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theroguequeen · 5 months

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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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warmblanketwhump · 1 year

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What about something with a whumpee who falls through ice?

this turned into some kind of winter epic but I hope you enjoy 😂

One minute, A's standing on the frozen lake, waving at B and C back on the shore. The next, they hear a sharp crack—and they're through the ice and underwater.

The cold feels like a thousand knives—so blinding that A can't see or feel, much less figure out which way is up or down. After a few seconds, they gain their bearings, only to feel the horrifying thud of the solid ice above their head.

Their desperate scream is muted as they hit the ice once, twice, three times, to no avail—

get me out get me out get me OUT

Their lungs burn as they fail to hold their breath any longer, and they suck in a mouthful, then another of water, colors swirling and flashing as their pleas for oxygen go unheard—

—until suddenly their fingers punch through to sharp, clean winter air. A sputters and coughs as their lungs fight to expel water, and they whirl around as they try to get their bearings, then seeing B and C waving and shouting something their ears can’t quite parse out.

A frantically claws at the ice at the edge of the hole, a pained sound escaping from their throat as the thin ice breaks every time they try to grab hold. They feel their muscles seizing up, but force themselves to keep kicking, keep fighting. They can't die. Not like this.

But as the minutes drag on, and B & C are nothing more than moving blurs of color on the shore and their limbs begin to stiffen, the fight within them starts dwindling.

Hold on, A. Come on. Hold on. Don't give in.

“A! Grab on!” A rope suddenly appears a few inches from them, and A kicks toward it with all their might. Their fingers are too numb to hold on very tightly, but they manage to wrap it around their wrist several times and give a weak tug.

“P-p-pull!” It’s a choked whimper, but B and C must hear their small voice because they feel the tug against their skin, then feel their numb, burning limbs scraping over the ragged surface of the ice as they’re dragged back to the blessedly solid shoreline.

As their trembling body meets the cold black rock of the shore, they’re consumed with the terror of what just happened. But when they take a breath to sob, they’re choked by more coughing as their body fights to rid their lungs of the frigid lake water.

B rips off their coat and wraps it around A’s quaking body, hoisting them up in their arms, gently stroking their rapidly freezing hair from their forehead. “Shhh…you’re okay. You’re okay. We’ll warm you up in no time.”

A can’t still their clattering teeth or their gasping breaths enough to respond.

————————

An hour later, A’s still violently shivering despite being wrapped in a blanket, their feet submerged in a steaming bucket of warm water, seated in the chair closest to the fire. They cinch the blanket tighter with cold, aching fingers, pulling it up over their ears and nose. The fire is banked high and crackling, but it does little to displace the bone-deep chill in their core or quiet their rattling teeth.

The first minutes after the rescue were hazy—first jostling and numb as B carried them and sprinted back to the cabin, then cold and dark, and murmuring voices, and frozen clothes peeled away and replaced with warm, dry ones on their ice-cold skin. Slowly, the colored blobs gave way to the forms of their frantic friends, wool blankets, muttered curses and sparks that turned to a healthy flame.

If only warmth would come.

The thought of getting warm was all-consuming for A as they shiver with chills. The bucket of hot water was somehow painfully hot and just not warm enough. The blanket around their shoulders was too thin, and they could still feel the icy water on their skin. The fire should be bigger. But none of the thoughts can make it out of their clattering jaw with any semblance of order.

However, as if B heard their thoughts, A feels them gently drape a second blanket around their shoulder, then feels their hands sweep up and down their back to generate warmth.

C watches them from the other side of the hearth, poking at the fire to stir the flames, eyeing A with concern. “How are you feeling?"

An honest answer bubbles up in their mind. I thought I would die down there.

Instead, they force out a weak “J-just c-c-cold,” before coughs steal their voice again. And though not their first thought, it is true. They weakly rub their arms with shaky hands, desperate to try and help B generate a spark of heat. “I c-can’t g-get warm.”

At that, B leaves and then returns to the fire with something wrapped in towels, handing it to A. “Here. This will take the edge off a bit more. You've had quite a chill.”

A clutches the warm bundle closer to their body, desperate for the warmth to permeate their core. “Th-th-thanks.” Another round of coughing burns in their chest, the lake water still unyielding. They feel B’s hand on their shoulder, rubbing gently, and they look up to see B’s concerned frown as their hand traces up to their damp hair.

“We shouldn’t leave your head wet. Don’t want you getting sick.”

A doesn’t have the energy to explain that they just spent a substantial amount of time in a freezing lake, which pretty much negated the benefits of keeping their head warm by now. But they don’t mind the feeling of B gently toweling the melting water droplets out of their hair, and they lean into the soft touch long after their hair is dried.

A figures they must look pitifully cold, because B continues to run their fingers through their hair, and C, who usually avoids most physical touch, hugs A close to them on their other side, helping them sip from the cup of tea since their hands are too shaky to hold it.

Three hours later, A’s still deathly pale, but they can manage an intelligible sentence, and their hands are still enough to curl around another mug of tea, and they’d managed to eat a little soup for dinner. What their friends can’t see is the ice that clings to A’s bones, the superficial heat unable to thaw the chill that had gripped their core. They're out of the danger zone, but they're still just....cold.

Between the exhausting hours of shivering and the events of the day, it's no surprise when their head starts bobbing, and their eyelids start feeling like they’re weighted. They’re not sure when the transition from waking to sleeping happens—they only feel someone gently lifting their bundled form off the couch to take back to their bedroom. B leaves and returns with two more blankets, draping each of them in turn over A and tugging them up to their chin. “You just rest now,” B whispers, gently smoothing down A’s hair before.

Despite the warm layers, A just can’t chase the cold out of their achy bones. Chills crawl across their skin, and they clutch the pouch of hot water closer, trying to envision themselves sinking into a hot spring, or sunning themselves in a field on a hot summer day.

A strange childhood memory resurfaces in a dream—of swimming in a frigid lake too long on a hot summer’s day and emerging blue-lipped and chilled through, of a relative wrapping them in a dry blanket and holding them close in the warm sun.

The memory is full of comfort and they long to re-enter it—but the memory frosts at the edges, and they slip out of the dream-relative’s arms and are plunged back into the lake. The lake freezes over and washes over their ankles, knees, waist as the cold seeps back in, unrelenting, unreleasing, coming from the inside out.

The black water rushes up to their neck now, but A's frozen in place, unable to move or even scream as the water closes over their head—

—and suddenly they're awake, coughing up a lung, unable to take a full breath. Somehow, they’re colder under the blankets than they were in the lake, like the lake had stolen their fire and left them an icy, empty shell. At the same time, they feel sweat prickle on the back of their neck, chilling in the cold air, and as A struggles to draw in a full breath, they get the sensation that something is very, very wrong.

The rest of the night consists of hours of restless tossing and turning, sweating and shaking, trying to stifle the relentless coughs. They wake in the early blue dawn feeling chilled and congested, chest heavy like an iron bar is resting across them. A draws the blankets closer and rubs their arms, trying to generate a little warmth in their achy bones. Everything hurts—even the joints in their fingers and toes, and there's a violent cough that burns in their rib cage every time it seizes their lungs.

The fireplace. That's warm.

The thought of heat propels A to jerk to an upright position. As the blankets tumble off their shoulders, the wintry air sends a sudden, violent chill throughout their whole body, rattling their teeth so hard they're scared they chipped a tooth. Bad idea. They scramble for the top quilt, fumbling as they wrap the precious layer back around themselves and dive back under the covers.

But it’s not warm enough—nothing is warm enough. They hug their knees to their chest and huddle under the blankets, too wracked with shudders to embark on the trek to the fireplace, too exhausted to move, chest burning, and so, so scared.

They don’t know how long they lay there, trembling and coughing, alone. They only feel the hand rest on their shoulder, then move up to their forehead to push away the damp hair, a whispered curse floating out into the air that they can see.

Why can I see words?

Why is my hair still damp?

B's face enters their field of vision, their cool hand on A's forehead.

Why is B cold?

Amid the thoughts, A hears pounding footsteps. They barely register that B is gone before B is back, dragging a half-awake C with them.

"B? What's wrong?" C’s voice is hazy from sleep, and A sees them rub the sleep away from their eyes.

"A's caught a bad chill from the cold water. And they're burning up."

"My....my chest...." A gasps out.

C comes closer, leaning against A’s chest to listen more intently to the rattling sound that comes every time A breathes, then lays the back of their hand against A's cheek. When their face is visible again, it's painted with ridges of concern.

"B, get the fire going."

"C, what's wro—"

"B, now." C's tone sends another chill down A's spine. "And get some water boiling, and those herbs from the pantry."

C's voice is so firm that B doesn't question it again, and scurries off to the main room.

Despite B not receiving an answer, A has to know. In their weak, cough-roughened voice, they rasp out two words: “What's.....happening?"

C gives a small smile, meant to comfort, which only confuses A's feverish brain further. "After your little swim yesterday, you’ve come down with a bout of winter fever."

Winter fever. The words alone send an ice pick through their heart. Winter fever makes its way through their village every year during the coldest months, stealing breath and warmth and life from too many to count. It can strike after a bad chill, or getting one’s feet wet, or even if you don’t warm yourself enough by the fire.

“Am…am I gonna die?”

"Shhhh....you'll be fine. I've helped many a relative through winter fever, and you're going to be no exception.”

A nods, still scared, but anchored by C’s confident voice.

Ten minutes later. A is plopped in front of a fire that's even bigger than yesterday, a pot of water giving off steam that casts a cloudy haze in the main sitting room. They’re nested in two warm blankets, hot water bottles at their feet and on their stomach to try and combat the constant fever chills.

C slowly peels away the layers of B’s blankets and pajamas over their upper body, exposing the skin of their chest to the cool air of the room. A grits their teeth to hide the chill that threatens to tear through them as they feel the goosebumps prickle over their whole body, squeezing their eyes shut at the painfully strange sensation.

Then, a pleasant warm feeling spreads across their chest, and A opens their eyes to see C laying a steaming towel soaked in some type of herb-scented mixture. It’s strong and pungent and not particularly good-smelling, but A instantly feels some of the tightness in their chest ease at the warmth and the medicinal scent.

“Old family remedy. It’ll ease the pain a bit and get you breathing better to get your lungs fighting again.” C nods toward B, who’s refilling a bubbling pot over the fire. “The steam will help, too.”

A coughs weakly, a sharp, rattling sound that makes both B and C tense. “Wish…wish I’d never gone on that lake,” they say, bottom lip trembling. On top of feeling awful, they’ve trapped B and C into caring for them. “Now you’re stuck helping me.”

“Hey, hey, none of that.” C’s at their side, carefully thumbing away the tear that’s slipping down their cheek. “You’d do the same for any of us. Who knows, I’ll probably break a leg hunting, or B will accidentally poison themselves with some root they think is edible.”

A tries to laugh, but a cough steals away their breath. “M’sorry for crying. The past couple days…”

“They’ve been rough, I know, love. I know.” C’s hand cups around A’s cheek, then drapes down to squeeze their shoulder. “But we’re with you. You don’t have to do this by yourself, okay?”

A nods readily, not trusting themselves to speak.

C nods back, glancing back at the fire. “It’s time to change the cloth—don’t want you getting chilled.”

A’s too tired to do more than just track C with their eyes as they move to the fire, get a new cloth, and swap out the cooling one with the gentlest of movements all while keeping A nested in blankets. They’re still feverish and achy and so tired, but the fear is evaporating as quickly as the steam from the pot over the fire.

I’m not alone.

#whump prompt #cold whump #falling through the ice #chills #fever whump #pneumonia #ALL OF IT #near drowning

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bumblingbabooshka · 4 months

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Let's put the angst back into pon farr - the deeply rooted shame

#currently writing........................#picturing: What if Tuvok's bond with T'Pel makes him yearn for her through his pon farr even if he has to spend it with another person?#the shame and guilt and disgust of not only experiencing the indignity of the pon farr at all but also not spending it with T'Pel #and the horror that he'll have to (ostensibly) endure this every seven years for the next seventy #when you're suffering and probably SHOULD logically bond with another person to help you get through the fever #but the fever wails and agonizes - drowning you in the sorrow and love you've been suppressing in order to function #crushed between a rock (you're suffering even more bc you're still bonded to T'Pel) & a hard place (to break your bond with T'Pel would be #agony - it's all you have left - this pain is all you have left)

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whump-n-comfort · 1 year

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man, water is something that can be so versatile

the way it can hurt you like nothing else. tripping and falling into a river or lake, or perhaps even getting pushed into one. having your face forced into it until you're begging for it to stop. maybe the water's temperature is ice-cold or burning hot; either way, it adds a layer of suffering that you could have done without, thank you

but it's also soothing. the cool dabs of a washcloth by someone you trust carefully tending to your feverish face, or the slow tilt-back of your head as someone gracefully pours some down your parched throat. how can something taste like pure heaven? feel like it? you've just had the longest day of your life and a cool bath sounds like the best thing in the world to your exhausted mind

to some, rain and thunderstorms are comforting, and need those noises to fall asleep. to others, it's worse than fingernails on a chalkboard, and can't wait until they pass over

the question, though, is which kind do you prefer? the saving grace kind, or the kind you can't get far enough away from? ;)

#i got inspired by the most previous rb lol #whump #whump trope #environmental whump #drowning #torture #fever #dehydration #~my stuff~

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whump-tr0pes · 10 months

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Aqua Sancta

Lux in Tenebris masterlist here

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 of a (no longer little) arc of Dee having a fever

This comes about a month or so into the First Recovery arc.

Author’s note #1: Thank you so much to the kind reader who left a wonderful comment on this fic on AO3 and singlehandedly resurrected this arc after almost two years. People don’t realize how some kind words can inspire someone to write again even when the Juice(TM) isn’t flowing like it used to.

Author’s note #2: This chapter is heavily inspired by a piece written in response to this prompt. I was so sad to discover that the blog has since been deleted, taking with it one of the whump pieces that absolutely got me my start.

Content warning: sickfic, fever, delirium, demon whumpee, past torture, nonsexual nudity, misunderstanding whump, language whump, past religious abuse, religious themes, past burns, ‘it’ as a pronoun, past drowning, manhandling, begging for death

The demon was screaming. Ilya had never heard such a sound in their life. It was as if an animal was being torn apart, horrible broken wails piercing their skull and making their skin crawl. They forced themself not to slap their hands over their ears, forced themself instead to hold their hands out to the demon that was crouched against the bathroom door.

It – he – was naked, bathed in sickly sweat, his eyes wild and fixed on the bathtub filled with water. Gooseflesh rippled over his body as he huddled and twisted away from Ilya. His fangs were descended and bared, but he cowered away, fingernails scrabbling at the door. Dara stood at Ilya’s shoulder. She drew in a deep breath, let it out. The smell of ozone momentarily washed away the smell of sweat and fear in the bathroom.

“Dee, please,” Ilya breathed. “We aren’t going to hurt you. You just… you just need a bath, Dee. You’re sick. We just need to bring your fever down.”

Fevered eyes locked on Ilya’s.

“Non intellego,” Dee sobbed, voice strained and broken. “Non intellego, obsecro ignosce me, obsecro, numquam ego facito iterum, obsecro dice m-mihi quid feci iniuriam, numquam ego facito iterum—”

Ilya glanced at Dara. “What—”

“It’s begging again,” Dara said through her teeth.

Ilya took a hesitant step forward. “Dee, no—”

They were cut off by a heart-rending shriek. “NON. Non facio… Si vis recitare verba tui ordinis, ero… Est…? Pater noster, qui es in cœlis—”

“We don’t need you to recite the goddamn Pater Noster, demon,” Dara said through her teeth. “Is that what they…? Jesus Christ…”

“Wh-what?” Ilya breathed.

“—sanctificetur nomen tuum: Adveniat regnum tuum—”

“Stop,” Dara ordered. The demon’s recitation ceased, but it continued to whimper and sob with every shuddering exhale.

“What is it?” Ilya said, glancing between Dee and Dara. “What is that?”

“It’s the Lord’s Prayer,” Dara said darkly. “It’s part of the catechism. Normal shit for us, but… if demons are around when that stuff is said, it hurts them. And if he was forced to… recite it… Jesus fuck, is there nothing these motherfuckers didn’t do to him…”

“Obsecro,” Dee sobbed. “Miserere, angelus virtute, faciam quod vis, sed obsecro, ni aqua sancta, faciam QUID…”

“Shush,” Dara snapped. She rubbed her temple. “It’s probably almost as painful for him to recite the catechism as it was to be burned by the holy water.”

“Oh, no,” Ilya whispered. They pressed their hands to their mouth. “Dee…”

The demon looked at them blankly, eyes wild, chest heaving. “Obsecro,” he rasped. “Obsecro, virtute.”

Ilya took a shaking breath. “So what do we…?”

“I think we just… do it,” Dara said. Her jaw worked. “It’s not going to understand until it’s actually in the water. Not in its current state of mind.”

“H-his,” Ilya breathed, trembling. They blinked tears away and swallowed hard. “H-he said that they… m-made him drink it, too.”

Dara could have been made of stone beside him – a statue on one side of the room, a snarling creature on the other. An eternity seemed to pass before she shook herself and muttered, “I’m going to slaughter those motherfuckers someday.”

Ilya spared a glance at her. “But—”

“Let’s just handle this right now,” she said with a bite to her voice. “Let’s just… get them… him… feeling better. We need to get this fever down. It might be why he’s acting like this in the first place.” She adjusted her soft leather gloves. Ilya nodded took a step towards the demon.

His slitted pupils blew wide. He snarled and snapped at them.

Ilya gasped and fell a step back. Even though there was still a full step between them, there had been power in the bite.

“D-Dee,” Ilya breathed.

Dara huffed out a breath. “That’s enough,” she grumbled. She strode forward and seized the demon with her gloved hands.

The demon let out a scream that lanced Ilya down to their soul. They could do nothing but watch as Dara took Dee’s wrists in one hand and wrapped her other arm around his chest, holding him tightly against her so that he could not turn his head far enough to bite her. He twisted and writhed in her grip.

“NON,” he shrieked. “NON, OBSECRO!” He snapped uselessly at the air and kicked out at nothing.

“Dee, it’s… it’s okay,” Ilya said weakly, reaching out a hand to comfort him.

“No,” Dara snapped. “He’ll bite.” Ilya drew their hand back. Dara effortlessly carried Dee, screaming and writhing, to the bath.

“OBSECRO, OBSECRO, NECA ME, EGO MORTI DE MANIBUS LIBENTER, OBSECRO VIRTUTE, OBSECRO.” Ilya’s head was throbbing with Dee’s screams. Dara lowered Dee over the bath. He drew his legs up to his chest, suddenly trying to cling to her. He sobbed his heart out and tried to bury his face against her shoulder. She held him out away from her, avoiding his teeth.

“Dammit,” she breathed.

“Just do it,” Ilya said flatly. Their chest ached, but they forced themself to look at Dee. For a brief moment, he locked eyes with them over Dara’s shoulder.

“Ilya,” he croaked. “Help me.”

Ilya bit their lip and looked away. Dara held the demon out away from her and quickly lowered him into the lukewarm bath.

The demon convulsed with a scream when he hit the water. Bathwater spilled over the side and onto the tiles. Dara kept a firm grip on his wrists and on the back of his neck as he scrambled to escape the bath.

Ilya rushed forward and fell to their knees beside the tub, no longer caring about the risk of Dee’s fangs. Dee’s hands were balled into terrified fists in Dara’s grip, but Ilya covered his hands with their own.

“Dee,” they said urgently. “Dee, look at me. Feel the water. Is it burning you?”

Dee whimpered and found Ilya’s eyes, confused and frightened out of his mind. He shivered under Dara’s hands and froze. Ilya could tell that her grip on the back of his neck would leave bruises.

“Careful, Ilya,” Dara said through her teeth.

“I am being careful,” they said back, quelling their anxiety, the anger that flared when they saw how tightly Dara was still holding Dee even though he was no longer fighting her. They reached out a shaking hand and stroked it through Dee’s hair. It was soaked with sweat and splashed bathwater. “Dee,” they murmured. “It’s okay. We would never, never hurt you.”

Dee’s throat worked. He blinked, his chest still heaving. Slowly, slowly, he pushed his head against Ilya’s hand. The same rumbling sound Ilya had heard before filled the small room.

Dara blew out a breath. Dee turned away from it and blinked as if she had breathed cigarette smoke in his face in the close quarters. As slowly as Dee had moved towards Ilya, Dara released his wrists and neck. There were bruises where her fingers had been. Ilya swallowed hard and tried not to look.

All at once, Dee slumped against the side of the bath. Dara’s hand shot and seized his hair as if she was about to restrain him again. Ilya shot her a glare, and she returned the look. Ilya quailed and shifted their eyes away. Dara released Dee’s hair and stood.

“I’m staying in here,” she said firmly. “In case he… gets frightened again.”

“That’s fair,” Ilya said. They gave her a grudging nod. “I get it.”

“Eva is changing the sheets right now,” Dara said. “And after we get him back in bed, we can feed him. I think that will help a bit.”

“Yeah,” Ilya said distractedly as they drew their fingers through Dee’s tangled and sweaty hair.

“Ilya,” Dara said, and Ilya looked back up at her. Her brow was furrowed. “It… it is dangerous. You know that.”

“He,” Ilya said as they set their jaw. They looked back down at Dee. He was shivering violently, but he seemed so exhausted that he could barely hold onto the side of the tub.

“He,” Dara corrected. “Sorry. Old habits. But my point still stands.”

Ilya nodded. “I know,” they whispered, and the admission burned their tongue like guilt. ��But he’s dangerous because he’s scared. And I…” Finally, they raised their gaze to Dara again. “If I can, if it’s… possible, for him, I want to show him he’s safe. And that he doesn’t have to be scared anymore.”

The demon under Ilya’s hands moaned softly and heaved a wracking cough.

Translation of the Latin lines here:

“I don’t understand,” Dee sobbed, voice strained and broken. “I don’t understand, please forgive me, please, I will never do it again, please tell m-me what I did wrong, I will never do it again—”

…

They were cut off by a heart-rending shriek. “NO. I don’t… If you want me to recite the words of your order, I will… Is that…? Our Father, who art in Heaven—”

…

“—hallowed by Thy Name: Thy Kingdom come—”

…

“Please,” Dee sobbed. “Have mercy, virtue, I’ll do whatever you want, but please, not the holy water, I’ll do ANYTHING…”

…

The demon looked at them blankly, eyes wild, chest heaving. “Please,” he rasped. “Please, virtue.”

…

“NO,” he shrieked. “NO, PLEASE!” He snapped uselessly at the air and kicked out at nothing.

…

“PLEASE, PLEASE, KILL ME, I’LL DIE AT YOUR HAND GLADLY, PLEASE VIRTUE, PLEASE.” Ilya’s head was throbbing with Dee’s screams. Dara lowered Dee over the bath. He drew his legs up to his chest, suddenly trying to cling to her. He sobbed his heart out and tried to bury his face against her shoulder. She held him out away from her, avoiding his teeth.

Continued here

@womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @whatwhumpcomments, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @inky-whump, @orchidscript, @inkyinsanity, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pebbledriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump, @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather, @butwhatifyouwrite, @carnagecardinal, @laves-here, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @wolfeyedwitch, @batfacedliar, @also-finder-of-rings, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @extrabitterbrain

#lux in tenebris #whump #sickfic #fever #delirium #demon whumpee #past torture #nonsexual nudity #misunderstanding whump #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like... my thing #language whump #past religious abuse #religious themes #past burns #'it' as a pronoun #past drowning #manhandling #begging for death #bathtime for the demon boy

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dogtistic-swag · 8 months

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RAH im on a ROLL with the art this week! please help homestuck is crystallizing in my brain

today, a scheduled post of everyone's favorite sword welding child. tomorrow? who knows (reblogs appreciated!)

#i experimented a whole bunch with lines in this one :]#there was also a super complex bg that i ended up scrapping that looked really cool lol #sorry to the mutuals who have to deal with my hs fever here AND on my main blog /lh #my art #klavdraws #fanart #dave strider #homestuck fanart #hs dave #>B| <- him in this picture /silly #scheduled posting 👍#btw when you guys see this picture ill be at the lake :D hopefully i dont drown as often this time lol #WAIT SHIT I FORGOT TO ACTUALLY SCHEDULE THIS HAHXAJJC #nevermind that last sentence uhhhh a special treat! early art!!

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harrys-strutting-dad · 15 hours

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will not make it through wildflower on tour. writing my will as we speak.

#billie eilish #hit me hard and soft #like a fever like a sign SHUT UPPPPP #the more i listen to this album the more it grows on me #goal of the weekend is to turn my dad into a superfan #also clinging to the double album theory like a drowning girl to a straw #.#music

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arecaceae175 · 1 year

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Febuwhump Day 11: Fever (Wild)

AO3 link. This is the continuation of yesterday's febuwhump found here.

Warnings: fever, illness from infection, discussion of the drowning, discussion of flashbacks

Part 2/2. Part 1.

Wild shivered and curled tighter around Twilight’s wolf pelt. Wild’s head was pillowed on Sky’s chest and Sky’s arms were wound securely around Wild, even in his sleep. Wind was curled up against Wild’s back. He had multiple knives hidden within his reach, just in case, he had said.

Twilight dabbed a cold cloth on Wild’s forehead. Wild was wrapped in Twilight’s pelt, Sky’s sailcloth, Warriors’ scarf, and a significant portion of the other blankets they collectively owned. But he was still shivering, and his fever still hadn’t broken.

Twilight had pulled him out of the river, bleeding, unconscious, and nearly drowned. Twilight, thank Hylia, knew what to do. He had seen a few kids fall into the water over the years of his youth, and it scared him badly enough that he learned how to save them. It had taken far too long, and Twilight had nearly broken down himself, but Wild had finally, finally coughed.

Wild had woken up only long enough to mutter something about ‘the shrine’ and beg to be let go. Twilight shushed him and pushed his hair out of his face with shaking hands. Wild slipped back into unconsciousness and hadn’t fully woken up since. They were wary of giving him any health potions since his throat and lungs were in bad shape, so they had done their best to clean and dress his wounds with their other health supplies.

After a day, they very, very carefully trickled some health potion down his throat.

After two, the fever set it. Twilight wasn’t surprised, between the open wounds in the water and the near-drowning draining Wild’s body of all its energy. He wasn’t surprised, but it still hurt. His cub was in pain and suffering and Twilight couldn’t fix it.

He should have prevented it in the first place, he often thought. Twilight trusted Wild completely, and knew he was an incredibly capable and resourceful fighter, but his instinct was to protect. He tried his hardest to look out for everyone in their group, but he had been too unfocused that day.

Twilight rubbed his tired eyes and adjusted the cold cloth on Wild’s forehead. Time, Hyrule, Legend, and Four had gone in search of more healing supplies. No one knew where they were and they didn’t want to risk moving Wild. Ideally, they would find a fairy and be back by morning, but doubt had creeped into Twilight’s mind and hadn’t left.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Twilight flinched.

“Sorry,” Warriors whispered. Twilight waved his apology away.

“You were supposed to wake me up hours ago,” Warriors said.

Twilight sighed. “I won’t be able to sleep, anyway.”

Warriors nodded and lowered himself to the ground beside Twilight. They both stared at Wild for a moment in silence.

“Don’t blame yourself. Guilt isn’t going to help,” Warriors said.

Twilight wasn’t surprised; he had been told many times he wore his guilt openly on his face. He sighed and shifted the cloth again. “I could’ve-”

“Twi, please,” Warriors said. “Whatever bullshit you’re about to say, I know you know it’s not true.”

Twilight deflated. “Yeah, I know. I just…”

“Yeah. Me too,” Warriors said.

Wild shivered violently. He gripped onto Sky’s tunic with white knuckles. “No… shrine…"

Twilight pulled the cloth away and ran gentle fingers through Wild’s hair. “Shh,” Twilight soothed.

Wild’s arm jerked. Sky grunted, but fell back into a deep sleep immediately.

“Can… keep fighting…” Wild muttered.

“It’s okay, cub. Just sleep, now. We’ll take care of you,” Twilight whispered. There was a tightness in his chest he didn’t care to examine.

Wild’s arm jerked again, this time backwards into Wind’s shoulder. Wind flinched and blinked sluggishly up at Twilight. “Wha…”

Warriors put his hand on Wind’s shoulder. “It’s all right, sailor. Go back to sleep,” He whispered close to Wind’s ear. Wind nodded and shifted onto his other side. Soon enough, his breathing evened out, his soft breaths shifting a tuft of hair. Warriors smoothed it out of his face.

“I wish there was something else we could do,” Twilight whispered. It was barely audible.

“His body has to fight it out,” Warriors said. “We’re doing all we can until the others get back.”

Twilight thought it sounded like he was reassuring himself more than anything.

“What’s he talking about?” Warriors asked. Twilight’s heart stuttered in his chest. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“He…” Twilight started, but his voice broke. He closed his eyes and rested a hand on Wild’s back. “I don’t know for sure, but… I think when he went in the water he was reliving the Shrine of Resurrection. He keeps muttering about the shrine and that he can keep fighting.”

Warriors was quiet for a long time. The only sounds were the fire crackling and the leaves rustling in the wind.

“I knew a lot of soldiers who got flashbacks,” Warriors said quietly. There was something in his voice that made Twilight suspect Warriors knew it more intimately than he let on.

“Can we help?” Twilight whispered.

Warriors shook his head. His eyes were locked on Wild. “It’s the fever now, more than anything.”

Wild suddenly shot up. His eyes were blown wide and he looked frantically around the campsite.

“Woah, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Twilight said. Wild locked onto his voice. “You’re safe.”

Wild stared at him for another moment then crumpled back onto his bedroll. He was clutching his side and pawing at the bandages over his infected wound.

“Hey, now,” Twilight said, gently moving his hands away. “Leave it be.”

Wild peeled his eyes open to look at Twilight. They shone brightly with fever. “Twi?” Wild asked. His voice was scratchy and rough from disuse.

“I’m here, cub,” Twilight said. Wild stared at him for another moment before his face scrunched in pain and he went back to pawing at his bandage.

“Wild, you have to leave it,” Twilight said.

Wild glanced up at him then back down to the bandage. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “There are no bandages in the shrine.”

“You’re not in the shrine,” Warriors said.

“I’ve gotta get out,” Wild said. “The lizards are gonna drown.”

Twilight and Warriors exchanged a worried glance. Warriors held his gaze for a moment, then brought up a fist to stifle a laugh.

“Um…” Twilight said. He had the urge to smile, but when he looked back at Wild his face fell back into a frown. There was a thick sheen of sweat on Wild’s forehead and he looked confused and extremely concerned.

“The lizards will be just fine. Can you go back to sleep?” Twilight asked. Wild looked at him, but Twilight felt like his gaze went straight through. Twilight brushed some of the hair off his forehead to try to soothe him to sleep. Wild leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. In just a few moments, his breathing evened out and he was deep in sleep.

Twilight let out a weary sigh. Warriors put a hand on his shoulder.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Warriors asked. “I’ll watch him.”

Twilight bit his lip and glanced back at Wild. Warriors sighed.

“I’ll wake you if anything happens,” Warriors said.

Twilight felt exhausted down to his bones. He desperately wanted to sleep, but his worry for Wild made him feel as far from sleep as he could be. He rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand.

“I won’t be much help like this,” Twilight said. Warriors pat him roughly on the shoulder.

“Get some sleep, rancher,” Warriors said. Twilight sighed, nodded, and lowered himself to the ground. His bedroll was set up across camp, but he didn’t want to be that far away from Wild. It seemed the others thought the same, Twilight mused, curled around him as they were. Twilight settled himself by Wild’s feet and slung an arm over Wind to rest in Wild’s hair.

Wild would be fine, Twilight told himself. He always was.

#febuwhump2023 #febuwhump #febuwhump day 11 #fic #fever #tw:#injury #infection #illness #discussion of:#flashback #drowning #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu fic #lu wild #ace writes #lu twilight #lu warriors

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