#i'm going to hurt you so badly Moreau

[syciaralynx]

Writing from Jean's POV, and I am barely a couple pages in but.

[millionancientbees]

An overly personal love letter to this ridiculous book series and the people who love it because I am deeply sleep deprived and also high as fuck

Growing up, I was very mentally ill. I started self harming before I can even remember, and moved to cutting in third grade. In middle school and early high school I dealt with my deep depression and severe trauma by abusing medication like my life depended on it. Probably because it did. When I wasn't self medicating or hurting myself I vacillated between being horrifically suicidal or deeply dissociated.

I'd known for years what it was to be taken apart by someone who is supposed to care for you and have to say I'm fine and grit your teeth through sitting down at school and work. Nobody knew what I was dealing with; I burned on the inside, attempting to keep myself safe. I lied through my teeth and said I was fine, I was fine, I was fine.

I was also a deeply caring, deeply loyal friend when given the opportunity. I could cut through bullshit and see into the deeper issue and oftentimes caused massive blowups because my dysregulated undiagnosed autistic ass didn't know what a normal conversation looked like. I had exactly zero tact but all of the positive intent. But I would ride the wave and love my friends through it because they were all I had.

I wanted someone to see through my bullshit and call me out and back me into a corner until I fessed up almost as badly as I feared it. I would get the cold sweats and a deep thrill every time I even thought about it.

I was preemptively mean and defensive to anyone who was not part of my inner circle because I simply did not have it in me to deal with more people and more lying and also, I did not trust anyone to have my back and not have ill intent.

Then I had to flee my mother's abuse when I was 19 and move across the country. I had no mental health medication, no therapy, and no support system besides my partner. I white knuckled my way through my grandmother dying. I was consumed by grief and trauma and self hatred.

And then Nora Sakavic delivered to me on a silver platter Neil Josten and all of his fucked up teammates and I saw myself in them in a way I had never seen myself in anyone before. These books, in tandem with The Raven Cycle and their respective fandoms, were my sole reason for staying alive for longer than I would like to admit, and when I was finally ready to put them away and move on, I was a changed person.

Reading about Jean and all of his miseries felt like going home in a way that was so healing and so profound I genuinely do not have the words. Seeing a character tear himself apart to keep secrets no man should ever have to keep. Seeing him bully his way out of love and care and then crumble when they kept backing him into a corner. Seeing him find his reasons, which were, in the grand scheme of things, just as silly and inconsequential as my love for these books, was...truly something.

Seeing it from the other side was incredible and soul crushing.

I haven't felt this deep bone aching satisfaction to be neck deep in fandom in years. I have honestly been struggling tremendously with my physical and mental health and this is healing in a way I forgot it could be.

So anyway, thank you Nora, thank you ridiculous feral fandom, thank you Neil Josten you creepy fuck, thank you Andrew Minyard, thank you Jean Moreau, thank you Jeremy Knox, the man that you are, thank you Coach Wymack, thank you Kevin Day.

I'm going to sleep.

[alovesongshewrote]

can i get uhhhh, the four lords reacting to their s/o getting injured? either accidentally or by another person or thing, it's up to you

Ouch | The Four Lords HCs

sure thing!! i actually have another ask like this which i'm going to finish soon, so if you like angst

it's ur time

Taglist: @mxcheese @blixeon @prismarts @valentimmy @chrysanthykios

Headcanons

Alcina

Right, so

When it comes to alcina

You probably hurt yourself by falling down her big ass staircase

Seriously, there are so many stairs, and what for

Anyway

You trip

Fall on your face

And she thinks it’s adorable until she sees the massive bruise forming on your cheek

It gets even worse when the blood starts to trickle out of your mouth

I guess you bit your lip

Oops

So

Uh

Her first instinct is to drink you like a little juice box

She may even give you a brief kiss on the lips so that she can taste you before scooping you up and taking you to her room

Once there, she helps you patch yourself up, all while like

scoffing

About how fragile humans are

You know she cares, though

You see the way she looks at you when she doesn’t think you’re paying attention

You reward her for her help with a kiss

A longer one

;)

Basically, she’s teasing and dignified as always

But she cares quite a bit, and you can tell if you look closely

However

If you didn’t hurt yourself in a harmless and stupid way

If someone else hurt you

And hurt you badly

Lady Dimitrescu is out for blood.

She will check on you quickly before she skins whoever hurt you

She won’t even drink them, they aren’t good enough for that fate

And it really doesn’t matter who it is

It could be one of her siblings, or miranda, one of her maids, etc

The second your blood hits the floor, they’re done

Donna

I’m gonna be honest, with Donna, there’s a 98% chance you either cut yourself with scissors, or Angie fucking

Bit you

Either way, Donna is much more outwardly concerned than her sister

She’ll gently grab the injured appendage and check it over before she leads you to her room

She doesn’t say anything

But you can feel her anxiety

And if her veil is off, you can see it

Whether or not you can see her face, though, it’s the same

Her eyebrows are knit together, she’s biting her lip

She’s concerned

Very concerned

Now

If someone else hurt you

And if they hurt you badly enough

Donna will snap

I mean

She’ll check on you first

Like

Really check on you

She’ll actually go up to you and, if she can, she’ll get you out of that situation

She’ll also do her best to patch you up if there’s time

She is the only one of her siblings who will take care of you before seeking vengeance

But once she does?

Hoooooooooo boy

I would not want to be that guy

Donna is relentless

She starts by showing whoever it is their worst fears until they go insane

And that’s just the start

She follows it up by making an appearance with all of her cute little friends

And together

They rip the bastard apart

She returns to you a little bit upset, but overall feeling better

And she just

Flops down next to you

And y’all cuddle until you fall asleep

Moreau

Right, so

With moreau

You either like

Got a teensy sliver from some wood

Or you almost fucking drowned

If you got a sliver you can deal with that, but if you fucking

Fall into the reservoir?

Ahahah

Ahahhahahaha

Hahahahahahahahahahaha

Fucking hell, poor moreau

He’s just

So concerned

He’d turn into his fish form, jump into the water, and just

Drag you out as fast as he could

And yes

He does cry a little bit

You’ll both be fine, though

Just make sure there’s no water in your lungs and assure him you’ll be okay

Maybe watch a movie together

Have some cheese

Everything will be fine

IF SOMEONE ELSE HURT YOU, THO?

HA

MAN TURNS INTO A FISH MONSTER ALMOST INSTANTLY

He can’t really control it, actually, it’s more of an instinct than a choice

But yeah, he fucking

Eats them

And when that’s done, he hops out of the water and fucking

Hugs you

And then he takes you to get help, because the reservoir is not a great place to do any actual medical work

Heisenberg

Right, so, with heisenberg, you probably fell down the stairs again

Though, he does live in a factory

A factory with a fuck ton of OSHA violations

So really, you could get hurt in an insane number of ways

You could cut one of your limbs on some metal

You could burned yourself

You could been crushed by something

You could smacked your head on, idk, more metal

Metal is dangerous

Y’all have a fuckign

Collection of tetanus shots just sitting in your room and his “office”

Full honesty, you probably get hurt a lot, especially when you first get to the factory

And every time he pretends that he doesn’t care

But he does

He cares so much

Every time you get hurt he’ll fuckin laugh or whatever to maintain his facade, but he is always on your ass when it comes to disinfecting any wounds and bandaging yourself up

“(Y/N) go disinfect that, I can’t have you dying in the middle of this.”

“(Y/N) put a fucking band-aid on that or you’ll lose your arm.”

“(Y/N) YOU CAN’T KEEP WORKING RIGHT NOW, YOU’RE BLEEDING EVERYWHERE!”

“(Y/N) GO LIE DOWN, YOU ARE NOT PASSING OUT ON MY WATCH!”

He pretends that he’s concerned about you ruining his work

But i mean

If you don’t patch yourself up, he’ll do it for you

And no matter who fixes you up, he always asks if you’re okay

In a very awkward, but very sweet way

And on top of that

Heisenberg overall is the most concerned with actually preventing possible injuries

And like, his siblings don’t have to do this as much, because their homes are a bit safer

Except for maybe moreau

But yeah, heisenberg will fucking

Catch you when you fall, either with metal or he’ll physically catch you

He will pick you up and move you away from large and structurally-unsound piles of metal

Once you almost fell down the stairs and he just fucking

Grabbed you

And yeah, he claims that he doesn’t have time to save your ass every five seconds

But even if he actually doesn’t have time

He’ll still protect you

ESPECIALLY FROM THREATS THAT AREN’T INANIMATE

BECAUSE IF ANYTHING DARES TO ATTACK YOU

IF ANYTHING DARES TO TRY AND HARM WHAT’S HIS

He’s kind of possessive, let’s face it

THERE WILL BE BLOOD

Where Donna is the sibling who makes sure you’re ok, Heisenberg is the one who takes instant and violent revenge

God help whatever or whoever dared to hurt you, because the second he realizes you’ve been hurt, he’s out for blood

It doesn’t even matter how badly you’re hurt

Or even how you’ve been hurt

If something comes at you with malicious intent, he sees red

And then, once it’s dead, he’ll make sure you’re ok

Oh, and uh

If something hurts you while he isn’t around, try to tell him quickly

If you hold it in, he won’t

He won’t be pleased

He just wants to protect you, man

I’d say you should let him

[wolves-in-the-world]

[original security knife ficlet here, qwat au inspiration here]

Featuring injuries, angst, casual discussion of violence, and a much-needed nap.

[1.8k, also on Ao3]

—

"I'm not expecting you to sleep," Quinn says, like the very idea is laughable. Like they didn't just almost kill each other on their first meeting. Like he's having the time of his life getting his ribs kicked in, losing a molar (temporarily), cosying up to Eliot Spencer (remains to be seen), and betraying the most dangerous man he's likely to ever meet (potentially very permanently).

There's something very wrong with him, Eliot's almost sure. But he's hardly in a place to throw stones.

"Just saying you can lie down and rest while I listen out for trouble," Quinn continues, easy as anything. "You've been on the road for weeks now. You've got to be exhausted."

Eliot grits his teeth as he zips the duffel shut, using the motion to get a sense for how badly he's wrenched his shoulder. It'll have to do. He doesn't exactly have the option to rest it. Doesn't exactly have the option to rest at all. "I'll pass."

"C'mon, Spencer." Eliot isn't sure if the thickening of Quinn's accent is a deliberate ploy or something more unconscious. "If you're accepting my help, you're gonna have to close your eyes in front of me sooner or later."

Eliot's already made his calls. He got one old contact talking at length about the smart-mouthed young hitter who ruined her operation, another telling him that Mister Quinn still owes them thirteen dollars and forty-seven cents after losing a bet, and a solid letter of recommendation from someone Eliot would trust with his life.

Used to, at least. He's got more to risk these days.

He's beyond exhausted. He can't deny that. He's been all sharp edges and hollow adrenaline since the fight, was running on fumes before that, had a catnap in some public toilets yesterday because he needed it, almost couldn't help it, figured it was unlikely anyone would expect it of him. He stopped after the third time he jerked awake at the sound of footsteps, dizzy and queasy from the interruptions and the smells.

He needs to rest. And this guy is worse off than Eliot is—he can count the broken ribs by the way Quinn's holding himself—and Eliot would know if Moreau had him under his thumb. A one-off job, then. It's a messy form of suicide to accept a job from Moreau then refuse to complete it, but Eliot's not going to be the one to stop him.

Letting his guard down around him, though...

"You want to take down the next guy he sends, be my guest." Eliot's voice sounds hoarse to his ears, like he's coming down with a cold. Shit, he'd better not be. "But I'm not letting you keep watch while I rest."

Quinn seems to consider that, consider him. If Quinn weren't so visibly hurt from their earlier confrontation, he'd bristle under that even more. As it is, he still feels the urge to show his teeth and make sure Quinn respects him. Respect is the only thing a hitter has.

Then Quinn lets out a sigh and reaches for the back of his waistband, and Eliot's on his feet in a second because Quinn said he'd left all his weapons in the pile in the corner but Eliot's not a fool, and he's fully ready to slam his head against the bedframe and leave the mess for someone else to find when Quinn says, as calm as before, "Here."

He's flipping the knife around, offering Eliot the hilt. His eyes are steady on Eliot's but from the tension in his posture that's a little more than residual, Eliot's guessing he felt the stress of the moment too.

He keeps his voice level. "You got any more of those hidden away?"

"It's my favourite knife," Quinn says, with a shrug that isn't an apology. "I don't part with it."

Exactly why it would be his favourite, Eliot can't be sure. People get sentimental about their weapons. Superstitious, too. Eliot had a gun he favoured, before... he left. He can't be sure Quinn's telling the truth.

Except it's not the first gesture of trust he's offered. Even calling a halt like he did, slumped back against the wall with an arm wrapped around himself and glaring at Eliot without much fire to it, and Eliot had been a fool to ease back too, to think that it might be anything but a trap, but Quinn had been asking—had been listening—and Eliot hadn't wanted to kill him. That was what this entire mess had been about.

At least, he thinks so. That decision isn't one he can examine just yet. But he's sure he has to do better. Sure he has to be better.

He accepts the knife just to get a closer look at it. There's wear on the hilt like it's been handled a lot, wear on the blade like it's been sharpened often. It's very clean. It's not new. And when he glances back up to the other man's face he sees a wariness quickly tucked away in those brown eyes, like Quinn's offered more than he wanted to.

Huh.

"You gonna keep watch without any weapons?" He twirls the knife in his hand to show that he can, catches the blade between thumb and forefinger and flips it again, the hilt a reassuring thwack against his palm.

"I'll shout if trouble finds us. Don't want you missing out on the fun." There's just a hint of playfulness to his expression now, but enough that Eliot has to check himself. Quinn looks even younger when he smiles, and he has to know that. Useful skill for someone like them to have.

"If you try anything," Eliot says, pulling the blanket from the bed and dumping it on the floor in front of their shared weapons stash, "I'm finishing the job."

"I'd expect nothing less," says Quinn, because—as Eliot is quickly figuring out—he's one cheeky bastard.

Eliot doesn't intend to sleep. He can get enough rest to recharge a bit for now, and there'll be other opportunities once he's—they've—moved to a safehouse that's less easily compromised. He settles himself down, just enough composure left to keep from vocalising the pain, though Quinn must know he broke Eliot's rib too. One last glance through cracked eyelids shows Quinn's still sitting where he was before, gingerly walking his fingers over his side to check for damage. There's a boot-shaped bruise there that's going to be black in a few hours.

Eliot closes his eyes, and the spinning in his head quickly fades to nothing.

~

When he wakes his body is a scream, his head throbbing, and the quality of light in the room suggests it's been at least six hours. It's far longer than he meant to rest, and he could kick himself for it. Might, when he's feeling better.

More sleep would honestly be ideal—but even if that were an option, he has to see to himself first.

It takes a moment to register a soft, irregular sound and track it to the chair he left Quinn in. He cracks his eyes open and sees the hitter tired but still aware: cheek swollen, one eye bruised, bandages peeking out from his sleeve. He's tapping a rhythm against his knee with two fingers.

Morse, Eliot realises, after another embarrassingly long moment. (Fuck, he really needed that sleep.) He dutifully matches patterns to letters, which even more slowly shape themselves into words.

Hamlet?

If he's reached the 'translating plays to stay focused' portion of his watch, he must be getting desperate.

Eliot uncurls his fingers from the knife first, realising he's held it so tight that they've gone numb. Then he shifts his weight to lever himself up, head still swimming—but more manageable than before—and the tapping stops.

"Eliot Spencer," Quinn greets, not moving from his chair.

"Quinn," he grunts out, because a promise kept needs some acknowledgement. Not enough for a 'Mister' though. He's had enough of performative superiority for a lifetime. "You gonna be fit to travel?"

"I'm a professional." He sounds genuinely offended. Eliot allows himself a little satisfaction at that. "You need a hand with your injuries?"

Letting him keep watch while he sleeps is one thing. That's another. "I've got it," he says, picking up his duffel on the way to what barely passes for a bathroom. He'll be leaving the weapons unattended, but it's a calculated risk. He's pretty sure he'll hear if Quinn goes after them. And he has to give Quinn a chance to betray him sooner or later.

He has to stop at the door, suddenly finding himself one hand short. He's still holding Quinn's knife. He flips it around, offers it back. "Here."

It's not a thank you. It's nothing as soft as that. From the way Quinn's eyebrows shift, his face softening—the uninjured parts of it, at least—it might as well have been. He doesn't comment. At least he has some self-preservation.

Eliot undresses bit by bit to see to himself in the bathroom, not wanting to be caught entirely naked if he has to spring into action. (He learned that one the hard way.) As he takes stock of his physical hurts, he grudgingly assesses his situation.

Just one month, and his whole world changed. Some of it— he can never take back. Never even try to. Some of it, his decision, his fleeing, he's committed to now. Not for Toby, who deserved a better friend after what he did for Eliot, and not for Aimee, who's living her life without him. Not even for himself. Not the time to dwell on that now.

Just one day, and his whole situation is different. Maybe it's the actual sleep getting to him. Maybe it's someone else looking out for him in a way Eliot hasn't had, not properly, since he was in the military. Maybe he's clutching at anything that can keep him afloat and what he's apparently found is this curly-haired, soft-faced killer who seemed absurdly happy to get into a fight with him, and absurdly willing to turn around and lend a hand when Eliot told him why he wasn't going back.

Maybe it's just nice to spend a little time with someone like him. Someone who knows at least a bit of what that means.

Truth be told, he's not much better off than he was yesterday. His safehouse isn't as safe as he hoped, Quinn's handiwork is on his ribs, his abdomen, his arms, his thighs. He has another person to keep an eye on until they show their true colours—or simply get bored and leave. Eliot isn't counting anything out.

Today, though. He can plan for today, and stay as cautious as he knows how to, and accept the help that's offered him.

For today, at least, Eliot has an ally.

[phenomenal1500]

What If We Had The Choice? | Resident Evil Village

Summary: What would have happened if Ethan had sided with Heisenberg? Unfortunately, Capcom didn't give us the chance to make a choice, so for the enthusiasts.... this would have happened if we had had been given the choice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ethan stepped foot inside the dark, dusty factory with a bad premonition. He kept his gun in front of him at all costs as he carefully pushed the first rusty door he encountered open and when he noticed the coast was clear, he also made his way through the badly lit hallway that had appeared from behind the heavy door. He was so close in having his daughter back that he couldn't back down... not now. Another nasty hallway followed and finally, when he took a turn to his right, he spotted an huge curtain hanging ahead of him in a square room. It seemed to hide the wall and table behind it and Ethan struggled with the thought off shoving it to the right to peak behind it or to just leave it be. With his curiosity taking over he pulled the curtain from the beam to which it was attached to and small photos appeared.

Some of them were old pictures of the lords, scratched through with a red marker, while others were pictures of the incidents that had happened around the village since Ethan had arrived there. The pictures reflected in Ethan's eyes and one stood out to him. "Mia?"

"Truth hurts, don't it?" Ethan turned with a quick motion, spotting the man Ethan had met earlier who now stepped out of the shadows directly behind him. The dark and round glasses covered the man's eyes as well as his fedora hat that slightly slanted over his left eye and the long tattered coat fluttered behind him as he took a puff of his Cuban cigar. Ash fell from his cigar as thick white smoke floated around the man's almost completely covered face. "Let me guess." The forth and strongest Lord continued after puffing his cigar once more. "You're thinking take me out like the others, and then you get to go and safe Rose, right?"

"I'm healing my daughter." Ethan bit back.

"Look, y-...you've got this all wrong-..." Lord Heisenberg signed with his hands up in the air to strengthen his words, but he then was cut off by an horrible loud sound coming from under them. "Dammit, I'm talking here!" The man whined, pinching his noise before storming his way towards the hatch to pull it open with ease. "Shut your fucking hole!"

Ethan had no idea what to except or where this conversation was going, certainly not with someone different than the other mutated humans he had met. Alcina Dimitrescu had already some hatred towards men like him, perhaps even all men in general, and was conspiring with Miranda so of course she wanted him dead from the beginning. Donna Beneviento seemed more reasonable and neutral about the situation, but was still crazy as fuck and was also still under Miranda's control. Same goes for Salvatore Moreau, except for the fact he wasn't just following and conspiring with Miranda. He saw Mother Miranda as his real mother and he was so desperate to prove his worth to the other house lords and Mother Miranda that he unfortunately also wasn't able to negotiate with.

However, Lord Heisenberg was someone different. He came across Ethan as more controlled than the other Lords despite being a bit of a direct man. "Sorry about that." The man apologised as he straightened his back. Ethan, still confused whether he had to have patient and listen to the man or take action while it was still possible, stood in the room watching the man in doubt while he snatched a chair from beside a cupboard to place it by the hatch.

"Take a seat." Heisenberg ordered and Ethan stayed in his place, not obeying his competitor. "Listen, Ethan. You're being played."

"What are you talking about? You think this is a game?" Ethan hissed through his teeth meanwhile the lord put out his Cuban cigar, pressing the burning side onto the small table. Ethan had expected some sort of answer from the mutant, but to his surprise Heisenberg aggressively tossed a knife towards the wall covered in pictures and pushed Ethan into the unsteady metal chair instead... the chair almost staggering over the edge of the big hole by all the force falling down onto it.

"I said sit!!" Heisenberg backed off a bit afterwards and continued his story. "Lady super-sized bitch..." The knife stabbed the wall as it made its way to the picture of Lady Dimitrescu. "Ugly-ass psycho doll...." The knife again marked the wall, now resting in the photo of Donna Beneviento and Angie Beneviento. "And that moronic freak." The knife made one last change in direction, the picture of Salvatore Moreau. "Don't you get it? It's a test, to see if you're strong enough... to be part of Miranda's family."

"I don't want to be part of Miranda's family."

"Neither did I! But here we are." Heisenberg raised his voice and Ethan took in a deep breath. "And I'm next in line, right? Kill me, move up the chain! Well, fuck that!!" The knife carved the wall as it was forced through the image of Mother Miranda, messing it up.

"I don't give a damn about your personal issues! I just want to fix my daughter!" The lord laughed in response.

"So do I! Do you have any idea how powerful that kid is? Even Miranda is scared of her..." For a second time there was a very loud engine sound hearable and the man deeply sighed in frustration. "Last time, you freak, I swear to god!"

Afterwards making his way to Ethan, Lord Heisenberg gave away his green and grey eyes by removing his glasses and held his chin up, the hat moving a bit upwards to reveal his full face. Scars were located all across his face and he smirked.

"You and me, Ethan! Together we go save Rose, and then we can use her to grind Miranda to paste." Heisenberg closed his fist with strength, acting like he was squeezing a bug to death. Ethan stood before a tough decision; Fight Lord Heisenberg and then hope he could safe his daughter from Mother Miranda all alone... or collude against Mother Miranda with the help of Heisenberg and save his daughter that way. He knew it was wrong to work together with someone who was once his enemy and was willing to use his daughter as a weapon, but it gave him more certainty to actually succeed and get his little girl back. Ethan stood up from his chair and swallowed before nodding.

"When do we start?"

~~~

Heisenberg had taken Ethan to his lab to explain what he'd been up to all along and both men now faced each other while sitting down onto different obsolete metal sofas. "Most of this was already put in working before I decided to show up here to save Rose?"

"This is my fucking lifework. Years I have been creating these soldats to deal with Miranda once and for all. It's time for her to die." The man passionately spoke up and pointed at the soldats hanging from a conveyor belt that ran through the factory. "So, Ethan Winters, what do you say?"

"The plan sounds good to me."

"Well then, lets get to work. See you on the other side... Ethan."

Ethan knew exactly what to do because Heisenberg had explained in detail what the plan was. Ethan was going to disturb the ceremony that was taking place so that the lord could launch a surprise attack on Miranda with his invented army. Although, before it could work, Ethan first had to stop by the Duke to restock his ammunition and healing juice. Fast traveling over the stone bridge towards the elevator in the altar, he returned to the Duke.

"Ah... Ethan Winters. I feel like this will be the last time we meet again... It was quite some news to hear you joined Lord Heisenberg's side." The duke folded his hands together, somewhere deep down noticeable that he was delighted to see his loyal customer and good friend back alive.

"Yeah, well, I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"

"You had a choice, but knew that this settlement would be most effective. Now, I suppose you have to act quickly so feel free to peruse." Buying ammunition and healing juice with the last money Ethan had, the friends said their last goodbyes and carried on their separated ways. This would be it. This would be the moment where Ethan would finally get his daughter Rose back. Shoving himself through the filthy black strands know as mold, he saw the blond woman in her black and gold robe shouting for Eva, her dead daughter she lost to the Spanish flu, to be reborn. The moment Ethan wanted to fire his first shot with his M1851 Wolfsbane Magnum, there was a sharp sound audible and then loud rock music followed.

"What the-....?" Ethan cursed under his breath, not knowing what the fuck was happening, but the distractive music seemed to caught Miranda off guard and the chamber of mold crumbled down around them. It looked like Miranda had lost her focus. The distraction gave Ethan a better shot and Miranda jerked her head towards him, glaring deathly at him as he pulled the trigger. The bullet didn't do much to her, but the arena was now free from the mold and it was possible for Heisenberg to step into the destroyed area, which he did. He was still secretly jamming to the loud rock music that was playing on his speakers back in the factory and Ethan wondered what the actual limit of the volume was because it was so terribly loud, even from where they were now.

"Heisenberg! I should have known you were planning an rebellion against me. Unfortunately for the both of you, the ceremony will be complete once dawn breaks and I will become her true mother!" Miranda shouted dramatically and opened her arms widely, letting her six wings stretch out before her mutation took place. Heisenberg just scoffed and threw his Cuban cigar to the ground, stepping on it.

"I'm not letting you get away." Ethan yelled, shooting a few more times at the orange eye that was visible in the upper center of her face. It probably was her weakness. In the meantime that Ethan was busy shooting at the six winged dead looking woman, Heisenberg simply just leaned on his hammer. His head was banging to the music while he watched the scene for a moment, but that was until he forced himself to participate into the battle as well. Putting his thumb and index finger close to his mouth, he whistled as noisy as possible and immediately an army of Lycans and soldats joined him. Miranda was amazed at what was happening before her eyes, but managed to kill several soldats at once with the mold spearing them. Heisenberg groaned in frustration, understanding that his life creations perhaps weren't fully prepared for these kind of attacks coming from her.

Heisenberg sighed and closed his green, grey eyes. It was time... time for him to mutate and face Miranda together with Ethan. He had to defeat her. That was what he wished for all these years after all. Heisenberg listened to the guitar solo in the background as his mind started to control and use the metal scrap from his broken soldats to continue his mutation. Ethan couldn't be distracted by the creature Heisenberg had become and so he kept his attention strictly on Miranda, ready to hit her again. Sadly, he was out of luck. His M1851 Wolfsbane Magnum ran out of ammo and while Ethan tried to block her next attack, Heisenberg seized the opportunity to knock her to the ground before she had the change to launch herself at Ethan.

Heisenberg accelerated his actions and grabbed Miranda tightly before pressing her against one of the broken stone walls. With his other metal arm he activated his saw and wounded her body, but soon found out she could regenerate herself. Her spider legs turned into wings, bigger than before, and she hurled the flames she had summoned when Heisenberg wasn't paying attention. He was blinded and was pushed back by the blow. The lord quickly realized that his mutation was quite easy for Miranda to defeat because of the length and width of his mechanistic form and he turned back to his human form. This way he could use the metal scrap for a shield and dodge all her attacks faster.

"Ethan! Bring your ass over here!" The man growled, seeing that Ethan was laying somewhere on the floor, being completely useless, and Ethan raised to his feet... stumbling a bit, but not giving up.

"I don't have any fucking bullets left!"

"Well good luck keeping her focused on you then!" His gravelly voice yelled over the rock music for only Ethan to hear and he shook his head in confusion, though, he had no time to understand it because Miranda immediately jumped right in front of him. The lord had time to create a stairs of the floating metal with activating his abilities and he ran to the top, hoping Miranda hadn't seen this shit coming or else they both were certainly doomed. Ethan, meanwhile, was fighting off the woman and it was the perfect timing for Heisenberg to put his second plan in working. Heisenberg dropped himself from the stairs, his hammer above his head and aiming at the weakness of Mother Miranda. Hitting her, her back was blown into the floor and she screamed in agony. The combo of the shots of the M1851 Wolfsbane Magnum and the terribly heavy hammer had managed to defeat her.

"My daughter.... My Eva!" She held her arms high and went numb, her body falling apart and turning into ash.

"After an eternity.... that bitch is finally gone." Heisenberg laughed enthusiastically and turned around to face Ethan only to see him crumbling down with Rose in his arms.

"I think we finished each other...."

[surrealsunday]

I think I kinda loved everything about this chapter, but there were a few especially amazing moments. I was very much into Lucas's suffering. Even though we didn't know what was going on exactly, it was very obvious that the situation was destroying him. And I live for that kind of angst tbh. In the locker room when he's so hurt and confused by Eliott saying he hates him (even though he knows it's not true)! That hit me so hard. And the elevator!!! Omg!!! I think Lucas was really sure he'd fucked it up for good and that he had lost Eliott. And he was such a mess about it.

And him standing in front of Eliott's door because he couldn't sleep without him, I'm 😭😭😭 That was it for me. That broke my heart and then glued it right back together again because Eliott hugged him. And I lost it when Lucas told him he needed to cuddle him, always!!! Giving up his bratty act to let Eliott know how much he loves and needs him? That was so genuine and serious and vulnerable and I can't!!!!

I was a bit sad that Lucas still couldn't really stand up for himself and only punched Moreau because he did something about Eliott. However, I find that so very relatable!!! Like I never think people hurting me warrants violence or retribution, but if someone comes for the people I love, I'll try to break that person's legs!!!

I was very into Lucas's friends being on board with Eliott and trying to help, especially Manon.

And I loved Idriss in this chapter again. I think he was very good n'est friend rep, being on Eliott's side, but also subtly just wanting them to be together and only giving Lucas shit because of that.

The colors of the mood tattoo conversation was everything to me. They are so cute, and I love that they come back to it later. It's such a nice way to communicate underneath all the banter and brattiness.

And I was so elated to find out Lucas's whole story, especially that talking about handouts and stuff really referred more to himself than Eliott. That makes so much sense to me, how he sees everything he'd want to be himself in Eliott and that fuels his self-hatred, but then again he's taking it out on Eliott. It was so important to me to understand early Lucas.

There were a myriad more things I loved, but I can't just recount the whole chapter to you I guess 😅😅😅

In general I'm so happy with them being together and how in love they are and how even their romantic talk is kinda brattty banter. They are just a really cute and interesting couple. I love! 💖💖💖💖💖

“I was very much into Lucas’s suffering” -> the way you worded that, Soph, made me seriously lol. I know exactly what you mean though. I am into that kind of angst too. Like yes he’s taken actions that have gotten him to that place but I wanted it to be so clear that he was absolutely destroyed by ending things with Eliott. He absolutely thought (by the time he’s with Eliott in the elevator) he had fucked things up too badly. When he breaks up with Eliott he has this slight glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe he’ll be able to figure everything out - just fix everything and it will all be ok, he’ll be able to get Eliott back. It’s why he says ‘take a break’ during that convo. But after the locker room scene he really thinks he’s fucked it all up too badly. Eliott will never want him again. 

I’m such a sucker for hugs. I could just visualize Eliott immediately wrapping Lucas up in his arms in that reunion scene. And yes! That little moment of Lucas just outright admitting he wants to be cuddled. He’ll always be a brat of course 😆, but he’s committed now to being a lot more honest about his feelings. 

Omg what you said about the reason Lucas stands up to Moreau - yes, I feel you. It’s so much easier to take action when it’s for someone you love vs. for yourself. At the same time though, Lucas trying to get the better of Moreau in the first place (and get the recording) was his way of trying to take the control back and stand up for himself. It’s just that when Moreau brings Eliott into it, all that goes out the window. 

It’s funny how much I’ve made myself love Idriss by writing so much of him into the stories. I swear I never intend on him being as crucially involved but he works his way in there. So I’m glad you enjoy him too! 

I really am so glad Lucas’s story made sense. Honestly when I was writing this fic I obviously went totally away from any sort of outline I’d created. So it wasn’t the plan to have Lucas’s story wait until the last chapter. It just all sort of rolled out that way and felt right. But it was so important in that case that it wraps everything together- the start of the story and the end. I was really hoping that would be effective. 

I’m so glad you enjoyed. Thank you so much for sending me your thoughts,  Soph! 💕💕💕💕💕💕