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irndad · 6 months ago

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maybe washing remus' hair after a full moon idk idk

wc: 1.5k~ a/n: ok so this is long and more than the prompt- friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love :) basically reader and remus have a situationship blooming but she finds out he's a werewolf and he thinks that she doesn't want him anymore !!! i hope you like first remus fic AAAAA

He��s exhausted.

It’s the kind of tired Remus can feel inches bones- the ache seeping down past his muscles, a dull ache that threatens to knock him out of consciousness. The turn had been a rough one- not that there were any that were easy. If he’d had any sense he would have canceled on her, but the selfish urge to see her overwhelms the urge to keep her away.

They’d had a bit of thing going, once.

She’s gorgeous, in mind and in spirit. They had been friends at Hogwarts, but mainly the kind that you say hello to in the halls and don’t know much else about. Still, Remus had always loved when she looked at him. Sirius had brought her around soon after graduation, and Remus had felt the familial lick of envy at the prospect of her attention being fixed on Sirius. But it wasn’t.

In the two years since the first time she sat on James’ ratty couch and looked so abjectly beautiful that he’s not sure how he ever took his eyes off her, they’d become quite close. She’s just lovely, is the thing- looks at him like she’s got nowhere else to be, like she’s so pleased to have him in a room with her. Remus doesn’t tend to believe he makes any room better, but she’s so open, and warm.

At one point, she thought he was pretty, too.

He’s trying not to think about it anymore, but the memory of it is still fresh in his mind. How her gaze had raked over him slowly and carefully, like a long drag of a cigarette. He’s never know how to handle someone being attracted to him. Especially someone like her. It felt hedonistic, in a way he can’t believe he allowed himself to engage in. But she’s just so easy to want, the way her soft fingers brushed his when he walked by, in a way that could be played off as an accident.

They almost kissed, once. She’d been over at his flat in the late hours of the morning, and whatever game they were playing seemed to be bending the rules. She was tucked neatly underneath his long, lanky arm, and for a second, he thought to himself you can have this. A lull in the sound of whatever advertisement was playing left him brave, and some force of nature was pulling him towards her. She smelled floral and like home. He’d gotten so close, felt the warmth of her breath on his mouth.

The sound shook them apart, some infomercial, and they never spoke of it. Three days later, she’d caught him changing, seen the scars on his chest, and she hadn’t touched him since.

It doesn’t sting. It’s okay that she doesn’t want him anymore. She never really wanted him- she’d gotten caught up in her nerdy friend, Moony, and once she’d found out who he really was, she walked away. Of course she did. She’d be insane not to. Except, she’s still around. Now, she has context for when he’s sick once a month, and brings by soup. It’s always comforting and she always sits beside him, and really, Remus is so grateful for her attention, in whatever form it comes in. This much of her is more than anyone could ever hope for in their sorry life.

She knows he’s recovering, today, and even though it’s not everything he wants, Remus has been looking forward to seeing her all morning. He hears the sound of the light knock she always does on the door.

“Come in, dove!” He yells back, even though his throat aches. He feels an inordinate amount of fondness for her as she lightly pads over to him. She doesn’t even greet him as he lays on the couch. He turns to see her, and she looks so, so lovely.

“Oh my love,” her lovely voice wraps around him, her delicate fingers pushing his overgrown hair out of her eyes after she’s put her basket of goodies down, “How are you feeling?”

“Poorly,” he answers, feeling like a petulant child. It’s hard to keep up the facade around her, especially as she strokes the side of his face with such tenderness.

“Your hair is filthy,” she says, running her fingers through the length of it.

“You wound me,” he says back, but his eyes close serenely at the sensation anyway.

“We need to wash it,” she says, and Remus is pretty sure he’d give his left kidney to have her keep looking at him, so he nods. “Can you walk with me to the bathroom?”

They walk over together slowly to his bathroom, and she asks if he wants to be in the sink or the tub.

“You don’t have to wash my hair, dove,” he says softly.

“Sink or tub?”

They lean over the tub.

He feels small, but not in altogether bad way. Her expert fingers work through the tendrils and when he closes his eyes, he can imagine her doing this out of the same love he has for her. That his lover, the best person he knows, knows the truth of him and still loves him anyway.

The process itself is quite quick, and she helps walk him back to the sofa. When he’s all settled, hair a bit wet and the collar of his shirt a bit soaked, she only lingers a moment.

“I’ll make you a cuppa,” she speaks quickly, before disappearing into the kitchen.

He does feel better with clean hair. It’s irrational, but he wants to beg her to love him. To keep building what they were making before. He knows that what he is, the thing he turns into that’s still just part of him- he knows that it’s hard to love. But if anyone could, it would be her, no?

It doesn’t take her long to make it. It’s just how he likes it.

“Thank you, sweet girl.” The endearment slips out before he can stop it, not that he was particularly invested in trying. She’s the one that’s lost interest. He’s awful at pretending. Plus, her lovely flush is everything he loves to see.

“I’m glad I could help, Moony,” she says, unwavering doe eyes meeting his, “I’m sorry I’ve been so…weird since I found out.”

She hasn’t been weird. She’s been lovely. She’s come over and stroked his hair and fed him soup and taken care of him. She’d been kind and sweet and good to him. She just didn’t want him anymore.

“You’ve been lovely,” is what he says, instead.

“No,” she laughs, tipping her head back, “Before I found out- I thought you wanted me over when you were poorly…I don’t know, for us to see each other. But you were sick, and I thought you might have fancied me, and it was fucking presumptuous of me, Rem, and I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to it.”

She tucks her hair behind her ears, a nervous tick.

“You thought I fancied you?”

“I…don’t know what I was thinking, but I’m really sorry, and I just want to be a good friend. You were dealing with something that’s so incredibly difficult and I thought you fancied me. God, how fucking self-centered of me.”

“I don’t follow- dove, of course I fancy you.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s saying something shocking, but apparently he is, the way her eyes widen like saucers.

“When I was miserable and felt shit, you came over and made everything better when everything hurt. And then you nearly kissed me and I-,” he sucks in a harsh breath, “I know that you probably don’t want to kiss me now, the whole being a monster thing, but even if you can’t love someone like me, that doesn’t mean I stopped.”

He feels unbearably naked- suddenly wishing he’d shaved, prepared a little for her visit. He’s got a band tee and some sweats on, and stubble, and he’d prefer if when she found out he loves her, that he looks halfway decent. Her gaze is heavy on him and he feels small, but truth is truth. Moments pass and his heart beat is strong, loud in his ears.

“Listen, dove, I’m sorry-“

He doesn’t get the chance to finish before she’s kissing him. It’s a gentle thing in physicality but sudden, too. Her fists ball up his shirt, and Remus wraps his arms around her middle, the experience of being encompassed in her affection.

“You silly, silly man,” she says, lips so close that they brush his as she speaks, “How could I ever not want you?”

He runs his hands along the length of her waist- a thing he’s fantasized about but is in dreams and in fantasy realized and wanted.

He can’t think of what to say, doesn’t know what he can do to keep this, but it doesn’t seem like he needs to know what to say.

When they tell the gang that they’re together (a fact that Remus can’t stop running over in his mind over, and over, and over again), no one seems surprised.

If he didn’t know better, he thinks he might of heard James whisper to Lily, finally.

#remus x you #remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders era #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin dialogue #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fanfiction

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thesilmarillionblog · 7 months ago

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝟐

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: You and Soldier Boy want to create a family and move on from everything, even the Vought, but you also know that he has to face Homelander one last time to keep his vow to Butcher. However, nothing turns out as you had hoped.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, memory loss, Soldier Boy gets hurt, reader gets hurt, established relationship, trust issues, reader is manipulated, everyone is a liar, suspense

Word Count: 4107

A/N: English is not my first language.

Butcher hidden what had transpired months prior from the other members of the team while he waited for you to fully heal in the same room, guaranteeing that Kimiko and Frenchie would never discuss your abortion ever again. Butcher had told them nothing about you other than that you had amnesia.

He did not want to listen to other people discuss something they did not completely understand. He knew there was no other way for you to live your life without putting yourself in danger, even though he wasn't particularly fond of making such a brutal decision about your body. In the end, it was him who first made you inject Temp-V into yourself. Thank goodness you didn't die at that time. Furthermore, considering your circumstances with Temp-V, it would be impossible for you to continue a pregnancy while carrying a supe fetus.

That was for the better.

After the operation, three months had gone by, and Butcher had told the physicians to get you as much sleep as possible to avoid showing any obvious scars and to avoid raising any suspicions. He also erased anything that was online about you, including your videos, images, and anything else that may have been obtained by cameras, all with CIA assistance. He was aware that the game he was playing was risky.

You were so exhausted that you wanted to close your eyes again and grimace at the sight of a white light shining straight into them.

When you saw him playing with his phone on the chair next to your bed, you said, “Butcher?”

“Hey,” he said as soon as he touched you gently and slipped his phone into his pockets. “All right, darling, let me talk to the doctor. Try not to get up or do anything.”

You groaned in agony as Butcher exited the room, attempting to make sense of what was happening. There was a great void in your mind, even if you forced yourself to recall the things that had happened to you. All you could recall was that you, Butcher, and Hughie were in some filthy room trying to talk to Translucent.

When the female doctor began to examine your eyes and everything else, you opened them again. “You appear to be in good health. How do you feel?” she inquired softly.

You muttered, “I actually don't know. How long have I been sleeping?”

She smiled and added, “It's okay; you just need some more rest, and it's been three months.”

You mumbled, “What?” amazed at how much time you spend sleeping. Butcher nodded at you when you looked at him to see how he responded. “What happened to me?”

The doctor opened her mouth to speak, then gave Butcher an odd look as if she was having trouble coming up with the right phrase.

“What's the last thing you remember, doll?” Butcher asked while closely inspecting you.

You muttered, trying to force yourself to remember something, but all it did was give you a terrible headache. “I...Translucent is all that I remember from that time. I had been trying to talk to him with Hughie.”

Butcher took a deep breath and gave the doctor another look.

You inquired, perplexed, “Did something very bad happen to me? Is Hughie okay?”

“Of course, nothing horrible happened,” Butcher said with a smile. “You just gave yourself a really hard head hit on the table. Very hard one. You'll feel well very soon, right, doctor?”

“Yes,” she responded quickly. “You just need to rest a little bit more.”

You said, “Can I leave though? Would you let me, please? I believe I can walk, and I don't think I can feel my limbs here anymore if I continue to sleep. I'd better not spend any more time in this place.”

“Of course. I was about to say that. You are allowed to go,” she said, maintaining her grin and turning to face Butcher after she had carefully placed some clothing from the wardrobe on your bed.

Butcher said, “Okay, you change your clothes while I talk to her, right?”

Nodding to him, you watched them as they left the room.

Carefully closing the door, Butcher said, “You think her memory loss is temporary?” in a low voice to make sure he wasn't being heard.

“There is no certainty when it comes to medical issues. Especially, not when it’s about brain.”

“That's not my kind of conversation, doc. Just advise me on what not to do, and she will remain that way.”

“Make sure there is nothing—not a photo, document, or anything else—that would prompt her to recall someone or something you don't want her to. That's the best advice I can give you; otherwise, you can push her to constantly recall other fake memories, which will give her a headache and possibly worsen her trauma as she tries to recall. I'm not promising you anything, though; she might not even need them to remember someday. Even something small, unimportant can trigger her memories.”

Butcher sighed and replied, “Well, that's enough. Is there anything more I should know?”

“Butcher, you have to understand that you are powerless to stop what is about to come. If she ever finds out, she is going to hate you. I'm not even going to question which Supe got her pregnant. I don't want to know. This is a pretty dangerous game that you are playing in a very messed-up setting.”

“I paid you good, didn't I?” Angered by her words, Butcher spoke up. “I completed the tasks at hand, and moving forward, everything will be OK. All I'm asking is that you simply never discuss what happened here with anyone, as you are told.”

“I would never,” was her quick reply. “I hope to never have to deal with anything similar again, and I hope you will stay away from me for a very long time.”

Butcher winked meaningfully at her and said, “Okay, call me when you're needy or high, love.”

When Butcher knocked on your door and you told him to come in, he asked, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

He informed you that there were new members of your team in the car when he noticed you were deep in thought. “In three months, a lot can happen, you know. We still had to work about Vought and the Seven.”

“Oh,” you replied, unsure of how to reply appropriately. “Are they reliable?”

“They are, of course. However, there is one new thing that may surprise you. One of them is a member of the Seven.”

You exclaimed, “No way,” sounding both shocked and thrilled. “I thought our purpose was to kill them all.”

“Well, not every one of them is a total asshole who loves to be bitchy around. Starlight is an excellent and smart young lady.”

“Oh my god,” you said in a whisper. “It seems like I may have missed the whole episode. However, how did she learn about your team and decide to join so quickly?”

“A lot of things change every day. She's fucking Hughie. Love wins at the end of the day, doesn't it? She claimed that before joining the Seven, she was ignorant of Vought's true face.”

You just said, “I understand.”

“What happened to Translucent, by the way?”

“He's in the grave.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, shocked, putting your palms to your lips while Butcher continued to stare at the road. “And how did you even manage to do it?”

“When you passed out, Hughie blew up his invisible cunt. That's it. Don't you think you have way too many questions? Nothing further significant occurred. That was all.”

“All I want is to stay up with the team. I've been asleep for so long that I cannot remember anything at all.”

You said, “I feel like I disappointed you and Hughie,” while he remained silent and kept staring at the road. “I'm sorry.”

Butcher touched your shoulder and said, “Hey, don't you talk like that silly again. I am myself a big failure and a mess in fact.”

He went on without letting you say anything. “You're doing well. I'm happy to see you back at The Boys, and be sure, there's still much to do. Please, don't

worry about anything.” He gave one of his sly smiles. “Everything's going to be alright.”

Everyone was staring at you when you hesitantly went inside the house. You felt awkward trying to decide what to say. Soon after, Butcher was the center of attention for everyone, which simultaneously made you feel foolish and embarrassed.

When at last you succeeded in saying “Hello,” you said, “Butcher told me about you. Since you're all new here, I suppose it would be best if we introduced ourselves right away.”

You gave Butcher an odd look after introducing yourself, and then you cautiously sat down on the couch because you were still feeling a little lightheaded. The worst was the headache. An uneasy tension filled the air.

Ignoring the accusing looks from Frenchie and Kimiko, Butcher began to sip whiskey and tried to forget about the incident, similar to you, but voluntarily.

“Yeah, I mean, she's Kimiko, and I'm Frenchie.”

You were taken aback when Kimiko came down next to you and gave you a strong hug before you could respond, but you soon went back to give her a hug.

Annie looked at Butcher and continued, “I suppose you're familiar with me already. I am Starlight. However, feel free to call me Annie.”

“Yeah, he told me you and Hughie are a thing, right?”

Annie nodded to you and smiled.

You felt a little better because everyone appeared friendly and welcoming. You were worried that during the months you were asleep, you had missed a lot. To feel like you have a place, it would be a good idea to make connections with new people.

Butcher stated, “Well, I have to leave for the time being. Let's give everyone a little rest. Unfortunately, even your lazy ass cheeks deserve a vacation.” He then turned to face you and said, “And you can rest a bit more, doll.”

As if you haven't had enough sleep. You didn't reject him, though.

You said you wanted a little more sleep when Butcher left the house and got up. The way everyone looked at you was weird and strange somehow, but you didn't give it much thought. Soon, you would grow accustomed to one another.

Though your footsteps led you as if they had their own memory, you were unable to recall which room you had been sleeping in when you took the stairs.

You shut the door and turned on the lights. You pushed your memory to recall even a single, insignificant detail, but it was blank. But when you took in your surroundings, a feeling of sadness and regret overcame you, as though you were recalling this place. You were unable to comprehend the misery in your heart as you listened to the room's silence.

Although it seemed like you had been in this room for months, you could sense the presence of another person. It was difficult to define.

You touched each piece of furniture as you moved around the space in the hopes that something, no matter how small or pointless, would remain in your memory. You looked through the closet, but nothing was there. Everything seemed intentionally empty.

With a heavy heart, you sit on the bed and run your fingertips over the soft sheet. The inside of your head was hurting like crazy the harder you tried to remember. You gave up and laid on the bed after making a few more attempts. As you inhaled, the comforting scent of the cushion beneath your head slightly eased your discomfort.

You had the impression that you belonged here, and vice versa.

In your heart, you sensed that something was missing. You simply couldn't tell if it had to do with something in the room, a sensation, or something else entirely. Whatever it was, your heart and feelings understood it, even though it was hazy and no longer in your recollection. You were yearning for something that was beyond your memory.

You hugged the pillow under your head and wept uncontrollably as you curled into the bed even deeper with a heavy heart. Your heart squeezed in pain as you continued to cry, and you did not even know why.

Someone patted your arm and said, “Hey, want to have dinner? You fell asleep here hours ago. You must be starving.”

“Frenchie?” you asked in a sleepy voice.

“Yes, it's me. Are you hungry?”

You rubbed your head and nodded to him. Your head ached from weeping so much.

“Well, I suppose,” you muttered. “Frenchie, who is staying in this room, by the way?”

Just as he was ready to add anything, Frenchie abruptly stopped talking, as though he were trying to think it through. “Not in particular. I mean, everyone. What happened?”

You said, “I don't know,” as your gaze wandered the room. “Just a feeling.”

“It's just an empty room,” Frenchie simply said, assisting you in standing up. “Nothing else.”

Annie called your name three times in a row; you were unaware that you had not even touched your meal.

You apologized. “Sorry, I couldn't catch you.”

"Hey," she muttered in a worried tone. “You know, it's best not to overthink things. Everything will work out. We are with you. You only spent three months there. You didn't miss too much. Actually, thanks to you, we didn't have to put in as much effort because Butcher watched for you till you healed.”

“I'm not sure,” you simply said, giving her a ghostly smile. “I sense that something is off. I'm not really sure what it means, but it seems like I lost something.”

Your face turned red with guilt as she remained silent. “I apologize; I didn't want to give you a negative first impression. I know I sound weird right now.”

Kimiko, who was seated next to you, comforted you by resting her chin on your shoulder and smiling sympathetically. She was somewhat serious and genuine, which put you at ease, and she was communicating with you using sign language. In fact, you needed to speak with someone like her.

“No way,” Frenchie grumbled, continuing to eat the pasta rapidly. “You don't leave a negative impression or anything; we work as a team. You are at least more civilized than MM and Butcher's nasty asses. That's good enough.”

The way Frenchie talked badly of Butcher made you all laugh.

He winked at you and pointed a finger at your face, saying, “I think there is a way to solve your situation, Y/N.”

“What is it?” you inquired immediately.

“I honestly believe that after the past few months of exhausting work, we all deserve to relax and enjoy ourselves. It wouldn't harm the CIA's ass to take a little vacation. Ladies, what do you say?”

Kimiko grinned and gave him the thumbs up, and you agreed. Perhaps engaging in some pleasant activities might help relieve the oppressive sensation that has been troubling you since you got up.

“And after that,” Frenchie continued. “I've got to work on this virus a little bit more.”

“What virus?” you said, startled. There was too much to catch on to.

“A virus capable of causing the murder Homelander. It's a supe killer.”

Annie and Kimiko looked at one another worriedly.

You said, “Oh my god,” looking shocked. “Is that even possible?”

“If I can figure out how to generate the virus, then it should be possible. Homelander cannot be killed by a simple virus. It's difficult to construct anything so strong because that motherfucking is just too powerful to kill, but hope is the last thing that dies in this world.”

As you watched Hughie give Annie a sad face, you couldn't help but wonder, “What if Annie is infected with this virus as well? If in the wrong hands, it would be genocide.”

“We'll simply kill Homelander and the remaining members of his team. Not Kimiko or Annie, of course. We already have enough blood on our hands. This must finish quickly.”

“Let's avoid talking about such things today,” Annie said, appearing visibly uncomfortable. It made sense.

Annie wanted you to dance at the club instead of spending the entire evening sitting down, but you told her you weren't feeling well enough to be active and all that. You were fine physically; you just didn't want to at that particular time.

You smiled at Hughie and Annie as you watched them dance. There was no denying their obvious chemistry. It pleased you that Hughie could choose to move on. No matter how harsh and cruel life is, it always continues because every day brings with it a fresh start.

Perhaps that was how they had each other's backs throughout the worst. You wanted to have something so strong and intimate as well.

Kimiko touched you on the shoulder, and her expression changed to one of concern, as if she wanted to know how you were doing.

You said, sipping the whiskey, “I'm okay.” You didn't want to drink since you thought it would worsen your situation. Still, a glass or two wouldn't harm you. “I just can't get over this headache. Perhaps I'm pushing myself too much.”

Kimiko communicated with you via her phone because you were completely unfamiliar with her unique sign language. However, you made a self-promise to learn it as soon as possible.

“Avoid pushing yourself. You have to maintain patience. You'll be fine soon enough, I'm sure.”

You also brushed Kimiko's shoulder and said, “I hope so. Thank you. I'm not sure why, but I just can't get over the sadness that I feel. It makes me want to cry. What if something terrible happened and no one was telling me? God, please don't think I'm some sort of paranoid person. Butcher isn't here, and I simply needed to talk.”

“What makes you feel sad?”

“When I went into the upstairs room today, I felt really bad about it. Do you know someone who stays there? Perhaps I was staying there, and my memory is not helping.”

Kimiko nibbled on her bottom lip and briefly looked around. then displayed her phone to you.

“Yes, you were staying there sometimes.”

You were about to speak, but you changed your mind and decided not to share what Frenchie had told you.

Kimiko again held up her phone and said, “I just want you to be okay,” as she noticed you lost in thought. “Perhaps it would be best not to push yourself to bring back memories. If those memories are strong enough, they will find a way to get back to you. No matter what”

“That felt better, Kimiko. I appreciate you listening to me. You're right. There's no need to worry if they are unimportant; in that case, it's preferable not to remember.”

Kimiko smiled a little and offered you a hug. She looked at you, and you gave her a nod as soon as she noticed that Frenchie was grinning at her. As if the team was made up entirely of romantics.

Just as you were all about to head back home, Frenchie pulled over, and you all gathered around the large screen to see something. Based on the large Vought symbol that was displayed on the screen beforehand, you could presume that it must be about the Seven.

“What's happening?” Annie questioned, perplexed.

Everyone on the street had been glued to the large TVs.

Frenchie muttered, “I guess there is some latest news. I wonder what Homelander did this time.”

As you left Frenchie's van and joined the other people on the street, you glanced at one of the screens.

The Vice President claims that Homelander himself ordered the release of Soldier Boy, who was found not guilty hours ago. Homelander discovered that the CIA had attempted to use Soldier Boy to bring down the president and Vought. We've been informed that the release of Soldier Boy will bring Americans together once more during these days of change. The public will soon get further information.

You stared at the massive image of Soldier Boy on television as the reporter filled you in on the latest events.

“Oh, no, no,” Frenchie mumbled to himself. Annie gave him a scared expression.

“What is going on” You uttered, “I thought Soldier Boy died a long time ago,” not fully grasping the gravity of the situation.

“I suppose we should give Butcher a call. Now,” Annie spoke harshly.

You gasped when Frenchie pushed you to go and get in the van before you could say anything, but you continued to stare at the image of Soldier Boy.

“Hey, what's happening?” As they exchanged glances, you repeated the question, speaking louder. “Why have you all turned pale?”

Annie opened her lips to say, “I-,” but she suddenly changed her mind. “Let's speak with Butcher first; he can guide us on what to do. Butcher just sent us a new address, Frenchie. Let's go there.”

“Alright.”

You followed up with more questions, but when you realized they wouldn't discuss them, you closed your mouth and lost yourself in your own thoughts until you reached the location Butcher had instructed you to go to.

Butcher was smoking when you walked in, and he had his eyes fixated on the wall.

You patted his shoulder and said, “Butcher,” to get his attention. “What's going on?”

He said, simply, “We're staying here from now on.”

“And it's about Soldier Boy,” you asserted firmly. “How about him? I assumed he was long gone. What are all of your concerns? I guarantee I'm well now and I got enough sleep, even though I know you don't want to push me or anything. So, will you kindly simply give me the details? Did something occur when I wasn't present?”

Butcher inhaled deeply and got to his feet. “Well, I suppose we must begin someplace. A few months ago, Soldier Boy was released. We were the ones who did this. Eventually, he promised us to help kill Homelander.”

You responded, “So he wasn't dead,” and he nodded in agreement. “And?”

“It came out that Soldier Boy had betrayed us, and Homelander is his son. With the assistance of the CIA, we were able to cover his face with a mask and send him back to sleep. With the help of his father, Soldier Boy, it appears that Homelander is eager to work with him from now on and will be undefeated.”

“Oh, my god,” you muttered. “We can't even kill Homelander; how are we even supposed to deal with both him and Soldier Boy? Why the fuck you even released Soldier Boy?”

"I fucking don't know," Butcher exclaimed as he became angrier. "But we'll be cautious and stay here. Frenchie will work on the virus, and together we'll develop an efficient method of killing them both."

You said, “Maybe we can try to talk to Soldier Boy. He is our nation's first superhero. He is undoubtedly beloved by the public, but perhaps he will reconsider if we can persuade him that Homelander committed atrocious crimes, like mass murder. Don't you think?”

“Stop being naive,” Butcher sharply remarked. “You are mistaken if you believe Soldier Boy is innocent and not like Homelander; they are a father and son. He killed a lot of people in New York on the day we let him go. He just knows how to kill, betray, and deceive. Soldier Boy must die.”

Next Chapter

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A/N: Comments are very much appreciated. I’d like to know what you think about this one. ♡

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haerni · 6 months ago

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COULD’VE BEEN ──── 이희승 . the past is a blur, reality was harsher than it usually is. how deep does one could ever love a person?

. . genre : exes w lingering feelings · fem reader hurt comfort time motifs · word count : 1869 . notes . . im in love with heeseung lately </3

you love lee heeseung—you loved him, you did.

there was no denying it, he was an amazing boyfriend—perfect, even. your break up wasn't something you could call a bad ending, far from it. it was a mutual decision on both of you, it was something you both agreed on despite everything.

three years was all it took, three wonderful years of your life, three of it that you would come to treasure in the years to come. coming to terms of remaining as friends instead of strangers, your friends were even more bewildered. because really, who would still be friends with their ex? who would even want that?

“you still have feelings for him,” sunoo pointed out. “don’t deny it!” he shoots as quickly as you try to open your mouth with a quick retort with the high possibility of denying it, he surmised.

“i don’t have feelings for him, thank you very much.” you dismissed, getting back to what you were doing. “we’re really just friends now, acquaintances if you will.”

he narrows his eyes on you, not believing a word you say, but he lets it go with a puff shaking his head.

“you know what they say about exes staying friends. either you never loved each other at all, or you still have feelings—either way you’re not fooling me.” he says a matter of fact, helping himself in your fridge taking the mint chocolate.

you find your friend’s deduction to be ridiculous.

sometimes you catch yourself thinking of how he's doing. is he eating well? still staying up late until dawn because of his games? winning his league games? a small smile makes its way to your face at the same memories you share, somehow a bittersweet taste comes with it, yet it's still tucked away somewhere where your other moments lie, shaking your head away from it as quickly as it came. letting the thought simmer away to the backs of your mind.

lee heeseung was a fond memory you keep, but nonetheless he was just a memory still.

love was something you held for lee heeseung before, you don't really know what to call it now. maybe you wouldn't love someone for a long time as you have loved lee heeseung.

after all, what you knew as your greatest love was too great to be forgotten at all.

—

love was bound to find its way to you again, heeseung thinks.

you were like a force of nature that comes like you belong to everything, to every good little thing heeseung can ever name of. like everything was made to be the way it is just for you

—and somehow he also used to believe he was also made just for you.

that was before the fallout. now he believes that maybe after pining over you for many years and being your friend just the same, maybe this was where he should've always been. not to hold you like lovers do, not to kiss you as much as a friendship does not require, and definitely not to have you in any way that would be deemed more than what relationship you had returned to.

just friends. nothing more, nothing less.

it's useless, though. the glass in his hands is cold. misery was rather more of a warm company to heeseung, too familiar even. the lights at the bar were dimmed down adding more somber to the mood, and it is like the universe is playing some sort of twisted tricks on him. just to remind how hollow it is, how the world was actually big, it's too cold—it's lonely.

everything was becoming too much and not enough all the same.

drinking was never a good idea, it never was for heeseung. you'd always tell him that he gets so lost in it that he forgets just how many he downs and it leaves him away into the night with a smile and fits of giggles that are contagious and slurred words that he always tries to utter.

it's stupid, he was stupid.

but atleast he had you then, the one who would take care of him if he has one of too many or maybe crawl up into his lap when he's gaming away into the night and you'd just do it because you'd rather have his warmth near you than settle with the thought of having him in the same room. or times when you would just run up to him and like it's engraved in his veins to have you in his arms and hold you like forever was never enough of a time to describe how much he wants you. forever was too less of a time, a life with you would be more and to those other lives he will get to have you seems more promising.

forever is too much of a word for lee heeseung. if your lives were to part, may he always find you in the next and the comings. for him to never take another heart that does not belong to you. may lee heeseung love you to every time, to be born in the same universe as you, the same time, the same place.

three lifetimes, three wonderful lives you both had, and he thinks it is simply not enough.

he begs the heavens to let him be made just for you once more. because forever in one, will never be something to call what you have.

eternity suits you better, he thinks.

—

the night strolls, the stars are twinkling with the hopes of catching an eye.

this night feels a little more dreadful than the last. the drink he had down a few minutes ago keeps him warm in the night, setting itself in his stomach. heeseung has spent away the after hours this way, a routine that has eaten him alive to its core. it's not an ideal lifestyle, but he continues anyway.

he strolls without a place in mind, after all he has lost home once and wherever you are, his heart resides.

you are everything that heeseung has prayed for.

as familiar buildings meet his eyes and it brings back some memories he had kept away. treacherous. suddenly he finds himself in your street, a few blocks away from where you are. he can knock, he can ask you, he can stay, but he was a stranger altogether. so, the best thing heeseung takes rather than doing all of those things? was to sober up and leave.

mortality has never been kind to him. and everything he has kept in his heart was torn from its home and never to be returned like the sands that slithers away from the storm.

and he had begged at everything that would hear him. because the sand had gone out of the hourglass too soon than what he had always hoped for. time has never been his friend, after all, what time would be fond of something going against it? fate was too cruel to you. but you had embraced it just the same.

how could he ever subject you to the same fate once more? a string tied to you or not, he would rather see you with the colors of life.

and as if this time—for once, mercy has taken pity on him. because as his heel turns he hears the front door of your home, and he shouldn't look, he shouldn't stop, he should go. but you're just still you, right? the always loveable you.

“heeseung?”

oh how he has missed your voice.

against his very judgement he turns around.

there you are by the porch of your home wrapped in a blanket protecting you from the chills of the night and you seem comfortable, you always are. he stops just as his mind tells him the opposite (how could lee heeseung ever say no to your very being?).

and he couldn't stop—heeseung has loved you for a very long time and it feels like it's the only language he can speak to answer your call.

you descend down on your stairs, with a small shy walk on your feet towards him. he feels dizzy, have you always been this pretty?

he tries to say something, anything, but you seem to knock the air out of his chest every time, he releases a breath he's been holding, “hey.”

if you knew better you think heeseung seemed to be full of life when he is with you, like a flower who basks in the sun. you don't know what to say to him, is there any words to describe whatever you were feeling? he knew everything about you, he read you like a diary he has memorized all his life, when words fail you, heeseung comes to answer it.

you couldn't really remember now why you broke up, too many talks, too many faults, too many problems that pile up as time wanes. but you missed him, you miss him too much now to remember why.

“it’s cold,” he begins. its obvious, but what could he possibly tell you?

it's weird now, his eyes are still the same and yet you find yourself wanting it just the same, “yeah, it is.”

silence passes you, it's not uncomfortable, it's not heavy—you're relieved.

“i should probably go.” he should, but is it a sin to say you want him to stay? you pursed your lips in contempt, you should say something.

heeseung may claim to be someone who keeps his words, but right now his feet feel heavy, like his anchored to where he stands—in front of you. he waits for you to utter anything to him, a small hope of you stopping him. to make it feel it was okay to want you like this, to be in your presence.

the silence beckoned you to speak before you can even think of it. “it’s already late..” it's embarrassing, almost as if you were too left open in his eyes again, “..you can stay, if you'd like.”

a second clock and a pin drop, heeseung adorned a soft smile on his lips and as if he was on the same wavelength as you he utters words he thought he couldn't ever tell you, “i missed you.”

“i know,” and it's not obnoxious, it's a truth that you know well, its a fact that you know deep in your bones, “i missed you too.”

and everything was happening in the blink of an eye, his arms are around you and he breathes your scent in. despite the blanket around you, his warmth burns more and you love it—some things just never change.

lee heeseung will never meet what could’ve been, would’ve been, what should’ve been you in that lifeline. your first life together would always be a mystery to the both of you. he misses you, more than he remembers.

he hopes he doesn't lose you again.

“i’ve got a lot to pine about. i’ve got a lot to live without. so rest well, hm? we’ll see each other again.”

—excerpt from (1500’s), A Hundred Years And A Lifetime, letters of Evan Lee to his wife by a Nameless Laureate poet.

#enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #enha x reader #* new © ───── haerni.

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wakacreations · 15 days ago

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Infernal Nightly Habits

I am taking a bit of rest from writing. Maybe some day I will revisit this as a short little one-shots.

Zevlor:

Lullabies: It is a habit he find himself doing whenever he prepares for bed. Either humming a soft tune if he has more energy whistle it but when your head hits the pillow he will sing the words of old ballads as you already drifted off to sleep. Why does he do it? There were many children who couldn't sleep under his care. That was what he would say whenever he was caught. When he was in Elturel to Avernus and on the road to Baldur's Gate all opportunity to have possible deniability. Truthfully it's to keep the last of his fond memories alive when he was once in your stead dreaming peacefully, to comfortably fall asleep to the sound of a voice you loved so dear. Light sleeper: Years of being a Hellrider left its mark on him and even before then he couldn't help wake up to the slightest sound. Was there something there or was it his imagination? Was that the usual noises of the night? It is better to get up and check for himself to never leave his guard down for any moment not again. Insomniac: His body would collapse before his mind would allow him to rest. Wide awake he would be watching the sky transition from the deep midnight to the swirling pinks of first light and finally to the raising yellows of dawn. What keeps the Hellrider up in the night? It changes each night of which transgression he committed comes to ravage his mind but seeing you sleeping soundly puts his stuttering heart at ease. If he to be forever plagued to never find rest he will find it vicariously through you and that is enough for him.

Rolan:

Storytime: He reads before bed that's not unusual for the wizard. Sometimes he reads the words aloud without realizing it. If you were to comment on his reading he would apologize for disturbing you. He will make a conscious effort to be quiet though you still will catch snippets of his mumbled words. If sleep does not come easy to you he would read whatever book that he is currently engaged with. When he feels comfortable one night he would sheepishly propose another story not one he currently has on hand but ones he recalls from memory. Moments long before Avernus where he would be off on some misadventures with his siblings through the streets of Elturel. Maybe one of being chased and scolded by Hellrider Tilses while on her patrol, another of accidental fires started by the trio in his mother's bakery and who knows what other stories he left tucked away in the recesses of his mind. When he's feeling sentimental recall old childish tales he would read with Cal, Lia and his mother long ago or playing the game of creating a make believe tale till sleep waters the eyes. By the end of the story you found yourself still awake looking at the wizard who is fast asleep instead. Heavy sleeper: He will sleep through the chaos around him. Shake the wizard or make as much noises as you want to no avail he is off in dreamland. How else would you achieve rest living with Cal and Lia for so long? Just don't say his name while he's asleep he will begrudgingly be awake even at the slightest whisper. Ingrained into him that calling his name means morning, you will have to pull the wizard back to bed before he decides to get a early start to the day. Somewhere in his half thoughts he will come up with a reason to argue that yes, he needs to be awake at this hour though it is still night. He will fall back to sleep when settled back in again and maybe one more story before bed. Sleep talker: He does know he does it on a very rare occasion but he does not recall whatever he supposedly uttered. You find that he sleep talks the most when he is under stress or if there is a nagging thought he tries to suppress in waking life. Usually he just babbling random nonsense from whatever dream he is having. Sometimes you can converse with him if you asked what is happening in a dream and he will answer.

Raphael:

Penning: There is always work to be done that needs to be inked down onto parchment whether it be for a contract, a plan yet to come to fruition or a spark of his own genius that needs to be scrawled for his own personal works. The act is therapeutic as much as you and Haarlep give him looks at the littered crumbled drafts thrown about between grumbles of another attempt that doesn't meet his own satisfaction. Night terrors: He does not require much rest yet even so there is enough time for him to dream. Whatever these potential premonitions are he will decipher its meaning. Though there is another who appears there beside him in the chaos a voice that is always squeaking and squealing for his attention during the finale as he meets his end. Unconscious cuddler: The devil you know is at your beck and call always drawn to a desperate soul. If sleep doesn't find you it will through suffocation from being smothered from the weight of his body pressing you into the silken sheets or being squeezed to the brink of death. If you are unlucky his claws dig into you as he pulls you around in his sleep whichever way he desires. He only sleeps with himself was but a warning from Haarlep to you. Most others do not live through what would be a night.

Haarlep:

Impies: They enjoy the company of their imp pets before bed. Throwing them across the boudoir and hearing them squeal in delight sometimes terror when they land onto hard surfaces. Haarlep would gossip with their pets telling lie after lie about the happenings in the House of Hope. It doesn't matter what they choose to tell these creatures even if there were truths scattered in their own words. Come morning these impies will be replaced with another. The least Haarlep could do is wish them a good night from this plane and dote on them until a new plaything comes to spend the night or just the usual one. Restless sleeper: They are never comfortable and when they do finally lay still somehow they always position themselves for the optimum of your discomfort. Spreading themselves to take up as much room as they please, sleeping at odd angles so with the slightest of a nudge push you off the bed and whatever else possess them to flail their limbs around at just a simple touch. When you somehow fall asleep in a contorted position you wake up no different than when you awake up after a day of battle. Still so tired, sore, bruised and hesitant to stretch in case of a cramp. There are still worst bedfellows but this is still not the worst you have encountered. Snores: It is almost comedic the way they snore. Sometimes soft whistling, at some point would be like those of snarling animals even loud enough to where you question are your own eyes shaking and then the usually choking coughs of breathed in spittle. When you mention their snores as a off handed jest, they would simply deflect with a simple phrases of can't help yourself sweet pet and I don't blame you for staring. You already miss my attentions already far be it from me to leave a greedy little thief waiting.

#bg3 #bg3 zevlor #zevlor #zevlor nation #bg3 rolan #rolan #holy rolan empire #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 haarlep #haarlep #haarlep the incubus

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lunaryfairy · 10 months ago

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I'm just curious is there anything that you have in common with alice liddell to make you the "irl alice liddell" other than looking like her? I see it appearance wise but I was just wandering if you actually relate to her as a person/character...

Yes!! A big reason why she means so much to me is because I have so much in common with her & I've felt such a deep connection to her character ever since I played the first Alice game.

Trigger warning! some of our similarities include very sensitive topics 💜

we both were sent away to Asylums

we both were abused / mistreated at the Asylums

I also had a toy rabbit that i loved dearly but was taken away from me when we were thrown out of our home (along with a lot of my other childhood belongings)

we both have a sister named Lizzie

we both have been manipulated and made to believe we were insane by people we trusted. for her it was Bumby and for me it was my own mother, sadly.

we both have experienced psychosis or hallucinations

we both have been given medication / treatment against our will

we both have self-harmed

we both have experienced extreme grief and survivor's guilt as a result of a loved one dying while we somehow did not.

we both have PTSD & are haunted by our trauma/past.

both of us have memories that are so painful that our brain actually forgot about them. like alice i did recover my memories but i went through dissociative amnesia for years.

we both are fond of animals

we both had a sibling who was r*ped (except in my case the person who did it also r*ped me too)

we both have used opium as a vice (except my form of it was modern day heroin)

though i never actually received shock therapy I was almost forced to undergo it because i had lost my rights to refuse treatment by being deemed "incapable of making my own medical decisions" and was scheduled for ECT treatments against my will. I was so terrified by what the patients looked like who were coming back from ECT (scabs on there upper forehead, some of them who became my friends couldn't even remember who i was, one woman had forgotten what her own daughter looked like!) and because i was so scared i ended up climbing the fence to escape the hospital while we were outside for "yard time". i am still so grateful that i made the decision to escape and i succeeded. even though i have bipolar disorder, i was only 19 and was way too young for ECT. and i later found out that many patients had been mistreated and medically abused at that same hospital. some of them had even died under "mysterious circumstances" i also had other horrific things happen to me there.

shout out to McClean Hospital! also/formerly known as Somerville Asylum and Charlestown Asylum!! if you know anyone who has attended this hospital then they most likely have some horror stories to tell.

but yeah i'm sure i have a lot more similarities with alice. these are just the things i could remember off the top of my head. her character means the world to me. hence why alice: madness returns is my ultimate comfort game. i also truly love the aesthetics in the game itself. i love bugs, rabbits, cats, strange creatures, fantastical things, the victorian era in general. so so much of what is displayed in the game is directly similar to my personal interests or IS one of my interests lol. i could go on and on about my love for the game and my love for alice but i think this post is already quite long so perhaps i should end it here😊

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raspberryfingers · 2 years ago

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A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 2)

WARNINGS: None

Word Count: 5k

—————

“Lady (Y/N)?”

I came back to myself suddenly, no longer stuck inside the memory of my introduction to Lord Tywin. Remembering that day made me even angrier than I had previously been. How on earth was I supposed to believe Baelish? Because either he was lying, or Tywin Lannister was desperate. Gods, the thought of denying him much needed assistance was a sweet one.

“Lady (Y/N), I understand that you aren’t fond of Lord Tywin, but I implore you to think not only of yourself. Look at your two siblings. Dare I say that they would very much appreciate this alliance,” Lord Baelish said, folding his fingers together in his usual manner. My eyes narrowed, because if there was one thing I would not stand it was being played. Not by this disgusting man, especially.

“What are you getting at, Littlefinger? I’m not going to play Lord Tywin’s dirty game, nor yours just because you think-”

“Lord Baelish, would you permit us a few moments alone? To discuss this offer amongst ourselves,” Margaery interrupted, letting go of Loras and instead reaching out to touch my shoulder. I wondered how she tolerated having to manage her two older siblings.

“Certainly, Lady Margaery. I would suggest that you take all the time you need, but it is also a rather urgent offer. Stannis intends to take Kings Landing, as you know,” he replied with his meek tone. Every time I heard Baelish speak I wanted nothing more than to press a blade to his throat and make him stop.

I watched him leave the room, though the air of disturbance he had brought with him did not disappear. The second that the door closed, Margaery sighed out and turned to me, placing both of her hands on my arms.

“(Y/N), I beg you to consider this. An alliance with House Lannister would be more than good for us, and if you’re honest with yourself you know I’m right. Sansa Stark’s betrothal to Joffrey is entirely irrelevant while her family is still in open rebellion, we could easily find a way to marry me to him. I could be queen. And Stannis Baratheon doesn’t stand a chance against both us and the Lannisters, which means that Loras would stop behaving… well, like this…” Margaery reasoned, pulling me aside and keeping her voice at a whisper. We both looked over at our brother who was sitting down at the table with his head in his hands. I’d never seen him like this before, and I couldn’t deny that it was distressing.

“I… I understand where you’re coming from, Margaery, but this is Tywin Lannister and Petyr Baelish. The second that the war is won they’ll turn on us for rebelling against the crown, don’t you see that? Littlefinger and chaos go hand in hand, he isn’t here simply to ‘help’ us. And I don’t trust that Tywin Lannister is being genuine; I would rather die than believe otherwise,” I pointed out, grimacing at the idea of having to work alongside him. Margaery could see right through me, though.

“I know how much you hate him, (Y/N), for the gods sake everyone in all seven kingdoms does. But you need to put that aside for House Tyrell. Remember that it took father almost an entire year to forgive you for what happened at Casterly Rock, and it was only because of grandmother's relentless convincing that he decided to let you represent House Tyrell in the Greyjoy Rebellion. Had it not been for that, who knows if he would’ve named you commander of our army. It is a title he can still revoke and give to Loras. However, if House Tyrell were to emerge from this war victorious because of a decision that you decided to make…” my sister reminded, not so subtly suggesting that if I played our cards right it might cement my position. I scowled, hating that she would use that logic on me.

“Margaery, I don’t appreciate what you’re suggesting,” I muttered in reply, not hiding my glare whatsoever. My sister often played just as dirty as I did.

“I know you don’t, and that’s why you’re going to listen.”

“It’s exactly why I’m not going to accept Lord Tywin’s offer, because it puts us in too much danger. I am not as foolish as Ned Stark, Margaery. When Kings Landing is safe and Robb Stark is dead, where will the lions turn their attention?” I questioned rhetorically, knowing that my sister understood all of the implications that came with us having chosen to back Renly.

“Their attention will be on us no matter what we do, sister. But if we don’t ally with Tywin Lannister, they’ll be even more likely to remember it. If we help them defeat these enemies, the Lannisters will be certain to show us at least a little gratitude. And when I marry Joffrey and provide heirs, they’ll be forced to forget it. Plus, we would be reinforcing his claim. How many other houses are rushing to do that?” Margaery pointed out, giving me a sort of pleading look. She was pleading for me to see her side of it. To do the ‘right’ thing.

“If we join now, sister, I would be no better than Lord Tywin himself—sacking Kings Landing and ordering the murder of all the remaining Targaryens just so that King Robert would not distrust him,” I insisted wildly, making an excuse more than anything. I would never admit that, but deep down I knew it.

“That is something entirely different, (Y/N), and no matter how good you are at lying it’ll never be good enough to fool yourself. You must put your anger aside. For me—for Loras! I am begging you, sister. I am begging you to be the reasonable, intelligent, and pragmatic leader that you usually are,” Margaery whispered, her stare so intense that I had to look away. I couldn’t recall a single time in my life that she had ever insisted upon something with such passion.

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and shaking my head to myself. Gods, what was I doing? I swallowed, blinking a few times and then taking several strides to my writing desk. It was dark, but the light from the hearth was enough to see what I was doing as I reached for my ink and quill.

I grabbed a sheet of parchment with a sort of resentment, taking my anger out on the poor material as I scratched down some irrelevant words of agreement and signed my name at the bottom of it. This was nothing but a formality, and I hated myself for doing even this.

Both Margaery and Loras watched me roll the thing up and seal it with golden rose. There was a sort of gratitude in both of their eyes, and for just a moment it made me less angry about what I was doing.

If I was going to go against my principles for anybody, it ought to be them. They were worth far more than Tywin Lannister, and that was a fact I had to continually repeat to keep myself from tearing the paper in my hands.

I approached my door, opening it and being met with Ser Elias’ armored back for just a moment as he moved aside. Baelish stood there, and the smug look on his pathetic face almost made me reconsider. From the moment that he had suggested Stannis and my siblings, he had won. He knew that, otherwise he wouldn’t have been smiling.

“Where does Lord Tywin intend to meet us?” I questioned, knowing that the upcoming battle was so restricted on time that we would need to meet somewhere. Littlefinger would’ve been instructed to tell me where, too.

“Tumblers Falls, my lady.”

I made a noise of affirmation, promptly handing him my scroll. He gave his little bow in return, and my stomach sank as I watched him go down the hallway. It felt as though I had just sold my soul.

I shook the feeling away, turning around and looking back into the room. My acceptance of Lord Tywin’s proposal seemed to have revived my younger brother, for he was on his feet and more alert than he had been in hours. The prospect of killing Stannis Baratheon was ringing around in his head, I supposed.

I sighed once more, giving him a nod.

“I’ll call the banners, Loras. Go wake father.”

—————

It was early in the morning when we met with Lord Tywin and Lord Randyll Tarly, neither of whom sparked any joy in those around them. As we had approached their camp and seen the banners flying, I wondered if this was perhaps the most miserable alliance in all of history. Although—even despite my deep anger and annoyance—the thought of Tywin Lannister and Randyll Tarly having dinner together and sitting in a grim, brooding silence was somewhat amusing.

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

I turned to Loras, raising both eyebrows to signal that I hadn’t entirely processed what he’d said to me. He sighed and opened his mouth to speak again. “(Y/N), you mustn't let this grudge interfere with things. Pretend that this is your first time meeting Lord Tywin, or- or remind yourself that it’s been 11 years since you last saw him. I cannot imagine he bears any intense animosity toward you, you were only a girl when it happened,” he said, attempting to calm me.

“Well I still bear intense animosity toward him, even if it has been 11 years. I pray that you understand, Loras, how little I truly want to be a part of this alliance. I am doing it for you and Margaery alone, because I am your older sister and it is my job to see to your happiness. If it wasn’t for the two of you, I would’ve gladly declined this offer,” I grumbled, shifting in my armor. I had been wearing it so much lately that I wanted nothing more than to be entirely free of it, even if just for one entire day.

“Well, if it’s any motivation, sister, I’m certain that father will be more than pleased once it’s all over. Perhaps he’ll even step back from our army entirely,” Loras added on, hoping that at least one thing could console me. I sighed, shaking my head.

“I would’ve found another way to make father entrust me entirely.”

“Perhaps, but this way is the best.”

As we entered the encampment, Loras and I instantly stopped all conversation, continuing on with just a few bannermen as the rest of our army settled in with my father. He was at the back, of course, just as most seasoned lords were. It seemed the older one got, the more comfortable they became leading men from the back. My father did it, and so would Randyll Tarly and Tywin Lannister. Loras and I would lead the vanguard, though. I had no doubt about that.

It was no difficult task to find Tywin Lannister’s tent, and the two of us dismounted rather gracefully. It was a sort of Tyrell appearance that we meant to keep up. People never suspect roses of anything, which was perhaps one of the most advantageous things about our house.

“Sister, if you should like it, I can speak with Lord Tywin in your place. I don’t want you to become too aggravated,” Loras offered quietly as we approached the entrance. I instantly shook my head.

“No, thank you. I’m hateful, not incompetent.”

The guards stationed outside Lord Tywin’s tent obviously knew who we were, for it did not take any real common sense to decipher us: two obviously rich young adults dressed in armor and green capes. They announced our names and then opened the flaps of the tent, holding them until Loras and I were completely inside.

As I entered, I instantly set my eyes upon my sworn enemy. I could not even process that this man was an ally, seated at the table and gazing down at his map. His hair was almost entirely white now, though it had a sort of blonde shine. His beard still had a bit more color, but was distinctly white along the edges. I noted the same piercing eyes when he did us the ‘honor’ of looking up.

“Lady (Y/N), Ser Loras, thank you for coming,” he said casually, only holding our gazes long enough to be appropriate. I suddenly noticed the two men beside him, and based on their attire realized that they were Kevan Lannister and Randyll Tarly.

“Of course, Lord Tywin. Nothing should please us more than an alliance to stop a common enemy,” Loras spoke first, using the term ‘us’ rather loosely in my opinion. I supposed there was some truth, though. I greatly sympathized with my brother and hoped that whatever grief he was processing would partly be healed by this endeavor.

“We intend to move out in just over an hour. We should be there in time to surprise them and attack before they manage to cross the Blackwater Rush and reach the mud gate,” Lord Tywin said, rising from his seat. Lord Tarly did the same, and gave the Old Lion a simple nod before leaving the tent. I assumed they had previously discussed something.

Kevan Lannister had remained at the table, and I found myself drifting toward the map and examining our plans for the evening. Seeing a fault, I looked up to find Lord Tywin already staring at me. He had not moved from the table, he had only stood up.

“Any criticisms for me this time, Lady (Y/N)?” He asked, voice icy and eyes equally so. I pressed my fists into the parchment as childish irritation found its way back to me.

“Yes, but I’ll try and make it constructive, my lord. Perhaps, by some miracle, you’ll be more responsive this time,” I scowled, trying my hardest to not be utterly disrespectful. I could tell by the look on Loras’ face that it was not a successful attempt.

“How reassuring it is, Lady (Y/N), to know that you’ve lost some of your vanity and ego,” Lord Tywin replied, face as firm as the stones that comprised Casterly Rock. Had I focused on anything but Lord Tywin, I would’ve realized that both Loras and Lord Kevan were open mouthed and ready to intervene should this conversation become explosive.

“The sentiment is mutual, Lord Tywin.”

The two of us stared at each other for a good minute, neither relenting or breaking eye contact. Just as Lord Kevan stood up to speak, the Old Lion decided that he did not want assistance in this conversation.

“I have earned my pride, Lady (Y/N). Forgive me, but I find myself doubting how truthfully the same can be said of you,” he not-so-subtly insulted, his jaw emboldening with his anger. I felt my own teeth pressing together just before I replied.

“Quite truthfully, Lord Tywin, and if you have the decency to not be an insufferable cunt for once and actually listen to me, perhaps tonight’s battle can be added to the list of achievements that both of us have the right to feel proud of,” I snarled, serving the Lord of the Rock the brutally honest statement that he was so seemingly asking for.

Loras attempted to put his hand out to me, but my sharp glare instantly made him freeze. Once he had, my eyes were once again on Lord Tywin. There was a glimmer of amusement, anger, and challenge in his eyes. I waited with angry anticipation for whatever he might say next.

With only a brief glance at his younger brother, something shifted. He decided to yield, simply moving around the table and standing beside me. I did not doubt he was furious, but I also knew that he understood the significance of our alliance and did not care so much to insult me as he cared to join the two largest armies in Westeros.

“Go on then, girl. What would you have us do?”

His usage of the word ‘girl’ sparked fury just as he intended, but I knew it was now my turn to compromise despite that. And gods, it took so much strength.

“Lord Tywin, based on the blocks you have laid out, I take it that you intend to have your troops north of the river?”

“Correct.”

“And that you would have Randyll Tarly accompany both the vanguard and my father south of the river?”

“Correct. What is your point?” Lord Tywin questioned, annoyance ingrained in his voice. I scowled, wishing he would learn to be patient for a single time in his miserable existence.

“My point is that Randyll Tarly has the smallest number of men out of the three houses. The narrow stretch of land in front of the mud gate is too small for Stannis Baratheon to land any significant number of men on. What he is obviously going to do is have men land south of the river and take smaller boats to the mud gate while cannons from his ships attempt to batter the walls. It would be wisest for us to focus most men south of the river, for while our ships combat Stannis’ we need to prevent the rest of his soldiers from reaching the mud gate at all. We ought to have Randyll Tarly go on the north side of the river and instead join our two armies south of it. That, plus our collective vanguard, will prevent the continued crossing of the river. Plus, King Joffrey’s men will also be at the mud gate to assist Lord Tarly,” I explained, motioning with the different sigil blocks as I did. There was something inexplicably exciting about battle strategies.

Lord Tywin thought about all that I had said entirely in silence, and after a moment he turned to look at his younger brother. Lord Kevan cleared his throat, nodding.

“It would be smart, Tywin. Lady Tyrell is correct in assuming that most of Stannis’ men will be south of the river. If we plan to move out earlier so we can beat them to it, we ought to make sure it’s effective once we do get there.”

There was another moment of silence, and then the older man beside me finally nodded. He seemed resentful that I had actually had a good idea, and it gave me satisfaction to see him bothered, even if it was subtly. Although, I had to admit that there was something else in his eyes. Almost like a look of revelation.

“There is something else, my lords. Loras?”

My brother stepped toward the table, swallowing a bit anxiously. I did not blame him, the environment was unreasonably tense.

“I have the armor of Renly Baratheon. I believe that- well, if I were to wear it, perhaps some of the men that decided to join Stannis after his death will believe that he has come back and join our side,” Loras explained, making both of the lions raise their eyebrows. It was a clever idea, it could not be denied. Loras and I had discussed it before leaving Highgarden.

“A clever thought, Ser Loras. Perhaps that will be helpful,” Lord Kevan nodded, turning to his kin. Lord Tywin said nothing but similarly seemed appreciative. I wondered whether or not he would look so content if he knew it had truthfully been my idea.

“Yes, perhaps. Kevan, would you inform Lord Tarly of the change in plans?” he asked his brother after a moment. Lord Kevan of course nodded and left us alone. I similarly whispered to Loras that he ought to prepare our own men to be moving out shortly, it was approaching noon and I expected it would be about half a day's ride to Kings Landing. We should want to be there at about dusk.

Then it was only Lord Tywin and I in the tent. He had moved away from the map and toward a separate table.

“Do you drink?” He asked suddenly, pouring himself a cup of wine. The question appeared odd to me, because of course I did. Who did not?

“Not before battles, my lord. When I have no height or strength advantages, my wits is all I have,” I told him, reasoning that perhaps he had meant to add ‘before battles’ at the end of his sentence. The Old Lion nodded.

“You’ve done well with them. Even if your temper has not simmered, nor your manners improved, you have at least become smarter,” he said, raising his cup to his lips. My eyes narrowed at him, and I wondered if it was possible for him to go even a minute without being utterly rude and annoying.

“Well, I would thank you if I was unaware of that fact. It is no wonder that I have gotten smarter, I have acquired more experience. And rest assured, Lord Tywin, it is only you that receives such ill-treatment,” I told him, fixing my gloves and flexing my hands to adjust. The leather was pleasant against the bitter cold, but the anger in me was causing a rising body temperature, and it was becoming uncomfortable.

“Ah yes, this treatment is reserved for insufferable cunts, is that it?” He shot back, hoping to make me feel small for calling him such a thing. How genuinely pathetic of him.

“Precisely. It’s good to know you still have your wits about you, Lord Tywin,” I affirmed, keeping my rock hard glare on him as he took a step closer and towered over me. I wanted to laugh, for he had attempted the same thing when I was a girl.

“You’d better be careful, Lady (Y/N). House Tyrell is an ally now, but that does not mean I’m going to accept your insults and childish behavior,” he said, speaking low and deep.

“You forget, Lord Tywin, that my armies greatly outnumber yours. I will fight with you for my family, but nothing could ever possess me to feel civil towards you,” I replied, not afraid of his icy eyes. I would not take disrespect, nor would I ever permit myself to feel an ounce of fear. I was the Nightshade of the Garden now, not some 14 year old girl.

Tywin stayed quiet for a moment, and then turned around and walked a few steps to drink from his cup. As he set it down, he looked back at me and sighed with a sort of frustration.

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed as though he was attempting to figure something out, and even if it was just a normal kind of observation, I immediately felt that he was scrutinizing me. It made me even more bitter, because after all, it wasn’t as though he was an adored man. Even he was not so prideful as to think that.

“May I ask you something, Lady Tyrell?”

“No.”

“Why is it that you continue to hate me so much? I understand that you did not appreciate being informed of the fact that at the age of 14 you were not all knowing, but since that day I have done nothing more to slight you or your family. You, on the other hand, have been quite vocal about your contempt for me even despite it having been 11 years. So I ask, why?”

I stared at him rather seriously for a moment before laughing to myself in disbelief. Was he truly being serious? Why did I hate him?

“I will be fighting in the vanguard with my brother tonight, Lord Tywin. I will see you after the battle, I’m certain. Men like you never actually partake in the fighting, after all,” I said, suddenly transforming into my sister as I gave him the most utterly charming smile that I could. He would expect anger from me, and so being polite would naturally frighten him more.

I turned around to leave then, but his voice was sharp and clear in my ears.

“I have asked you a question, Lady Tyrell.”

Lady Tyrell… it was a title that I enjoyed hearing, but for some reason—that I assumed was my hatred—I could not stand hearing it from him. Gods, it sounded horrible coming from him. I almost wished he would revert back to ‘girl’. I had a feeling, however, that even despite his anger, manners would prevent him from any long term usage of it. I was a lady, after all. If he was going to be cruel to me, he was going to do it properly.

“And I made it quite clear, Lord Lannister, that I have no intention of answering it. I will see you after the battle, my lord. Should you be in need of any more dire assistance from my family, you know where to find us,” I replied curtly, not giving him any opportunity to reply as I left his tent. I felt blood rushing to my face with a familiar anger.

Gods, I could not wait for this damned war to be over so I could return to Highgarden and never have to see the man again. And to be certain of that fact, I would pray for peace in the realm until he was dead. If only the gods would be so kind.

—————

“Does everything fit alright, Loras?” I asked, running my hands over his armor to make sure each part was properly in place. So far as I could tell, Renly’s armor fit him perfectly.

“Yes, it fits just as well as my own. I fear the only thing that might not fit so well is his helm. His head was always far bigger than mine…” Loras trailed off, reaching for it and holding it in both of his hands. I could tell that looking at the helm took him somewhere else, perhaps deep into a memory.

Seeing him this way calmed me, for it made this wretched alliance seem worth it. Even if Tywin Lannister was the worst cunt in all seven kingdoms, my brother deserved this. He deserved to avenge Renly and he deserved to shame Stannis. If this alliance meant he got those two things, then so be it. I would agree to it a million times for that, even despite my initial fury.

I watched Loras pull the helm on then, and even though it was not a precise fit, it was good enough that there was no need to worry about it coming off during battle. For a moment, it was almost like I was looking at Renly again, and it was an odd sensation. Renly and I had been on good terms throughout the time of our alliance, and I had been saddened by his death to be certain. Wars just made it difficult to properly mourn anybody.

“You know… even if I was only one of his knights and advisors, I was happy that way. Always with him, or at least near him. Gods, after my initial jealousy over his marriage to Margaery, that made me happy too. Their marriage would’ve meant he was never far,” Loras noted somberly, looking at himself in the mirror. Looking at Renly in the mirror.

It was an interesting thought, and one that I’d never considered before. The only reason that I had been happy about his marriage to Margaery was because it meant that it wasn’t to me. It had taken my father far too much convincing, and I was grateful that Renly hadn’t been offended by the second daughter. After all, he was a third son. Well, it was irrelevant. Margaery had always been better suited to marriage than I, and she had saved me from it.

“Oh Loras…”

I had wanted to say something more to comfort my brother, but I found that nothing would come out. I had not a clue what to say to him, much to my frustration. Loras only reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze of understanding. I was glad that he understood my sympathies.

Just then, the flaps of our tent burst open and a young squire came in carrying my sword. The boy looked quite young, and it made me wary for a moment. How could a boy this young be trusted to do anything of real importance? Though, when I thought about it he was probably 14 or so.

“Lady Tyrell, your sword. It’s been… it’s been coated in the poisons just as you asked. Ser Elias showed me how to do it before we left Highgarden,” the boy said, laying the sword down on a table as he attempted to catch his breath. He’d been running around, I presumed.

“Thank you, young man. I’m certain Ser Elias taught you well.”

As the boy bowed his head and rushed out, I sighed. Gods, I missed Ser Elias. Even though he wasn’t anything close to a squire, he often took on such jobs because he knew that I trusted him more than anybody else. He had been with me when I’d learned how to use poisons and such as a young girl, and he’d picked it up just as quickly. There was never a doubt of his quality.

I moved over to the table, unsheathing my sword about halfway and inspecting the gleam. Yes, it had been done well enough. I pushed the weapon back in, a small smile emerging on my face. My use of poisons, especially when it came to weaponry, had become somewhat renowned throughout the seven kingdoms after the Greyjoy Rebellion.

My father had originally had no intention to support Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark, but I had seen the opportunity for what it was. After remaining loyal during the king’s own rebellion, I knew that our ties to the crown were among some of the weakest, and to help suppress the Greyjoys would strengthen them. Of course, I had only been 15 at that time, and so it had taken quite a bit of convincing from both me and my grandmother in order for my father to grant me the privilege of leading men. The agreement had been that I would be given a host of around a thousand men, and that I was only to lead from the back—something I had not honored whatsoever.

When the rebellion had been successfully crushed, many tales began to spread about the 15 year old Tyrell girl who, at the head of her vanguard, charged straight into the battle and fearlessly plowed through man after man. And not only had I done that, but I’d also instructed all my men to coat their swords in poison. Thus, I was granted both command of the Tyrell army—for my father could hardly refuse me after I’d proven my skill and improved relations with the crown—and the nickname ‘the Nightshade of the Garden’.

In my opinion, it was quite fitting. Well, fitting enough once I managed to look past the fact that nightshade is a consumed poison. I certainly had no desire to kill anybody that way. Not yet, at least. Spending too much time around Tywin Lannister and his family might be exactly the thing to change my mind. All I could do was pray that this war would be over soon enough, and the first step toward ending it would be tonight. For that reason, I prayed that my brother would get his wish: to see Stannis Baratheon dead by dawn.

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qcoded · 1 year ago

Text

Belos, and the way he purposely appealed to The Collector: A TOH ANALYSIS.

I feel like one of the reasons that The Collector trusted Belos so much, was because he literally made himself appealing to them.

Despite the few scenes that they have, you can probably name a few of the aspects he changed around them. But one of the most apparent ones for me, was how Belos basically changed the way he spoke around them.

In a lot of the moments where they appeared together, he seemed to use a much more softer & sing-songy voice around them, as well as more simpler and 'friendlier' language. It's not even just with The Collector, through-out multiple times in the series he's changed his behaviour around individual people.

To name an example, let's start off with their initial meeting. Although Philip/Belos was speaking in an already soft tone of voice towards Luz and Lilith in Elsewhere and Elsewhen, it was much more calmer and monotone.

"Thank you for your kindness, crab maiden. Perhaps we were destined to meet."

Despite the obvious compliment, his words almost feel empty. There's no feeling of "thankfulness" behind them, just a pat to the shoulder and that's it. But that's the thing, even Lilith said it in the same scene. He just says everything a person wants to hear, and to Luz, just hearing his 'gratitude' through a sentence was enough to make her feel nice for assisting him so kindly.

However, when you look at when two of his scenes with the Collector, you can see Philip's shift in tone and behaviour.

Although he still had an almost blank expression, the very first thing he said when he unburied their plate and held it up was an almost playful, but simple "Found you", literally singing it out, around the end.

I feel like this is due to the fact that, Philip definitely knew The Collector was a child and made that subconcious switch in his words while speaking for them. It was made way more apparent when he was talking to their tablet and calling them these (objectively) silly names, at the same time looking endeared while speaking. Philip's face almost lit up as they called them 'a round boy'.

Like Lilith said, to Philip, he immediately started to speak like how you'd typically do with a child. Much more playful wording, and friendlier mannerisms even.

Although I believe at the start of their relationship that Belos treated The Collector more kindly to have them warm up to him, even later on you can still see this happening.

In the memory of Belos & The Collector in Hollow Mind, it's even more obvious than my previous examples. Belos & The Collector are quite literally playing a game, in this case Hide & Seek, with Belos being the one to start the whole interaction.

And again, when he's calling out for The Collector at the start he's using that playful, but gentle sing-songy voice. He's going along with their little game, because he's been doing this for *decades* now. Exactly what I mean when I say Belos appeals to them, he's giving into their childish nature and feeding onto it.

Likewise with his language, Belos changes it to make things sound more engaging to them. Although The Collector knew what was happening with the Day of Unity, with the way Belos was framing it, it was inevitable that they would just treat it so unseriously.

Ex: "You'll have your fun, on the Day of Unity" Like? Even though The Collector didn't even understand the concept of death, it was clear that they weren't fond of people just disappearing, like the titans. But Belos was literally treating the death of millions of witches like some fun game of hopscotch. Add that to the list of manipulation points!

Another example? Grimmwalkers.

The Collector was seen to view them as 'things', toys that he saw Belos just get rid of time and time again. And with the way he was framing it as them 'betraying' him, Collector probably just began to believe that and started viewing them like he did.

I think I delved into a completely different point with this scene, but long story short, Belos additionally uses his change of tone and language to further desensitize horrific situations to them. I would say even sugarcoat them in a way.

During King's tide, there's this one scene where King sees The Collector, and Belos is reassuring him. This one is a bit more different than the other scenes. Unlike the previous scenes I've talked about, instead of The Collector just acting playfully and seeming to trust Belos with what he says, they're actively doubting and complaining to him. And what does this come off as to Belos? A cranky child.

And like anyone dealing with a cranky child, he immediately deals with the situation as 'best as he can'.

First, he reassures and shuts down their doubts about being freed, telling them that it was *specifically* AFTER the draining spell that they'd be freed. And when The Collector doubted him once again, he essentially frames it as the child being the one in the 'wrong' here. They just have the be patient to get their reward after all, don't they? It's sorta like how a parent just tells their kid that "Oh, we'll be there soon, just wait!". Except that The Collector instead of waiting, will literally never get freed.

Basically, Belos is quite literally gaslighting them, in the sense that he's making them feel like they're acting out of order for a very reasonable doubt.

Additionally, he's also making them FEEL like an impatient with the way he's speaking and wording himself. Belos is portraying the whole thing as this being unfortunate for the both of them ('WE have to way for after the draining spell . . .'), and tell them to just have 'patience'.

In a fucked up way, this is probably how Belos disciplined them.

And this leads me to my next point. Like some sort of system of rewards and punishment, whenever The Collector was shown to actively say things that Belos didn't like, even if it was just for the moment, he altered the way he behaved and talked around the kid.

During Clouds in The Horizon, you can immediately notice the difference during the scene with these two. Even if there was the chance that Belos was already in a bad mood, and The Collector who was just making crude jokes for half of the time worsened everything, and there's a notable change in his wording and behavior. Belos is much more withdrawn, not even responding to the boys comments at certain times and giving them the silent treatment

Something I noticed even as I write this, was that in a sense this scene and the one from Hollow Mind parellel almost perfectly.

In Hollow Mind, when The Collector was joking about Belos lashing out at Hunter and turning into his monster form, Belos pretty much brushed it off and just took it as a chance to go "well, as long as he doesn't fuck around and find out, he'll be fine". Even when they were literally saying that the grimmwalkers were 'things', a mind that Belos just made them to torture them, the guy literally SMILED as if he was amused.

Meanwhile, Belos had a completely different reaction to practically the same comments, but in a different font.

Now, The Collector was making fun of him for his monster form, saying how he can't even keep it up anymore. In response, Belos just proceeds go punch the wall and just prove their point. As for the grimmwalkers, when they suggested that the man should make another one go play with, he just shut down them said they needed to 'deal' with this one.

There's a very clear difference here: In one scene, The Collector isn't directly mocking Belos, and the man is amused by their honestly horrific joking about such vile situations. In another, they're using those same situation and topics to make fun of Belos.

In short, Belos only seemed to excuse these comments when they weren't directly being negative towards *him*, and almost rewarded The Collector by continuing to speak to them in a friendly manner. Once they did, he almost retracted a 'priviledge'.

Because that's essentially what it was. A privilege that Belos gave them by just treating as 'nicely' as someone like him could get. And like any child too, they were blinded by it.

Again, bringing me into my next point.

When Belos betrayed The Collectoe, it was the exact moment when that privilege and everything else, was permanently revoked. At first you can see how Belos just watches as The Collector, like expected, excitedly talks and gushing about how they'll be able to play. Even after all these years, Belos really is freeing them. And they'll be able to play now!

Except they aren't.

Because immediately after, Belos shut down any hopes that they have of being freed with a simple "I'm afraid that's impossible".

At first, they're confused, hurriedly repeating Philip's promise, because sufely he couldn't have forgotten about it. But the man just brushes it off as an inconvenience, that he just didn't have any more Titan's Blood to free them.

And even as The Collector shouts and screams that Belos was a liar, unlike in the scene where he reassured them about their doubts, he doesn't have to do that anymore. Because there's no use in appealing to them anymore.

The kid was wringed dry of all their use to the man. And just like those grimmwalkers, like those witches, like everyone, Belos would leave them. Because in the end, they were also just a 'thing' for Belos.

And to add more insult to injury, it's not even like Belos just started acting all serious and mad like whenever he was upset with them. Opposite, even, because there was still using that sing-songy, playful tone to his voice speaking to them. In a sense, it was now The Collector's turn to be mocked. And it's not even like they could protest and throw one of their 'tantrum's', because Belos essentially just shut them up.

After dropping their plate down a bridge, just to add to open up that cut even more, Belos simply parted ways with them with a GOODBYE. Not even calling them by their name, giving them one last display of 'affection', or perhaps thanking them for their 'help' to Belos. Just a truly emotionless goodbye.

And, BELOS JUST WALKED AWAY AFTER THAT. Because truly, those decades meant nothing to him. The way he so eloquently phrashed and sang out everything to flatter the kid, going along with their silly games, and reassuring them– that was in the past now.

But here's the thing with that man. HE LITERALLY CANNOT STAY CONSISTENT. Belos cannot fucking commit to, and accept that his actions have consequences, because it was obvious he immediately regretted disregarding the kid once they were freed.

As my final point, let's take a lot at the infamous "splatter" scene.

You can literally see how Belos stepped away out of fear. Because unlike the shadow boy that just lived in his basement, that could only move around his walls at most, The Collector was now freed. And what does that mean? It means that Belos fucked up BIG time. Literally as they turn to look at him, that blank look on their face told that man everything he had to know.

And of course, he immediately retracts on literally every he said before, and begins trying to appeal to the kid by twisting around his intentions.

Belos was probably just hoping they'd be gaslighted enough to just run back into his arms and accept his words, but at that moment they weren't fooled like before. The Collector knew his true intentions, and no amount of sing-songy voices and empty compliments could change that.

This analysis is quite literally getting too long LOL, it was supposed to be super short. I was planning to also analyze the Raine scenes, and compare the scenes included to seperate belos scenes, but I'll end it on a short note.

TLDR; Belos purposely changed his tone of voice, language and overall behavior to appeal to The Collector. Essentially to manipulate, desensitize and gaslight the boy to a lot of horrific things. Even then, it backfired on him in the end.

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