I gave up trying to decide and just drew all of them lol
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and yall cant stop me😍
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Feel free to ignore this but what about Karl being insecure about being together with his younger SO, both in years and in appearance? And SO reassuring him that they are only interested in him forever…
Metal man deserves some gentle attention and reassurance in his life
Btw, love everything you have written here, thank you for bringing us some Heisenberg content
((Aww thank you so much anon!! Of course you can; I adore soft stuff like this! And thank you so much for your sweet words, they mean more than you ever know! I’ll be continuing to write so much metal man stuff for as long as y’all want me <3 Just wanna throw it in here that s/o in the writing is of legal and moral age, probably no younger than mid 20’s or so. Man’s just fuckin’ old by comparison because of mold, yo.))
He could never quite get over how blissful you made him feel. So many times he had held you like this, tucked in his arms, the both of you naked under the blankets and still coming down from shared heady bliss. His calloused fingers trailing over the skin of your upper arm, soft to the touch. Addictive. Your expressive eyes looking up at him, seemingly peering into his very soul and trying to fill every dark recess with your love and adoration. He tore his gaze away to flicker up to the ceiling, using his free hand which held a cigar between index and middle finger to rub at his face with his outer palm. Whatever did I do to deserve them, that insidious little voice snarled, a lycan hunting for any good thoughts to tear them down. Too good, too fragile, too-
“Penny for your thoughts?” you whispered, shifting to lay on your front as you perched your chin on his chest, head slightly cocked to the side as you waited patiently for an answer. Cracking an eye open he didn’t realise he closed, the doubts started to weigh heavier, dangling over him like the sword of Damocles. Did it ever occur to you exactly what you did to him? How you could steal his breath, bring him crashing down to his knees to kneel at your feet? For so long Miranda tried to break him so he would pray to her like the God she thought she was, and yet for you, he would gladly recite sermons of adoration if you asked. Would throw himself on a sword for you. He tried to shake the thoughts away as he huffed out a long sigh, refilling his lungs with the smoke of his cigar.
“Just thinking a lot of stuff,” he grumbled, resuming to trace absent-minded patterns on your skin. How could he even begin to explain all this to you? Would you run if he did?
“Well, I’m not going anywhere soon,” you countered, a soft smile gracing your lips as you studied the lines his face made when he frowned. You of all people knew Karl wasn’t very good with explaining emotions. It just wasn’t his way. On times like this, with gentle coaxing, you could get it out of him. To get a peek into those carefully crafted barricades through a crack in the metalwork.
Finally, after a few too many heartbeats of silence, he looked back at you after he discarded his half smoked cigar into the ashtray on the bedside table beside him. He used the now free hand to gently push your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear as he studied your features, like you were a blueprint that he was yet to figure out. You saw his lips twitch, like he was trying the words out in his mouth before he said them. “I just… I don’t get it, Buttercup. You had to give up everything, and yet you seem… Happy here. With me. A bitter old man, far too old and worn out for you.” He finished his little rant with a huff of derision, probably aimed at himself. Through all that cocky and smug exterior, Karl was good at mocking himself when nobody was around to hear it. Nobody except you.
“Hey,” you soothed, reaching out to cup his cheek and stroking your thumb over his cheekbone. The way he practically melted into your grasp without even realising made your heart flutter. “None of that now. I don’t want to hear it.”
“You don’t wanna hear the truth?” he answered, a pained look flashing across his eyes. “You don’t wanna hear how I’m scared I’m going to break you all the time? Or corrupt the purity you have, or-”
You cut him off by pulling yourself up, placing your lips to his own mid sentence, and he was stopped dead in his tracks. You knew what he was like when he got like this. He would spend hours berating himself if you allowed him, and you hated to hear it. Hated to hear the broken man that he tried so desperately to block out, hated how he would try and push you away so often when his doubts whittled away at him. You decided you wouldn’t allow it today. Not today.
His words of protests were smothered, replaced with a light groan of content as he kissed you back with a ferocity that you knew came from desperation. Desperation to truly believe your words. When you finally come up for air, you pressed your forehead gently against his own, relishing in the way his heavy breath fanned over your lips. “Now you listen here,” you whispered, your voice projecting as much gentleness and love you could muster. “You’re not going to break me, and you’re not going to hurt me. You’re my protector, Karl Heisenberg.” You paused to study his face for a moment, and you could see him hanging on desperately to your every word as he held onto you that little bit closer. In this moment, you could easily shatter him into pieces, or glue the broken parts back together. You chose the latter. “You’re not too old for me, just as I’m not too young for you. We’re two grown adults, every bit in love as the day we shared our hearts.”
Your words seemed to calm him; it put a leash on that lycan running rampant in his mind and called it to heel. When you relaxed into his embrace, your arms and legs entwining until you weren’t sure where you began and he ended, you pushed your fingers into the gap between his, grasping gently onto the palm of his hand as you studied it.
“I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest,” you whispered.
You felt a rumble of a laugh in his chest as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Quoting Shakespeare to me. How romantic of you, Buttercup.” When you looked up at him with a quirk of your brow, he let his laugh outward, joy plain on his features. “I do read things other than blueprints and manuscripts, you know.”
It seemed you learned more about Karl with each day of knowing him. And a small pride stirred inside yourself when you realised just how much you knew, and that nobody else ever would. He only ever trusted you to see this side of him, just as you bared your soul for him to view. Two lovers, clinging to each other while adrift in the madness of the storm you found yourselves in.
You both fell into a restful sleep, both satisfied that one would accept and love the other. All the bad qualities, all the ugly scars and callously inflicted bruises. You would both heal each other, and come out the other side while staring forward towards the newly risen sun standing atop the ashes of destruction and chaos. Together.
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residemt evil art dump!?!?
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How about a drabble where the reader distracts Heis from work. Nsfw edition
Y'all will not leave this man alone.
Neither will i
"You've been stuck in here all day, can't you just come up for lunch?" Your voice grated against his ears; all other processes working overtime to get the exact proportion and position on the next experiment.
"I'm not hungry."
He could hear the resentment in your voice, his mind stopping just once before resuming back tenfold; eyes screwed to the joints infront of him. "Go eat it yourself."
"I will, and I guess I'll have to do that to my pussy now too?"
His head shot up, the sound of your footsteps making his heart race against his chest as he turned to see the lasting shadow as you left.
He spit the cigar between his lips onto the table, legs scrambling below him as he shifted out of the bench; his palm gripping the doorframe as he watched you walk back toward the stairs.
"Buttercup, n-now you wait just a goddamn minute—"
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when the supersized bitch starts getting the claws out
[ DO NOT REPOST/EDIT ]
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UM HELLO LOOK AT THIS FRIGGIN BEAUTIFUL PIECE!!! LOOK AT MY ANGRY BEAUTIFUL BABY!!! HE ABOUT TO KICK SOME ASS!
Remember when I wanted an angry Heisenberg filled with emotion! Well friggin @dreamuchuu made it a reality! They did a fantastic job and just ahhhh I can't get over the detail and the emotion behind this piece. I am so in love with it ahhhhhh
I highly recommend @dreamuchuu for commissioning they are so incredible and wonderful to work with <3
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Please let me like this again but normally please
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My favorite genres of men:
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*Heisenberg enters Castle Dimitrescu*: Hey sis-
*Bela, Cassandra and Daniela attacks him*
Heisenberg*screams*: GET YOUR DOGS BITCH!!!
Alcina*grinning*: They don't bite.
Heisenberg: YES THEY DO!!!
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Rosemary Winters: I’m the RE character with more moms and dads, no one can defeat me.
Sherry Birkin: Hold my beer...
RE Welcome to Raccoon City gave Sherry more options than Claire and Leon. Now this kid could be adopted by the RPD and STARS team.
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HCs about Heisenberg with a German (s/o) and also his reaction when he found out, please!
((German Karl Heisenberg my beloved 😍 Of course you can!! I'm modifying it the tiniest bit if that's okay to an s/o that speaks German fluently, purely on the basis that I'm not German myself so I'm not sure how to write effectively about it! I don't want to write something that doesn't match up, ya feel? But I have a friend of mine who moved over to my country from Germany, and so I will pull together some research for a further HC hopefully soon! Please note that when I put something in italics it means that it's being spoken in German; I'd rather do it that way so it's more accessible and I don't mangle a beautiful language using Google translate. Enjoy!!))
At first, he didn't know you understood him when he muttered to himself in his native tongue. You were going to tell him, you swear, but there was something so endearing about hearing it that you were afraid of that stopping.
It was only when you were both doing at the same something at the same time, your thoughts distracted, when he asked for a socket wrench in German and you handed it over wordlessly. He thanked you, then kind of... Froze for a few moments, his hands hovering over what he was doing.
karl.exe has stopped working
"You can understand me?! You can speak German?"
You explain that you have, and sheepishly admit your reasons for not telling him. He looks a little mad at first, but this boyish grin spreads across his face as he finally realises he can speak to the one he loves in this shared language, and can speak his mind freely without being understood around those who don't know.
He'll speak to you in German around Lady Dimitrscu, knowing for a fact it drives her up the wall that she can't be privy to the conversation, and he'll throw in her name or look at her when he's talking, even if he's talking about something else just to really rile her up.
What language you use depends on the day, but you notice Karl speaking German more when he's tired or thinking hard about something. Especially when it comes to mathematics; he tends to mutter to himself with it as he's working something out.
If you think he can smooth talk in English... Ooh boy. He'll purr in your ear the sweetest words as his hands ghost over your body, relishing in the way it makes you shiver.
Speaking German is a little form of rebellion to him; the fact that Miranda couldn't take that away from him no matter how hard she tried, a tie to the life she stole. It's just comforting a little to no longer speak the language in a full room with nobody understanding him.
You'll notice him humming melodies to you when he has you curled up in his arms and stroking your hair, and if you listen very closely you can hear some of the words. It sounds like an old nursery rhyme that mothers would sing to fussy children. You suspect it's something from his past, but you don't ask. You figure he'll tell you when he's ready.
Life goes pretty much about the same, but it's a comfort to you both that you can fully understand each other on yet another level. It seems to calm him when you speak to him softly in his mother tongue, and you can feel the way his head leans on you when you cup his chin and whisper how much you adore him when you do.
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Could you mayhaps spare a crumb of Voice Kink for Heisendaddy? Mayhaps?
Of course, who doesn't love his weird little accent ❤️
Your heart thrummed against your chest, head leaning against his shoulder as he continued to work; not sparing you a glance as he felt around for the next tool on the table. "Mm.."
"Mm." He hummed absentmindedly, eyes frantic in their search on the paper as they skimmed over every word and scratchy anatomy sketch.
Your eyes watched, body warm as he rambled on to himself. You tried your best to adhere to a few of the words, but you lost yourself in the sound of his voice once again as he adjusted against the seat.
"Goddammit.." his lips curled up in a snarl, abruptly standing as he made his way to the far room.
"I forgot a piece, now I have to go through all this shit.." he flung a few cabinets open, shuffling through the junk drawers and shelves as you watched him from your spot.
You leaned your head against your palm, head tilted in your hand as you surveyed him carefully; "What's the piece for..?" You smiled, listening to the mumbling jumble of words cascading from his lips.
"Why are you so interested? You trying to help me?" You watched him turn, eyebrow raised as he made his way back over to resume his work.
"ah, not specifically.." you shrugged, watching as he started reworking the reactor, "I just like hearing you talk."
His hands stopped fiddling with the pieces between them, the cigar between his lips stiff as his teeth held it in place.
He took the tobacco, snuffing it out in the ashtray beside him. "And why is that, Sweetpea."
Your lips twitched into a smile, scooting back toward your place beside him as he started up again, "Because, I know what kind of words come out of that mouth when you're not working..."
"Oh is that so?"
"Mhm.." your cheek nestled against his bicep, moving as he began working, "And it belongs to the sexiest man in the village.."
You watched his lips twitch, a small grin between them as your eyes narrowed into a sly smirk. "So why don't you tell me what you're doing...?"
"Well, since you asked so nicely.."
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missing these fools big time. rip Heisenberg you would have loved crypto discourse
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“You wouldn’t know responsibility if it was welded to that hammer!”
-Lady Dimitrescu, “Resident Evil Village”
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Miranda x Abigail ----The Song of the Crow Ch. 12
Wesker. The name echoes on repeat in the back of her head since the moment she heard it.
And she should have known. The signs were all there, the dots right in front of her eyes if she ever took a moment to connect them. But she didn't.
So the shock is all hers to deal with, now.
“You never told me.” she says once they are at the privacy of her stronghold, her tone harsh, a spear, an accusation.
“I didn't hide it from you, either.” Abigail huffs, as though this conversation is the last thing she wants to be involved in, right now.
“I thought your full name was Abigail Ayers?” Miranda narrows her eyes, the look not as effective against the brunette as it is on the rest of the world.
“Do not mess with me.”
Abigail blatantly ignores the warning. “Poetic justice, isn’t it? To find out the person closest to you isn’t exactly who you thought them to be for years.”
Well, insistent on adding gasoline to the fire, isn’t she. Miranda takes a deep, calming breath before she erupts and brings the whole structure down on their heads with a thought. For a few precious seconds, there is soothing silence.
“Look.” Abigail sighs again. Her shoulders lose some of their tension. “I know how highly you value control, but I don’t know what you expect me to have said. Wesker or Ayers, it doesn’t really change anything.” she says.
There is a sliver of truth to her words, that it shouldn’t change anything. But it does –it does— and it’s not as simple as she makes it seem. Because Miranda and Oswell Spencer used to be close, once, a lifetime ago. He had been a bright man with a mind sharp enough to challenge her own, he was her protege and partner and perhaps even a friend, despite their less-than-ideal parting.
There is not much in the world that can remotely affect Miranda anymore, a fact she takes pride in. However... even for a superhuman immortal like herself, there's no easy way around the thought that she’s intimate with her former friend's daughter.
“And besides…” Abigail adds quietly. “If you cared to know, you would have.”
Loathe as Miranda is to admit it… she’s right.
If she looked a little closer, she would have noticed certain incriminating details. The way Abigail came to the village that few in the outside world should know about, her thirst for revenge against the Redfields, the name Alex on top of it all. If she cared to ask, even.
And if she hadn’t been so self-absorbed in general, maybe…
“Is that why?” Miranda asks after a while. “Why you disliked me so much when you came here?” Thinking back, that was more than just Abigail thinking ill of her ways. It was personal.
“I guess it’s part of the reason.” comes the honest reply.
The brunette lets her weight gently fall against the arm of the sofa behind her. The distance between them is barely a few meters, but it feels longer than that. Miranda’s jaw works as she debates asking everything that’s on her mind. On one hand, the questions hint at something she doesn’t want to acknowledge herself, about Abigail and her. On the other…
To hell with it. Let’s see what you really think about me.
“Do you think I’m responsible for what your step-father did? For the viruses he developed?”
Abigail looks up, meeting her eyes. “Aren’t you?” A little shrug. “He used to talk about you all the time, you know? His ‘guiding light’. His ‘mentor’. Umbrella was built as a tribute to you. All his ideas about ‘transcending human limitations’, who else did he get them from?”
Back to the age-old question then; is the one who makes the bomb as much to blame as the one who uses it to kill?
Oswell absorbed all the information he needed and one day ran away with their research to pursue his dreams. Granted, she did not care enough to stop his use of it…
“Do I blame you for the suffering of thousands at his madness, though? No.” Abigail shakes her head. “At first I may have wanted to, but. He was a maniac and a monster all on his own, with or without your aid.”
Miranda does not miss the way her fingers dig into her biceps as she crosses them.
“Sounds strange, then, that you would work for someone so very similar to him.” So much worse. Miranda states, omitting the part where they do more than simply work together.
She harbors no illusions about what she has made herself, in order to bring her daughter back. In any and all ways, the nightmare seeped in sin and blood that she is –past the platinum hair and stark blue eyes that paint a very misleading picture— renders Spencer a pleasant dream in comparison.
Indeed, Miranda knows well of her thoroughly corrupt nature… yet at the same time, part of her recoils at the thought Abigail’s eyes have, all along, seen that same truth upon peering at her.
The seconds it takes the brunette to reply feel too long.
“To me, you are nothing like Spencer.” Abigail says it so simply. “He did not care about a single thing other than himself. He did not have the capacity to love anything.”
Several arguments to that can be made about herself, Miranda muses, but she doesn’t care for them, only what Abigail thinks.
“You, on the other hand… the love you have for your daughter tramples everything. All that money and power and influence, eternity itself, you wouldn’t think twice about giving it all up for one minute of having Eva with you again.” Abigail states. “It is… important, especially for someone like me, seeing that kind of love.”
“…someone like you?”
“Yes. A Wesker child. Knowing exactly what I was worth to my own mother;” Abigail pauses. “Five million dollars.”
Miranda is stunned into silence and into inaction.
Miranda is surprised at how it stings to know that she's been through so much, only to end up with her, seeped in lies and plots, used for power and pleasure. It cuts like a damn blade, that she didn’t learn of this sooner due to her being much too busy—
It’s one of the scarce times that she’s completely lost on what to say because nothing seems adequate for this.
Sold, experimented on and running straight into war to escape the abuse, only to end up a fugitive in her village… Staring at the wreckage that has been Abigail's life cracks something in her, something she doesn’t have a name for, didn't know she even had.
“Bottom line is, new information or not, don’t doubt my loyalty now.” Abigail speaks. “I stand with you, until the end, whatever end that may be for either of us. And if everyone else should turn against you, I will shield you from them, as promised.”
Those are the lastwords Miranda should be hearing from her.
“I… want to see you happy.” is added afterwards, in a quiet little confession.
There is the sensation of something crumbling in Miranda’s chest, akin to a dam breaking. Pressure builds in her chest and behind her closed eyelids—
She has flashed forward and pulled her girl into a tight hug –tight enough that nothing in the world could wrench her away if it was hell-bent on it— before the first trail makes its way down her cheek. The sensation is off, unsettling, a burn against the coolness of her cheek that she ponders on, until she realizes…
It is too human a reaction; certainly not one befitting of her status, yet it is also strangely cleansing, in a way. It’s fine as long as Abigail cannot see it, cannot hear it in her voice when she whispers by her ear;
“I have put you through too much, my darling.”
Long, clawed fingers lovingly comb through silken strands of brown hair, while her other hand remains flat on Abigail’s back, keeping her pressed against her. The woman gradually relaxes in her hold, until her head is completely nestled in the crook of Miranda’s neck.
“I promise you, should we both survive the ceremony, all of that will change. Eva, you and I will travel the world, enjoying the finest of things, as you both deserve. I will never allow anything to hurt either of you again.”
Eva will love Abigail, Miranda knows that she will. Noble, protective and dependent as she is, there is nobody else she would want co-raising her daughter. Closing her eyes, that is all she sees, the three of them together in a beautiful place –a beach house, perhaps— happy and unburdened by the past.
She is so close to the vision, she can almost taste it.
So very close…
Just one final step is left. One measly, tiny step and the whole world will be theirs.
All they have to do is get through the ceremony.
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Listen. I’m not saying my life is immeasurably better after commissioning the amazing @hell-on-training-wheels to make me a crochet Heisenberg doll. But… I now have a little yarn GILF who has busied himself around my house. Warming himself by the fire, taking in the sunshine out back, watering my plants, reading Junji Ito.
I love my son very much and if you would like to work with a wonderful fiber artist who is still accepting commissions, please hit them up!! They can make other characters/items, too! They were fantastic to work with and I adore my little man. ❤️
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