I’ve been seeing that meme of the two guys on a bus a lot lately on Twitter and since I make a lot of RE8 comics I couldn’t resist
5 hours later have a Heisenberg
Drawing Santa Heisenberg and little elf Hope because damn it i need to draw something and i want it to be festive and haven't dont anything productive all day >:T
-"Oh, you didn't think I'd let you get away, did you?"
Lover boyyy ily
NOT what he meant Karl 😅😅😅
I also make a Wintersberg comic! Check it out at the link in my description 🖤🖤🖤
So I don’t actually like this, but I haven’t posted anything in awhile:/
This is the last pic of Heisenberg that I have. Hope in the DLC we could discover more about this interesting character.
List of RE people who did nothing wrong:
The Baker family (sans Lucas)
List of RE people who DID do wrong and it’s okay to acknowledge those things without completely demonizing or completely forgiving their actions
Literally all of the Lords in RE8
In the Steel Steeds Heart
Chapter 44: Eyes of Gold-Hazel
Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, vomit
Summary: Heisenberg let’s the fact Kolt does not resemble him get under his skin…
Feedback appreciated. 18+
This chapter is short and I’m very sorry…am going to try to make the next one better
“Buttercup…come take the pup.” Heisenberg almost begged. He was on the couch, holding Kolt out a bit. He was covered in puke and drool.
“Still think he’s less mess than a soldat?” Juniper giggled.
“Love, take the pup.” His voice was more forceful.
She obliged, taking him carefully away as Heisenberg slowly stood. He grimaced down at himself.
“I’m going to go shower.” He grumbled.
“Well, Kolt stayed all clean.” Juniper announced.
“That’s because he got it all fucking on me.”
“Papa’s just mad because you finally puked on him instead of me.” Juniper giggled, her voice playful. Kolt gave a little smile, reaching up for her.
It didn’t take long for Kolt to also throw up all over himself and make a mess of Juniper too. Heisenberg left the bathroom to see her in a totally different outfit with a squealing baby in the sink.
Kolt was happy and splashing in the warm water, marveling at the bubbles and the amount of water he could manage to get on the floor. Juniper sighed, trying to clean him up all the while.
Tossing the damp towel over his shoulder, Heisenberg smirked, “Kolt stayed all clean, did he?”
“Shut up…” Juniper grumbled, hearing him bark with laughter.
He retreated away to find fresh clothes, listening to Kolt’s happy little gurgles.
Juniper finished cleaning him up, emptying the sink to dry him down. “I hope he doesn’t get sick again…” she murmured.
“Is he alright?” Heisenberg asked, adding, “He seems pretty happy.”
She nodded, “I don’t think he’s actually sick, just some mild tummy troubles. But if he keeps throwing up he could get dehydrated…and it’s not like we can just run him to a pediatrician.”
Heisenberg heard the worry in her voice, frowning. “I’m sure it’ll pass.” He soothed.
“I’m going to try to keep him calm, see if that helps.” She spoke, slicking back his wet curls. Heisenberg watched her, how her face and movements all held a gentle softness when concerning Kolt. Even when the little thing frustrated her, she held a special warmth for him.
The love of a caring mother…
Part of his heart ached, never receiving such tenderness when he was small and truly needed it. Seeing Juniper act in such a way made him realize just how utterly fucked his own upbringing was, that love like that wasn’t just a hopeful fantasy.
But he was also thankful, relieved even, that Kolt was getting what he himself never had.
“Karl!” Juniper’s voice came sharply, snapping him back to reality.
He blinked at her, realizing much too late that she’d said something.
When he didn’t respond she repeated her question, “You are seeing the Duke tomorrow, right?”
“Oh, yea.” Heisenberg nodded, buttoning up a fresh shirt, “Need anything?”
“Besides the basics…more oatmeal?” She carted the clean baby to the bed, finding him clothes.
“You’ve been going through a lot of that, buttercup.” Heisenberg observed, coming up beside her to playfully grab at Kolt’s feet. It earned him little kicks and squeals.
“It’s good for milk supply.” She shrugged, “The book recommended it.”
Heisenberg quirked an eyebrow, waiting till she turned away to snake his arms around her. He palmed her swollen breasts with his calloused hands, smirking into the skin of her neck, “Then we better keep feedin’ you oatmeal, kitten. Keep these good and full!” To emphasize his point he gave her a light squeeze.
Juniper made a sound, swatting him away. He retreated with a cocky grin.
“Looks nothing like me, spittin’ image of his Mama though…” Heisenberg spoke more softly than normal.
“Having reservations about the boy’s parentage?” The Duke ventured, voice unreadable as always.
“No, no.” Heisenberg reassured quickly, not wanting to insinuate anything about his wife, “Just….disappointed?”
“Ah I’m sure he will resemble you more with time.” The Duke smiled, “For better, or for worse.”
The merchant’s tone became more business, “I have the usual order right here.”
Heisenberg snapped his fingers in an effort to ungarble his thoughts as he requested, “Oh the boss wants oatmeal.”
“Of course.” The large man shifted in the cart to retrieve a canister, placing it into one of the boxes. Heisenberg cut open and lit a cigar while the other worked.
“Anything else Lord Heisenberg?” The Duke asked.
Mulling over the other night Heisenberg finally spoke, “Do you have condoms? Preferably ones made in the last half century.”
The Duke chuckled, “I do indeed, although people in these parts have little want of them.”
“Well I recently got a pretty loud incentive to try them out.” He blew smoke around the cigar in his teeth.
“Of course.” The Duke nodded.
After Heisenberg had toted all the shipment to its respected locations he busied himself with putting the food away as Juniper attended to Kolt. He’d gotten over the mild stomach distress from the days before, one again healthy and happy.
Juniper sat in the rocking chair, Kolt plopped in her lap. She began to read a storybook to him, opening the glossy black cover:
“Long ago, a young girl went with her mother to pick berries for her father who was hard at work.
But the forest greeted them with a dark, cold silence, the bushes empty.
Yet, determined to find the berries, the rascal broke free from Mother’s grasp and vanished into the trees.
Mother’s worried cries faded fast as the girl ran on; over vine, and under branch and into the forest deep…”
She flipped the pages as she went, stifling a giggle as Kolt slapped the pages with his chubby little hands.
“Oh god you're reading that one?” Heisenberg frowned, striding up behind them.
“There’s not a lot of options for kids books around here.” Juniper shrugged.
Heisenberg rolled his eyes, but stayed where he was to watch.
Juniper flipped the page continuing:
“Feeling strange eyes upon her, the girl recalled Mother’s scary bedtime tales and her throat became bone dry.
Then the Bat Lord appeared! He greeted her warmly and bit his own wing.
“Come, child. Quench your thirst,” he said.
So she drank the thick, dark blood and smiled with joy.”
Heisenberg’s lips twitched when he heard Juniper try to do a deeper voice for the bat. Little Kolt looked at the illustration, placing his hand over it.
“That’s your Auntie.” Juniper pointed to the bat.
“Don’t call her that…” Heisenberg grimaced.
“What would you rather me call her to him then?” Juniper shot him a look with annoyance.
“The Super Sized Bitch!” Heisenberg bellowed with a toothy smile.
Kolt looked up at his father, giving a wide smile. At this Heisenberg started to bark with laughter, causing the little boy to giggle.
“That’s my boy!” His eyes crinkled with mirth.
“Karl!” Juniper scolded, but it fell on deaf ears.
Kolt was all smiles and giggles, seeing his Father dying of laughter above them.
The month to follow went by fairly quickly. Heisenberg was able to start working on his third panzer, while Juniper helped to strengthen Kolt’s growing senses.
Kolt’s eyes slowly lost their blue color, it being replaced with a strikingly pale gold-hazel. If there were any doubts in Heisenberg's mind about the boy’s paternity, they were wiped clean when he looked into those perfect mirrors of his own eyes.
Heisenberg held the baby in his large hands, supporting his head in one palm. He almost shook, eyes stinging as he looked down at him.
Juniper rubbed his back lovingly, “He has your eyes.”
Heisenberg could only give a little nod. Kolt reached up for his Father’s face, giving a happy little gurgle. Heisenberg lifted him closer, burning his face into the baby’s stomach. Kolt squealed as he knotted his tiny hands into Heisenberg’s unruly hair, while Heisenberg tried his best to hide the tears stinging his eyes.
“…Damnit, pup.” Heisenberg choked, feeling overwhelmed with pride and warmth.
“You gonna be ok?” Juniper smiled, almost giggling at Kolt’s serious little face as he played with his father’s hair. The little boy was completely unaware of anything going on.
Heisenberg gave a tiny nod.
FEED THE MACHINE - CHAPTER 11
summary: during the festival, a sudden and frightening twist of events causes you to realize lord heisenberg may care for you more than he lets on.
word count: 2.9k
It didn’t take long for the festival to fall into full swing once Mother Miranda had made her departure. Her reassurance had soothed their nerves from the wrinkled state they were in to a smooth sheet that had never seen age in its life. The musicians had begun their bouncing melodies and the food was being dug into like the fresh prey of a pack of dogs. Everyone attempted to stuff themselves with as much as they could, most likely more than they ate in the entire year. Even if it was only for tonight, they could pretend that they lived as luxuriously as those they idolized and dreamed of being.
You had stood, rather awkwardly, you have added, by the Lords’ table for a while, hands clasped before you and stance arrow-straight as an arrow, before Moreau had motioned to you to enjoy the festivities. You had stepped into the crowd without a second thought, immediately headed for the last place you saw your brother and his little friends.
You found yourself sitting at one of the tables with Anthony just a short while later, each of you eating your full until your stomach felt as though it might stretch beyond fixing. You weren’t sure who had made the delightful steak and greens that sat piled before you, but you vowed to track them down and thank them personally; it was far better than almost anything you’d had the previous year.
Giving a little laugh, you reached over with your napkin and wiped away a few stains on Anthony’s cheeks where he had eaten himself silly. “You’re as much of a mess as you were last year,” you said.
He attempted to playfully shove your hand away, sitting up as straight as he could and puffing his chest out like a bird. “I’m eight now,” he said rather proudly, as if that made much of a difference. “I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, really, now?” You wiped your own mouth with your napkin before standing and smoothing out your skirts. You’d purchased a special fabric that the Duke had brought to the village a few weeks ago to make yourself a new dress, a thick material to combat the cold and look marvelous all at once. It was a splendid royal blue, upon which you had stitched floral patterns that matched the ribbon laced into your tresses. “So then, do you think you’re grown enough to play with your friends while I visit?”
Anthony frantically nodded his head, wiping his own mouth on his sleeve as he clambered off his seat, nearly knocking the stool over in his rush. He stood still just long enough for you to pet his hair before he went scampering off into the crowd to find his friends. You watched with a small smile, though your heart ached slightly. Since placing him in the care of Luiza and her husband, you had noticed that he had become more bold, his personality able to shine a bit brighter. It made you happy that they were teaching him to express himself in a way you couldn’t, but it didn’t lessen the pain that still stung your chest each time you saw him run back to them as if they were his parents. You wondered if he still even remembered them.
Come to think of it, you realized as you went along through the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging grins, that they had become distant silhouettes in the back of your own mind. You could recall that your mother was the town’s seamstress before she passed her talents onto you, and that she had a scar on her right hand from where she had been bitten by a dog when she was a child. Your father had been a laborer, a man with broad shoulders and large palms and a beard that scratched your face when he kissed the top of your head. Save for a few of their possessions in your old house, that was all you had left of them; just a few off-handed memories and the question as to where they had both gone when they disappeared.
You wondered if perhaps Mother Miranda remembered them. She had been around since this village was raised up from the ground. Perhaps, if you ever got the chance to speak to her again, you could -
You were yanked from your thoughts when you collided with someone near the edge of the square, practically tripping over your own feet before whoever you had run into caught your arm.
“And here I thought you didn’t need an arm to hang onto when you walked,” said a familiar voice, and you looked up to find Thomas grinning down at you. He straightened out the plaid scarf around his neck as he helped you stand upright, your breath clouds in the cold air mixing before your faces. He allowed you to grip his forearm, a few strands of escaped hair hanging in your face. “It seems that I was wrong.”
“Or perhaps you were the one that got in my way,” you laughed.
Thomas pulled you back slightly as a few children raced past, chasing a stray mutt that yapped and skittered along the cobblestone beneath your feet. Being rather close to the musicians, unable to hear one another over the fiddles and makeshift drums, he leaned close to your ear and said, “Care to go somewhere a bit more quiet?”
When you nodded, he led you around the perimeter of the square and just a ways down the path, empty houses peering at you with dark windows as watchful eyes. Here, the noises from the festival were quieter. It felt darker without the lanterns and candles illuminating the scene around you, the only light the moon and the silver beams it cast upon the footprints you left in your wake.
“That brother of yours is quite the character,” said Thomas as the pair of you strolled along the road. “I’ve heard he’s getting a hold of the crossbow one of the hunters made for him.”
You nodded, expression rather sour as you stopped to take a seat on a porch step. You still weren’t too thrilled that he was being taken on the hunts, but as time had gone on, you supposed you had to be comfortable with it. He was always so excited to tell you of the animals he had brought back, of how the young men gave him pats on the back and even allowed him to watch and learn as they skinned their prey for the women to cook and prepare. It wouldn’t have been the first thing you would have chosen for him, but it made him happy and he was safe, so you were - somewhat - alright with it.
Wrapping your coat tighter around yourself, you exhaled and glanced down the path toward the festival. From here, you could only see a bit of the golden light from around a shallow bend. You gasped slightly, spinning around, when you felt his hand rest on your knee. Instead of taking in your confused expression, he was facing ahead, eyes reflecting none of the starlight or life they had on the way here.
“Would you like to accompany me to my home?” Thomas asked, his hand remaining on your knee even when you attempted to shift away. “I have a few cups of tea that always warms me up right away.”
You cleared your throat rather uncomfortably. “No, thank you. Actually, I think I’d rather get back to the celebration now. I’m sure Lord Moreau will be looking for me by this time.” You went to stand, but you were tugged back down when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a sitting position on the step flush against him. “Thomas?”
“Come now, Y/N,” he said. You attempted to pull away. His voice was chilly as the night air around you, features no longer soft and gentle in the way they once had been. Now they were sharp and dangerous-looking, like a predator that had cornered the prey it had been chasing for a long while. “You can’t pretend you don’t want this as much as I do. And even so, don’t you believe you owe me this, at least?”
He reached over to take your other wrist in his tight grip so that you couldn’t get up without twisting around and tumbling over. “Really; I’ve given you my money, my time, my attention. Don’t you agree it’s time I get something in return?” While he spoke, he positioned himself closer to you still, and eventually had your back pressed against the porch floor and his legs on either side of your hips. At this point you were thrashing in his grip, legs kicking feebly and tears prodding at the corners of your eyes.
You couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t comprehend it as he moved himself down to press an open-mouthed kiss against your exposed neck. Why was he doing this to you? This wasn’t the man that had shown you so much kindness this past year, that had gotten along with your brother, had entertained your feelings only to squash them beneath the heel of his boot.
“Thomas, stop it,” you managed to get out before he grabbed your jaw in a bruising grip. You attempted to push his face away, wiggling and squirming in his grasp. “Help! Someone help me!”
No sooner had the words left your mouth than when something miraculous happened. He had just begun to grasp at your skirts when a quick, barely there sound sounding of a metallic ‘ting!’ sang out through the air. Thomas lurched against you and he released his grip, emitting a wrenching shout. In his moment of distraction, you took your chance and managed to shove him off of you, scrambling backwards on the porch and against the front door. He hissed and howled, holding his calf, where a long metal nail protruded from the muscle. Blood dripped down into the snow, melting it into shapes of scarlet craters. It was almost as if it had flown through the air of its own accord. You realized what - or who - had flung the tiny weapon at the same time he finally showed himself.
“Now,” came that long, drawling voice from the shadows, where the orange end of a cigar illuminated his features, “I always thought someone shouting for help meant they just weren’t havin’ a good time.” Gigantic hammer over his shoulder like nothing but a tree limb, Lord Heisenberg emerged from the darkness across the path, gaze hidden behind the dark glasses that seemed to melt right in with the shadows dancing across his face. It made him look as though he were some kind of demon, with no eyes to peer into as he dragged you with him down to Hell. He stopped before the porch steps, dropping his smoke into the snow and allowing the faint whisps to swirl about his feet. “But I suppose not everyone is with the times, huh?”
Thomas was gasping in air, clutching at his leg, his eyes wide as saucers as he trembled in the Lord’s shadow. “L-Lord Heis-“
A twisted piece of shrapnel came barreling out of a shed between the houses behind Heisenberg, twisting through the air and coming to a gravity-defying halt just inches before Thomas’ face. He flinched backwards, expression screwed up in terror. There was a long moment of silence before the shrapnel dropped with a clang. “Get the fuck out of here,” the man said, his voice more animalistic than human. He jumped at him. “Scram!”
With a pained groan, Thomas struggled to his feet and limped down a side road. He left a trail of blood in his wake, glancing over his shoulder until he was no longer visible.
You had been pressing yourself up against the door during the entire exchange, chest still heaving frantically in an attempt to regain some of the breath that had been stolen. You watched Heisenberg stare off into the way Thomas had disappeared for a long moment, then held your tongue when his head turned to look at you. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again before raising a hand to rub his eyes beneath the rims of his glasses. With another glance down the side road, he leaned his hammer against the wooden railing of the steps before climbing his way up the steps. You stiffened slightly when he grunted and dropped down to sit at your side, one knee bent up to his chest.
There were a long few minutes of quiet in which you both sat, staring at the gentle snowfall and listening to the distant sounds of cheerful music, the other villagers blissfully unaware of what had just taken place.
“You alright?” Heisenberg finally said, nearly startling you.
Blinking a few times, you forced yourself to nod. Goosebumps lined your arms and legs, despite your coat bundled around yourself and the gloves over your hands. Just barely audible, you whispered out a strained, “Thank you.”
He said nothing, only stared ahead. Finally, he dug around in his coat pocket for a moment, your eyes following his movements curiously. From the pit of his many layers and pouches, he produced a small, thin object that was attached to a golden chain. He extended it out, and you took it tentatively. You examined it up close. It was a small cylinder that had a small slit on one end, about the size of your index finger.
“What is this?” you said, rolling the object between your thumb and palm.
Heisenberg had produced a cigarette and used his flip lighter to ignite the end that sent smoke tendrils floating upwards and into the night air. “It’s a dog whistle,” he said shortly, then added, “Made it myself for those mutts that hang around my place. Just blow it, they’ll hear it.” He hesitated. “And I’ll come runnin’.”
You looked between him and the whistle for a long moment before swallowing thick and unfurling the chain to pull it over your neck. You stared hard at the golden cylinder; you were hesitant at the moment to even think about blowing it should the need ever arise. You had trusted Thomas, and he’s nearly done the worst thing possible to you. What if this whistle led you down the same road?
As if seeming to hear your panicked thoughts himself, Heisenberg glanced your way and pulled the smoke from between his lips. “Just a…” His brows furrowed and he shook his head. “…a gesture or some shit. You don’t…”
He trailed off when you slowly leaned your head against his shoulder, one hand clutching the whistle and the other wrapped around his arm. Neither of you moved for a short time. Then, he shifted so that you could better curl yourself against him, your body fitting against his like that’s precisely what you were both made for.
Perhaps it was.
As you pushed yourself further against him, you were just able to hear that peculiar sound again, somewhere deep in the caves and hidden recesses of his chest:
Tick, tick, tick.
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Ethan can only deny his feelings for so long 😌
More shading for my WIP Wintersberg comic! Check out full pages at the link in my description ~
Heisenberg: There is an Spider!
(Y/n): So watcha want me to do????
Heisenberg: KILL IT!
(Y/n): You saw it first!
Heisenberg: YOU KILL ITTTTTTT
(Y/n): YOU’RE THE MAN
Heisenberg: SINCE WHEN????
donna and bela watched young royals and you guys cannot change my mind
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