#the whole things feels like a fever dream | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lucygxybaird · 2 days ago

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billy x reader - reader turns billy into a vampire

tw: injury, death (i guess??)

Billy has never been the sort of man to count his days — he’s been too busy scraping by, working from dawn til dusk, if not simply trying to survive under a hail of bullets and enmity that sometimes feels unrelenting.

There have been times where he’s felt the whole world is against him, and if his faith in God had been strong enough, he would wonder what exactly he’d done to earn the wrath of the Almighty. Loss, violence and grief have dogged his steps since he was sixteen, but he was able to bear it all, either through sheer stubbornness or his belief that he was doing the right thing.

And then he lost you.

Whatever force that fueled him, whether it’s the soul as his mother would have claimed, or the single-minded fire which separates man from beast, shuddered and died the moment he saw you lying there. So still, your skin waxen and white, your eyes half-hidden behind lowered lashes that didn’t fully conceal your empty gaze. He’d cradled you in his arms for hours — even now, he’s not sure for how long — until Manuela had finally convinced him to let you rest.

And then you came home.

It took weeks, long enough for the winter to begin bleeding into spring. But you returned to him, standing outside his window, your icy fingers caressing his face as you told him you needed to be invited in. He didn’t understand, at first; but when you explained everything, when you told him what you were, he’d felt only a joy so intense that it bordered on pain. It didn’t matter to him what you needed to sustain you, just that you’d returned to him.

He had asked you — or tried to, anyway — if you would change him. He’s desperate to be with you forever, to never risk losing you again, but there’s a whisper of temptation, of yearning for something else. The idea that he never has to fear illness again, that silent specter which has laid waste to so much in his life.

For so long, he’s expected that the thread of his fate will be cut by a bullet, but always — with each sore throat, a sniffle, an ache he can’t quite explain — he wonders if it’s his turn. If he will die, ashen and wracked with coughing, soaked with sweat, cheeks sunken and eyes immense in his face, the way his mother and brother did. If you would have to watch him fade away, dirty snow melting into the soil, just as he had to do.

But if you change him, he’ll be free of both, free from the fear of guns and fever.

Compared to being with you for eternity, the idea pales in comparison, but it’s there.

That night, the night you finally came back, you asked him to think on it. And he has, obsessively, his thoughts turning and churning like a water wheel in a flash flood. His dreams have been full of thirst, of a body so powerful and so altered that it almost seems beyond his control. He wonders if it will hurt, and how badly, if the longer he lives, the more of his human life he’ll forget. Will he lose his mother’s face? His father’s voice? Joe’s smile? Tunstall’s kindnesses?

But — he comes back to this, every time — he’ll have you. The two of you will have each other. Whatever he may lose, whatever he has to sacrifice, it will be worth it.

He’s thought about it, he has. And he knows what he wants. This life, his first life, has been nothing but one trial after another, after another, an endless march through the vale of tears, and none of it was by choice. And, really, the more he considers it, this really isn’t a choice, either.

He will never, never let anything separate the two of you again, certainly not something as prosaic as six feet and a coverlet of dirt.

Your fingers are combing through his hair as he lays with his head pillowed on your chest, body curled to fit against yours. It took him a little while to become used to you as you really are, when you dropped the facade that you were still living. You don’t eat regular food anymore, of course, although sometimes you take a sip of his coffee (it’s hot enough that you can feel it, you say, and bitter enough that you can taste a hint of it on your tongue).

You don’t bother to pump your lungs like a bellows, forcing your chest to rise and fall; sometimes, in fact, your entire body is so still that he feels as though there’s a statue sitting at the kitchen table, or nestled in his arms in bed as you are now. And the only sound of breathing echoing in the room now is his, which means that the silence is only broken up by an occasional sigh, whether it’s the wind or his own murmur.

So when you speak, he can’t help but jump, his body jerking against yours like a wave splashing up against the rocks. Your fingers go still, nestled in his hair.

Despite his hammering heart, Billy smiles when you giggle. “Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” he says. He props himself up on an elbow to look into your face. “I was just…thinkin’, I guess.”

You smile up at him, reaching up a cool hand to lay your palm against his cheek. “I know,” you say. “That’s what I was trying to ask you. I just wanted to know what was on your mind. I could practically hear the gears turning in your head.”

Billy snorts softly. He lays down next to you, putting his hand against yours to keep it against his face. He’s always run warm, and your porcelain touch feels exquisite, soothing as a cool sip of water on a hot day.

“Was there smoke comin’ out of my ears?”

You giggle again. He decided a long time ago that your laugh was just about his favorite sound in the world, but now, after being so sure he would never hear it again, he thinks there’s no way heaven itself could have sweeter music.

“Not quite,” you say, and you resume the soothing stroking motion through his curls. “What were you thinking about?”

“You,” he says. His tone indicates this should be obvious. What else would be be thinking about, ever? “Us. Forever.”

You don’t say anything for what feels like a very long time. He wonders if it seems as long to you, or if even little increments of time don’t mean the same thing to you as they do to him. Years, he can understand. Decades, even. But how does a minute feel? Does it stretch until it’s gossamer-thin, like a spoke of a spiderweb? Or does it condense, until it’s smaller than a grain of sand, so that a countless multitude can be clutched in the palm of a hand?

“Billy, I need you to be sure,” you say finally. “I would never want to deprive you of anything, even if it means—”

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t even speak it. I’m not goin’ anywhere, whether you change me or not.” He sits up, the bedclothes pooling around his waist, and you do the same, hugging your own side of the blanket to your chest.

You smile at him, though it’s more like a weeping willow than anything else, pulled down and giving an air of melancholy. “I love you too much to want anything less than a beautiful life for you,” you say. “I hope it includes me, but—”

“Includes you?”

A part of him knows his mother would be horrified that he keeps interrupting a lady, but he can’t help himself.

“Includes you?” he repeats. “Of course it includes you. You can’t deprive me of anything, because you’re everything to me.” He offers you a have smile, one weighed down at a corner by chagrin. “If you don’t know that, I’ve been doin’ something wrong.”

Your cool fingers fold around his. “I know,” you say. “You’re everything to me, too. And there’s nothing I want more than to be with you through each century to come.”

Billy’s heart trips in his chest, and he wonders if you can hear it. “So…is that a yes?”

There is another moment of silence that stretches between the two of you like a bubble threatening to burst, and then you’re both laughing — nervous, thin laughter at first, which blooms into full belly-laughs. You lean forward and bury your face against his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap.

It’s moments like this where it’s so easy to forget everything. Not just losing you, or learning the truth of who you are, but the world itself. It all falls away, softening, blurring, until it’s just a matter of perspective to convince himself that the two of you are the only two people who exist, who matter. Billy buries his face against your hair, still grinning.

“It sounds like you just proposed to me,” you say, another giggle erupting from your chest.

Your words make him chuckle all over again, because that’s exactly what he was thinking, too, exactly why he’s laughing so hard. It’s only funny because asking you to be his wife — which, by the way, is definitely something he’s considered — seems like a molehill compared to a mountain, when held up next to the idea of altering his very state of being.

Billy sets you back by the shoulders, framing your face between his hands. “Darlin’,” he says, bringing on a fresh shower of giggles. “Will you do me the honor of becomin’ my…?”

He pauses, and whispers, “Is maker a good word?”

“Yes,” you whisper back.

He clears his throat. “Will you do me the honor — stop laughin’ — of becomin’ my maker?”

In the beat of silence between his question and your answer, Billy can feel the mirth melting away, like morning frost on the grass. It was funny, at first, but it really isn’t anymore.

You touch his cheek. “Of course I will,” you say. “If that’s what you want.”

He presses his lips against yours, feeling the sensation of a snowflake alighting on his skin. “It’s the only thing I want,” he says.

You wait until midnight, when the darkness of the night is deep, the air still and soft, and the stars are veiled by silvery-white cloud, so that their distant eyes are covered and it truly is just you and Billy. You sit up in bed, and Billy leans back into your arms, his head nestling on your shoulder. He feels the points of your teeth press against his skin, pausing for a moment more before they break the fragile barrier.

There is a moment of pain, of panic fueled by instinct — prey, realizing a moment too late, that he has been caught — and then his vision starts to blur. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, too loud, too fast, before it reaches such a fever pitch that his chest aches. And then, as darkness encroaches, it begins to slow. Thudthudthud becomes thus-thud-thud, and then thud — thud — thud.

Thud…

He feels you pull away, soothing your tongue over the wound like a mother cat.

Thud…

Your hand cups his jaw, pinching gently at the corners of his mouth to part his lips.

…thud…

He catches the scent of rust, wafting close to his nose.

There is silence for a moment, stretching, growing so heavy that he can feel it like a creature crouching on his ribs.

…thud…

Something presses against his mouth, the rusty smell growing stronger. You pinch at the corners of his mouth again, and without thinking, his tongue comes out and encounters resistance, meeting something solid and cold.

Something — damp and heavy, like the air after a storm. The rust is on his tongue now, coating his lips. His throat works, though he finds it hard to swallow. You coax his head back, and something starts to drip down.

Silence.

…thud…

It feels as though his mind has retreated to a distant corner, curling up on itself, watching from very far away. His mind waits for another thud, but there isn’t one. It waits and waits, but now there is just quiet. Stillness.

This little spark of thought drifts for a while, like a dandelion seed buffeted around on the breeze. Enough of him is left to be aware of you cradling him in your arms, and it’s all he needs to feel safe.

He doesn’t know how long it is before the spark of himself starts to grow brighter, illuminating more around it. He is aware, first, of how still he is, as if he’s bound hand and foot. But when he directs an idea down to his fingers, they move when instructed — if anything, the response is quicker, more fluid, than it was before.

(Which is saying something for the man who is — or was — the fastest draw in the West.)

And then sound begins to return to him, slowly at first, a trickle, and then he realizes he can hear a familiar rustling noise, but it’s too clear for it to be what he thinks it is. It reminds him of a deer stepping gently, carefully, through foliage, but — can he hear all the way to the woods?

Scents hit him next. He really had no idea that everything had its own unique smell. The linen of the sheets is different from the cotton of his shirt, from the flannel of your nightgown, and it’s a world away from the oak of your bed frame and the pine that makes up your cabin. He can smell the ashes of the fire in the stove, and the breeze drifting in through the window carries a veritable feast of aroma.

Grass, trees, the air itself, and most deliciously, a feverish, twitching scent that comes even more strongly when he hears that rustling noise again.

“Billy?”

Your voice is soft, but at the same time the noise is such that it seems to fill his head for a moment. Maybe recalling your own first moments, you wait for a few moments. The sound settles.

You say, “Billy, open your eyes.”

His eyelashes flutter, part. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but it doesn’t matter. The moonlight alone is so bright that he has to squint.

You help him sit up, and he looks at you. His lips part to expel a nonexistent breath at the sight of you. His eyesight, like his other senses, is so much more acute now; you look like an angel, luminous in a fall of silver light spilling through the window.

His thoughts feel scrambled, twisted and flipped around, like someone took his head and shook it. Even his own name, or the events of just hours before, feel remote and strange, but as his eyes latch onto yours, the most important thing he knows comes back to him.

“You’re mine?” he says, and reaches out to touch your cheek.

You smile at him. “I’m yours,” you agree. “And you’re mine.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment or two, and Billy thinks he would be happy sitting here just like this. And then the breeze shifts again, bringing that hot, red scent close to him again.

Fire leaps up in his throat, and it must show in his face, because you smile gently again. “Come with me,” you say, getting to your feet and holding out your hand. “I’ll show you how to hunt.”

His body responds to his desire to get up so fluidly that it feels like he blinks and he’s on his feet. Billy puts his hand in yours, and you lead him outside.

The world is bright and shining, as if you’ve emerged into the belly of a star. Scents, sounds and sensations wash over him in a wave, and he tightens his grip on your hand as though he’s afraid he’ll be swept away. He looks over at you, and you smile.

“Are you ready?” you ask.

For the hunt, he wonders? Or to begin the rest of eternity with you?

Either way, the answer is still the same.

Billy smiles back at you. “Yes.”

#billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #william h bonney fanfiction #tom blyth

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sir-fenris · 2 days ago

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Sharing a bit of my own fever symptoms, too, if that's okay!

(Fevers between 100,4°F and 104,9°F)

Usually, my fevers make me feel very, very cold, but I don't let myself get a lot of covers because the cold is a consequence of how hot my body temperature is. So if I use a lot of covers, I will only get my body even warmer, which will worsen the fever. I usually use cold towels on the forehead or neck. (At least, I've been teached those things all my life, don't take my words as professional advice, I'm just sharing my own experience)

I personally never had a boost of energy. Fever always leaves me extremely tired, without appetite, with a headache (especially the temples and behind the eyes), shivering, weak, and usually nauseated. I usually depend on someone else to help me do most daily stuff, even a little.

My emotional state truly goes a bit wild during fevers. I feel the need to cry easily, but I don't think anger is a feeling I usually have during fevers (perhaps because I don't feel it often even when I'm healthy). I get clingy, perhaps because of a natural human instinct to need someone else during a vulnerable state. Besides that, I get very bored (because I don't have the energy or strength to do much) and frustrated with how uncomfortable the symptoms are.

(This is the 104,9°F fever). As far as I can remember, I've only ever had an actual delirious episode once during a fever (if it happened more times, I was too sick or too young to remember them).

- It started at night, when I was asleep. My fever went higher, and my nausea got worse, so I woke up and tried to make myself more comfortable, but my coordination was terrible, the room seemed all wrong (too wide, then too small), the lights seemed dimmer than I remembered, and I couldn't think well.

- I remember that night seemed to last days, because I checked my phone, and everytime, it had absurd numbers that went higher than 24 hours, or that made no sense comparing to the last number I checked (like going back a few hours or show that it was day, when it wasn't).

- I also remember being so out of it that I talked to myself, thinking someone was with me (I didn't see anyone) for some reason, and I didn't even think of calling for someone in the house.

- Other memories were lost on me because of how sick I was, but I remember being so, so distressed and confused that I cried during it, because I knew something was wrong, and the delirium symptoms just kept coming in waves and not letting me sleep. It was one of the most scary feelings I've ever had in my life, because it felt like being trapped in a weird time loop of nausea, weakness, hallucinations and confusion, without being able to even sit on the bed or call for someone.

- (I'm pretty sure I had a lot of fever dreams because I kept waking up and going back to sleep with how sick and tired I was, but the thing is... I couldn't tell when I was awake and when I was asleep. The delirium made it all seem like one thing, so these symptoms I've described could be real life or fever dreams, but it felt like all real to me, and I remember them clearly as a memory. So you can make a feverish whumpee think something happened, and caretaker being like, "ahm, I was here the whole time, whumpee, that didn't happen")

So yeah, those are the things I remembered about my own fevers. I just thought it would be okay to share them, too. Fevers can be a bit different for each person, especially depending on WHY you're having a fever (an injury infection, a virus infection and what type, heat stroke, medications, etc), so the most experiences you read, the better you can write a feverish whumpee :)

Hope this helps someone!

As someone who has had an 104 (40 for my celsuis folks) fever: I just thought it would be fun to document some things I experienced but never see in fever prompts (also this is all personal experience so I assume it's 'medically accurate' because it literally happened to me but idk do what you want)

-My energy levels were like being on a roller coaster; I would be half dead for an hour or two, laying under layers of blankets and would then have five minutes of energy pumping through my veins. I stayed home from school that day and I remember feeling awful in the morning, I took a nap, and then was up and normal for a few hours. I showered, I worked on school, I scrolled on here, I listened to music. And then it plummeted real fast: I remember trying to focus on an assignment and then getting a massive headache and feeling light-headed so I laid down and covered myself in blankets and I was half-dead for basically the rest of the day

And I think that should be used more often in whump. Imagine Caretaker checking in on Whumpee: who was dead asleep, cold yet sweating, and melting into the bed; only to see them up and about 30 minutes later getting food or a glass of water like they didn't just look like a person on their death bed: then Caretaker's like 'dude what the, get back to bed you idiot, you're sick' and Whumpees just like '???? I feel fine?' and then 30 minutes later Whumpee is back where they started, stuck in a vicious cycle

-I know we've all seen the 'such high fever that they're deliriously emotional' but sweetheart I don't even think I was that delirious and that was probably one of my most emotional days of my life; I would get mad, then angry, then I would want to cry, and then I would just go back to neutral: I think I remember being on the verge of tears because of my covers not cooperating

-I WAS SO COLD. I WAS FREEZING MY BUTT OFF. I always see fevers that make Whumpee feel hot but that was NOT me, I remember literally shivering even though I had MULTIPLE layers on and I low-key don't know why because I also assumed that it would feel hot while being on the verge of being baked alive in your own body but that's just me

And that's all pookies

(If anyone is a medical professional or smth and has the science behind any of my symptoms, please reblog/comment/message me privately about it because I am genuinely curious)

#fever #fever dream #whump inspiration #sick whump inspiration #delirium #delirious whumpee #whump tips #fever whump #whump resources #writing resources #writing fever

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whistlingstarlight · 1 year ago

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I would very much like to hear about your trip to the U.S.

Okay buckle up this is gonna take a while-

I can't quite do it justice as it really was a "had to be there" experience and several years ago, but I'll describe it the best I can

So it was me, my dad and my uncle going out to see one of his friends. He's a DJ, they both like DJing, etc. The plan was to spend the first week in this really beautiful little coastal town they live in, then road trip the second week up to Sacramento where we'd get the plane home.

That did not happen at all.

So the first two days were spent in a BnB with this guy who was constantly hungover, and a much more chill couple. Pretty alright, had a nice view of the sea. The building was ugly in this really posh way, like we had an en suite bathroom but there were sconce lights on the mirror

My uncle's friend and his wife were pretty rich. And they didn't necessarily rub it in our faces, but my dad (who's very much a working-class "done everything for himself" kind of guy) did not appreciate the tour round the neighbourhood of all the cars this guy had sold.

And then The Fight.

This "friend" got absolutely hammered during a DJ session and just went off on my dad over nothing. My uncle was pretty mad and got us out of there. We met a couple of his friends who were arriving as we were leaving, as when they heard what happened they just took us out for dinner instead kskdks

So on the third day it was discovered our BnB had been double booked so we were literally just- being moved into someone's house. Like they let it out as an air BnB but they left a bunch of their personal belongings and it felt really weird, I felt like some kind of squatter. Also you could literally see the ex-friend's house at the end of the street, which my dad wasn't pleased about. Also the house owner's dog hadn't yet been picked up by the person who was gonna be looking after it and it has escaped twice, so before we were even unpacked we had the police on the doorstep (dog was fine, dw)

So the big downside of my uncle and his friend falling out was it put the kibosh on the roadtrip plan for the second week, and the BnB was only available until the Sunday so we were kind of panicking about where we could go.

Now we'd previously met this ex-friend's sister, and without hesitation she was apologising profusely for her brother's behaviour (her and their mum were both lovely so idfk how he ended up such an arse), and she offered us a place to stay free of charge.

And her place was tiny, mind. Like she didn't even have proper doorways between her bedroom, living room and kitchen, but she still put us up as best she could.

Now the good parts of the trip were that this town was gorgeous. Deer wandering around gardens, hummingbirds everywhere, so so beautiful. We went whale watching and saw humpbacks and sea lions co-hunting together, and I got to visit Monterey Bay Aquarium three times which is one of my favourite places I've ever been.

Tbh I think I've blocked some of it out because it was such an emotional rollercoaster. I kept a diary of the first week and that's really the only way I remember it, aside from the good parts like the aquarium and seeing hummingbirds in the flesh. ALSO one of the nice people we met there gave me a genuine oyster pearl, which is pretty cool.

Also people were constantly offering me alcohol on this trip even though I was like fifteen??? Bruh I can't even legally drink in my own country let alone here, and I don't drink anyway-

So yeah, pretty wild ride X)

#the whole things feels like a fever dream #i didn't dislike the trip but wow I wish it has been a lot less stressful and “what the fuck is happening and why”#thank you for asking about it though it's definitely one of my more interesting stories kskdksx #clyde rambles #asks #second to none

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paintedcrows · 2 months ago

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they make me feel unwell

(continued: Stan & Young Ford)

#the flip side is that Grunkle Stan and Young!Ford are really funny to draw. But these two? I think about them and start sobbing #anyway been trying to draw a little Time Travel AU stuff. specifically The grunks meeting their 30-something-year-old selves #oldies in the 80s AU #if you will #its like god imagine being completely no contact with your brother and then BAM a guy who has the EXACT relationship you want shows up #and he's being really nice to you and you're pretty sure you've passed out and this is a dream but you really dont want to wake up #and on Ford's side he is suddenly face to face with this really beat up younger version of his brother and its like uh oh! Guilt!#Best behaviour time. cannot be ribbing this one like he would've been if Grunk Stan got injured.#Which only adds to the whole 'I'm bleeding out after being beaten up and this is a fever dream' feeling on Stan's side #cw injury #cw blood #i mean drawn and cartoony but still #gahh kinda want to completely redo this from scratch but tis what it tis #Gravity Falls #Gravity Falls time travel AU #time travel au #is time stuck a specific thing or general term for time travel in the fandom? I feel like its a specific thing.#like how iirc twins in time is when its the baby stans with the older ones. but idkkk idkkkkkkk!!!#GF Fan art #gravity falls fanart #fan art #fanart #Ford pines #grunkle ford #stanford pines #stan pines #stanley pines #mullet stan #young stanley pines #my art

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aaronsinferno · 19 days ago

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Someone combed through endless fandom discourse, searched through all the theories, fanon, and mischaracterizations they could find, and threw them into the script without a second thought. That's why Tommy isn't just out of character this episode, but it's as if he's a version of himself distorted by fan projections rather than the character we've actually seen with Buck so far. The end of their relationship was just a big “fvck you!” to us and I really don’t understand what it was exactly that we did to deserve it. It’s as if we’re in a one sided beef with the writers all of a sudden.

Are we the drama???😭😭

Also, their breakup was just some boring overused trope that feeds into the same biphobic rhetoric that’s been very present in the fandom since the beginning of their relationship.

#The whole thing still feels like a fever dream #bucktommy #lou ferrigno jr #tommy kinard #911 abc #911 #911 on abc #oliver stark #evan buckley #tevan #911 discourse

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somnimagus · 1 year ago

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did some vesperia chibis, i always forget how happy i get drawing these guys. i love them dearly

[id in alt text]

#tales of vesperia #tov #tales of #the raven chibi's kinda old though. but i wanted to draw the rest #i do feel a little bad cause i always forget patty when i draw the whole cast. have to make myself add her in #mostly because i played tov years before the definitive edition; wee lass does not feel real #though honestly all of def edition just feels like a fever dream. people who played that version first/only:#did you notice yuri gaining an almost southern(?) drawl at random. and did it drive you insane #the way he says flynn. flyeahn. it's burned into my mind #and flynn's just like. yes yuri my best friend. you have sounded like this the whole game. you are not a frankenstein of 2 voice actors #fan art #my art #sorry that was probably super off topic; i just still think about it all the time. and i think i'm a little scatterbrained recently #i've been making time to draw and think about dumb things so i don't just sit and doomscroll all day

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nessa007 · 1 month ago

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#just missing the meth lab #that whole thing feels like a fever dream #halloween #twitter

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mitamicah · 2 months ago

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With one week left before the first London (heaven) gig I present to you my gig sticker 😄💛

#it is häärijä time :3 #this feels like a fever dream too since i didnt believed i would have been titled honorary h for a night before this gig 😭#i just remember london last year when we first heard h speak more than a word on stage #and now he has a whole song #how things change ovo #häärijä #käärijä crew #käärijä stickers #my own art #mine

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theroguequeen · 1 year ago

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The brothel scene

okay we all know I have a soft spot for younger rhaenyra and daemon and sometimes I still think about the brothel scene (just kidding maybe I think about this like every day lol) and what can I say I rewatched it today and my mind is running wild so here we are

Starting with the moment daemon shows up and is just standing there with his silly little hood over his head, not saying a word just looking at her and the way her face lights up full of pure excitement and joy and him casually grabbing her hand and there's not a moment of hesitation.

I know some people will be like that this whole city trip was just manipulation and so on and I personally think of course he had a plan for that night, but there's a change in the dynamic slowly and god it all goes over board later

When they are strolling through the streets daemon puts his hood a little more over his face and rhaenyra mimics him, doing the same while her laugh is ringing in his ears, seeing her so careless as some man is bumping into them

Daemon does not push him away but you know he is ready to it and than you have rhaenyra saying almost proudly "he called me boy"

The whole time you hear the loud crowd, people talking, even moaning and you can see how rhaenyra comes to life again, the excitement being outside, people not nociting her or at least not saying anything and acting so differently than at court, this is not about the throne, not about being the heir, this is her still young and thirsty for knowledge and new experience

And as we know this is the night where she loses her virginity, leaving something behind and entering a new chapter of womenhood

Daemon is handing here something to drink and there is fire and the mummer asking her "do you wish to know your death, child?" we as viewers know the tragedy behind this, but she does not, even laughs at it and her eyes are always wandering to daemon who till know did not say a word and just let her be, let her see, feel, smell

Now we are at the mummers play and daemon is watching it with her but is although looking at her, noticing every little motion on her face, seeing how her smile fades for a moment as Rhaenyra is hearing the people talking so casually about one of the most painful events in her life and there is the question "but would she be a strong and powerful queen" and the people booing and rhaenyra shouting against them and daemon saying to her that many of the people do want a male heir, the ongoing burden that lays on her shoulders and her turning away saying "there wants have no consequences" and daemon laughing but not taking his eyes of her, reminding her that after all it has consequences still not looking away, as he knows how that makes her feel for sure.

And for me it's clear that at the end of the night he realized that she will be a strong and powerful queen.

You can see that rhaenyra is upset and a little bit angry, her voice gets a little harsh as she replys "for one night I wish to be free of my inheritance" as she takes something to eat and running away even so daemon reminds her that common people get punished for stealing.

To me this underlines how desperate she is to just feel free, that she knows she is safe with daemon, provoking him, teasing him by running away so he has to follow her and knowing that he will.

And here we are - at the brothel, moaning all around, rhaenyra wandering around not knowing where to look at but not as shocked as some might expected her to be. This is new, yes, but she is not scared. She is ready to explore something new as she was the whole night.

On the other hand there is daemon, this is a place he knows by heart, spending endless nights there, fucking but never really feeling fully pleasured because the women may be beautiful and only there for his own pleasure but none of them are the one on his mind, hunting him in his sleep. There hair is not silver, their eyes are not hers, their moans are not hers. Not yet.

He is confident, the way he walks towards rhaenyra and once again she follows him. And she is not asking to leave this place, not once even if the moans are getting even louder and he brings her into a room full of people. There's nudity. Pleasure. And you know what? Even now she does not turn away. She stays. Looking at him. Following him. She does not shy away. She knows she is safe. And daemon feels that too. He sees it in her eyes. Some part of him maybe thought she would want to leave but on the other hand he was sure she wouldn't. He is is aware of what he is doing.

"fucking is a pleasure"

There it is. The four words. And she is still looking at him, not moving. Remember their conversation from earlier, about her having to marry someone, about her not feeling free. About finding no pleasure in the thought of having to marry just to produce heirs.

But there is is. Pleasure. True pleasure. Rhaenyra does not hesitate when he kisses her, she is leaning into the kiss, grabbing him, pulling him closer. Again, no fear, just the desperate need to feel his touch, to be seen as a women, not as the child she was. She wants this. She wants him. And I think this is what makes daemon stunned. The soft touch of her lips, not knowing exactly what will happen but ready to go all in here and now.

"fucking who we want."

She wants him. And him realizing he feels the same, this is not about manipulation anymore, this is not a game, she is in his arms, her body pressing against his. The longing. Yearning. Aching for his touch. She is so much more than he could even imagine.

The whole time they are not taking their eyes of each other. In this moment it's only them, the world stands still.

It are her moans who are filling the room now and as he is behind her she turns around just to grab him again, wanting feel him, but although wanting to see his face, not wanting him to stop but to go on while being seen by him.

And as looks in her eyes he realizes that she would sleep with him. That she will not stop this on her own. That she wants this. With him. Now.

She tries to kiss him again, there's even a little smile. Daemon gets almost paralyzed you can see how he stops himself, because this is not a whore, not some random women, this is rhaenyra and you even if his look almost gets cold, it's not because he does not want her, it is because of how much he wants her, his head turning into a whole mess as he realizes that what ever plan he might have had is gone, worthless, because all those feelings are just so intense and he has to force himself to let go of her.

And again this is because it's rhaenyra. Because he will not take her virginity in this damn brothel. He knows this is precious. This is meaningful. That this is not about his own pleasure but about her and that she deserves so much more.

"Wed her to me. I want Rhaenyra."

#daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra #hotd #I don't know what this is but there was so much inside of my head while rewatching #like this whole episode was something else #help me lol #this felt like a fever dream #but a good one #daemon trying to drown himself in alcohol after this like whopsi why am I feeling things help make it go away #“I WANT RHAENYRA. WED HER TO ME.”

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