue any dreams that weren't the dreams his father had for him, even though that's been clearly established as the thing he's been willing to fight for all along. So if the show isn't going to be over, they both have to actively choose to go against their own self-interest. And season 6 is pretty clever, actually – soulless!Sam is a device that does get them back on the road in a way that makes sense; we know why Sam isn't doing what's right for Sam, and we know that Dean can be convinced to do what's wrong for him in order to save Sam. It tracks. But it can't last, and what takes over pretty soon from there is...inertia, basically. They keep doing this because this is what they do. It doesn't really make them happy. It just feels necessary, because Hunters is what they are; no Hunters retire, in the whole show. They are never allowed. It is not done. They may lapse into more of a part-time gig, but nobody actually leaves the business, because it would be – bad. People would die, we guess? A hero never would, we guess? It's not terribly clear, but the general sense is that it just has to happen this way because this is their story now. This is who they are.

And that's the opposite of what the initial story was about. Now the story about using your free will to transform and redeem the dysfunctions you inherited is a story about two guys just working in the family business while they die inside of loneliness and PTSD. There's no story question in the later seasons; there's just stimulus and response. Oops, Leviathans. Oops, Mark of Cain. Oops, Amara. Oops, Lucifer and Lucifer and more Lucifer. Oops, Michael again. We better deal with that, I guess. Some of the storylines are okay in later seasons; some individual episodes are fantastic. But the whole thing is mired in the fact that there can't be forward momentum in the story because there are opponents and antagonists galore, but there's no internal engine to the story, no fundamental problem to conquer or question to resolve. From outside the story, we can sit here and say, Hey, it's a problem for me that these dudes are fucking miserable, I'd like them to work on resolving that! But within the story, they're never allowed to admit that is a problem. Because it's an adventure show about brave guys doing good deeds, and it's undermined at the most basic level if we come out and admit that what would make these dudes less miserable is no more fucking adventures, no more martyring themselves to do good deeds, no more hunting at all.

When the show came to an end, it was epically fucked, because it had nothing to resolve. And to give the show credit, it did try to do something interesting that would refer back to and provide a commentary on the whole show – this meta business about “have we all been God's favorite tv show all along?” There's something there; it reminds me of the CS Lewis quote about how he never worried that God didn't exist, but he did often fear that God was actually a vivisectionist. What if the reason this show has been churning along in place forever in spite of the characters' vivid and unchanging dissatisfaction with their life is that some other force wanted them to keep going on adventures? Maybe it's God, who's a writer (that's ground we've gone over before), but not just a writer – he's his only fan, his only audience. He's the Fandom. He's the Audience. He's us. Sam and Dean have been on this hamster wheel of labor and loss with no endpoint in sight because that's what we tune in to see; if they both quit, we change the channel. We're the ones who demand they Always Keep Fighting, who call them heroes for suffering through this endless parade of baddies and funerals. I mean, that's pretty good, as a way to retcon the complete pointlessness of the last ten years! The point is: it was fun to watch. We liked the characters and the episodes and we wanted them to keep doing that for our entertainment, even though we knew it wasn't any fun for them. It's basically the network tv version of Cabin In the Woods, and there's a – I would say mildly interesting question to raise there about what's drama, what's catharsis, what do we get out of stories about other people's suffering and other people's heroism? In my opinion it's a mildly interesting route to open up, although I don't know that there's enough meat on the bone to really make it pay off. An effort was clearly made, though!

But to follow that through to its conclusion, you'd have to answer it, and the way it's set up, there is no satisfying answer possible from inside the universe. We can answer what we get out of stories, perhaps. But why would that be of any interest or comfort to the people in the stories? Their story can't resolve for Sam and Dean if we learn it was actually a story about us the whole time.

So what do you do to end that story? Well, you're a little bit stuck. You can have them resign or get free somehow, sure, and the show does that. But what then? You have two choices, really: either we loop back to s6 and they keep being hunters because It's a Show About Two Hunters – only this time they have True Free Will so you have to assert that they're really freely choosing it, and you have to somehow justify that they would really freely choose to keep doing this thing that's never made them happy, which is depressing as shit – or you have them quit and go pursue their own lives and their own desires – which pretty much goes ahead and admits that the last ten seasons have been us the audience benefitting from the Winchesters' unwilling participation in this Saw-like theme park that was set up for our entertainment (via our stand-in, Chuck). That's clearly the bolder option, but it's also like – super fucked up! And it denies both the audience and, more critically, the people who make the show from having any real victory lap, any way to present the show as a completed entity and say “here's a great story that we're proud of and excited about.” It's such a bleak corner that the show has painted itself into at that point – all of this only happened against our heroes' will, but enjoy it anyway! Of course that got pushback. Of course people wanted to end with something that portrayed the characters as the drivers of the show, protagonists whose choices mattered, whose lives mattered. But they weren't, and they didn't. That was the premise the writers went with in season 15, because they needed to do something about the fact that nowhere in the past ten seasons had the Winchesters done anything on their own behalf, because they'd never been given story goals. All they'd been allowed to do is play whack-a-mole with monsters.

It's a mess all the way around, and it's almost impossible to resolve this late in the game. Season 15 couldn't be about the Winchesters resolving any real Stuff, because the show had long since realized that its prime directive was making sure that the fundamental pattern of the show remained intact: the boys go on adventures, bad things happen somewhere and the boys show up to stop it. And if that fundamental pattern is not a problem – if we're supposed to be glad it's there – then you can't allow any storylines that would end in changing it. Everything that's introduced has to be resolvable by a reversion to that vision of What We Do Around Here, so we can keep doing it. The legitimacy of What We Do Around Here is never allowed to be in question, and an attempt to question it at the very end of the series winds up inherently muddled and out-of-place. Third-act problems are always first-act problems, and the problem with the finale is that the show had spent so long actively reifying the value of an endless, unchanging sequence of events and actively working to quash anything that started looking like a linear story that would end in a place other than where it began.

I like a lot of the plotlines and episodes and characters in the later season. Honestly, 12 is probably my favorite season, just on the weight of good episodes I enjoy watching. But the only part of Supernatural that ever had a coherent story at the heart of it was the original five seasons, where things were set up, explored, and resolved in Swan Song with admirable narrative focus and direction. Everything after that was just stuff that happened, which is not what a story is, and you can't come back from that in the series finale and somehow make it work.

#spn finale #apparently i give writing advice now?

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retvenkos · 4 years ago

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first blood | g.v.

Anastasia: The Musical - Gleb Vaganov x Reader, angst requested by @musicallisto

tw: unrequited love, mentions of killing, mentions of blood

word count: 1.6k

prompt: “I don’t trust anyone… but you’re not just anyone.”

A/N: i didn’t know how this was going to turn out but you’re right - writing for Gleb is a concept that i didn’t know i needed. and i changed the prompt a bit - i wasn’t planning on it, but i started writing and my hand slipped.

Summary: Love was cruel when it was not reciprocated, and no one in Paris knew that better than (Y/n) and Gleb, sitting in a ballet, watching the Princess Anastasia from afar.

It was funny how much tension was wound in the body of a dancer. Crowds often marveled at the grace of a ballerina - how they seemingly twirled on air, all of the serenity in the world reflected on their painted faces, all of the dazzling beauty collected in their skirts. There was a perceived effortlessness to their dances, and yet, tension lay underneath. A dancer's every limb was flexed as they performed their routine, all of the gravity of the world bearing down on them. It was through countless hours of strife that they learned to balance on the tips of their toes - bruising and bleeding themselves for the facade of peace.

It was funny how tranquil a ballerina looked when poising all their weight on the weakest of muscles. It was funny, but (Y/n) couldn’t bring themself to laugh.

Being a soldier meant many things for their existence. It had made them more harsh, less kind, more dangerous, and less trusting. (Y/n) couldn’t remember the last time they had trusted someone fully, without the knowledge that they were playing the part of betrayed or that of the betrayer. (Y/n) couldn’t remember a time before they had been forged into something ruthless - a weapon that knew no bounds and exercised no mercy. They had been hardened to this world long ago - when they were a child and the universe was changing, folding in on itself and expanding beyond imagine.

People like (Y/n) were born from a gunshot, brought into this world dazed and reeling, restless and crying, still. People like (Y/n) were coiled in on themselves, holding all of the tension of existence between dignified stares and impassive remarks. People like (Y/n) were broken before they were bought, shattered before being made.

People like (Y/n) didn’t fall in love.

That is, until they did.

And it was cruel, what love did to a person, tearing them apart as though they weren’t already broken enough and pulling on the wound every time the person they cared for came near. It was cruel and impassive, and perhaps what made it sting the most was that it reminded (Y/n) of themself. Little else compared to how cold they had become, little else carried the same crushing weight.

Love was cruel when it was not reciprocated, and no one in this world knew that better than (Y/n) and Gleb.

This world was changing, and the time for monarchs was over. (Y/n) and Gleb had been taught that from the moment they joined the Bolsheviks, both of them small things - broken and heaving, still. They hadn't been friends, at first. There was no place for friends, as a good and loyal Russian. There was only duty, and those painful tasks that were a part of it.

Just when (Y/n) had fallen in love was hard to say - for the longest time, (Y/n) did not believe in the word, let alone fathom that it could come to them in the form of a handsome and charismatic young man, their opposite and begrudging equal. Gleb had always been an acquaintance that someone more naive would have mistaken for a friend. It was when (Y/n) found themself fond of him, going so far as to save him before themself, they knew something had changed.

They had believed love to be silly, then, not realizing the dagger it concealed beneath.

Love came to Gleb in the form of a rumor, a ghost of his past that haunted him always - when in sleep and wakefulness. The beautiful Anya, a girl who had the presence of a princess and the eyes of a Romanov, came to Gleb by chance and lingered in his mind. Gleb was tasked with coming to Paris to finish her, like a good and loyal Russian, and when his back was turned, they ordered (Y/n) to see the task to completion.

(Y/n) sat in the back of a darkened theatre, now, and love held a knife to their throat.

They had seen Gleb's love in his eyes before, but here, it was something different. In his glassy eyes lay a feeling too exquisitely painful to be anything other than the sting of love, cruel and chilling. Perhaps it was because he believed himself to be alone, that Gleb allowed for his vulnerability to show; or perhaps it was the dancers with their melancholic beauty that brought such emotion to his eyes. Either way, it was clear by his demeanor that he could not do it. He loved Anya too much to finish what his father had started, and (Y/n) didn't know whether to pity him or commend him for his strength.

(Y/n) thought, once, that it took a strong man to believe in their love. They weren't so sure anymore. How could they, now that his love tore him away from them?

(Y/n) looked at the pistol at their side, concealed but glinting like a grin in the light of day. Gleb would not, so they must. Who would be most hurt by their actions? They were all victims in this cruel deed; they were all at risk of losing something when the pistol fired.

Anya would lose her life.

Gleb would lose Anya.

(Y/n) would lose Gleb, and their love would be dashed upon the theatre floor.

They tried to envision themself at the moment, but their mind would not comply. As though it could not fathom such ruin, for fear of never recovering.

(Y/n) tried to reach for their gun, to secure their place at the opposite end of the barrel, but their hands shook. The ballerina was leaping now, making her grand finale with the most complicated of moves, the most dazzling of tricks. The entire theatre sat on the edges of their seats, dying to see the finish. Love held a knife at (Y/n)'s throat and dared them to think who would draw first blood.

Gleb sat, his mind still conflicted, but his heart made up. Perhaps he would pull his gun, but he could never touch the trigger.

Say (Y/n) pulled their gun, could they pull the trigger?

(Y/n) slid into the seat next to Gleb, and he jumped at their appearance.

"What are you doing here?" And there was panic in his voice more than anything else; the fear that if he was unable, (Y/n) would finish the job.

"You won't do it."

"Of course, I will."

"Gleb."

He looked at them, and (Y/n) knew they could never pull the trigger.

"It doesn't need to be done."

And the ballet ended. The crowds roared with applause. Gleb stared at (Y/n), his mind unable to reconcile what he heard with his expectation. People started to leave. Gleb sat rooted to his chair.

"This is a game."

(Y/n) scoffed bitterly, something broken in their eyes. "No, it's not."

"You were sent here after me, and you expect me to believe it's all a lie?" Gleb shook his head as though believing in (Y/n)'s intentions was the last thing he could do. "How can I trust you?"

"We might have been friends, once."

Gleb stood and (Y/n) followed in suit. "You're distracting me, aren't you? Somehow you believe I won't pull the trigger."

"You will?"

He scoffed and pushed past them, but (Y/n) was faster and grabbed his wrist. "I know how it sounds, but you must trust me. We'll tell her she must leave but that she can keep her life so long as she never returns. The others need never know - Russia already runs with too much blood."

Gleb stared at them, and (Y/n) could see in his eyes that he wanted to believe it - like the way one wishes they could fall into a dream and never wake. "Why would you do this for me? We are good and loyal Russians."

"Neither of us is good, but we are loyal." (Y/n) let go of his wrist, but neither made to move. "I know what ails you—" and they liked to believe their love was in their eyes, apparent through the tears "—and I know it's cruelty. I know what you planned to do, and at first, I did not trust it. I have never trusted anyone..."

"...But I am not just anyone."

And it was cruel, what love did to a person, tearing them apart as though they weren't already broken enough and pulling on the wound until they were raw and heaving, still. And it was funny how the tension didn't leave, just fell victim to the flames and burned like a funeral pyre at midnight, cold and alone.

"You never were."

And love drew the first blood.

"(Y/n)..." Gleb cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowed in an exquisite sort of sorrow - something beautiful in the glittering lights of the theatre.

"Tell Anastasia. There doesn't need to be more bloodshed." (Y/n) lowered their eyes and started to walk away. Gleb called to them, some shard of tenderness in his tone that lodged itself in their heart with the promise of staying. (Y/n) turned.

"How can I repay you?"

And his words were naive but spoken from his heart. He did not yet know that telling her would cost him everything - that it would break his heart to let her go. His love would crush his heart, but what else was Paris for?

"You won't wish to."

-- taglist: @musicallisto, @locke-writes, @neelia-thedaughtherof-athena // message me if you want to be added!

#anastasia #anastasia the musical #gleb anastasia #gleb #gleb vaganov #gleb vaganov x reader #gleb x reader #gleb vaganov x you #gleb x you #gleb imagine #gleb vaganov imagine #imagine #one shot #fic #fanfic #anastasia fanfiction #angst

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fic

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Chapter 58: Jon Prime

Eleven months. Eleven months since Jon had come back in time, since he’d knocked on Tim’s door, since he’d had Martin in his arms again. Eleven months of regrouping, of planning, of worrying and fearing and hoping in equal measures. Eleven months, almost to the day, to the minute. All of it leading to this.

It was worth it for the look on Elias’s face when he spun around to face him.

In the entire time Jon had worked for the Institute, and especially since taking the Archivist position, he had never once seen Elias anything but calmly, coolly, smugly in control. Occasionally angry, although he’d more heard that than seen it when he listened to the tapes much later, but still, whatever emotions he might have been feeling, his bearing had always suggested that he held the upper hand and knew it. Now, though, there was none of that in his expression. For the first time Jon had ever seen, Elias Bouchard looked as though the situation had got away from him somewhat. His eyes—Jonah’s eyes—were wide with alarm, his jaw was slack, and even if he didn’t look afraid—yet—he was definitely at the very least taken aback. It was a start.

“Jon? What are you doing here?” he demanded. “You should be—” He stopped and inhaled sharply as he scanned Jon’s face, probably noticing the worm scars if not how much more grey was in his hair than his counterpart’s. “You’re not Jon.”

“Oh, but I am,” Jon replied. He was keeping his powers in check, but barely; he could feel the static building in his veins, thrumming and crackling like electricity through a power grid, and while he wanted to unleash it on the man before him, he couldn’t just yet. It was too much of a risk with Martin so close. “Just not the Jon you think I am.”

“What—no.” Jonah—there was no doubt it was Jonah Magnus regarding him now—turned pale. “You’re not—no. How can this be? Tell me!”

Jon tsked. “That was never your gift, Jonah. Compelling people. The Eye gave you the ability to pry, to pluck secrets out of heads and put secrets in…but you don’t get to ask for them, do you? You are no Archivist.”

There was definitely a part of him that was enjoying this more than he should. It wasn’t the power over Jonah he thrilled to—he’d never been the megalomaniac sort—but he definitely relished not being the one at a disadvantage for once. He’d spent years as little more than a pawn in Jonah’s game, and it was refreshing to be, if not a queen, at the very least a knight. It was satisfying more than anything.

But satisfaction wasn’t the goal. Victory was.

Jonah pulled himself together and drew himself up. Jon had to give him some credit—it obviously cost him a good deal of effort, both mental and physical. Martin had thrown him for a loop, probably several times, and then Jon had appeared from behind and totally disorientated him. Beyond that, Jon had seen, when he crept up behind him, the large dark stain surrounding the tear on the back of his usually immaculate charcoal suit. Melanie may have only pretended to actually try and kill him, but she’d certainly done a number on him anyway.

“Jon, I do not have time for these games,” he began.

“On the contrary. We have all the time in the world.” Jon took a half-step back and to the side, away from both the soft part in the wall that led, more or less, to the Institute and the tunnel where Sasha and Melanie had secreted themselves.

As he’d hoped, Jonah took the bait, taking a full step towards him and away from Martin. He had two inches on Jon and obviously intended to use them to the utmost effect in an attempt to intimidate and cow Jon. It was the same thing he’d done after the Apocalypse, when he’d stood over Jon and belittled him, making him shrink in on himself and bow under the weight of his own folly and shortcomings, highlighted all the places where it had been Jon’s decisions that led to that point.

Things were different now. Jon knew himself, he knew what his capabilities were as well as his limitations. And just as importantly, he had the evidence of his own eyes when he looked at Past Jon. Yes, Jon had made choices that led to the Apocalypse, but they’d been made with the limited information he had—information that had been limited because of Jonah. When he had all the data, he made much better decisions. Knowing, as they said, was half the battle.

In this case, perhaps, Knowing was all the battle.

Jon spared a quick glance for Martin. His smirk was almost a match for Jon’s own, and his eyes sparkled in a way Jon hadn’t seen in a long time. He stood tall and confident, shoulders squared and chin raised, and he still had a tight grip on the knife Melanie had pressed into his hand. He was also still far too close to Jon and Jonah, and not near enough to where he needed to be.

“Martin, get back. I don’t want you getting hurt,” he told him.

“Really, Jon, I don’t know what you think is going to happen,” Jonah said stiffly. “Whatever the issue is, we can settle it like gentlemen.”

“Ha!” Melanie’s disgusted laugh floated from the side. Jon looked over quickly to see her and Sasha crouched right in the entrance of the tunnel they’d found him in, arms linked tightly. Melanie’s other hand had a death grip on the rough stone of the tunnel’s arch. Jon knew exactly why. He’d heard the near-ethereal music, too, followed it down the tunnel, and realized the stone was ringing faintly with the tune from Denikin’s Calliophone, as though it were one of the pipes of the organ. If Sasha and Melanie hadn’t tumbled into him and told him they were ready for him, there was no telling how far he might have gone. Or how lost he might have been.

Something flickered over Martin’s face, but he did as Jon requested, taking three careful steps backwards until his heels hit the edge of the tower at the center of the Panopticon. He reached out with his free hand and steadied himself against it, then nodded once.

Jon stole another half-pace backwards, luring Jonah a little farther away from the others. “Settle this like gentlemen? You must be joking. What exactly do you think is going to happen? That you’re going to convince me to—to walk away from this? To just let it go?”

“You walked away from the Unknowing,” Jonah said tartly. “You left Tim alone to it with two people who, I am sure, could not possibly care less whether he lives or dies. And despite this—” He ran his eye over Jon’s face disdainfully. “—this getup, we both know that you walked away from Jane Prentiss and left Martin alone to her.”

Oh. That was a low blow. Jon stiffened, his rage nearly choking him. Despite knowing that it wasn’t true—that it hadn’t been true in either timeline—just the fact that Jonah would look him in the eye and even imply that he was the sort to abandon his people was enough to leave him momentarily speechless. And the fact that Jonah believed, or pretended to believe, that Jon would abandon Martin of all people…

He was about to explode, to start yelling, to reach out and strangle Jonah Magnus with his bare hands, when Martin started laughing. It was somewhere between the way he’d laughed when Jon had floated the idea of gouging their eyes out and running away together and the way he’d laughed when they’d been playing I Spy in the tombs. He sounded both incredulous and amused.

“You still have no idea, do you?” he said. “You still think you know what’s going on. This must really be embarrassing for you. Having to wait for an explanation.”

It was the last word that did it for Jon, grounding him and enabling him to recenter himself. Even if Martin’s voice hadn’t been enough, the reminder was. Once upon a time that no longer was, Jonah Magnus had forced Jon to monologue for him, forced him to recite his deeds and his plan before using him as a tool to trigger the end of the world. He had manipulated Jon at every turn, and then manipulated him once more at the end. And that was exactly what he was trying to do here. He was trying to goad Jon into doing something rash, into lashing out at him and tipping his hand too far.

He still thought he could win.

Jon didn’t take a deep breath; he wouldn’t give Jonah the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled him. But he did square his shoulders and let his lips curl into a sneer. “I know you can’t look into my head, Jonah. But can’t you guess? Even if your master won’t give you the answers, can’t you even attempt to figure them out on your own?”

Anger flashed in Jonah’s cold grey eyes, and Jon knew he’d scored another point. There would be no grading of this exam—it was strictly pass/fail—but the more he could build things up on his side, the easier it would be. He hoped. “Don’t prevaricate, Jon. This is hardly the time. Either tell me what you think you are doing, or allow me to get back to watching the people you should be watching.”

“The Jonathan Sims you employ is at the Unknowing,” Jon told him coldly. “Along with the Martin Blackwood you employ. I was that Jonathan Sims, once, but not now. I am from the future, Jonah Magnus. A future that is not and will never be.”

“If you are trying to make a joke—”

Jon ran the backs of two fingers over his cheek, indicating the worm scars. “Jane Prentiss, twenty-sixth July, 2016.” He touched his side. “The Distortion, otherwise known as Michael, second October, 2016.” He held out his right hand, palm outward, and notched another point in his credit when Jonah flinched, almost imperceptibly. “Jude Perry, twenty-fourth April, 2017.”

Jonah’s eyes widened—and then, not entirely to Jon’s surprise, a slow smile crossed his face. “The Corruption, the Spiral, the Desolation. And that scar at your throat—yes, I saw that. The Slaughter?”

“The Hunt. Daisy Tonner, twenty-eighth April, 2017.” Jon pulled aside the collar of Martin’s sweater—not the green one he’d worn since Martin wrapped him in it for comfort after he ended the world or the soft blue one that Martin wore more often than any other because Jon had complimented him on it without thinking long before either of them knew they would end up together, but the slightly lopsided red one that was Jon’s new favorite, because it was the one Martin had patiently worked on while Jon read statements to feed himself, the one that was proof he didn’t really need to be able to see to knit. “This is the Slaughter. Melanie King, twenty-fifth February, 2018.” He let the collar fall back into place and smoothed it out carefully. “The others don’t show.”

“But you have them all.” Jonah’s smile broadened. “It worked. The ritual was a success, and you came back…thinking you could stop me.”

“Well done, Jonah,” Jon said, in the same voice one might otherwise use with a child who had successfully tied his own shoes for the first time. “That’s all absolutely correct.”

“Oh, Jon.” Jonah’s voice took on an almost pitying tone. “And you thought telling me that would mean…what, exactly? You think it won’t work now? That you’ve warned your—counterpart, and now he can escape it? He has three marks already, at least.”

Behind Jonah’s shoulder, Martin silently held up his free hand, displaying all five fingers. Jon swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat as he realized Martin was right. Apart from the two he’d had before they arrived—the Web and the Eye—and being stabbed by and later traveling through the halls of the Distortion, Past Jon had been kidnapped and essentially tortured by the Stranger, and his encounter with Julia and Trevor in America was probably enough to give him a mark from the Hunt.

“And even if he escapes,” Jonah continued, oblivious to what was going on behind him, “there are still the others. Even knowing, it’s unavoidable, Jon. Fear comes for us all, in whatever guise it wishes, and the Institute is a lure many of them cannot resist. They will be marked, and when they are—”

“No,” Jon interrupted, and this time he let the static crackle through his voice. “They may be marked, Jonah Magnus, but it will not be to your advantage. This ends here.”

Jonah sneered, but Jon had already seen the flash of fear in his eyes. “You think you’ve learned enough to stop me? I have two hundred years of experience and Knowledge. What do you bring to the table? A few tricks? This cheap attempt at intimidation? You cannot overpower me, Jon. Not now when I can see my triumph within my grasp. Thwart me, and I will simply find another.”

“Oh, no.” Jon took another diagonal step, turning his shoulders as he did so; as he expected, Jonah followed him. “There will be no one else. Not from you. Never again.”

“How, exactly, do you intend to stop me?” Jonah demanded, drawing himself up.

Jon snorted. “I had considered taking you out the way you took out one of the others. I considered shooting you. Like you did to Gertrude.” He swallowed hard. “And Martin.”

“I never—ah.” Jonah’s unpleasant smile smeared across his face again. “Yes, I suppose that would be quite effective in slowing you down, wouldn’t it? If I were to—take him out, shall we say?” He slipped one hand under his jacket.

“You don’t have it with you,” Jon said with contempt. “I don’t even need the Eye to know that. If you had brought your gun, you wouldn’t have bothered trying to get into Martin’s head. Not once you were down here. After all…” He waved one hand around the room. “Who would be here to witness? Only the Eye.”

“Perhaps I think he’s too useful to kill,” Jonah said.

Jon curled one hand into a fist and fought back the anger and nausea the way Jonah’s voice curled around the word useful brought up. He had to keep it together. Had to keep this going. “I could have beaten you to death, too. Like you did Jurgen Leitner. And framed me for.”

Again he took a half-step back, rotating slightly this time, and again Jonah followed. Jon glanced at Sasha, her eyes glittering with excitement and interest even from that distance, and raised his eyebrows in silent question. She nodded once. Jon blinked his acknowledgment and swiftly returned his gaze to Jonah. He’d managed it right. He now had the tunnel to the Institute at his back and the Panopticon at his front. He was directly between the two access points for the Beholder. He had Jonah exactly where he wanted him.

“Jurgen Leitner?” Jonah repeated. “That pompous ass?”

Martin and Melanie’s snorts were nearly identical. Jon didn’t bother to repress his smirk. “He’s living in those tunnels, you know. Has been for years. He used to help Gertrude out, too. He was going to tell me some of those details you thought my counterpart didn’t know, and I wasn’t knowledgeable enough to shield my thoughts enough that you didn’t know I was talking to someone. You slipped in while I was out of my office, tormented him the same way you did Gertrude, and beat him to death with a length of pipe. Left the body there. Of course Daisy thought I’d done it.”

“It would have been quite difficult for me to use you if you were in prison.”

“Oh, you made it clear that you didn’t actually think I’d done it. But you certainly brought me to Daisy’s attention. Dangled me in front of her. You knew she would come after me eventually, knew it would mark me. You used her as much as you used the rest of us, long before she joined the Institute.” Jon met Jonah’s eyes. It was far easier than it had ever been before. “Never again, Jonah. I will never allow you to use anyone for your evil purpose again. You don’t deserve the power you want to wield.”

“You could join me, you know,” Jonah offered.

Jon almost choked. “What?”

“Join me,” Jonah said again, and if Jon thought for a minute that Elias Bouchard was the type, he’d have expected the next sentence to be something along the lines of Together we can rule the galaxy as father and son. “You’ve seen the world, Jon. The world we created, in your time. You know how very beautiful it can be. Rulers together of a forsaken world. Overseers of all. Imagine it. You could choose who lived and died. Control how much suffering was inflicted on those who suffered. You know what that fear feels like when it flows through you…imagine controlling it, drinking the whole world. I know you wouldn’t be here if you had had that power. You would never have wanted to leave it.” He spread his hands out invitingly towards Jon. “We would live forever. Imagine it, Jon. It would be so easy, and so rewarding. All you need to do…is say the words.”

Martin’s face went white as a sheet. Those freckles that hadn’t been bleached to pale shadows by the Lonely stood out clearer than Jon had seen them in ages, and his lips parted slightly. The naked fear in his sightless eyes was almost physically painful. He was scared, worse than he’d been in a long time.

And something seemed to tighten around Jon’s wrist.

Martin knew Jon better than anybody in the universe, maybe better than Jon even knew himself. He knew how close to the edge Jon had been at times, how close he’d come to succumbing to the Eye and becoming its conduit. How hard Jon had fought to keep from becoming like Jude Perry, like Mike Crew, like Jared Hopworth. And he knew just how hard Jon was tempted at times to give in, how much Jon wanted to know what would happen if he did. How tired he got sometimes of the constant daily struggle. He alone, out of anybody, knew that there was a part of Jon that wanted to say yes.

But not enough of one. Not nearly enough of one. There was no temptation in the world strong enough to lure him away from Martin, nothing in the universe he wanted more than to spend whatever time he was granted with the man he loved. Martin had promised to kill him if he ever came close to agreeing to what Jonah was proposing, and Jon had sworn to himself then and there that he would never force Martin to make that call. He knew that Martin would never be able to live with himself if he did. And Jon loved him too much to hurt him that way if there was any other option.

But Martin couldn’t see his face. For all he knew, Jon was seriously considering the offer. Jon would have to reassure him.

“If you think,” he said, “for one moment that I would agree to that knowing what it would mean, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought you were. And that, Jonah Magnus, is saying something.”

Martin drew in a sharp breath and closed his eyes for a brief moment, then seemed to relax. Jonah’s smile melted away. He opened his mouth to say something. Jon didn’t give him the chance. “I have seen your ‘forsaken world’, and I have seen what it cost everyone who lived in it. I have felt the pain and suffering of those within it, and I know that there is no one, Watched or Watcher, who escaped that pain and suffering. Even those who thought they wanted it, in the end, found they did not. Even you would have learned that, sooner or later.” He narrowed his eyes at Jonah. “And I would sooner gouge my own eyes out, here and now, than share any kind of power with you.”

Jon again saw the cold, pale fury in Jonah’s eyes that he had last seen when Martin defied him after the Apocalypse, but this time it didn’t go away. “That can be arranged.”

“I don’t think so.” Jon felt the static building up again, and this time, he didn’t try to hold it back. “Your time has come.”

Power thrummed through his veins. It was the way he’d felt when facing down the Not-Them both times, when he’d struck down Jared Hopworth, when he’d caught hold of Helen’s lie, but somehow it was stronger. Again he felt that tightening around his wrist, and he could feel a power flowing through that as well, fueling him, giving him strength and courage.

“For two hundred years, you have sat atop your ivory tower and pretended to rule,” he said. The words came easily, leading Jon to wonder if he was saying them or the Ceaseless Watcher was. “You have set yourself up as a god among men, and you have believed yourself to be untouchable. You have manipulated and pulled and lured, and through it all, you have believed yourself to be endearing yourself to your master. But It Knows You, and it Knows that it is not fear you have feasted on all these years, merely power over others. You have desired only your own ends and served no one but yourself.”

He was aware of an echo to his voice, as though someone else was speaking the words with him. At first he thought it was just that, an echo, or maybe the Beholder resonating through him, but he recognized the second voice for what it was at about the same moment Jonah’s eyes widened, and the fear in them wasn’t fleeting. It was Gertrude Robinson’s voice joining Jon’s, maybe prompting him, maybe lending her power to his. Maybe it was just a manifestation of his power after all, enhancing Jonah’s fear.

Jon could taste that fear. It was exhilarating and intoxicating. Whatever was around his wrist seemed to tighten further, reminding him that it was there, reminding him of what he was trying to do. Keeping him grounded. In that instant, Jon recognized it as a manifestation of his bond to Martin, the one Annabelle Cane had enhanced, and it gave him a renewed sense of conviction.

“Two hundred years of pain and death and misery,” he continued, “and all of it spent running from your own fears. Know now that Fear has come for you, Jonah Magnus. You cannot escape it and you cannot run from it.”

“No—no—no,” Jonah gasped, backing away from Jon, or trying to. “J-Jon, please—”

“For our Tim,” Jon snarled, and Gertrude Robinson’s voice and all their combined power joined in with him. “For our Sasha, and for Gertrude Robinson, and for all the others you have killed and trapped and harmed. For my Martin. For every life you took, every dream you destroyed, every ounce of pain and fear you inflicted on others—let it all be turned back on you tenfold. Feel it all, and for the first time in your life, Jonah Magnus, you will truly Know.”

“Jon—please—I don’t want to die,” Jonah begged.

“Neither did they.” Jon raised his voice and felt his hair stand on end. “Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this miserable, pathetic, wretched thing!”

The light in the room flashed as though struck by lightning, but a brilliant, blazing green, coming from both directions and centered directly on Jonah Magnus, who began to scream. Jon felt the fear slam into him, filling him near to bursting, thrumming through his veins and body like he’d simultaneously grabbed hold of a live electrical wire and tried to drink from a fire hose like a straw. Either Elias Bouchard’s body was shrinking or Jon had grown, or perhaps he was merely floating above the floor, but whatever the case, he was now looking down on the man from above.

In the exact same instant, Martin lunged forward and, with a roar of satisfaction and an accuracy that Jon Knew would not have been possible without their bond, drove the knife with both hands into the heart of Jonah Magnus’s body.

Elias’s scream rose to a fever pitch, joined by more voices—six, if Jon was any judge: the screams of the other five men Jonah Magnus murdered to extend his life, and the scream of the original Jonah Magnus himself, a dry, dusty sort of scream, desperate and frightened and pained. The green light flared up and filled the room in a blinding, soundless explosion—

—and then, suddenly, it was gone, leaving a vacuum of silence and the ruins of a prison guard tower.

Jon’s feet hit the ground—so he had been floating after all—and he stumbled slightly. Where Elias Bouchard had been, there was nothing but a scorch mark on the stone, and Martin was half-kneeling in the center of the guard tower, knife still in hand, but nothing remaining of Jonah Magnus’s original body but a scattering of dust.

Martin blinked twice, dropped the knife, and got to his feet, turning unerringly in Jon’s direction. “Jon?” he called.

“Martin,” Jon choked out. He reached out his hands desperately for Martin, wanting to hold him close, to tell him they’d done it, that they were safe, that it was over, that it had worked. That Jonah Magnus was dead and would never harm anyone else again. That they had won.

That he loved him, so very, very much.

He made it no more than a couple of steps before his strength failed him and he pitched forward, gasping. Two strong arms caught him and pulled him close. The last thing Jon heard was Martin desperately, frantically screaming his name.

And then everything went black.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #smiting #intimidation tw #manipulation tw #belittling tw #stabbing tw #mention of murder (inc. brutal pipe murder)#we're so close to the end y'all #I can't believe it

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asma-al-husna · 3 years ago

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Allah calls Himself Al-Ghaalib— The Victor, the Predominant— on one occasion in the Quran. Al-Ghaalib is the One who is victorious in every situation. He is the only One who decides and does as He wants with the creation and makes the believers prevail.

The Victor, the Predominant, the One Who Prevails

Ghaalib comes from the root ghayn-laam-baa, which points to two main meanings. The first meaning is to be victorious and to prevail. The second main meaning is to be predominant and overcome.

This root appears 31 times in the Quran in five derived forms. Examples of these forms are yaghliboo (“the will overcome”), ghaaliboona (“victorious”), and maghloobun (“one overpowered”).

Linguistically ghaalib refers to the one possessing the attribute of victory and dominance, whereas ghalaba refers to the verb “to overcome.” From the same root comes the word ghulb in the Quran, Allah says: wa hadaa’iqa ghulba– and gardens of dense shrubbery [Quran, 80:30], which points to a thick foliage of plants to be found in the earth and “overcoming” the soil it is growing in.

Al-Ghaalib is the ultimate one to prevail, control, dominate, and overcome each being and situation with great ease and utmost wisdom— and whenever He pleases.

Al-Ghaalib Himself says: And the one from Egypt who bought him said to his wife, “Make his residence comfortable. Perhaps he will benefit us, or we will adopt him as a son.” And thus, We established Joseph in the land that We might teach him the interpretation of events. And Allah is predominant over His affair, but most of the people do not know. [Quran, 12:21]

“Against all odds”

Allah ‘azza wa jall calls Himself Al-Ghaalib in Surah Yuusuf. In the story of the prophet Yuusuf ‘alayhi sallam everything is intended one way and it goes the other way, a beautiful example of how everything is in the control of Al-Ghaalib.

Yuusuf’s brothers want to get him out of the way so they can get the love of their father. They left him to die in the well, but he survived. Allah says in this surah: Wallahu ghaalibun ‘alaa amrih (And Allah is predominant over His affairs). What He wills will happen, even though everything indicates another way.

Then Al-Azeez, the wealthy ruler, buys Yuusuf and brings him into His palace, and Al-Azeez’s wife, a powerful, beautiful woman, does everything she can to seduce this young, single man who is her slave. Every single aspect is tempting for zinaa– immorality– but Yuusuf doesn’t sway.

He ends up descending from a palace into the darkest prison and from the prison back to a ruling position in Egypt where he is reunited with his beloved father, Yaqoob ‘alayhi sallam. All the events of this story are a clear sign that the final decision is to Al-Ghaalib, “against all odds.” And every human being is like Yuusuf ‘alayhi sallam in that in his affairs Allah is Al-Ghaalib!

How Can You Live By This Name?

1. Have strong belief.

Never fear people and their decisions, never be deceived by the looks of a situation nor be scared of losing your possessions – know that Allah is Al-Ghaalib in Your affairs and He will decide what happens. Next time you feel tempted to care more about the acceptance of people or gaining belongings than trying to please Al-Ghaalib, remind yourself and live by this ayah: If Allah should aid you, no one can overcome (ghaaliba) you; but if He should forsake you, who is there that can aid you after Him? And upon Allah let the believers rely [Quran, 3:160]

2. Hold onto the truth.

Allah has written, I will surely overcome (la’aghlibanna), I and My messengers. Indeed, Allah is Powerful and Exalted in Might [Quran, 58:21] Know that if you stick to the truth and to your Islamic principals you will win; no matter how weak the believers might get, the truth will prevail. This is because Allah is Al-Ghaalib; the victory of those who follow Him and the messengers is His promise and when Allah promises, He delivers. Allah says: But those who were certain that they would meet Allah said, How many a small company has overcome (ghalabat) a large company by permission of Allah. And Allah is with the patient [Quran, 2:249] So hold on to the truth, no mater how weak it seems, have strong belief Allah is Al-Ghaalib, have patience and victory will be yours, whether in this life or the next! And whoever is an ally of Allah and His Messenger and those who have believed – indeed, the party of Allah they will be the predominant (al-ghaaliboona). [Quran, 5:56]

3. Take lessons from the past.

And Pharaoh and his people were overcome (faghuliboo) right there and became debased. [Quran, 7:119] While you read the ayaat in the Quran of the former people and their fates, Allah observes if and how you apply these lessons in your daily life. Do you try to avoid the sins they committed? Look at the characteristics of the people who were defeated because of their transgression, disbelief and arrogance and strive to be better than them in shaa Allah.

4. Don’t let sins overcome you. In the Hereafter there will be a heart-shaking scene: the people of the Hellfire will beg Allah to release them from the Fire. They will say, “Our Lord, our wretchedness overcame (ghalabat) us, and we were a people astray. [Quran, 23:106] However He (Allah) will say: Remain you in it with ignominy! And speak you not to Me!” Verily, there was a party of My servants who used to say: “Our Lord! We believe, so forgive us and have mercy on us, for You are the Best of all who show mercy! But you took them for a laughing stock, so much so that they made you forget My remembrance while you used to laugh at them!) Verily, I have rewarded them this Day for their patience; they are indeed the ones that are successful. [Quran 23: 108-111] Let this scene inspire you to not be overcome by sins in this life and end up like the people begging Allah for one more chance. Instead believe in this life and continuously ask Al-Ghaalib for forgiveness and mercy, as you will not get a second chance to return to this world!

5. Don’t think you can prevail by yourself. Never attribute any victory or success to yourself, nor dominate others in an unjust way. And [remember] when Satan made their deeds pleasing to them and said, No one can overcome (ghaaliba) you today from among the people, and indeed, I am your protector. [Quran, 8:48] Some people think they can prevail by themselves or they attach their mind or trust to another human being or even object, but eventually they will be defeated.

6. Don’t be deceived.

But, [on the contrary], We have provided good things for these [disbelievers] and their fathers until life was prolonged for them. Then do they not see that We set upon the land, reducing it from its borders? So it is they who will overcome? [Quran, 21:44] Sometimes the wealth, success, beauty and even intelligence of those who disbelieve can be confusing and even tempting. Know that Al-Ghaalib only prolongs the lives of some people for them to increase in their transgression. Say to those who disbelieve, You will be overcome and gathered together to Hell, and wretched is the resting place. [Quran, 3:12]

7. Call upon Al-Ghaalib.

When all people turn against Him after years of calling to Allah, what does Nuh ‘alayhi sallam do? He doesn’t ask others for help, he doesn’t give up, but he turns to Al-Ghaalib and beautifully supplicates:

‎فَدَعَا رَبَّهُ أَنِّي مَغْلُوبٌ فَانتَصِرْ So he invoked his Lord, “Indeed, I am overpowered, so help. [Quran, 54:10] Whenever you feel overpowered, call upon Al-Ghaalib with this Quranic dua’!

Wallahu ta’alaa ‘alem. 

O Allah, Al-Ghaalib, we know that You are the One who is predominant in all affairs. Make us of those who have strong belief, hold onto the truth at all times and learn from the lessons You provided us in Your book. Don’t let us be overcome by sin, and make us of those who are victorious in both this life and the Hereafter, ameen!

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hieromonkcharbel · 3 years ago

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