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smolvenger · 11 months

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Yggdrasil (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: Your husband, the god of mischief, has made the ultimate sacrifice for his friends, and the world...he lives, but now he is alone...that is until you choose to join him in his solitude and make a life there.

Warnings: MAJOR spoilers for the ending of the Loki series. Angst, but fluff and hurt/comfort. YN becomes a goddess in her YN-y moment. Brief mentions of sex and pregnancy, but no smut at all. Fix it Fic goodness. Canon and Norse mythology is not a code and more like a guideline. Is it accurate? I don't know. And this is fic world. Accuracy don't mean shit. I just want my boy to be happy after all that and do my part as a Loki fic writer after...THAT.

Word Count: 2K

@fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @asgards-princess-of-mischief @huntress-artemiss @ijuststareatstuffhereok89

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

You walked over to the tree. It was incredibly beautiful. The vines reaching out. The colors are everywhere. The trunk of it twisting, twisting round. The blueness and soft greens that surrounded you. Light purple flowers high up, blossoming. You had heard of it in stories. Maybe dreamed of it once. But here…here in person it was even more beautiful.

“Hello there, Yggdrasil.” you greeted with a smile.

There was a breeze in the wind. It rattled the leaves above. The starry sky. It didn’t feel too cold here- it felt sweet, crisp. An early autumn night. You took several steps closer until you were right before the trunk. Your voice lowering.

“But I know who you really are…who is in there…” you continued.

The search had been long. It had been a month. A month since you saw him. The look on his face, and felt his sacrifice, his steps going forward. Now here it was-in person. Here he was.

It shivered in response. You went up, gently placing a hand on the bark.

You felt the curves of your lips to a gentle frown. A voice that was not begging…only requesting. Soft, but grounded. As grounded as the tree was though in it’s magic it seemed like it floated where it grew.

“Please…take me to him…it is all I want, all I wish, all I ask for…please allow me to see him…even if it’s only once…”

Was your prayer answered? Even heard? You sucked in a breath, feeling your chest grow tight with anticipation. The delicate lines of both despair and hope on a thin line.The golden band around your finger felt tight- shimmering amidst the dark wood of the tree.

The vines relented. They thinned and opened up- as easily as silk. There was a glowing opening within the tree. You felt it- a stillness. As if you were waited. Expected.

Inside it, you took your steps into the heart of the tree. It felt like the cool mist, the light rain as you walked through-like the light rain that poured the first night you let him into your bed. Your heart raced, your palms clammy.

Was this a mistake? The wrong one? It had to be…it had to! It couldn't have done that unless… it was really…no- was this it? Would Yggdrasil kill you? Destroy you for knowledge so intimate, so secret?

Branches, vines, leaves- so much wood here. There was a green light that glowed about it, shining everywhere- how perfect for him, you mused.

Your head turned. Throat going dry and tight with dread, fear. You searched around. Eyes skittering through the thick vines.

You looked around-nothing but the greenery…

Then…there was a voice. Breathy, baritone, low, rich-and it whispered your name in echoes.

The greenery opened up. You saw first horns. Then…

There, on a throne, surrounded by vines, there he sat. Pale and handsome. He was always handsome to you. Despite the lines of care, his drooping eyes…it was him. You knew that face- caressed it, kissed it so many times.

His eyes then lowered to you. Its blueness seemed darkened, dimmed. Then he looked at you, squinting. He whispered your name again, to you. You felt everything in you freeze. You wanted this. Processed it. It was real- very, very real.

“Is…is that…” he began to whisper.

Tears brimmed up your eyes and you cupped your mouth, as you felt them drop down your hand already.

“Loki it’s you!” you cried out.

Sobbing hard, you ran into him, almost tackling him into a hug. Crying so hard your whole body shook with each tearfall. So much your face felt hot, even as it scratched against his cloak- against the long vines. You felt his hands wrap around you. And you heard him just say your name again- an incantation. A spell to bring you back. A spell that worked. You cried as he held you, the vines around him shivering.

“What…what is it…why…why did you come here?” he asked.

You released the hug. Wiping off your tears with your sleeve like a little child. Your tone returned to the old teasing.

“You silly man! What kind of wife abandons her husband?”

Loki’s mouth opened, but he said nothing. His face was in awe.

“I came here for you! I figured out how- and I did!” you replied.

He let out a deep sigh. He lifted his white hand, caressing your cheek. You leaned into it, enjoying the intimacy, his touch that you had been deprived of, that he had been deprived of too for so long.

“You know I cannot leave this. Ever. I…I must do this, my love…I had to…to save all of them…to save you…I…I must make sure…their stories all…all are happy…are managed, well…even yours.” he voiced. His face serene, though a tear fell down across his cheek.

You then took his hand and clutched it.

“Loki, the many times you comforted me when I cried. Stood by me. Protected me when I was in danger, scared. Saved me, even. And you know how…how lonely I would get in Asgard. Who else would run to my side to comfort me…but you. I shall do that for you!”

His eyes widened.

“But…you cannot give up your home, your life!” he replied.

You shook your head.

“I will make a new one here- we will make a new one here…Thor and Frigga gave me their blessing before I left. They saw how happy we made each others…and that is what they want. I told them what you did. The people you saved…and they’re…they’re proud of you.”

He blinked rapidly, more tears falling down. You lifted two of your hands- cupping his face lovingly. He had no choice but to look in your eyes.

“When we were married, we promised, before the AllFather and AllMother to always stand by each other...I will honor the vows I made on that altar, as you honored your vows to me,” you declared.

The wind rustled above. Inside, there were a few violet buds that dangled, moving slightly. Willing the flower to open.

“My darling….Asgard will lack its princess.”

“A mere consort? No! I am not an heir to anything! A mere accessory to a throne, a part of a painting…and nothing eles? And alone? Loki, I don't need a palace, gold, riches, and titles…I only ask to be loved and safe…and Loki…you will be alone…now- you won’t be. I will stay by you. We will face this new part of your life together!”

There was a slight grown from the wood. Both of you looked about, your hands dropping. He nestled into the green cloak he wore around him. His helmet perfect for him- never once slipping off his head.

“It’s quiet here…there’s no one…nothing…a life of nothing…but making these stories” he mused.

“Then let me stay…let me help…if only…if only to be with you…I will live here. If not near- then give me access. I will stay here, come by every day. Visit for hours…just to be with you.”

“My darling…sweet, sweet wife…I was alone and I…I don’t have to…”

There were tears in his eyes.

“Thank you…thank you, my dear…”

He pressed his forehead to yours. The cold metal of the forehead touching your own. You only held hands. Felt each other- the love in your systems bursting forth.

A vine went to you, grazing against your arm. You lifted a hand.

“Which one is this?” you asked.

“This one…a man named Steve…or Marc…he’s three at once, it’s very complicated….” Loki explained.

You lifted a finger to touch it. There was a ripple. The vines shook, some of them went to you. You wondered…you lifted a hand. It allowed you to touch it. There was a small, reddish glow, it went up and through.

“You just…just…made something happen…something will occur for Steve…he’s about to learn what gifts he truly has…my dear…has this happened before?”

“No- not until now…”

“You think that…you have a certain…gift?” he asked.

The vines reacted in turn. You realzed as you touched them, you could help move these stories. Turn them- touching made something happen and Loki would tell you.

“My dear…you have a gift. One of fate…”

“Then…I guess I cannot leave now. You will help with stories. I will help with fates. We both have work to do.”

He smiled.

“Asgard now has a new goddess…” he said. You went up, and kissed him. You cried as your lips touched. And there was a shudder that went through the trees and rattled through the forest like a wind.

It was an adjustment. Making a home just outside of the remains of the earth. Fortunately, you knew enough magic to get by. To transport and conjure food. Even gather some from the nearby village. Enough to make a garden, a home.

And every day, you walked out to Yggdrasil. Vanished for hours. Then returned.

For the villagers, it was odd that a goddess of fate was just going about the streets getting groceries among them. You merely shrugged and laughed it off.

You said your husband was busy. Quite busy. He had an important job-crucial one. Yet people wondered at you- the mysterious goddess who lived in a cottage by the woods, whose husband never appeared, and vanished into the forest. The forest at the end of the world, mind you- every day and returned with a smile on her face as if nothing happened.

It was quiet and simple. No opulent balls and feasts of Asgard. But no fathers with clear favorites and tears and bloody battles with countless corpses and heartbreak either.

How often you polished the horns on his helmet and washed his cloak by the river. Then he would tell you all about what happened. Fates and stories. You would mend them, mind them. Determine what worked, what did not. And you would laugh and cry so hard over every story on earth of each person you would feel like a rag rung out…yet in a good way.

And you would wrap your arms around him. Sit on his lap on the throne, as you did back then so many times before. Kiss him and nuzzle into him. Feel his touch- remind him through the brush of your fingers through his dark curls. I am here, I am here, I am here.

It was like being remarried- A honeymoon fortress of oak, willow leaves, and flower petals. The newness of your husbands role, his abilities. As well as yours. But without everything else…no, you didn’t need anything else. Only each other.

It was a month later, you knew the change. You felt it. The suspicion. The inkling you felt since you began your journey. Counting on your fingers from when it last happened, and your journey to him began, the timing was right. The intuition. The small ringing of a bell in the back of your head getting louder, and louder with each passing week. The one reason on the backburner that was never confirmed. And now it was. You both wanted it. Hoped for it. Now, though the circumstances could have never been guessed, you would both receive your wish. The confirmation long awaited.

On Yule, you teasingly adored the tree in ribbons. Loki inside scoffed, rolling his eyes. But it only made you laugh harder. In Spring, you collect its flowers and put them in vases. In Summer, you cooled beneath it’s shade. Loki made sure your story was hte one most preciously protected, guarded. You made old charms from the flowers with his magic- for your safety and good health. Flowers worn over your head in crowns, on your neck. And in Autumn, you watched as they oranged and swirled. How lovely they were surrounding you as you held each other.

A year and a half went by before you knew it, as swift as mortals lives. the cottage had an infant girl living in it. She had dark hair, and your skin and eyes. And she was starting to walk. You held her up by both hands in the grass before the forest.

“Come along Freya! There’s a good girl! A step at a time!” you cooed at her.

Who knew what her powers would be. What she was goddess of. But here, she wasn’t a goddess. She was just a baby.

She was Babbling as the grass tickled her feet. The loving, green dress you tucked over her. You held her tiny, chubby hand as she experimentally bent her knees. Then she made a sound of triumph.

Motherhood was not going to stop your gifts and powers as a goddess of fate. You touched the vines and turned fates however. But you had to give happy ones to the friends of him. The ones who meant so much to him, did so much for him. For Mobius, you made sure his sons grew up healthy and strong and happy, with long vacations by lakes and oceans. For Ouroboros, you gave him several awards and successes as a writer and the inspiration and motivation to create, pour water into his own well, and never lose the joy of it. You made sure they all were safe and content.

You scooped little Freya up your arms, giving her a kiss on the side of her head. She was behaving well- not crying loud to wake the whole village. Needing perhaps a cradle from the vines of Yggdrasil again in Norns Know what time of night if she was especially fussy.

You walked her again to the tree. She looked out with her wide eyes. One hand trying to touch the leaves, the vines, the branches. A thing of flowers bloomed for her. One leafy vine went over to graze her cheek. She kicked in enthusiasm, giggling in such pure joy.

You smiled at her and then at Yggdrasil. Seeing the portal open once again.

Knowing he was inside again- to see her. Meet her. Hold her as he did when she was a swaddled newborn to be brought- for him to just hold her. Despite the great loneliness of Loki’s inital fate, you all did everything to change it. He would meet Freya and watch her grow up. He would see her, hold her, love her. Again. Again. And again.

You turned your face to the baby with a smile, and then to the portal door and the god of stories waiting inside.

“Freya- let’s go see your father.”

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mxmajor · 3 months

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The Hot Take Machine is up and Running

Back in I believe february someone made a poll asking if the Bear was a white show or not because the majority of the main cast is not white.

Here's the post I wrote essentially breaking down what made it a white show. And after Watching season 3 I feel like what I said is reinforced.

@currymanganese

What is any poc on the shows ethnicity besides Ebra?

We know the berzattos are italian, richie and jimmy are polish, the faks are faks, and we get a bit even if just from richie of them speaking other languages. What is Tina's ethnicity? Beyond sounding like a ny-er. Is Marcus Carribean? He's catholic, or his mom was? Just learned what league Gary played in via a Fak. Do Manny and Angel have last names? if we didn't know anything abt that yt characters ethnicities and cultures, I wouldn't care. But We Do lol. So there.

I didn't even know yt ppl could have this many fictive kin and play cousins, where is anyone else's immediate or extended family and background?

We know Marcus has a younger brother, was that just shared to fill in a larger motif around sibling relationships? I know there is an ongoing theme around going it alone (Donna through child birth, Marcus's mom, Syd's dad, and Richie being alone as a father) so it will echo through diff characters. But black and brown ppl of most ethnicities not having anybody to turn to at all? Not knowing a guy with a job? Not making any meaningful connections until they get to the beef? We know the name of Richie's grandma and his daughter calls Donna auntie DD. But none of the black or brown ppl have grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins.

I know the berzatto family can be like the island of misfit toys but like I do suspend my disbelief because of this lol.

Look at how Syd & Tina are being treated.

I know how the people being booted from the 4 top looked A Way™, but I think its highlighting that outside of Berzatto land, Syd is getting treated in a very wild way. Like ships are cool but I literally only started this show for Syd & Tina and they are used as introspection tools for the Berzatto brothers, or to reassure one. We know they have people that love them and why they are at the beef/bear. But my opinion stands, this is a white show about a large dysfunctional family that happens to have black people in it.

I honestly think the poc not neatly gelling and the extensive Berzatto-Fak-Jerimovich-Kalinowski & Co outset being insular is okay because who wants to be tied up in that? and we see Sydney weighing if she wants to be connected to or apart of it that we don't see any other berzatto +1 get to decide. Because it is warm when it's warm. But it is demoralizing dismissive and defeating when not. And her former hero sometimes is the initiator or amplifier of Syd being treated that way.

#major bear tag #the bear #the bear season 3 spoilers #sydney adamu #tina marrero #marcus brooks #gary woods #ebra the bear #angel the bear #manny the bear #you see that? exactly

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delphientropy · 3 months

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BLOCK LIST

BIG LIST OF A BUNCH O PEEPS I BLOCKED

as well as why! i'll add on as i go!:)

we do NOT condone harassment, please just block.

includes: pro/endos, radqueer, transID, anti good faith, and more!! XP

first off, so were on the same page, what are these and why are they bad?

pro/endos: try to demedicalize a dissociative disorder, claim you can be a system without trauma, more info here 👉 [X] [X] (both are carrds that link multiple sources) (sorry they didnt save ill put it in later)

radqueer: these are people who transIDs (transage, transrace, etc. these people claim to identify as a different race or even pretend to "transition" into being disabled like transautistic) or ARE them.

anti good faith: good faith identities are basically identities made in good faith. this tends to encompass "contradictory" identities such as lesboys and other mspec identities. anti good faith people police gender and sexuality identities and invalidate these peoples experiences and try to exclude them from spaces or tell them what THEIR sexuality is. dont be misguided into thinking you're doing good if you exclude these people, its splitting up the lgbtq+ community, and thats what they (TERFs, anti-lgbtq+) want us to do.

now onto the blocklist!:)

radfems, TERFs, and transmeds

pach1-pach1 (deleted his dni but befor it was deleted it said that they support vivzie, are anti xenogenders and neoprns iirc, and anti good faith. a reply on my post abt telling ppl to block them also said theyre a transmed, so did another account. theyve also been seen harassing anti endos despite claiming to be it himself) (they own syspunk-is-anti-endo-losers as well)

radfem-vex

mint-fem

PRO/ENDO

boosystem

domni99

pluralpolls

youokaybro

plural-blocklist

eunoiasys

circulars-reasoning

citadelofmarks

inclusysboxes

thestarpletsystem

bunfart90

alterhuman-culture-is

interstellarsystem

bokuwaamdalla

brainmade-culture-is

fictive-culture-hub

navelgazed

pluralprompts

astrophale-and-fischl

syscourse101

aura-dragonfly

parsnipkit

phantomhunt

funnier-as-a-system

funnier-as-a-fictive

multiplicity-positivity

analog-transid (also transID, as implied in the name) (they run the blog alters-in-a-box which is one of those alter pack things)

freezingnarc

whore-hangout (its 18+ as implied keep yourself safe)

notteserver

cardsoffools (harassed me and told me to kms 🫶)

fools-temps (run by cardsoffools)

the-bride-and-the-ugly-ass-groom

RADQUEERS

stashys-radqueer-userboxes

1nklingsanitized

bisexualsafespace

radqueer-empire

maskaphiliax (also transID, also they have alfreds playhouse in their banner so please be safe)

ANTI GOOD FAITH

kowalapantheon (also a.. "plural aligned singlet?") (headmate blogs are nonexistent-loli, trans-obsessive-love-disorder, ex-harmful-transpeaceful)

forced-silence (18+, lots of violence, please beware on their page)

zomb-bunny (also think they harassed someone??? i cant remember or find the post)

starry-city-sys

endopropoganda

parxgender (also ace exclusive, anti pan/omni, and anti mogai)

yourfavehatesmspeclesbians (because god forbid someone have a complex relationship with gender and sexuality.)

mspobjects

the-party-city

pollingsystems (also doesnt believe in transandrophobia. wtf.)

OTHER

anti-lies (spreads misinformation that can be paranoia-inducing)

theinfernalcollective (claims that bullying isnt valid enough to be a system) (TRAUMA IS TRAUMA.)

disys (same as above)

permababy (transID, doesnt label themself as radqueer but does reblog it)

problema-non-grata (pro transID discourse blog)

thefakersystem (demonizes systems and those with personality disorders, anti good faith, fakeclaimer (literally, fakeclaims EVERYONE.) harasses people minding their own business, overall the worst asshole i think ive ever blocked. dear fucking lord.)

cringey-systems (dumbbb dumb baby fakeclaimer doesnt think systems are real dumb idiot baby man who reblogs systems and calls them fake because they have no life ♡)

ALTER PACKS

(people who make ID packs for people to "create" their own headmates, all are pro endo, radqueer, and transID)

build-a-headmate

alterpacks

headmatestickerbook

naris-alter-shop

brainpal-gachapon

#save for a rainy day #blocklist #syspunk #systempunk

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the-100-percent · 3 months

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Guys I think they're purposefully picking on us at this point, also, we're half asleep and idk who I am but this person is obviously stalking our page so lemme explain a few things

1. "At this point you are basically a singlet"

the what now??? Huh???? Please explain further if you see this /srs

2. "(also coffin of andy and leyley alters...)"

Headmates*

Ah yes because it's impossible to watch something bad and Introject from it, and they're both very different from source, but if they don't want to change their names that's fine

3. "these are all fucking fictives"

If you read our intro you would've seen we actually know that! We say we're introtean loud and proud and you... Have eye problems? Or do you not know what introtean means? If you don't that's fine, so here's an explanation!: introtean is when you can only form introjects, Introjects like fictives, factives, songtivs, etc etc (all things with a source!), and it's not just having fictives, like being a small system with 4 members and all of those being fictives, that's different! Because that small system still has the ability to form brain-made headmates :D I hope this explanation helps!

Also if you keep this up we're Introjecting you 🤓☝️

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dandelion-system · 26 days

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You know in some ways fictives are a hell of a lot easier than brain mades.

I’m just saying. They come with a built in name, often gender and sexuality too! An age, likes and dislikes, and generally because you know the character you at least somewhat know the fictive.

Brain mades just pop up. They get an appearance and a behaviour and everything else you just sorta gotta figure out. What’s their name? What do they like? What don’t they like? How old are they? Gender? Species?

#actually did #did community #did stuff #did system #dissociative system #plural system #sysblr #system stuff #system things #traumagenic did #non traumagenic dni #traumagenic only #actually traumagenic #traumagenic system #endos not for you #endos dni #endos do not interact #endos fuck off #anti endo

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familyabolisher · 2 years

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okay so basically:

thanks for your 100% unprompted and completely unsolicited enthusiasm everyone >:) god i am NOT doing any full essays because i am forcing myself to hold back on committing to Positions wrt tmuir's various intertexts until after alecto when i have an actually complete narrative to work with, but, to throw together my best effort at an abstract: as we probably know and as many have pointed out before (and as tmuir says in the gtn notes), the name 'dulcinea' references cervantes' dulcinea del toboso, a wholly made up woman whom don quixote projects onto a peasant girl called aldonsa as a necessary 'lady' to his own invented 'knight.' the essential premise of don quixote, put crudely, is that the title character reads an absurd amount of chivalric literature such that he imagines himself to be a knight errant and behaves as such in a period long after the social logics of chivalry make coherent sense; sharp contrasts between idealism and realism (as with the infamous tilting at windmills scene, for example) serve to drive home the absurdity of don quixote’s pretense. within this, the imagined dulcinea del toboso stands as a necessary element to the chivalric ideal that don quixote imagines himself to participate in; the knight’s ‘lady,’ as fictive as the knight himself, must be ‘sweet’ (as of course denoted by her name), of a high social class, genteel, and beautiful according to ideals of upper-class spanish beauty (blonde, pale skin, etc—of course in-text exaggerated to a comic degree). all of this, ofc, tells us something about the social allegiances of the chivalric world.

crucially, don quixote was written in the early 17th century, with the first part being published in 1605 and the second in 1615. the reconquista—the process by which christians took control of the iberian peninsula from its previously muslim rulers—was concluded in 1492, with expulsions and forcible conversions of muslim and jewish populations taking place between 1492 and 1526 and creating a new class of ‘converso’ or new christians, ie. former jews who converted to christianity but lived with a degree of suspicion cast over the legitimacy of their christian practice. (incidentally, a handful of scholars have theorised that miguel de cervantes’ family were converso jews, which i think casts a fun new light on don quixote, but the evidence is too flimsy to justify seriously committing to the reading). immediately following the reconquista was the establishment and expansion of the spanish empire, which by cervantes’ lifetime had grown to cover most of the americas and the philippines. spanish chivalry was articulated via the knightly orders carrying out such a process of christian conquest—first on the iberian peninsula, then exported to the so-called ‘new world.’ by the time cervantes was writing, chivalry had already reached its apex and was in a period of decline; as i’ve already said, the fulcrum of don quixote is this tension between the ideal and the real, this sense that don quixote’s perception of the world is no longer compatible with modernity. cervantes writes of a christian ideal at a time when aspersions were cast on conversos, where the distinction between ‘old’ and ‘new’ christians and fear of the persistence of judaism (and islam, though muslims who were forcibly converted were expelled outright) against persecution undercut this understanding of forcible conversion as a ‘success’ for christianity; far from writing about the ‘old order’ (if you will) with a straightforward elegiac nostalgia, he emphasises its illegibility in the modern period.

as i’ve talked about before, chivalry bears a relationship both to historical periods of christian conquest and subjugation of so-termed ‘infidel’ groups and to contemporary fascist aesthetics, and also holds currency in contemporary articulations of butchness/transmasculinity/queer masculinity/etc. wherein those relationships tend to be elided. one of tamsyn muir’s most prominent registers is the persistent usage of similar such touchstones: from chivalry [via cavalierhood] as a language by which lesbian articulations of desire become possible (cf., obviously, gideon/cytherea, and the ‘medieval’ aesthetics of the seventh house in general) but also as a hegemonic touchstone of an imperialist social formation to jeannemary’s having been named for jeanne d’arc to lyctors as a reference to lictors ie. roman bodyguards who carried fasces in what could plausibly be gesturing to the etymological root of ‘fascism,’ she’s v clearly working with the tensions present in these cultural building-blocks that can be used to construct an empire around the bedrock of catholicism & antiquity and to situate queerness (largely focalising lesbianism) comfortably within it.

so, like—what’s the don quixote thing doing? like, why reference a picaresque from the 17th century, rather than an ‘actual’ chivalric romance?

there’s a fairly straightforward, surface-level reading to be done here: the crucial dimension of pretense and artifice that cervantes adds to don quixote’s ‘knighthood’ maps pretty clearly onto gideon, and dulcinea as a woman who is very much Not Real but in fact a ‘disguise’ formed around what she ‘ought’ to be maps equally well onto cytherea. & ofc, cytherea and gideon’s relationship as this process of seduction-inclulcation-tutelage by which gideon ‘learns’ cavalierhood similar to how don quixote’s artifice of knighthood depends upon the presence of dulcinea of toboso in order to make sense of itself; knight-gender (if u will) as relational. much like how the driving tension of don quixote comes in part from our asking, does don quixote realise his own pretense? does his calling himself a knight and behaving as though he were a knight make him a knight in a world where the relation he tries to invoke makes no social sense & he has to literally alter the world around him (windmills into giants, aldonsa into dulcinea) to make it coherent? at what point does gideon not ‘really’ being a cavalier stop mattering, and how much is cytherea facilitating that, and how much is their relationship doubling as an inculcation into a social relation to which she was previously only peripheral? and, obviously, what does the fact that their relationship is pretty transparently predatory tell us about the relationship muir tries to draw between socially sanctioned exploitative relationships, imperialism, sexual violence and its aestheticisation, &c. &c.?

BUT LIKE….i think you can take the reading a bit further and think about the fairly common interpretation of dulcinea of toboso as something of a stand-in for, or else a counterpart to, allegiance to the spanish empire; that a feminised ideal of empire becomes the ‘lady’ to the (arguably conquistadore) knight, and that don quixote’s allegiance to her in turn becomes an allegiance to empire & imperial conquest. & ofc, the falsity of all of this; how ‘idealism vs realism’ then becomes transformed into an ideal of empire vs its reality. what gendered formations are made possible by empire, etc.

i also think you can draw some lines around the shifting balance of power between don quixote & dulcinea of toboso and gideon & cytherea; that don quixote ‘makes’ dulcinea out of aldonsa, but cytherea very much ‘makes’ herself into dulcinea (using a real woman whose identity she stole as a very loose proxy); that cytherea sits in an ambivalent position wherein she at once, unambiguously, holds power over gideon that she exploits (socially, sexually), but also occupies a position of subjectivity not shared by eg. mercy, augustine, gideon the first &c. via her blood cancer & the eugenicist practices of the seventh house; cytherea as a character who seeks power where she has the ability to seek it as an ineffective means of responding to the sites where she finds herself powerless—a trait she v much shares with john gaius, but not with mercy et al.! this ambivalence is best expressed through the relation that naming & renaming & remaking bear to one another in the wider text, which, as we well know, is used as a particular discursive expression of ownership tugging on thematic strings around sexual violence and empire (alecto into annabel; i am deliberately not doing nona spoilers in this post but redacted into redacted as well; you know the drill!); cytherea undergoing that process of obfuscation and recreation at her own behest & at once becoming subject and instigator, invisibilising the ‘real’ dulcinea in doing so & removing the external agent (gideon as don quixote) from the equation … it’s doing a lot of work around the ambivalences of power & agency (sexual and otherwise) happening there! and, of course, ask other questions about, like—as ‘dulcinea’ is an agent in the process of gideon occupying that don quixote-equivalent position, does she not then become a similar agent in cytherea’s occupying the ‘dulcinea’ position—does the relational configuration not go both ways—how much of cytherea, who we receive through gideon’s close third, is her fantasy/idealism/etc. and how much of it is cytherea’s own construction? like, is gideon actually removed from the equation? chicken-egg?

there’s a whole separate argument to be done here as well around palamedes & the ‘actual’ dulcinea/dulcie, and what this invoked projection of an imagined ideal onto a very real woman could do for a more compelling reading of their relationship than just … like, oh he was in love with her, it’s unrequited, sad! well i guess he’s just blown himself up in cytherea’s sickroom. i’m interested in these little undeveloped tendrils of, like … dulcie as a character completely and unequivocally removed from the narrative in gtn, only to establish her own presence in htn but even then only really be made sense of in relation to cytherea (i think All The Time about dulcie wearing predominantly white and cytherea wearing predominantly green … girl help they swapped colours), palamedes as being, iirc, pretty significantly younger than her … and then the fact that you could pretty easily make a case for palamedes’ name being a reference to the palamedes/palomides of the arthurian canon, a ‘saracen’ knight and convert to christianity, what that dimension can do to these readings of tmuir’s invocation of chivalry as a particular social dimension to conquest.

this is all very very roughly sketched out and if i were to ever actually try and pitch a take that wasn’t just a quickly glossed few paragraphs on tumblr dotcom i would absolutely be delving properly into the scholarship around don quixote such that i could produce something somewhat less hamfisted than All This, but. hopefully this gives the broad gist of it, lol!

#tlt

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chantsdemarins · 6 months

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🏰Breath of the Æsir {Loki X Fem.Reader} Chapter 3: Stories Cannot Burn or Disappear

I am so sorry these chapters are taking me so long. I haven't been the same since Covid! I hope the quality is still good...Thank you for joining my crazy medieval AU Loki fever dream era.

There is a bit of Easter and eclipse magic wound up in this chapter!

Summary: Loki isn't the only one who thinks you are more than a human woman, which buys you time while you figure out how to keep your manor and tenants safe. However, the challenge of nursing a debilitated, power-stripped god adds a layer of complexity to your already daunting task, clouding your judgment when clarity is most needed.

Note to Reader: Yes, Hozier is now a character, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you 😭 But which character will he be? Guess and comment!

Passion and Romance Meter: Nothing explicit yet but hopefully you feel it boiling.

I hope these people don't mind being tagged! I thought you might want to be tagged! Please let me know if you don't want the tag or if you want to be tagged. Also comments and reblogs are healing and joyous for me!

@arcielee @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @thomase1 @mcufan72 @caffiend-queen @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbsblr @anukulee @mischief2sarawr @mochie85 @sailorholly @lokisgoodgirl @shambelle97 @lokischambermaid @eleniblue @smolvenger @wheredafandomat @hiroyukinasukawa @meowmeow-motherfucker @latent-thoughts @buttercupcookies-blog @lcolumbia1988 @soulpiercing @wolfsmom1 @mysticmarvelfan

@holdmytesseract @superficialdomina @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @mjsthrillernp @arcielee @poetic-fiasco @gruftiela @thegodofnotknowing @thedistractedagglomeration @tallseaweed

@dangertoozmanykids101 @jennyggggrrr

The clay soil in your husband’s land hadn’t fully absorbed the blood of the Christian god. Not yet at least. The claustrophobic land was hemmed by bogs and marshes, lowlands with the familiar wooden gods made from branches poking out of the muddy banks. The tides to the east would fill the saturated earth till she could take no more before becoming a lake. This system of pooling respiration created a natural barrier for the people. The stillness of the water meant you didn’t stop for long, just enough time to plant your wooden god or light a beeswax candle, burn some leaves as an offering, and then find fast footing across the rickety log bridges built by people no one could remember.

In spring, a carpet of blue wood betony would appear. The town's folk's talk led you to forage it, keeping the blossoms and stems in dark Roman glass, tucked on the kitchen shelf next to the salt. Your husband never noticed your collection, or if he did, he never mentioned it as anything particular or strange. It was a relief to find plants that grew elsewhere, unlike the state of the manor land — high on a hill, flanked by rocky, sandy soil. Collecting plants often made you wonder if Christ might rise from the bogs. You'd just have to wait and see, you supposed, imagining Christ emerging naked from the thick peaty waters, stray herbs clinging to his torso.

Perhaps when Loki showed up, bleeding from his stomach, you'd envisioned something like that before. That desert man had a different name, Jesus of Nazareth. You blushed at the thought of any man, holy or common.

Yet, you didn't blush much while sewing Loki back up. Stitches plunged down his torso into places you'd only seen hinted at on the marble body of Jupiter in Eboracum. Your confident needlework proved itself. If your cheeks reddened, it wasn't from embarrassment but from lack of oxygen, struggling to breathe. Saving a life required haste, much different from the crafts of passing time.

The day the Northmen came you had been already struggling to breathe, you’d lost your air completely and found Loki’s form in front of you when your eyes finally opened again. His hair like ash from the hearth, his eyes the most peculiar color of blue, much like the betony in your waiting Roman jars. Just where had you gone when you’d lost your air? Loki had refused to confront the Danes, refused to fight them. He had handed you back his weapon, leaving you to confront the invaders yourself.

After all, you became a manor wife because your origins had burned in your village's fire, but not in the stories that followed. Stories cannot burn or disappear, especially when people fleeing tell them to the right people in the countryside. Your husband's family had heard your father's tales and believed him. Your hand in marriage was worth more than any dowry. It was all the more disappointing when you couldn't produce an heir or embroidery, and the manor lands remained sandy, rocky, and haunted. You hadn't known a husband should stay close or lie with his wife until Elinor finally told you. Your confidence to heal a stranger, to meet the Northmen at their boat, came from your father. He told you who you were, and like the manor people, you believed him — even if you didn't understand what you were.

The sky had darkened as you came to the mahogany longship anchored next to the wind-ravaged cliffs. You knew to avert your eyes from the mast, the Northern dragon guardian was designed to kill folk such as you. A provocation to your ancestors. There was confusion at their camp, what seemed like hundreds of men were pointing above and shaking their heads. A seer had cast the runes, and the chieftain seemed to not like what the seer had spoken. The rugged man looked up at the sky once more and sent what looked like an envoy to you. He blamed the Norns and you in yet another language you didn’t understand. He could not kill you because it would only curse them more.

Stunned, your trembling hands clutched Loki's blade in disbelief. You ran beneath the still darkening sky, which seemed poised for rain, though no clouds were visible. Looking up, you saw something unimaginable. A planet had fully eclipsed the sun. Your people knew of these events, but you had not witnessed one yourself. As you ran you wondered if the land's spirits had cast a powerful enough curse to scare the Northmen.

Returning home, you found only Loki in the makeshift courtyard, fever-ridden, slumped over the fence. Your heart sank, fearing he was actually dead this time. But the breath of the Æsir still moved through him, you could see his chest moving as you approached.

The village was silent, its people hiding. The only sound was the wind stirring the grain fields and the oak leaves in a dry, papery rhythm. Loki beckoned you inside but he was barely able to move to the porch, he was already worried you’d absorbed too much of the darkness. You fell into his arms, wincing from the feel of his fevered skin through your shift. Significantly taller, Loki's limbs resembled a freshly felled hawthorn. You dragged him closer to the front door, you both were exhausted in the strange day of night.

Your efforts paused for a moment, you readjusted your grip on the stranger. "Saturn is passing over the sun, an eclipse," Loki murmured, breaths faint and labored. How did he know this? Such knowledge was native only to your people. Still reeling from scaring off the Danes, you now faced an eclipse. Loki speculated on the Northmen's possible interpretation of the event. Since much of their knowledge came from his world, he felt he knew exactly what they must have felt seeing the sky darken as you approached.

"They saw the eclipse as a sign of your power. They recognize planetary transits. As you approached them, Saturn crossed the sun's path, a coincidence perhaps in your favor," Loki continued. "But they'll return, and we need to be ready," he cautioned, aware of your mutual defenselessness. He felt responsible for the deaths across these isles, seeking balance, an unfamiliar concept.

You had wanted him to stay long enough to know who he was but now it appeared like he wasn't well enough to be able to leave, even if that is what you both wanted. The truth was, part of you didn't want him to go at all. There was something about him. He knew some of the old ways and where ever he had come from, you suspected again, he had once held a high status.

Loki also continued to contemplate your shared fates. Did the Norns truly allow for this meeting between you as part of the path of the raven’s wingspan, his destiny as a god with no power. He dared to speak to you some of his true thoughts. He felt he owed you some kind of explanation for his resistance to fighting on your behalf.

“Lady, I wish I could help you but as you see I am unwell from my wounds. When I heal, I would like to help you defend your home as part of my thanks, I will find a way to do that does not involve fighting. We have the cosmos on our side it seems, so perhaps there is more luck for our coming together. This is of course if you will continue to have me.”

His pale face seemed even more ghastly, and he laid his body on the porch in a heap, looking very similar to how you first found him. You felt a tenderness stir. You’d felt it for him when you were saving him but now it was tinged with worry for both of your lives and everyone who depended on you.

“Loki I don't want to heal you twice, but it seems this is my fate. Let’s see what you have within you still and if your Gods are listening. I expect you will tell me why you refuse to fight or why you cannot. You owe me the truth. There is much you are not saying.”

He knew he would not be able to hide himself from you as you seemed unable to hide yourself from him. The circumstances unfolding seemed like the actions of reverse spells, instead of concealing they were revealing who you both were. This was vexing to you both.

Despite his sincere words to you, Loki was not sure this troubled land was his final destination. He wondered if he should try and leave as soon as he was able. He was speaking with two tongues. Perhaps he should venture south, go to the Midgard places where panther Gods and pyramids covered in gold existed. Those people were said to do the bidding of the gods with even more ferocity than the Northmen.

Instead, he was sick with fever and stuck with a mysterious, beautiful, and angry woman, whose husband could return at any moment and kill him for what it looked like was happening, even in the middle of a possible invasion. Suddenly his reverie broke as you lifted his shirt to inspect his wound. Your worry for his fever could wait no longer.

"Lady," he said as he batted your hand away.

You protested back, “I have seen you already, why would you be shy now stranger? I need to check your wound, you are feverish,” you continued to pull up his shirt. His gash had indeed become weeping and likely the source of his fever. Whether you liked it or not, you were healing him once again it seemed.

“Wood betony, that is what you need, you are lucky I have some. I’ll see to it Elinor makes you a poultice, and then I am putting you in one of the downstairs bedrooms.” Your eyes were worried even if your words were not. Loki placed his weakened hand on your shoulder, and spoke solemnly, “You know, we need to find your husband.”

You turned your face from him, you didn’t want Loki to notice even the smallest bit of feeling.

“Of course, that is a good idea, this is his manor and his people after all,” you replied. “We can leave when the fever breaks and you can walk without me carrying half your weight,” there was the slightest tinge of playfulness in your words to your surprise. You hoped he did not notice.

As the day was moving into evening, the villagers whispered their suspicions about the stranger you aided. The darkened sky had unsettled them as much as the Northmen. Loki was right, without your husband the manor would devolve into chaos and this would leave the village even more vulnerable.

You watched Loki slowly drag his body to the downstairs bedroom and close the thick doors behind him before you had the chance to redirect him or wish him a good night. You thought better to tell him that he had gone into your husband’s bedroom not the servant’s quarters you had intended for him to rest.

You felt your stomach twist in knots. If your husband came home tonight the wrong impression you worried you would make, would surely be inevitable. You would have to go and move Loki once you were done with your chores. A prospect that left you even more anxious.

Finally, when everyone had gone to sleep and Elinor had gone to her quarters, you stood alone in the empty house contemplating what you should do next. Sleep seemed an impossibility. The eclipse had only been five minutes, but it disturbed the entire day. Now it was nearly midnight and it felt like morning. All time had shifted somehow. Loki sleeping in your husband's bedroom loomed in your head.

To quiet your thoughts you found yourself in the kitchen, sometimes cooking felt relaxing even if you were not good at it. Instead tonight you eyed the row of bottles on your shelf. There was something else calling to you. You grabbed a jar of mistletoe berries, and held them in your hands. Their color was startling.

Suddenly you busying yourself muddling them with the mortar and pestle. If there was a recipe to follow you did not know it, you pulled a few more bottles off the shelf and added the ingredients. Mullein leaves and blackberry.

Pausing for a moment you felt that Loki’s knife was still around your body, you had placed it in a leather holder diagonally across your chest, and forgotten it was there. The knife passed over your breasts and you couldn’t help but touch the length of it.

You hadn't the time to have paid much attention to it before. You noticed the unusual, rich craftsmanship. The inlay was extraordinary. Garnets and chrysoprase. You then gently pulled it out of the holder and carefully pricked your finger with the impossibly sharp tip. This action surprised you.

You inhaled deeply. Crimson blood rolled down your finger and into the stone mixing bowl. You placed your still bleeding fingertip into your mouth hoping to quickly stem the bleeding, but the knife had been too sharp, or you cut yourself too deep.

Quickly, you sucked the wound, blood filling your mouth. You spat the excess into the bowl and placed it on the windowsill, intuitively sensing it needed the moonlight. Just then you heard a deep voice behind you. You were frozen in place, unable to turn around. It was Loki.

"I had no idea you were a seer, you could have told me that sooner and it would have cleared things up," his words rich with sleep and something else.

When you finally turned around you saw he was only wearing his leather trousers and the poultice. Your heart produced a wild, unfamiliar beat, and you steadied yourself against the kitchen table. You weren't a seer, but you could not explain what you were just doing or what you were now feeling.

Before you could stop him, Loki took your mixture from the sill and drank it. "My gods what have you done?" the startled words fell out of your mouth as he placed the now empty bowl back into your hands.

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necroangelz · 7 months

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　　　 ˖ 　✦　　𓌔　　i want you to die for, for you to die for my love

in the night your heart is full, and by the morning empty　　　　 ˖ 　✦　　𓌔

♡　　personal rentry 　❀ 𓈒　 tag guide　⟡

ᛝ　keep reading for　𝜗｡　blog info 。。⠀₎₎

🕊️﹒　◟ fetching credits . . .

— CREDITS: Account layout　﹕　Heart divider used in pinned　﹕　K-Angel replycons made by 🎀 anon　﹕　Dividers

🪩﹒　◟ opening blog_info_tldr.docx . . .

🎐 — DNI: Basic DNI　﹕　Radqueer　﹕　TransID　﹕　Against anything related to my identity (kin, mogai, etc.)　﹕　Anti-recovery

💌 — BLOG NOTES: Edit posts are slow.　﹕　I don't edit with GIFs. 　﹕　I do not take requests anymore.　﹕　I don't know much about most discourse that's commonly discussed online and I don't care.　﹕　I often speak untranslated Tagalog here.　﹕　I use a typing quirk. (You = uu)

🎐 — SIDE ACCOUNTS: @xxxnecrotica ; rants, fandom reblogs, & others　﹕　@necroangelz-archive ; archive　﹕　@necroheavenz ; layout testing

🍥﹒　◟ opening extended_intro.pdf . . .

haiiii wsg my name is moonlightttt but also commonly called angelllll.... what u just read above is some important info for my blog. as u may have guessed i'm just your average tumblr user on editblr!

my (main) pronouns are SHI/MUSE/KILL (i use like so much pronouns though lmao) i am a GIRLTHING LESBIAN and a MINOR (older than 14. u won't be told my age) living in the PHILIPPINES. go ahead and d0xx me now (FOR LEGAL REASONS THAT'S A JOKE! :3) since I'm filipino, i can speak tagalog as well! I'm not the best at it but i try.

i am a fictionkin!!!!!! that means i am multiple fictional characters and i have past lives as some/most of them!! they are embedded into my identity and who i am as a person and i will bring up such topics frequently. <3 i usually theme my profile after my kins, and currently it's k-angel (again. i think it might be k-angel forever. you can't fight the k-angel unfortunately. being fictionkin is really important to me so if you think fictionkin are lesser than irls/fictives, hate on us and think we're "insane" etc. please get away from me <3

I'm not very social so i don't interact with others often.... i tend to silently follow people and like all their posts without talking to them LOL. but I'd be more than happy if people reached out to me first ^_^

#👁️‍🗨️﹕ from the archives 𝜗𝜚 ︵#💫﹕ the stars glow 𝜗𝜚 ︵#🪽﹕ my wings 𝜗𝜚 ︵#🌙﹕ talking to the moon 𝜗𝜚 ︵#🌠﹕ a wishing star 𝜗𝜚 ︵#👾﹕ transmission received 𝜗𝜚 ︵#🔌﹕ internet browsing 𝜗𝜚 ︵#✒️﹕ anomaly profile 𝜗𝜚 ︵#🎤﹕ the idol's constellation 𝜗𝜚 ︵#⛅﹕ heaven's broadcast 𝜗𝜚 ︵#🎀﹕ ribbon anon 𝜗𝜚 ︵#some dumbfuck's intro post #moon69 #moon294 #moon1010

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holdmytesseract · 1 year

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Another Daryl request bc why not aka I love your Daryl fics so so much 🤍

- a steamy enemies to lovers !! Yn leads a neighboring community (to Alexandria) and they meet regularly to wrangle over the boundaries of the hunting grounds. There always has been heavy sexual tension and one day the things “escalate” ;) …

Crossing Lines

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When Daryl gets caught on forbidden ground once again, you show mercy - like you did so often. But this time you offer him a quite... Special deal. A deal he can't reject?

Warnings: the usual TWD stuff, walkers, weapons, this is quite a bit steamy, very suggestive smut...

Takes place in season 6!

Word Count: 3,1k

a/n: I absolutely love this request and the story my brain came up with! I'd even go so far and say it's one of my favourites! 😄 Thanks for this, my wonderful friend! I hope you and everybody else likes it! ❤

Sidenote: It has nothing to do with the Wolves. I just liked the name.

Tagging: @km-ffluv @stitchintimefan @sweetpeapod @loz-3 @peaches1958 @fictive-sl0th @lou12346789 @fuseburner @hotgirlsshareaccounts @in-this-minute

Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Hey, Daryl! What are you up to?" Glenn asked his friend; shouting down from one of the guard towers in Alexandria. "'M goin' out," the archer answered; stopping in front of the wooden construction to look up at the Korean. Glenn smiled. "I can see that - but what are you up to?" Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "Huntin'. We're out of 'possum." Glenn couldn't suppress the small giggle, which left his lips. "Yeah, right. Be careful out there. The sun's going down soon." "Nah, got a least two hours 'fore sunset." Even though Glenn knew the redneck for quite a long time already, he was still sometimes surprised and impressed by his skills.

"Alright. See you." Daryl nodded and wanted to walk past the tower, when Glenn stopped him again. "You know the rules," he shouted after him. The archer gave his friend another nod and a low grunt, before he made his way to the big doors; leaving his home behind himself.

Roaming the woods and wide meadows around Alexandria; the archer was on search for something alive to eat. He followed a few trails, which only led to nothing, or a dead cadaver; already feasted on by a walker. Daryl didn't find himself having a lot of luck this evening - at least in the Alexandrian hunting grounds...

Stepping on 'forbidden' land, Daryl's senses were sharpened. Not just because he was looking out for some animal to hunt... Because of the walkers. Sure, you always had to look out for them - but the problem was that he couldn't kill them. Not here. They'd know. You'd know.

The archer sneaked as quiet as possible through the woods; always scanning his surroundings - and yet he couldn't prevent it from happening. A single crack of a twig a few meters away from him announced his doom - and before he could even blink, he was surrounded. About ten men; bow and arrow raised at him and all dressed in the signature clothing he was so very familiar with. Boots, black cargo pants, linen shirts or hoodies. Some of them had fur mantles draped over their shoulders. Others wore a hood. But everyone had a bandana covering most of their faces. Damnit, thought Daryl.

"Drop the weapon!" One of the men yelled. Daryl did what he was told; knowing that he had lost the game already anyways. So, he dropped his crossbow.

The archer's eyes scanned the group then; looking out for you - their leader. But you found him first.

"Crossing borders again, Dixon?" Your voice urged to his ears, causing him to swiftly turn around. You stood behind him; dressed like the men around him. Black cargo pants, beige linen shirt and a fur mantle; bandana loosely hanging around your neck. The only difference was, that you somehow looked more... gracefully. It seemed like the clothing fitted you so much better. Or was it just the way Daryl saw it?

The left corner of your mouth twitched upwards; smiling halfway at the archer. Your bow lazily draped over your shoulder; one hand securing it.

"I asked you a question."

Once again managed your voice to grab his attention; snapping out of his thoughts. He subtly cleared his throat and lifted his gaze to meet your stunning Y/E/C eyes, before he shrugged his shoulders. "I ain't seein' any borders, nor yer name scarified in any of the trees."

It had been the wrong answer. Daryl knew as soon as a man stepped out of the circle behind you; marching with big steps towards you and him. The man had his bow secured on his back and drew a gun instead. He walked past you and aimed the weapon at Daryl; ready to pull the trigger - but you stopped him. Much to Daryl's surprise.

"Leave it, Isaiah." You addressed your right-hand-man. Isaiah gave the archer a death glare, but listened to his leader, of course, and withdrew the gun, engaged the safety and placed it back in its place on his weapons belt. He even took a few steps back. Nevertheless, rested Isaiah's hand on the gun; ready to defend you. If necessary. "It's alright. Mr. Dixon just likes breaking rules. Nothing new, is it?" It wasn't by far the first time that they found the archer within their hunting grounds. Daryl quite liked to... expand his hunting trips. Of course, they didn't catch him every time, but often enough to know.

Daryl just grunted and scoffed. "Rules ain't existing in this world anymore." You lifted an eyebrow, before you started to shake your head. "Ahh this is such a shame," you stated; beginning to circle the archer like a hunter its prey. "Truly. How many more times do we need to explain to you how the shots get called around here, until you finally understand it, huh?" Daryl answered nothing, just clenched his jaw.

"Look, Daryl..." You clearly put the emphasis on his name. "Our communities live in peace together. We agreed to respect one another and when the opportunity occurs, even trade things. But nothing more. We are not crossing your paths and you are not crossing our paths - which includes the hunting grounds as well. You can ask Rick if you don't believe me..." You shrugged your shoulders and continued to circle him. "We have absolutely no problem - but..." You stepped closer; invading his private space and whispered lowly into his ear: "If you keep breaking the rules, we might have a problem."

At your words ran a shiver down Daryl's spine. The problem was, that he couldn't tell if it was out of respect - or arousal. And it scared the very tough man quite a bit.

He could see from the corner of his eyes, how you stepped away again and turned to your men. "Let's call it a day." Everyone withdrew their weapons from Daryl and started to move.

Then you gave Isaiah and Yosh a nod. They knew exactly what to do. Walking towards Daryl, they pushed the archer forwards; into the direction in which the other men were heading. Daryl turned and gave them both a death glare; ready to jump at them and fight - but he knew better than that. He wasn't stupid. He knew when he had lost a game. And this one was already lost a long time ago.

You walked past him; following the group. "You're coming with us. Be our guest." The archer grunted. "What if I don't wanna?" You turned to face the man, while walking backwards. He's very sassy today, you thought. "You're not refusing the offer of a lady, will you? Come on. I have something to discuss with you."

And so, Daryl followed you - wordless and without a fight. He knew that he wouldn't stand a chance. Not against you anyway - and he was clearly outnumbered.

About fifteen minutes later and walking constantly through the thicket of the forest, you, Daryl and the rest of the group reached the community. It was hidden within the trees, on a large clearing. High, thick walls made out of wood marked the outline; strengthened by thick metal tiling. Some would say it looked a bit like the Hilltop, but there was clearly something special about it. Daryl's eyes widened as he saw it. He's never been at their 'camp'. Only met them outside and in the woods. The walls were surrounded by a wide, deep pit. A deep pit which reached around the whole camp - as it seemed. The entrance was only reachable through a drawbridge. Like a castle, taken straight out of the Middle Ages. The archer shook his head. That was surreal. Impossible.

Before he could think more about it, he received another shove, causing him to stumble on the drawbridge. Together with everyone else, he walked through the big doors and behind the safety of the huge walls - and pit. You walked beside him and gave him a smug smile; as he looked around, stunned.

"Welcome to the Wolf's Pit, Daryl."

The archer's eyes widened in astonishment as he took in the scenery in front of him. The place bustled with people. Women, men, children. Small, wooden houses soaring everywhere. Most of them were finished; some of them not. Daryl was also able to make out the small fields with vegetables and crops all around the place. It was stunning. Fascinating. But then he also felt the eyes of several people on himself. Some of them gave him confused gazes; some of them sceptical and threatening gazes. Nonetheless, it was clear to the archer, that they were all asking themselves the same question... Who was he and why was he here?

One wrong move and Daryl would have a big problem - and he knew.

You noticed this as well, of course, and how 'alarmed' Daryl was. So, you stopped, causing the archer to stop, too. You then nodded towards your wooden hut. "Come on. Let's talk, shall we?" While Daryl followed you wordlessly, the other men - including Isaiah and Yosh split up to go their own ways from here.

Your little hut was definitely the most 'majestic' one. Sure, you were their leader. The moment Daryl entered your home, he was utterly impressed. It wasn't super big, but very detailed and beautifully furnished - if you could call it that. The most of it was clearly self-made, not scavenged. The fireplace, table, chairs and several other things. A lot of furs and pillows decorated the house, making it appear very cosy. And again, was this one question ghosting through Daryl's head…

"How were a few people able to build somethin' huge like tha'?" He finally asked; still looking around in awe. You put down your weapons and fur mantle; smiling, before you turned to face him. "That is a valid question, Dixon. To answer it honestly, we didn't even build that much of it." You began to explain, while you made a fire in the fireplace. "When we found this place here, it was more or less a site. Diggers, trucks and other construction vehicles were standing around. Clearly, they wanted to build something big here. The pit was over halfway dug out already. Two wooden huts were still standing; about to be demolished. Just like the wooden fence. Whatever it was they started here, it was never finished. So, we took the opportunity, scavenged the things we needed and build this." You finished; gesturing around. "Quite impressive, right?" Daryl nodded. It was true.

Silence spread within the hut, as Daryl's blue-grey eyes followed your every move. You picked up a few branches and twigs from a basket and threw them into the crackling fire. Before his gaze would stick on you, he averted his eyes again; clearing his throat. "Why 'm I here? Whaddaya want from me?" You turned to face him once again; smiling. "Oh, you know exactly why you are here, Daryl." Again, you rolled his name off your tongue so easily, as if you'd known each other for years. "But I'll explain it to you again." You took a step closer; dusting off your hands. "Admittedly, I don't like you straying around in our territory. We both know that this could end bad for you - which would be a shame, because you are special. You are not like the others, Mr. Dixon. I noticed that the first time we met, and I like it." Your smile even widened, "Therefore, I have an offer to make. One you are freely allowed to decline..." before you gave him a once over. "Or accept."

Daryl looked at you quite a bit confused. "An offer?" You nodded. "An offer." He looked at you for a moment intensely; trying to figure you out. "Aight. Spit it out."

You wettened your lips; holding his gaze. "Go now; never come back and sneak around our hunting grounds. Keep on breaking the rules and risk the bridges we build to burn down or..." "Or?" You bit your lip; starting to smile cheekily. "Or stay; spent the night with me and you'll be allowed to go hunt wherever you like."

For a moment, the archer thought he misheard you/your words. All his facial features literally derailed; blinking. He definitely needed a moment to process this and to regain composure.

"That's extortion, woman." Daryl then scoffed; crossing his arms over his chest and visibly trying to play it cool. You were quite unimpressed from his reaction and shook your head. "It's not. It's an offer - like I said. I'm not forcing you to do anything." "Why would ya offer me somethin' like that?" You bit your lip once more and started to circle him like you did when you and your group caught him. "That's simple. I saw the way you were looking at me. Whenever we met each other. Do you really think I didn't notice, Dixon? You are very bad at hiding your physical attraction towards me."

Your words were like a blow into the gut for the archer. He swallowed - hard; was speechless. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" You teased him; giggling. "It's because you know that I'm right, isn't it?"

That was the moment Daryl lost it. He couldn't prevent the heat forming in his cheeks; a blush creeping on his face. You smiled and stopped right in front of him. Slowly, you lifted your hand and drew a seductive line from his shoulder to his pec with your pointer finger; whispering: "Gotcha."

An undeniable shiver ran down Daryl's spine at your words; your touch leaving a burning, sizzling sensation behind.

You took a step back, but kept your hand in place; fingers started to toy with the lapels of his angel-winged vest. "So, what do you say?"

Daryl swallowed; needed once again a moment to get his brain to work properly again and especially to play it cool. What if this was a trap? He couldn't just cave and give in like that, could he?

"It ain't a fair deal, is it? One night in exchange for free passageway? Seems very suspicious ta me." "Who says it's only one night?" You asked with a smirk and looked up to meet his eyes, before you pressed your palm flat against his chest and started to back him up against the nearby wall. "What if our paths cross more often from then on, because we want them to cross? It's a win-win."

You weren't a predictable person. Daryl had figured that out very quickly - but he saw the move you were about to make coming. So, he decided to took you by surprise and join the game. Before you were able to pin him to the wooden wall, he placed one hand over the one which rested on his chest, quickly grabbed your wrist and spun you around - slamming your back against the wall. Now you were the one trapped, not him.

"Why would ya risk it?" Daryl asked in a hushed, raspy voice, while he towered above you; leaving you no chance to escape. Not that you wanted to escape. No, you quite enjoyed the turn of things. It caused the sexual tension to grow even more. So thick, it was cuttable with a knife.

"Huh? Why? You ain't have a reason to trust me." You giggled and leaned closer to him. Not that you were very close already. "I don't have to trust you, Dixon." Your lips almost touched his as you spoke. He could feel your warm breath on the skin of his face. "I just need to give you what you want," you added, whispering. "So, tell me..." You moved a hand to his leather belt, which was slung around his hips and held his old, tattered jeans in place and hooked your fingers through the loops. "What is it that you want?" Then you tugged, causing the completely stunned archer to stumble forwards; hips clashing against yours.

It took Daryl everything, to not let the thundering moan leave his lips, which had built up in his throat. He gritted his teeth; jaw clenching. It was that moment, in which he realised that he couldn't suppress his attraction towards you any longer. Not after that. He got lost in his own primal need - and gave in. His clouded mind urging him on to make a rather bold move. So, he did. Acting fast, he sneaked his hands down to the back of your thighs and lifted you up; causing a small yelp to escape your mouth. He didn't beat about the bush and crossed the small hut to throw you on the fluffy, cosy bed. He had made his decision - and you knew it.

Giggling like a schoolgirl, you looked up at him, "Thought so." and crooked your finger; making a come-hither motion. "C'mon, big boy. Claim what belongs to you then." And he did.

Daryl stayed the whole night – like you said. And let's say it that way… The night was thoroughly spent.

When the first sun rays of the new day poured through your makeshift windows, a firm knock sounded through the hut and woke you up. You knew exactly who it was. Stretching your limbs, you stood up and tiptoed completely across the hut, in order to grab your dressing gown. "Come in!" You whisper-shouted; not to wake the sleeping man in your bed. The wooden door swung open and revealed your right-hand-man, Isaiah.

"Good morning," he said; closing the door behind himself. You gave him a smile; tying the knot of your robe. "It is, indeed, a very good morning." You had no shame when it came down to him. Neither secrets. Isaiah was like the big brother you never had and best friend in one. You loved him dearly and were grateful for everything he had done for you.

Isaiah's eyes wandered over your body, before they travelled to the bed. "Ah, I see." He stated; seeing the archer's barely covered body. Daryl was still sleeping tightly; laying on his belly with both hands buried underneath the soft pillow, in order to support his head.

Isaiah grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Sleeping with the enemy?" You shook your head; smiling. "He's not the enemy, Ice. He's an ally - just like the Alexandrians..." Your eyes roamed across Daryl's bare, broad back. Some scratches of your fingernails were still visible; memories immediately taking you back to the last night. "...and the man I'd like to keep in my bed." Isaiah chuckled. "I assume you had a very pleasurable night then?" "Then best of my life."

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl twd #twd fanfic #twd #the waking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead smut

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dr-futbol-blog · 4 months

Text

Poisoning the Well

Poisoning the Well (S01E07) is a Beckett-centric episode so we get less interaction between Sheppard and McKay.

It is noticeable at the very outset, though, that they are getting to know each other pretty well. Sheppard is able to communicate a complex idea (this culture is clearly more primitive than ours but they are so proud of their accomplishments and we are trying to make friends so you need to curb your need to be right and just go with it) to McKay just by saying his name using a certain voice. Sheppard has his back turned so his tone of voice is actually the only cue McKay gets. This suggests familiarity.

However, it's actually more striking that McKay actually seems to understand John's meaning. Just in the previous episode, Childhood's End (S01E06) McKay seemed unable to understand that when someone asks whether he has chocolate on him, they actually want to have some. That is, he has trouble understanding social cues and interprets things very literally which is on par with fictive representations of geniuses.

This tells us two things: 1) Sheppard has observed McKay enough to be able to anticipate what he's going to do (cf. previous episode for Sheppard keeping a keen eye on everything Rodney does) and 2) McKay must be trying really hard to understand Sheppard, which is something he would not normally bother doing.

Further, Sheppard keeps exhibiting signs of attraction. He seems to sense McKay's movement behind him (physical awareness), his eyes automatically go to him, he aborts the movement once he catches himself but then looks anyway because it would be silly to keep himself from looking at his entirely platonic team member.

Also, McKay places himself close enough to touch and not only does not John pull away, he pushes back into him (accidentally-on-purpose-touches).

He glances at McKay when he thinks that he's not looking:

In the episode, we are once more reminded of the importance of looks and subtextual information carried therein with this exchange:

Weir: Major, have you made any progress with your prisoner? Sheppard: Well, not yet, but he just blinked. McKay: He blinked? What does that mean? Sheppard: It means he's still holding on but he's indicated to me that he may break soon. McKay: And he indicated this to you by ... blinking? Sheppard: Yes.

The episode also marks the start of Sheppard antagonizing the wraith by giving them human names. He later names Todd after a pale guy a knew in college which makes one wonder if all the names he comes up with are from people of his past. One would venture that he would give the wraith names of people he didn't particularly like but then, there is this strange erotic undertone to his taunting of the wraith. Could the sources of the names be exes or former crushes?

Further, when they're walking side by side, Sheppard actually turns his entire body toward McKay:

Also, while the licking-his-lip thing seems to be a nervous tick, something that Sheppard does when he's not sure what to say or to deal with some emotion (here, McKay reminds him that he's the one responsible for waking the wraith), he does it twice here in very short order. One of them was wraith-related, the other was purely McKay-related.

Also notable: John clearly blames himself for waking the wraith, and he could easily have interpreted the look McKay throws at him when the topic comes up as blaming him. But once alone, McKay actually tries to alleviate Sheppard's obvious guilt with "You haven't told them that we practically woke the Wraith from hibernation, have you?"

For a socially inept dude he certainly is able to pass as a human being for this man and this man only.

Also, this exchange:

McKay: Reminds you of Area 51, doesn't it? Sheppard: Circa 1918. Ford: I don't think Area 51 was around in 1918, sir. Sheppard: Well, the area was.

Commenting on a topic that you hope will interest your crush. Teasing reply. Someone else jives in, you do a complete 180 to defend the comment of your would-be boo. This is textbook stuff.

There's innuendo in Sheppard's "Weapons come in all shapes and sizes, lieutenant," especially as it is paired with a shot of a phallic vial being handed to him with a suggestive look from the chancellor with a drawled "Major Sheppard, I think you'll find this intriguing."

Through Sheppard and McKay's discussion with Beckett on the planet, we establish that when someone is not a part of the military, Sheppard can't give them commands. For some reason we, as the audience, really needed to be reminded of that during this time.

This episode also marks the start of several references to Star Trek. It's actually Sheppard that brings it up with "He's worse than McCoy!" completely unprompted, albeit Rodney seems to catch the reference right away. Over the seasons we see further examples of Sheppard revealing what a complete and utter geek he is where McKay just keeps not noticing this fact in spite of their frequent geeky conversations. Also, since Beckett is Bones, and McKay thinks that Sheppard is Kirk, although it is never mentioned, that probably would make McKay Spock. Kirk and Spock being the OG sci-fi television relationship with homoerotic undertones, which were also more or less confirmed by the creators.

According to creator Gene Rodenberry, "I definitely designed it as a love relationship. And I hope that for men… who have been afraid of such relationships… that they [Spock and Kirk] would encourage them to be able to feel love and affection, true affection… love, friendship and deep respect. That was the relationship I tried to draw. I think I also tried to draw a feeling of belief that very few of us are complete unto ourselves. It’s quite a lovely thing… where two halves make a whole."

The introduction of Perna is interesting. When she arrives, Sheppard's gaze first completely slides over her, finding the back of Beckett's head to be more interesting. But a polite fellow, he introduces himself in response to her introduction with a polite smile, then turning to introduce his team and when he's about the introduce McKay, Beckett chimes in, obviously captivated by her.

He's looking at her intensely, starts macking right away. And it's only then that Rodney jumps in with what can only be described as a need to compete with Beckett for the attention of the lady. And John seems pleased as a peach when the Hoffan scientist only seems to have eyes for Beckett.

They are in contrast. Sheppard is uninterested. Beckett is immediately and completely taken. McKay's interest is perfunctory. The pretty lady is the trophy of a competition that he just lost.

Perna and Beckett get real close, real fast working side by side together. While this is obvious to the audience, since it is taking place between a man and a woman, the romantic nature of their relationship isn't actually explicitly stated. It is played out through gazes, positioning, intimacy of their rapport. We naturally read this as romance. Everything that takes place between them also takes places between Sheppard and McKay, only spread over several episodes. It's funny how that is.

#stargate atlantis #sga #sga meta #john sheppard #sheppard is bi #rodney mckay #rodney is gay #ep. poisoning the well #ep. childhood's end

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