#Heinsenberg Imagines

[milkteahood]

Note: I wrote this little something while I can’t sleep without having a particular character in mind. So I ended up making it in a way any can be added.

The night was cold, too cold for you liking. You pulled the covers more, nuzzling your nose into the soft covers. Howling wind could be heard from afar, making the tree branches hit the window like tiny knocks. It has been snowing lately, but you only felt yourself enjoying it while drinking something warm and staying inside. Normally, cold wasn’t something that bothered you so much, but lately it’s been cold, way too cold.

Your lover’s arms embraced you tightly, pulling your head to his chest. He could feel you shake, so in an attempt to warm you up, he started rubbing your back gently. A sigh escaped your lips. You were still sometimes wondering how someone can be so warm, almost like your own personal heater. Lips gently found their way on your forehead, strong arms squeezing you even tighter. Your hands managed to find their way up to your lover’s face, cupping it slowly and pulling him into a kiss. He happily returned it, his hand traveling up your back and to the back of your neck, securing you in place. “Can’t sleep?” he asked and chuckled after pulling away.

“It’s cold” you responded, burying you face into his chest “...but you’re really warm”.

A soft blush appearing on your face as you spoke. You bit your tongue realizing that even after all this time, he still managed to make your face all sorts of shades of red by just existing.

He didn’t say anything, but you knew him well enough. You knew he knew you were hiding your blush, and you knew he was smiling. And of course he was. Maybe it was not something he voiced all the time, but you did mean everything to him.

You looked up at him again before feeling your eyes getting heavier. He was holding you so firmly yet so gently. As if he was scared of losing and breaking you at the same time. He slowly placed another kiss on your forehead and nuzzled your hair before closing his own eyes. Yours followed soon after, the only sound in the back being the howling wind, singing through the night.

#milkteas thoughts #karl heinsenberg #brahms heelshire x reader #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil x reader #brahms heelshire x you #brahms heelshire imagine #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #scorpion x reader #erron black x reader #mk kano x reader

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  II

Tagging @chelseareferenced so she can read this goodness first hand! ;3

Chapter 2

“You have got to be joking!” Heisenberg can’t contain himself, not that he ever censored himself in the past. This is beyond ridiculous, even for the high and mighty bitch herself. He’s quick to turn on his heel to stare down the deceiver but he doesn’t call her out. Not yet anyway. He doesn’t need to, not when Lady Goliath looks about ready to burst a vein. “Mother Miranda, I must protest!” Lady Dimitrescu hisses, eyes practically glowing with rage. “Heisenberg hasn’t the faintest idea of the gift you are giving, he’d sooner throw it to the dogs!”

You wince at how little she regards you, conflicted. As it stands Lady Dimitrescu is fighting viciously to no doubt claim you as her own, which bodes marginally better than the man who would sooner toss you aside without a second thought than look at you. The Countess stands tall but her posture reminds you of a petulant child, demanding to be given what they want. Albeit a regal one. All while Heisenberg stands there with a mean snarl on his lips that brandishes his impressive canines, aimed squarely at Mother Miranda. Lady Beneviento sits silent as the grave watching the exchange while her devilish doll wiggles in excitement on her lap. Lord Moreau lingers on the edge of the fray, wringing his hands; he’s clearly distressed at the fighting and you almost feel ashamed for being the cause of the turmoil. “My decision is final,” Mother Miranda states firmly, voice echoing unnaturally around the room, her form already receding towards the doors. “Mother Miranda, please!” Lady Dimitrescu calls out, a brief look of panic flitting across her porcelain features when she receives no response at all. The cracks are already showing — she will not get her way today. In a desperate attempt to regain control she turns to Heisenberg, who stands tense as he watches Mother Miranda leave. “Heisenberg!” She seethes, hands balled tightly into fists that threaten to snap the delicate neck of her opera length cigarette holder into splinters, “say something!” You watch, helpless, as he casually lifts his hammer, taking his sweet time under Lady Dimitrescu’s smouldering gaze. The others have already made a hasty retreat, following their Mother’s steps closely, leaving you at the mercy of the feuding siblings. When Heisenberg finally locks eyes with her, hammer set proudly on his shoulder, the tension is so thick you struggle to breathe. Then, he smirks. The tautness of his body melts away into a well versed confident swagger, complete with a wolfish grin, and Lady Dimitrescu recoils so quickly in rage that you fear she’s given herself whiplash. The tirade of pure and unadulterated hatred that spills forth is in no way befitting of a woman of such high standing but Heisenberg seems unaffected. In fact, it amuses him to see her become undone when he ignores her. You don’t understand how he’s so calm when faced with such venom, practically cowering when she turns to you, face twisted in indignation. “Now don’t be a sore loser,” he tuts, quickly tugging you to his side, “Mother Miranda made her choice, are you really going to defy her?” He teases, grin widening at the sight of faint colour spreading on the Countess’ face. Heisenberg always knew how to get under skin and make her squirm. Sparing you one last glance Lady Dimitrescu turns sharply on her heel to leave, huffing in annoyance and frustration. Neither of you are worthy of even a biting retort, it seems. “You can breathe, you know.” You startle at Heisenberg’s teasing remark, finally releasing the breath that you didn’t realise you had been holding the whole time. You had been so transfixed on the very real prospect of your demise at the hands of a nine foot tall Vampire woman that you may have neglected that small fact of life. Lightheadedness makes your vision swim and for a moment you think you’re about to faint. If ever there was something to make you feel like you had one foot in the grave that moment was very much it. It does not bear repeating. Heisenberg takes in your deer-in-headlights expression, chuckling at the way his stare makes your little hummingbird heart flutter more. You’re absolutely petrified. It’s understandable, he knows that he’s dangerous and your little flock has more than enough stories about the big bad Lycan master that lets his hounds descend from the ominous Factory to feast on the nonbelievers. Utter bullshit. Well, mostly. But they don’t need to know that, of course. “So,” he drawls, tilting his head, “Mother Miranda says you’re my new— what was it? Ah, right, right, my new servant.” It’s a statement, but you’re not sure if he fully understands what he’s supposed to actually do with you, just like Lady Dimitrescu remarked. You nod shakily, bringing your still bound wrists up in a feeble attempt to warm yourself. It doesn’t offer much, the metal is so cold it brings your skin out in goosebumps. Thankfully, Heisenberg notices. “Oh, uh, sorry about that,” he clears his throat, a sudden switch, and with a flick of his wrist the shackles snap apart and shoot off to the side. They clatter to the ground unceremoniously, rusted and broken. It’s almost sad how much you relate to them at that moment. “T-thank you,” you answer meekly, rubbing at your sore wrists. The blood rushes to your fingers, making them tingle. It’s an odd, but muted, sensation, given the gravity of your situation. He doesn’t reply, merely tips his hat at you before motioning for you to go ahead of him. You’re unsure if it’s because he’s a gentleman or if it’s a power play but you move regardless, your pace hesitant. You’re not eager to be thrust out into the chill of the mountain, not that it’s any warmer inside at this point. You can only hope that the Factory is better than this.

It’s so much worse. The heat— it’s humid, stagnant, and downright heinous. Steam hisses and spits from rusted, internal pipes that streak across the walls and ceilings of the corridors, making the air humid and cloying. Your feet ache through your boots as you try to keep up with Heisenberg's strides, echoing off the metal grating underfoot in an annoying clank clank clank rhythm. In an attempt to cool yourself down you try to sweep up your damp hair from where it sticks to the back of your neck, grimacing at the wetness that covers your fingers. You’re a sweating mess and you hate it. The elevator is your near breaking point. In such a small space the heat intensifies, stuffy and borderline unbearable. It’s normal, your muddled mind tries to rationalize, since the lower levels are closer to the furnace, and it’ll get better once you go up, but it doesn’t take away from discomfort. You notice with great irritation that Heisenberg is barely batting an eyelid, though it’s to be expected. He lives there, of course he’d be used to it. The ride to the upper levels is uncomfortable and not just because of the humidity. His eyes are on you the entire time, at least you think so given those round glasses that he wears obscure his eyes from your view, no doubt wondering just why he’d taken in such a mess. And a mess you most certainly are. Heisenberg can see how your desperately try to keep stringy, moist hair from plastering itself to your sweat-soaked skin, failing miserably as the rebellious strands slip from your fingers. There are dark patches to your simple dress, made worse by how it clings to your body from the heat. He can barely stop himself from smirking when you curse quietly under your breath, rolling your eyes in irritation as you fuss over your hair. It’s the first time that you’ve shown some real spirit. Your annoyance is refreshing on your flushed face, the dim, artificial light casting you in a dewy, warm glow. Sadly, it’s not enough to overpower how badly you need a bath and fresh clothes. “Well, here we are,” he announces as the elevator stops and the door opens up; your new home. It’s another long hallway that looks similar to the dozen odd that you walked through to get here, but you do notice that it’s comparatively cooler. It must be near the top of the Factory. It’s a pleasant relief and you follow Heisenberg to a cluster of rooms a little lighter on your feet. The tour is, well, barely that, as he shows you a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom, all outfitted with the barest of necessities and far too much scrap metal, tools, and other engineering components. You linger in the doorway of the modest bedroom, staring at the single bed pushed up in the corner as though that’s the out of place object in the room. He leaves you for a moment, fumbling through papers and projects on the heavily cluttered desk that takes up the length of one wall, and you wander the hallway, peeking inside rooms with doors slightly ajar. Most are storage rooms with all sorts of junk inside, but one looks salvageable with an old, banged up couch and minimal debris. As you look about envisioning how to make it more homely, leaning against the door frame, you’re not paying attention and it gives Heisenberg the perfect opportunity to scare you. “Found yourself a room, huh?” He whispers into your ear, pulling back quickly as you shriek in alarm and swing out your arm instinctively to hit him. You can barely hear your heart hammering wildly in your chest over the sound of his raucous laughter, retreating from him quickly. “Why would you do that?” You shout, wide eyes staring at him. Heisenberg can barely pull himself together, breaking into small fits of laughter at the sight of your astonished expression, exhaling deeply to try and ground himself. “Couldn’t help it,” he explains, grinning at you, “it was a perfect setup!” Flabbergasted, your mouth falls open at his response; this man was one of the four Lords of the village, not some child playing tricks! Noticing the offense you take at his actions Heisenberg scoffs, his own expression souring as he turns away from you. What was he honestly thinking? You were just another haughty, stuck-up, loyalist to Mother fucking Miranda that clearly wouldn’t know a joke if it came up and slapped you in the face. “Bathroom is right there, you reek,” he snaps harshly, pointing into a small room lined with cracked, dirty tiles and rusting, dated appliances. You glare at his back, wordlessly going inside and doping your best to slam the door shut, but all you manage is a half-descent rattle. You look about yourself and suppress a shiver of disgust, staring at the old, rusting shower that has clearly seen better days, questioning whether you can forgo washing after all. Needs must, you think to yourself, as you dig out the cleanest towel you can find from a rickety old cabinet in the corner. Thankfully the water is fine when you turn the handle and you quickly strip to take advantage of the first good thing since you came to the Factory. As you stand under the tepid spray you wonder if you are, as Mother Miranda had said, perfect for this task. Doubt nips at your resolve and tries to whittle down your faith, but you refuse to let it win. You must succeed, for Mother Miranda.

#RE #RE8 #RE 8 #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 Village #RE Imagine #RE Imagines #RE8 Imagine #RE8 Imagines #Resident Evil Imagine #Resident Evil Imagines #Karl Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg Imagine #Karl Heisenberg Imagines #Karl Heisenberg x Reader #Heisenberg Imagine #Heinsenberg Imagines #Heisenberg x Reader

[sakurawind0805]

I accidentally crushed with this ship

You can go to @youwind if you want to see these keep posting.

#resident evil #resident evil 8 #re8 #karl heinsenberg #ethan winters #heiwin #some imagin

[rougesoldat]

Headcanon :

Because Alcina is the oldest of the Four Lord, she probably saw the other lords as children. (And maybe had to carry them in her arms)

So imagine Karl Heinsenberg, like a small angry child, say to her older sister :

“A day, I will be a man taller of you !”

#karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village headcanon

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Welcome to The Family (Bela Dimitrescu x Reader)

The buzzing filled you ears but the sound had become a comfort to you long ago. You extended your arms feeling the flies flutter around your open arms, swarming around them. You felt light tickles over your hands and arms as some crawled around. You felt your arms rise up higher and higher before they were linked together by the interlocking of your fingers. Meanwhile, the swarm took a humanoid shape, your arms around it's shoulders, joining behind the neck. You smiled. Bela, your Bela. Within a second, no longer were there flies, only her. #

The buzzing of the flies growing more and more faint by the second. Bela smiled down at you, her arms wound around you and tugged you closer to her. "You seem nervous, little one." She squeezed you slightly. "I am." You admitted. "All. Kinds. Of nervous."  "You shouldn't be." She replied. "You won over my mother, that's all that matters to me. Besides my Aunt and Uncles will be easier to win over than my mother is." She said. "Your mother knew me before either of us...besides she wasn't thrilled when she found out." "Doesn't matter." Bela repeated. "If my mother didn't like you at any given moment, she'd never have allowed it. Ever. She loves you like her own. My sister's love you." Bela lifted your chin with a reassuring smile. "No one loves you as much as I do though. No one could love anyone like I love you." You sent her a playful glance. "Funny, I love you more than you could even imagine." Bela tilted her head. You know I will win this game you're playing, little one. I always win." "Have you ever wondered if it's maybe because I let you?" You offered. Bela let out an amused huff. "Please." Her hands fell from your waist as she took your hands. "Now, come with me. It's getting cold in here." 

You were certain your heart might burst out of your chest at any given moment when the other three Lords moved towards the entrance. The three Dimitrescu daughters formed at your sides. Bela didn't skip a beat as she took your hand. She offered you one last reassuring smile. Lady Dimitrescu entered and stood by the stairs a long with her daughters as two maids led the three Lords into the main hall. "Welcome to House Dimitrescu." Alcina said curtly. Lord Heinsenberg stood with his hammer over his shoulders. However he didn't give away any kind of hint as to his thoughts. Lady Donna Beneviento held Angie in her arms. Both, one surprising, the other not to surprisingly said nothing. Lord Moreau looked like he might fall over at any given time and you were surprised he was invited into the castle. It was no doubt that Alcina was worried about the odor or the possible water he may trail. Judging by her upturned lip of disgust, barely hidden just by looking at him. Lady Dimitrescu was very worried indeed that his presence would cause everlasting consequences to her lovely home. "Come, I've had drinks prepared for us." She said. 

Alcina led everyone to the sitting room. Alcina seemed to know that her brother, Lord Heinsenberg, wasn't interested in tea. Seeing she had scotch waiting for him. Tea for Donna, Moreau and yourself. The family 'wine' for the three daughters and herself. Donna's doll had turned it's head to look at you from Donna's lap. Heinsenberg and Moreau also seemed to look at you whilst Donna...well, you couldn't see her to know just what she was looking at. Bela noticed almost immediately, a mere second after you did. You began to grow even more nervous and Bela took your hand. Interlocking her fingers with yours as she placed them on your knee. Alcina spoke. "Now, introductions are in order. This is (Y/N), my daughter's partner. (Y/N), this is my sister Donna Beneviento and her doll Angie, my brother Salvatore Moreau and my other brother...Karl Heinsenberg." She couldn't keep the distaste from her mouth for the fourth Lord and Heinsenberg seemed pleased, shooting a grin at her.  "Pleasure to finally meet you, (Y/N). Karl Heinsenberg at your service." Lord Heinsenberg flicked his hat to you before taking a puff of his cigarette. Alcina already seemed annoyed as she almost hurriedly moved to light her own, trying to hide her annoyance. "It's nice to meet you too, Lord Heinsenberg." You nodded to him. "This is Donna. She doesn't talk much." He nudged the veiled woman with his elbow who seemed to cringe slightly. Suddenly, the doll in her lap jumped to life. "Hey! Watch it!" It screeched before it leapt off of her lap and moved towards you. You squeezed Bela's hand, at the oncoming intrusion of space. She lightly ran her thumb over your knuckles in response. The doll stood upon the table in the middle. "I'm Angie! So you're the one all the fuss is about huh?" In the corner of your eye, you saw Cassandra smirk at Daniela who sat on the other side of you. "Uh-uhm...I guess so?" You offered meekly. Bela leaned forward towards the doll. "Yes, they are." She said with snark. Almost challenging the doll with a smile. "I'm the one who caused the fuss." "Bela." Alcina warned with a tight jaw and Bela sent her an apologetic look. Angie, on the other hand, seemed to love it. She giggled with glee. "Good! It can't get too boring around here now can it!?" There was a low, quiet but soft hum making Angie turn. She moved towards Donna who took her into her lap. "I'm...I'm Moreau!" The Lord sounded almost comically gloomy and like every word was an effort to manage out. Then again, the cadou had probably done the worst to him, leaving him more humanoid than actually human. "Hello, Lord Moreau." You nodded, giving him a quick polite smile. 

Lord Heinsenberg took a sip of his drink. "So you won over my big sister did you?" He asked. "Uhm... hopefully. I wouldn't want to assume such a thing of Lady Dimitrescu." You admitted. "She's a tough one to impress. Although you are still alive so that says something." Heinsenberg replied, taking another puff of his cigarette. "They were an excellent servant and a lovely little thing even then. I'll admit I wasn't thrilled when I discovered they and my daughter were...courted but they make my daughter happy. What is there to disapprove of?" She said rigidly. Meanwhile, your heart was about to burst. It was probably the most nice thing Alcina had ever said to you since she found out about the relationship. Ever since, she had kept you at arms length and watching you like a hawk. Bela, on the other hand, only became more protective at times, even when it was towards her own mother. "(Y/N) was never distracted from her work as to any inconvenience...as much as I tried. It became more of an inconvenience to me because they were so focused on their duties." Bela gave you a teasing smile as you stared back at her. You could feel the heat in your face. Daniela giggled. "How long has this been going on under my sister's nose?" Heinsenberg smirked, he too seemed amused. "One year and four months in total." "And you waited so long to have us meet them?" Heinsenberg turned to Alcina, completely disingenuous. He seemed more interested in taking jabs to Alcina. "What will mother think?" "I didn't think it important." Alcina replied coldly. "I wanted to be certain that this was not a fleeting moment." Alcina sipped her wine and Bela looked slightly annoyed by her mother's doubt.   

"Why don't you tell us about the moment you two knew you were in love!?" Angie asked loudly between childish giggling. You looked to Bela almost panicked. "Oh well, to my knowledge, it wasn't the at the same time for both of us." You tried to appease the doll who only seemed to crave more answers. "I knew the moment quite early on. Hence my advances that went obliviously unnoticed." Bela sent you a teasing smile. "It was when you were admiring the painting of my sister's and I. You said you wanted to know more about us. That's when I knew. No one ever said that before." You blushed, squeezing Bela's hand slightly. "Ugh! Boring! (Y/N), yours better be better or I swear-ahk!" Angie was cut off when Lady Donna tugged at her, head tilted. A silent warning to the doll to behave. "Rude." Bela said under her breath although the smile she wore didn't falter. "Mine is...I guess it's a little less mundane than that when I knew of my feelings." You admitted. Angie cackled with glee, pressuring you to tell immediately. Bela nodded at your questioning look. So you told them. 

It had been the time Bela really told you how she came to be. She was certain there was some kind of life before. That perhaps her body was human once upon a time. However she remembered very little than shadows of a human life. Not even the painting on the wall refreshing even the smallest of memories. If anything, if Bela had to guess, the only remains of her humanity had likely been the impression of a human body that her flies formed. That struck you. "Wait, what?" You asked quietly, hesitantly. "I know about how you turn into flies but I.. have never heard beyond that Miss Bela." Bela hummed. "I see. Well, it's a little more complicated than that. It's the opposite actually. The flies mold into a human, the best I know how. It's like grouping together with yourself," Bela paused momentarily as though trying to find the correct words. "think of it like curling yourself into a tight ball. Or even that beyond your own body, their is a sentient being that uses your body as it's casing. That's kind of what it's like. Forming into the closest imagine of a human that you know how.” "So, your flies? Lots of flies. Might I ask, why is it you have your own personality and such. Why that face?" Bela hummed in amusement. "This face, this body, feels like me. I believe the closest thing to describe is like a hivemind. Every fly is me, lots of small versions of myself and when they group together. Almost ever little thing has a personality after all, don't they? Even the slightly undead?" Bela smiled as you cracked a smile of amusement. "So you feel things, think like a person?" Bela wound her arms around you making you inhale sharply as she pulled you closer to her. "I feel lots of things, sweetie." Bela replied smoothly. "I had to learn what they were but I can feel. You make me feel lots of different things." You nearly collapsed then and there. You felt the blush upon your cheeks and tried to settle yourself and maintain composure without making it obvious. Meanwhile Bela seemed to love how flustered she made you. 

"That was the time. That's when I knew Bela Dimitrescu had captured my heart and that with every moment since she'd squeeze it tighter and tighter." Bela hummed in amusement. "As if I'd let you go, little one." She grinned. "That's so sweet!" Angie said with excitement. "It's sickening." Lord Heinsenberg made a look of disgust. "Sickeningly sweet!" Angie shot back. "Really? That's the moment you knew?" Bela asked you as she tilted her head slightly, thinking back to the moment. "Out of all of them?" You paused. "Bela, the other times came after that. That means you already had me." Suddenly, Bela was pleased. "It does, doesn't it?" You sighed and Angie giggled. 

The rest of the visit went well. As well as you could manage. Soon it was time for everything to come to an end. "Well, it's been nice- I guess." Lord Heinsenberg said, heading towards the door. "That goes for you two. Let's get out of the hellzone." Alcina looked offended. "Why you insolent-" You felt a cold hand take yours and you quickly turned to nearly know your head against Lady Beneviento's own head. You gasped and Lady Beneviento spoke, it was so low and quiet that you barely heard it. "Welcome to the family." She released your hand and picked up Angie before she could run away and walked by without another word. You turned to look at Bela. She seemed to hear her aunt as she gave you a smile before gripping your hand tightly. If Donna Beneviento accepted you then there was no doubt that Bela's uncle's also accepted you. Arguably, Donna was the trickiest of them all. When Alcina wasn't looking, Bela snuck a quick kiss to the hand she held making Angie giggle. Finally you could breathe.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #bela dimitrescu #reader #oneshot #one shot

[5oclockcoffeescinema]

Somewhere

What are my real feelings towards it? I’m not sure. At the end of the projection, presuming that I watched it in a movie theater, I could only think that the one star rating a friend gave it was fair. It’s known that Sofia has a great eye to subtlety and aesthetics, but also that it can lead nowhere. In a first view Somewhere can be as empty as Marie Antoinette and took by a failed ‘reading’ of Lost in Translation, but I wasn’t satisfied with that. All I could think all night and next day long was that it must had something within it. In fact, it has and it has not. Long takes, slow takes, not much dialogues, shallow conversations, boredom, lot of distractions in hand to avoid looking at ourselves, loneliness, going nowhere. Being a famous actor or a 'common’ person, life is pretty much like that. Somewhere is so minimalist that it approaches rawness. As already done in Lost in Translation, Sofia shows the celebrity vain world: the press conference, the photoshoot, the trip to Italy, the media that can be still more superficial and stupid, the fans screaming Johnny’s name, everything is again perfectly portrayed. The swimming pool scene seems to be a great allegory. The camera closes Johnny and Cleo. While it can show their complicity, as the camera goes opening to a long shot, we realize that they are not alone as imagined, that there’re other people around. From a close to a plan général, we pass from notability to anonymity: Johnny can be 'someone’, but he is only one among lots of others. Somewhere is or seems to be a very good stylish celebrity take down, as said by Andrew O'Herir in his review, but do you know the Heinsenberg’s Uncertainty Principle that the observer influences the experiment? The Twilight reference was, I thought, a great way to show the stupidity of that world. It seemed to me a subtle ironic criticism, perfectly put. Untill I discover that Sofia “was really impressed with the performances by Rob and Kristen and that she "loves the romantic aspect of it”. I think it’s not necessary to explain more, right? If the fact that I really liked Somewhere when watched for the second time was influenced by my own (mostly wrong) interpretations, I don’t know, but it sure worths for Stephen Dorff and Elle Fanning. Elle, who has already caught my attention in Phoebe in Wonderland, is just adorable.

#Somewhere #Sofia Coppola

[suchendic]

OKAY. OK. ok... ILL ADMIT;

...I am overly obsessed with older man.

....and women.

older people, in general.

(fictional characters, especially, not limited to though)

i'm sorry, teachers, that I once stared for too long because I was either imagining how it would be to have them as a parent or (and) admiring them instead of paying attention to the lesson. (always had good grades on their subjects in the end I like praises......)

I too am sorry that I have an unhealthy habit of simping for older characters such as Karl heinsenberg, Hank Anderson, lady dimitrescu and all the other older people/parents that I have pictures of on my gallery.

end of confession.

not end of sin, however.

[zolusbian]

seriously i cannot imagine your take away from this series beinf Wow Heinsenberg Is So Cool like maybe i have the benefit of binge watching it and knowing he turns into the villain as opposed to like, slowly getting to know the character or whatever, butttttt idk i love jesse and im having a breaking bad breakdown

#text post #get off ao3 andrea........

[bookedsuccess]

DAY FORTY SEVEN

The Book “The Tell-Tale Brain” in Three Sentences

Summary by James Clear

Humans are unique among the animal kingdom because of their brain. The human brain evolved through two methods: biological evolution, which takes a long time and cultural evolution, which is incredibly fast by comparison. These evolutionary processes have resulted in the development of mirror neurons, which contribute to our remarkable levels of creativity, ambition, communication.

The Tell-Tale Brain summary

This is my book summary of The Tell-Tale Brain by V.S. Ramachandran. My notes are informal and often contain quotes from the book as well as my own thoughts. This summary also includes key lessons and important passages from the book.

The author has unearthed many of his discoveries by working with people who have interesting or strange brain injuries and disabilities.

The Heinsenberg Principle reveals that at the subatomic level even our most basic sense of cause and effect breaks down.

The deciphering of the genetic code in the 1950s marked the birth of modern biology.

Humans are different, plain and simple. We are not “just another ape.”

It is impossible to understand the human brain without understanding how it evolved.

“Nothing in biology makes sense, except in light of evolution.” -Theodosius Dobzhansky

Fascinating: many traits evolved from previous traits with very different functions. For example, wings evolved from scales. The original purpose was insulation not flight.

Evolution found ways to radically repurpose functions in the ape brain into remarkably more powerful functions in the human brain.

“All good science emerges from an imaginative conception of what might be true.” -Peter Medawar

Ramachandran loves “small science” which doesn't require big teams or lots of technology and can be repeated by almost anyone.

Homogeneity breeds weakness. Science (and life) needs many different styles and viewpoints.

Application for mental models: Many scientists let the most expensive equipment drive their research and not the most interesting questions. If your lab spends $1 million on a state of the art brain imaging machine, then you tend to get pressured to use it at all times. Every scientific problem gets forced through the lens of one machine. Consider how often we do this with our thinking and our decision making. How often do we let one identity (politics, religion, capitalism, etc.) dictate all of our thinking? (See Paul Graham's “Keep your identity small.”) How often does the highest paid person's mental model win out? (See: HiPPOs.) Be careful to not let investments overpower mental models.

Humans are part of the animal kingdom, descendants of apes, but also transcendent and unique among the animal kingdom. We are both.

Incremental changes do not always lead to incremental results. Sometimes there is a “phase transition” like heating a block of ice from 31 degrees to 32 degrees.

Phase transitions can occur in society as well. The rise of the Internet, new political orders, etc.

Sometime around 150,000 years ago, this phase transition happened within the human brain.

We can view evolution as going through two avenues: biological, which takes a very long time and cultural, which is shockingly fast by comparison. Ideas evolve much faster than bodies do.

The cortex of most other mammal brains is mostly smooth and flat whereas the human cortex has grown so much that it has developed many folds and valleys to increase surface area (the walnut-like appearance).

The cortex is especially well developed in dolphins and primates.

An intention tremor is an example of an oscillating feedback loop in the human body. (Thinking in Systems makes the point that delays in feedback loops lead to oscillations in systems.)

Biology so clearly drives behavior. Damage to the basal ganglia, for example, can lead to Parkinson's and a shuffling gate. This new behavior (a shuffling walk) is not a choice on the patient's part. It is simply a consequence of changes in the neurological structure of the brain. We are quick to admit the influence of biological factors on behavior in cases like these, but we too often overlook them otherwise.

Wernicke's area in the brain plays a critical role in language and deciphering meaning. It is 7x larger in human than in other primates and is one of the key biological differences between our brain and other animals.

Some of the complex traits that embody human nature: ambition, empathy, and foresight.

At least three areas have developed extraordinarily rapidly in human brains relative to other primates: Wernicke’s area, the prefrontal cortex, and the IPL region in each parietal lobe. These three areas structurally evolved in small steps, but functionally they led to massive leaps forward compared to other primates.

Within some of these regions there is a special class of nerve cells called mirror neurons. These fire not only when you perform an action, but also when you watch someone else perform an action.

Mirror neurons are incredibly important and are an area of huge research focus right now. They may be central to social learning, imitation, and the cultural transmission of skills and attitudes.

Mirror neurons are hyper developed in humans compared to animals. This allowed humans to learn new skills within just one or two generations as opposed to the hundreds or thousands of generations required for genetic evolution. Cultural evolution operates at light speed compared to genetic evolution.

Look up servo loop.

Experience modifies the brain by strengthening or weakening the synapses that link neurons together.

The regions of the brain are not cleanly divided in their roles and functions, but rather work together in a remarkable fashion. They are strongly linked and some regions can even take over functions for damaged areas. There is much redundancy among the brain areas.

Humans are the only species to use neural plasticity to such an extreme degree. You've probably noticed how reliant humans are on their parents compared to say, how a baby giraffe can walk within hours of being born. This is not a weakness, but rather a strength because it allows humans to maintain remarkable brain plasticity during the first ten years of life.

Vision is so incredibly powerful for living creatures that it evolved separately in different species.

When you see something the light rays seen by your eye are converted into nerve impulses. There is no image in your head. Just impulses that describe it to your brain – like writing could describe how a chair looks even though the words on the paper look nothing like the chair itself.

Wieskrantz’s studies on blindsight offer an interesting look at nonconscious sight. The patient was able to point at a spot on the wall correctly time after time despite saying that he could not see the spot at all.

The Coolidge Effect: the phenomenon where males are sexually excited by new partners over and over again. Proven by a seldom known rat study where a sex deprived rat has sex with a female until exhausted. Then a new female is introduced and it happens again. And then again even though the rat was seemingly exhausted before.

Synesthesia occurs when someone experiences the combining of senses. For example, the number 7 might seem red or chicken might taste “pointy.”

In the fetus there is a massive over connection of neurons and then they are gradually pruned down to strengthen and prioritize certain connections.

One fascinating explanation of synesthesia is that two adjacent areas of the brain are crosswired which leads to increased crosstalk between, say, colors and numbers.

Interesting theory: a high percentage of artists and creators have been reported to have synesthesia. It's quite possible that the cross linkage between neurons that leads to synesthesia also enables artists to create metaphors and connections between ideas in an easier fashion than most people.

It is very possible that the crosswiring of adjacent areas of the brain was selected for by evolution because it enabled those people to be more creative (and thus increase the odds of survival) with the unharmful side effect that some people would experience synesthesia.

This is how science works: begin with simple, tractable questions that can be answered and will pave the way to the big questions.

Humans mature at a glacial pace compared to most animals. What do we gain from this vulnerable period that would seem to decrease our odds of survival? The answer is culture.

Culture is transferred from person to person through language and imitation. Accurate imitation depends on our unique human ability to see the world from someone else’s vantage point.

Humans can develop a mental model of what others think of them. This is known as a “theory of mind” and our ability to construct these scenarios in our head is unique to humans.

There are still many important questions about the evolution of the human mind that remain unanswered. Here are Ramachandran’s five big unanswered questions about the evolution of the human brain:

Wallace’s Problem: The human brain reached its present size about 300,000 years ago, yet many of our modern attributes like tool making, fire, and perhaps even language appeared only about 75,000 years ago. Why did it take so long for all of this latent potential to blossom? And why did it blossom so suddenly?

2) Homo habilis likely created the first tools 2.4 million years ago. What was the role of tool use in shaping human cognition?

3) Why was there a sudden explosion in human cognition around 60,000 years ago? Widespread clothing and shelters show up around this time. (Jared Diamond refers to this as “the great leap.”)

4) Why are humans so good at reading one another’s intentions? Why can we develop theories of others minds? Why do humans have better neural circuits for this than any other animal?

5) How did language evolve?

Natural selection can only select for expressed abilities, not latent ones.

Giacomo Rizzolatti's study showed that monkeys had some ability to read another monkey’s mind, which means they had some mirror neurons.

Mirror neurons are like “nature’s own virtual reality simulations of the intentions of other beings.” They allow you to envision what someone else is doing and to predict what will happen next. This is how we interpret other people’s complex intentions.

Mirror neurons also allow you to imitate the skills of others, which makes it possible for us to inherit the skills and culture of others.

Anytime you watch someone doing something, the neurons your brain would use to do the same thing become active as if you yourself were doing it.

The brain and free will: Your brain has to inhibit yourself from imitating everything you see, so there are some inhibitory circuits that cut off those actions. This might be how free will occurs. You are presented with many options and your brain ignores all but one of them.

The brain has multiple layers of communication between neurons. If you see someone experiencing pain but your skin receptors do not experience pain, then your body knows it is not happening to you and so you empathize with that person rather than actually feel their pain.

Mirror neurons appear to be wired from birth to some degree. A newborn baby, just a few hours old, will often echo its mother by sucking its tongue out when watching its mother do it.

Mirror neurons have multiple functions. They allow you to predict another person's intentions. They allow you to adopt someone else's point of view and to see yourself as others see you (self-awareness). They allow you to transform a map in one dimension into a map in another dimension (ex. visual to auditory).

Imitation was one of the key steps in the evolution of humans. Imitation allows us to learn by example, which means we made the massive shift from Darwinian evolution (which takes millions of years) to cultural evolution (which can spread ideas and skills rapidly).

IQ as a measure of intelligence sort of misses the point because intelligence is a collection of complex, multifaceted abilities not one general ability.

Interesting: two doctors discovered autism independently and, incredibly, they both named the condition “autism.”

Ramachandran ran an experiment where subjects bit a pencil horizontally, so it shaped their mouth somewhat like a smile. While in this position, their brains would register someone’s frown, but would not imitate someone else’s smile. The hypothesis was that the mirror neurons which would fire while looking at and imitating someone else’s smile were already busy with the own person’s smile (or similar shape), thus they did not fire. In some ways, this link between imitation and action reminds me of Brene Brown’s idea that it is much harder to be closed off emotionally if you are active physically. It’s like if the body is moving, the activity in your neurons makes it harder to “close off” emotional pathways.

Humans have an incredible capacity for language. It is one of the traits that separates us most clearly from the rest of the animal kingdom.

Interesting definition of natural selection: the progressive series of chance variations that enhance the organism's ability to pass on its genes to the next generation.

Alfred Russell Wallace independently discovered natural selection. He deserves more credit than he gets.

You can't get very far in science by trying to explain one mystery with another mystery.

Trying to ascribe a numerical value to how much genes or environment impact the outcome misses the point. Both impact it and the percentage to which it impacts it can vary widely. The key is to realize they are connected and not to worry about some single numerical value. Psychologists often make this mistake – especially when discussing IQ as a single trait.

The PKU example showcases how the same problem can appear completely genetic or completely environmental under different conditions.

How it is possible for neural circuitry to embody meaning is one of the great unsolved mysteries of neuroscience.

The three bones in the inner ear of mammals – the malleus, incus, and stapes – actually evolved from the jaws of reptiles, which have three bones in their jaw rather than the one bone (mandible) in mammals. It's fascinating how many functions in the body would never have been designed that way from scratch, but just resulted from “works for now” evolutionary adaptations.

There seem to be some universal factors in the recognition of beauty. For example, tropical male birds developed remarkably beautiful feathers to attract females of their own species, but humans find them beautiful as well and use them in headdresses. Perhaps there is a fundamental “truth” of aesthetics that speaks to all creatures.

Bowerbirds create very detailed nests in an effort to court a mate. They are even original artists with different birds (within the same species) having different aesthetic tastes and styles. Another interesting example of how beauty might have some fundamental principles that extend outside the human concept of art.

Three questions to ask when analyzing any human trait. 1) What is the internal logical structure of the trait you are looking at? 2) Why does the particular trait have the structure it does? What did it evolve for? 3) How is this trait mediated by the neural machinery in the brain?

Knowing the small details doesn't mean you comprehend the whole picture.

Vision evolved to discover and respond to objects: recognize them, eat them, catch them, or mate with them quickly and reliably.

Ramachandran refers to a phenomenon known as The Peak Shift Effect, which is also called supernormal stimuli by other experts. It seems like a very powerful concept to me. It essentially says that the brain learns certain rules for discriminating between things and that if you present the brain with an exaggerated version of that rule, it strongly prefers it. Tinbergen’s famous studies on herrings provide a good example. Baby herrings will peck at a red spot on their mother’s beak when they want food. If a research presents a fake beak with three red spots, then the baby herring goes berserk. This supernormal stimuli is preferred by the brain as if the baby bird is saying, “Wow! What a beak.”

Caricatures are an example of supernormal stimuli in human art. Caricatures amplifying the features of a given face. Also, many female sculptures have exaggerated breasts and hips, which seems to be preferred by our brains.

Most theories are stated in a way that doesn’t even allow them to be tested or proven wrong. This isn’t really science. It’s just conjecture. Science requires you to state a hypothesis (or theory) and then develop an experimental way of testing to see if it is confirmed or refuted.

There are three ways to test ideas about peak shift (and other supernormal stimuli). 1) Galvanic skin response (GSR) tests, 2) recording nerve impulses from single nerve cells in the visual area in the brain, 3) utilizing your “laws” or hypotheses to create more reliable, consistent, or successful results.

Your brain has 100 billion nerve cells, but only a small subset can be active in any given instant. (How many, exactly?)

Ramachandran conducts an interesting exercise in class where people must rank three drawings of a horse. One drawn by an autistic seven year old is often preferred to one down by Leonardo DaVinci. (The three pictures.)

The Isolation Principle. There appears to be some aspect of isolation in the brain that can lead to enhanced creativity. For example, when autistic children have damaged or poorly functioning areas of the brain it often opens up the ability for one area (like the right parietal lobe) to receive more attention and results in remarkable creativity (like drawing).

Idea: I also wonder how much other areas of the brain dampen signals to a given area and when they are damaged (like in autistic children) reduced dampening leads to greater creativity.

It's possible regular folks have latent creative talent waiting to be unleashed but it is being held back by inhibition from other brain areas (which is normal) and only arises when those inhibitors are damaged.

There were some remarkable brain studies conducted in Australia, which used TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) to deactivate parts of normal people's brains for a few moments. Almost instantly they could draw better or perform mathematical feats. This supports The Isolation Principle.

The process of vision is carried out through a series of processes and feedback loops in the brain. This occurs in such a way that multiple visual options are presented, but only one wins out – the final image you see. In this sense, vision and hallucination are closely related. We are always “hallucinating” and our brain selects the one hallucination that seems to most closely match reality based on the external stimuli we receive.

Our minds prefer symmetrical faces. Even minor deviations in symmetry are seen as undesirable. There is an evolutionary explanation for this. Parasitic infestations During infancy can cause small variations in symmetry. So, biological health is somewhat tied to symmetry.

Interestingly, the male brain may prefer blondes over brunettes because it is easier to identify certain ailments like jaundice in a fair blonde complexion than in brunettes. In other words, it's easier to judge if a blonde is a healthy mate.

The self consists of many components and the notion of one, unitary self may be an illusion.

Qualia is the word for your unique sense and perception of the world. It refers to how things seem to you. Examples: the pain of breaking your leg or the color of a sunset. Qualia refers to your subjective experience of the world.

Qualia (your subjective experience) and the self are different things, but you can’t get qualia without a self.

Freud, despite his faults, was correct that the modern brain is largely unconscious and that the conscious self is but a small slice of our whole world.

The self seems to emerge from a relatively small cluster of brain areas.

Blindsight is an example of how your conscious mind is tied to your visual cortex, yet a lot of other information you are taking in can be processed nonconsciously.

The human brain and body seem to have a default tendency for harmony. We feel tension that needs to be resolved if there is a mismatch between our conscious mind and nonconcious body. (Extreme examples: transsexual man trapped in female body or phantom limb.)

Neuroscience is currently at the stage chemistry was at in the 19th century. Grouping together the basic elements of the field and not yet attempting any grand, all-encompassing theories.

Science tells us that humans are animals, another type of beast. But, importantly, we don't feel that way. We feel like angels who aspire to become something more than a mere animal. So, perhaps we are both an animal and an angel.

Reading Suggestions

This is a list of authors, books, and concepts mentioned in The Tell-Tale Brain, which might be useful for future reading.

Stephen Jay Gould's essays on natural history.

Eye and Brain by Richard Gregory

Pat Churchland’s writings on philosophy and neuroscience

Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5 is an awesome description of life and death

Niko Tinbergen’s studies on animal behavior, which won the Nobel Prize

Alan Snider's writing and theories on creativity

Arthur (Bud) Craig's work on neuroanatomy and consciousness

Richard Francis Burton and his expeditions

Additional Thoughts

This is a list of interesting notes, side stories, or additional thoughts that were sparked as as I read the book.

How do primates learn to use tools? Does each one learn it anew? Is it passed down through their “culture”? If so, do they have mirror neurons, but just less of them than humans?

Can we apply the Coolidge Effect and the brain's thirst for novelty to other areas of life outside of sexual interest? For example, are we wired to naturally seek new stimulation with our goals rather than mastery?

#DAY47

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST

Chapter 1

Sheltered, that was your life. You had been born in the village and knew nothing of the world that lay beyond its borders. There were days that you would gaze up at the snow covered mountains and wonder, but ultimately give up. You know you would never have the nerve to leave everything behind. Not that you had much of a choice in the matter.

Cloistered by overprotective parents, your mother and father had raised you to be a respectable, religious woman, devoted to Mother Miranda and the four Lords under her command. Your faith was central to your being and, as your mother would often tell you, you would be rewarded for such candor in due time. Yet, as time went on and you bloomed into a young woman, you began to question when your time would come. Many friends had been taken from you in service of Mother Miranda and, despite your unwavering loyalty, you could feel envy seeping into your heart. Your faith never faltered, you never once spoke out against her wishes, and still you were not chosen. You're on your knees, giving praise and thanks at the altar when the church bells ring, summoning all the faithful to the Chapel. Moving with purpose you hurry to join the congregation, their numbers fewer than there were last time as a result of the Lycan attacks, smoothing down your simple dress as you take your place inside. There Mother Miranda stands in all her holy glory and you feel your chest swell with awe and pride. It had been years since your parents were taken but you felt nothing but happiness that they had gone on to serve such a revered and holy idol. You smile up at her in awe and wonder as she speaks to you all, arms open wide in welcome. She praises your commitment and resolve to follow the faith and calls on you all to offer another to her cause. In your ignorance you desperately pray to be chosen, but your voice is drowned out by the cacophony of the other devotees. But when all seems lost you look up, tears in your eyes, to see Mother Miranda looking directly at you. "You, child," she beckons you forward with a gentle flourish of her hand. Mother Miranda is speaking directly to you . You feel as though you're dreaming as you walk the aisle, coming to kneel before her. Your eyes never leave her, overcome with euphoria. She looks at you lovingly and touches your cheek with a gentle hand, your lashes fluttering. "Yes, you're perfect," she smiles, raising her arms like the Virgin herself as she addresses the others that you are the she will be taking. Finally your steadfast devotion rewards you after all these years. You grin in naive excitement at the congregation, who clap and smile and praise her name. But it doesn't reach their eyes. They are envious of you but are trying their utmost to appear virtuous before Mother Miranda. They have no idea that it’s them who are the lucky ones. Like those who have been taken before you, Mother Miranda gently covers your eyes with a silken handkerchief, rendering you blind and reliant on the firm grasp on your shoulder as she guides you to a destination unknown. The temperature drops and you feel uneven ground give way to hard stone beneath your feet and you feel unease settling in your bones. You haven't ventured far from the village, given the threat of the Lycans, Vampires and other things that plague your home, but you hold fast to your belief in Mother Miranda and that she wouldn't lead you astray. Suddenly, you're gripped by something strong and heavy, forcing you to a standstill. Instinct kicks in and you try to fight, to run, to do anything to get away, but it’s futile as your feet skid uselessly in the snowy dirt. Hands roughly grasp your hands and pull your arms out straight and gasp sharply when you feel a sudden cold biting at your wrists. Something cold, heavy and binding. Panic clouds your mind as you try to pull your hands free, turning this way and that when you no longer feel the comforting weight of her hands guiding your shoulders. Suddenly you’re let go, the attacking presence leaving you, and you try to catch your bearings. "Mother Miranda? Mother Miranda!" You cry out desperately and when you receive no reply your panic multiplies. Shivering, you strain to hear anything that gives away where you are or who is out there with you. When you hear nothing of value a strangled cry leaves you as the anxiety that this could be your death weighs heavily on you. You have no idea that this is exactly what she wants. "This way, child!" Her voice is a beacon in the darkness and you turn quickly to where you perceive her to be, only to be thrust into dizzying vertigo as your foot teeters on the edge of nothingness. You scream, scrambling back so quickly that you stumble and fall. You grunt with pain at where you land against the snow lined steps, blinking owlishly when light suddenly blinds your vision. In your haste the silken handkerchief, your makeshift blindfold, has been pushed down. It hangs limply around your neck while you blink to adjust to the light. "Oh God," you whimper, finally seeing just how close to the edge you had been. The village is a beautiful vista before you, the snow-laden ground glittering in the sunlight, but the danger is far too real for you to be able to admire it. The cold is still bracing as you quickly scramble to your feet and you realise as you struggle that your wrists are locked together in iron shackles. Confusion blooms within you, your brow creasing as you stare down at the unforgiving metal. Had you not shown Mother Miranda that you were completely devout? That you were willing to give her your very life if she asked it of you? Maybe you were being punished. Your blood runs cold at the thought. Determined to prove otherwise you venture up the steps with vigor, bracing against the cold. At the top you are confronted with an old, dilapidated Church not dissimilar to the one inside the village. You feel drawn to it, hurrying towards the large, wooden doors. Pushing them open doesn't take much effort, given how rotten they are, and you quickly enter to seek shelter from the cold. "At last, the little mouse finds her way." "It's about damn time!" "She made it! She made it!" "Look, she's here, Mother!" The voices talk over one another and you recognize them instantly; the four Lords of the village. "Welcome, child," Mother Miranda smiles at you from the raised platform at the head of the Church, "I'm so glad that you made it." "Mother Miranda, m-my Lords," you stutter, partly from the cold, quickly dropping to your knees and bowing your head out of respect. At your side a strange and terrifying doll dressed in a ratty white wedding dress skitters about, giggling maniacally and clapping her little, chipped porcelain hands. "Oh, you're very pretty! I like this one, Mother! Can I have her? Please, pretty please?" She chatters excitedly, screeching when she's pushed aside. "No, Mother, I should have this one! You promised!" Whines the grotesque, hunched monster, staring at you with glassy eyes. You know of Lord Moreau, from the Reservoir, as you recall his picture on the altar, just like Lady Beneviento and her sinister doll from her secluded mountain top estate. You whimper despite your best intentions, not wanting to offend, feeling your body sag slightly in relief when Mother Miranda waves her hand and forces them to leave you be. You blink up at her, tears stinging your eyes. You don't understand what is happening and you're afraid. "What a fragile little thing," a giant of a woman scoffs from where she sits off to the side, watching you with piercing gold eyes. She takes a deep drag from her cigarette, allowing the pale smoke to billow from her crimson lips as she observes you. You feel like an animal being paraded at auction, nothing at all like the splendor told to you in earnest by other members of the congregation. "Mother Miranda I must insist that I take her. My daughters are in need of a maid and some new entertainment , and this one looks so delightfully fresh ." The grin she gives betrays her predatory nature, shining through her beautiful and regal facade. Lady Dimitrescu, the Countess of Castle Dimitrescu, and one of the more revered Lords. You swallow nervously, recoiling meekly under her gaze, though it does little to help. You can’t escape her intimidating stare. The last is Lord Heisenberg, who lounges silently on a pew opposite Lady Dimitrescu. You know little of him, but you know his scarred face well from his picture on the altar. He radiates an aura of discontent and malice, no doubt finding this all a waste of time from the way he scowls when he looks at you. You would never have thought Mother Miranda would choose someone like him to be a Lord, given how little regard he seems to give the whole affair, but looks are often deceiving here. "Heisenberg," Mother Miranda speaks, her voice taut, "have you no say?" "What? Her ?" He points to you with his cigar, a booming laugh rolling off his tongue as he stands. He sets down the large hammer he had slung across his shoulder with ease, your form jumping at how its weight splinters the wood of the floor with ease. "She wouldn't last a minute on my table," he drawls, stepping up to you. He stoops to regard you and on impulse you try to retreat from him. The attempt fails and he grabs your jaw roughly in his hand, jerking your head this way and that as he examines you. The leather of his glove is rich and smooth, the scent of gun oil and smoke tantalizing your senses. "Oh you ignorant fool!" Lady Dimitrescu hisses, a wicked snarl on her lips, "she wouldn't be a test subject! She would be a servant !" "Why the fuck would I need a servant? All she'd do is get in the way!" Heisenberg snaps back, knocking you down with how roughly he shoves you away. He squares up to where the Vampire sits and Lady Dimitrescu is quick to rise to this blatant display of arrogance and disrespect. Her lips, painted a beautiful crimson, split to bare her teeth in a vicious hiss. “You wouldn’t know the first thing of what to do with her, you pathetic child !” She spits, “but then again, what would you know about having taste in staff in the first place?” “Oh, we know all about you tastes , you overgrown b—” "ENOUGH!" Your mouth hangs open and your eyes widen at the sight of Mother Miranda in all her splendor. Three pairs of magnificent, raven black wings extend from her back as she puts a swift end to the petty squabbling. Extending a hand out she motions for you to rise, an almost maternal smile upon her face. You don't know why a sudden sinking feeling of dread settles like a lead weight in your stomach, only that something sinister lingers as yet unseen. "My dearest one," she coos, taking your face gently in her hands when you stand before her. Her fingers are tipped in gold claws and are cold to the touch as they smooth over your cheeks. The black feathers shift ever slightly and you see more glimpses of the beautiful face of Mother beneath her gilded cage headdress. "You have been so loyal to me and my children, I know that you will be the perfect choice for this task." You swallow, suddenly feeling insignificant under the gazes of the Lords despite the uplifting words. Her hands, still tender in their endeavor, fall to your arms. She turns you gently, guiding you to your fate. The shock in the room is palpable when you are set in front of Heisenberg.

#RE #RE8 #RE 8 #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 Village #RE Imagine #RE Imagines #RE8 Imagine #RE8 Imagines #Resident Evil Imagine #Resident Evil Imagines #Karl Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg Imagine #Karl Heisenberg Imagines #Karl Heisenberg x Reader #Heisenberg Imagine #Heinsenberg Imagines #Heisenberg x Reader

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  III

I gave myself a small case of blue balls with this chapter, I apologize! It gets a little, ahem, spicy. ❤️

Edit: @chelseareferenced forgot to tag my boo! Sorry love!

Chapter 3

Lords grant you mercy you were going to kill him if he didn’t let you out. Heisenberg had, quite quickly, established a set of ground rules that you were to adhere to at all times when in the Factory, the most notable being that you weren’t to leave the upper floors without him under any circumstances. This, of course, left you alone for the majority of your time there since he never allowed you to aid him in his work.

You’ll just get in my way — he’d sneer at you, patting your head in a condescending manner. Not to mention the Lycans have a preference for young, supple devotees — he would tease you, wiggling his gloved fingers at you from inside in the elevator, chuckling to himself as he descended into the bowels of the factory to continue his projects. You had no idea what he was creating down there, but you knew that it often didn’t work out as planned from the way he’d fume when he returned. Once again you have been left to your own devices, only this time you have a way to alleviate at least some of your boredom. With a huff of effort you slide to the floor and crawl over to an old vent duct in the wall. It had caught your attention one night when the echoing of his voice through the shaft had woken you up, realizing that one of his work rooms below you was connected to yours via this duct. Though it provided you with minimal entertainment, it did give you insight to the type of work he did. Experiments; this was where he made the Lycans and the other twisted creatures that roamed his Factory. One night, against your better judgement, you had read an extract from an open journal on his desk when trying to make yourself useful. It mentioned something called Soldats and an army he was trying to create. You were lucky that you had moved away from it to straighten his sheets, otherwise he would have caught you red handed. Not that he was happy to have you in his space at all. “Fuck!” The loud cursing pulls you back to reality and you peer down the shaft expectantly, gripping the grate that covers it as you listen to Heisenberg rant about his latest creation being a failure. He had a tendency to speak out loud, likely recording his findings. The echo of his boots thudding against the metal floor betrays his movements and you follow it along the floor until you can’t hear it anymore. It means one of two things; either he’s leaving the Factory altogether or he’s coming back up. Quickly, you get to your feet and smooth down your clothes; a pair of simple trousers and a tunic top. You’d managed to scrounge up the modest outfit with the help of the ever amicable and charming Duke after a rather abrupt introduction from Heisenberg. Begrudgingly he allowed you to pick whatever you deemed necessary, and even a few luxuries like a fancy hand mirror, even though he complained that you were going to bankrupt him. It didn’t stop him lingering nearby, supervising the exchange through the puffs of cigar smoke. It was on your return to the upper levels, Heisenberg fancying the stairs instead of the elevator this time, that you’d properly come into contact with the Lycans. You weren’t sure what possessed him to give you a glimpse of inner workings of his Factory. Maybe it was another cheap shot at frightening you, or maybe it was pride that drove him to parade his creations before you. Needless to say, they did scare you. The lower reaches of the Factory was their domain and as you followed Heisenberg closely, his one clear instruction, you couldn’t help but feel their eyes watching you from afar. They snarled and growled and howled at your intrusion, sniffing the air curiously. It was rare for their Master to bring something new to their den and not let them tear it limb from limb. You were quick to beg him to take you back to the relative safety of the upper floors, which he did so with immense satisfaction and shit-eating grin on his face. The sound of the elevator dings and you come to stand in the doorway, watching him stalk out as soon as the gate opens, muttering heatedly to himself. In typical Heisenberg fashion he stalks right past you and into his office without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment. Clearly someone was having a bad day. Steeling yourself, you pad gently to his office door and find that he’s left it open for once. A good sign. Usually if his mood is dangerously sour the door is slammed shut and you avoid him like the plague until he makes himself known, but that isn’t necessary this time. “Is everything alright?” You ask from the threshold, careful not to enter until you’re invited. Like the ever faithful woman you are you try to serve him as best you can, even if he does make it very difficult at times. Heisenberg sits in his metal chair, leaning back. His stance is exasperated, but the tight grip on the shot of liquor in his hand is angry. His hat and coat have been discarded on his bed, his glasses sit on the desk, and you see blood on his knuckles. Upon closer inspection you see the trails of splatter on his exposed forearms, his shirt sleeves having been rolled up while he was working no doubt. “Yeah,” he breathes, raising the glass in a mock toast, “I’m just dandy.” He is definitely not dandy. Toying with the prospect of overstepping the mark or remaining respectful to his status, you rock on the balls of your feet. On one hand he always seemed so annoyed when you’d remind him that you were there to serve him, as Mother Miranda had instructed, but on the other he often chastised you if you tried to take the initiative; frankly, the constant push and pull drove you mad. “Heisenberg,” you chide quietly, approaching him cautiously. He hated it when you called him my Lord, or even sir, heatedly telling you to just call him by his surname like everyone else did. You obeyed, accepting it as the happy medium. Vibrant green eyes watch you closely as you settle for leaning against the desk, careful not to disturb the organized chaos that was his research. It’s still a work in progress, the way you navigate around one another, but you’re slowly making progress. “You can talk to me, you know,” you remind him, trying to remain resolute under his intense stare. There’s no denying that his rugged appearance, scars and all, are attractive and his more wolfish qualities gave him a uniqueness that was equal parts exciting and intimidating. You swallow nervously at the notion that you may be growing a little too comfortable in your thoughts of Lord Heisenberg. “Is that right?” He hums, knocking back the shot in one. He sets the glass down slowly on the desk, lulling you into a false sense of security that you had no business having in that place. In an instant he’s up on his feet and towering over you, hands braced on either side of you. You stiffen at the sudden closeness, looking up at him with a startled expression; he always gets a kick out of scaring you. “And just what would we talk about?” Comes his veiled question, shrouded in feigned innocence, asked in a voice like sin. You can practically feel the static in the air, the room electrified. He’s trying to tempt you, to trip you up so you’ll fall into his trap and make a fool of yourself. It’s a game he likes to play. That little hummingbird caged within you is in full flight when he runs a clawed finger gently down your cheek, the threat of him slipping and slicing your flesh too real to ignore. Oh, how he finds your fear so tantalizing. Your lips part in a shaky exhale, chest tight with the onset of emotions you’d really not want to be unpacking right now. The metal edge of his desk digs into the back of your thighs, boxed in by his large frame. This close you can feel the heat that emanates from him, a consistent wave, that mingles with the scent of oil, leather, and something wholly him. It leaves you reeling, panicked by the unsettling notion that you like it. You’re losing the game so early on and he knows it, even though it was rigged from the start to be in his favour. Just at the point when you’re about to crumble, your body yearning for that delectable touch to trail just that little bit lower, Heisenberg cuts you off. It’s cold and efficient, with all the precision you’d expect from someone of his talents. With a low, downright sinful chuckle he takes a step back, leaving you a wide-eyed, wanton mess. He’s won and you just let him do it. Colour burns shamefully on your cheeks and you’re quick to scamper away to hide in your room, proverbial tail between your legs. You’re furious that you made things so easy for him to play you, and play you he did. Utter fool. Little did you know that the fourth, and most dangerous, Lord had played himself for a fool too.

#RE #RE8 #RE 8 #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 Village #RE Imagine #RE Imagines #RE8 Imagine #RE8 Imagines #Resident Evil Imagine #Resident Evil Imagines #Karl Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg Imagine #Karl Heisenberg Imagines #Karl Heisenberg x Reader #Heisenberg Imagine #Heinsenberg Imagines #Heisenberg x Reader

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  IV

Oh honey she starts off so spicy! Hence why it's all under a Read More since I don't wanna get done for showing the nasty straight out the gate. Minors better beware! ;3

Tagging the boos, for obvs reasons @chelseareferenced @buckysbaby1 hope you all like it! 😘😘

Chapter 4

It begins as soon as your eyes flutter open. The darkness, familiar, like an old friend, coerces your senses into a heightened state. Exposed, your skin prickles at the coolness of the room, writhing against soft sheets. You exhale in exhilaration; you know what’s to come. It starts small, a low thrum of electricity in the air that tickles your bare flesh. Then it builds, tantalizingly slow, a measured surge of power that has you twisting yourself in knots. You want more. Only He can give you more. His arrival is heralded by the scent of oil and whiskey, leather and smoke. It caresses you, embraces you, and sends you into overdrive. It’s instinctual, a primal desire. It corrupts your mind, the sequence disjointing in its take over. Thick boots echo on a wooden floor, your mouth falling open with a heated breath. Your back arches when you feel his weight dip the bed, heat radiating from him. The contrast has you trembling, body wired. His hands, strong and calloused, grip the backs of your thighs easily. A simple tug and you’re at his mercy, legs parting easily in his strong grip. You moan, he growls. He likes what he can see, those beast eyes glowing a dangerous red in the blackness. Sharp indents form against delicate skin, his claws marking your inner thighs. His little lamb, so sweet and so ready for the slaughter. Then there’s movement, the shuffle of fabric, the chink of a belt buckle. You tense, but you’re ready. The air surges with the oncoming crescendo, the room spinning, or maybe it’s you? You’re not sure, preoccupied with the molten heat that pools suddenly between your legs. You feel his grin, all teeth and tongue helping to blot out the sharp stab of pain.      Forgive me Father, for I have sinned—

The sudden chaos of a burst steam pipe in the hallway outside your room abruptly shocks you from your slumber, a cacophony of sounds assaulting your sleep-hazed senses. You hear Heisenberg shouting, the scraping of metal being reshaped at will, the harsh hissing of escaping steam. Groaning at the rude awakening you flop back against the lumpy couch cushions, kicking off your blanket in protest. A light sheen of sweat covers your body, making your nightclothes stick to you in an uncomfortable way. As you stare up at the ceiling you try to decode the meaning behind your dream. You recall with an embarrassing amount of clarity just what it was you were doing and who you were enjoying it with. Humiliation blooms within you, coloring your cheeks a shade of scarlet. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t indulged in the past, you just never had desires so blatant before. Especially for someone who was your superior in every way. “Hey, you awake in there?” Heisenberg’s voice cuts your thoughts short. All the racket has stopped, there’s just the usual hum of the Factory. “Y-yes!” You squeak, stomach clenching uncharacteristically as you sit up, “I’m awake!” “Well get your ass up, we have work to do!” He claps his hands hard to exaggerate his point and you lament your new found torture as his footfalls recede down the corridor. Oh merciful Mother Miranda how were you supposed to face him anymore?

Heisenberg is, for lack of a better word, pissed. It surges through him and it shows in the haphazard, volatile approach he takes with his work. It isn’t rational, this level of response on his part, but he can’t help it. You’ve barely spoken a full sentence to him all day. Now, he’s under no illusions that you were going to become the best of friends. After all, you had been sent to him by Mother Bitch herself to be his servant and he knew that you were three sheets to the wind over this religious bullshit, but he’d thought that you’d been showing progress in becoming your own person. At least, you were , until that little incident where he had you pinned against his desk and decided to take his teasing to the next level. It isn’t often that Heisenberg considers that he may have gone too far with something, or someone , but he’s definitely considering the possibility now that you seem to be avoiding him wherever possible. You’d even brushed off his blatant last ditch attempt, an offer to accompany him to see his forge and the projects he’d been working on, in favour of praying to Mother Miranda. It’s the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. You’d been so close to opening up, to no longer being a tool, but instead you’re become even more the meek little lamb of Miranda’s flock. Frustration bubbles within and his temper, short-fused as it already is, takes a critical hit. As a result everything he does has a sharp, volatile edge to it; even something as simple as opening a door is menacing in his current state. It serves to further deter you from him, giving you the space you so desperately desired. That is, until Heisenberg reaches his limit. “Just open up already! You can’t ignore me forever!” He thunders where he stands in the hallway, gritting his teeth in a vicious snarl. When he’s met with your persistent silence he howls in frustration, throwing his arms up in the air. The irony of him choosing to remain outside your door doesn’t go amiss, since it’s well known that he could easily rip the door from its hinges with the flick of his hand because of his nifty little ability to manipulate metal. Which, coincidentally, nearly everything in this Factory is made of in some form or another. But he doesn’t and you’re thankful for that, even if you still don’t want to face him. It continues on relentlessly, neither side backing down, and without realizing it, the whole thing becomes a game in its own right. One that pits you against one another to see who cracks first. So it’s a surprise when it’s Heisenberg that seeks you out first. It’s a situation of his own making, having followed you on the gritty live feed from his security cameras. With ease he catches you off guard on your way out of the elevator, taking your fright in his stride. “Easy now!” He exclaims, his hands raised in surrender. You’re cagey, looking for a way out. He isn’t going to give you one because he’s had about enough of you giving him the cold shoulder over a goddamn joke . You’ve pressed yourself tight against the wall, watching him like a hawk. He can hear the frantic flutter of your heart, the sharp intakes of breath, and his jaw tightens. He can’t get distracted now, he needs to focus — this was not the time to enjoy your distress. “Now I know that I can be a bit of a handful,” he starts, then falters, mouth working to try and word it just right, “but, really, hasn’t this gone on long enough? I didn’t mean any harm by it! Just a little teasing, you weren’t meant to get upset.” Oh, he thinks this is because of that time. You stare up at him in utter disbelief. You want to slap him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt the innate burning desire to inflict bodily harm on anyone, but here you stand, about ready to knock those glasses right off his face. “You have literally no idea how you make me feel , do you?” You accuse him, incredulous, your posture straightening. Things might have slipped back to the way they were before all of this if he had just let you be, allowed you to warm back up to him, and maybe you might have been content with that. This was a turmoil of his own creation, after all, so why not let him stew in it a while. But now? Now you were at your limit. You’re tired of constantly tip-toeing around yourself because of him and his stupid games. If anything, you’re even more tentative to rekindle whatever this relationship is that you have with him, to throw in the towel and tell Mother Miranda she’d been wrong about you. It made you sour to think that what little progress you had made had been lost and it’s taken its toll on you. There’s a harsh look to you that has Heisenberg’s head spinning, apprehension gripping him. “H-Hold on a minute,” he attempts to defend himself, an uncomfortable blend of emotions sitting like a stone in his stomach. He’s conflicted over your new found confidence. You’re no longer the mild-mannered devotee that was wound around Mother Miranda’s finger, standing tall. You’re practically shining. It’s a good look on you, but he’s not exactly thrilled to be the one on the receiving end. “No!” You snap, squaring up to him. You see his brilliant eyes widen behind his circular glasses and for once in your life you feel powerful and in control . “I’ve done nothing but try my best here, trying to make something good out of this situation and you made me feel like a complete idiot !” The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you feel lighter now that they’re out in the open. Who knew that having your shame out in the open could feel so liberating. You take a deep breath when you feel the pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, trying to ground yourself. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him. Not in this lifetime, or the next. Heisenberg stares down at you with a look of realization on his face, now fully aware that there was more to this than your feelings of inadequacy, that you were little more than a joke to him. It’s always been there, in the way your heart races when he gets just that little bit too close or how your eyes soften when he’s agonizing over his work. He goes to speak this revelation but you shake your head, lower lip trembling. “I was just trying to help .” The way your voice breaks has him in a tailspin, the look of pure anguish in your eyes cutting him deep. This is in no way what he had envisioned when he spotted the chance to clear the air with you. “Oh come on, don’t cry!” It’s a desperate plea, something you never thought you would hear from him. “You’re making me feel really shitty here!” “That’s because you are!” You sob, unable to hold it back anymore. You feel like such a pathetic idiot. That overwhelming monster of self-degradation looms, fueling your misery. If only a dark abyss could just swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment, but you know that’s not going to happen. There’s only this awkward moment, lingering between you. You whimper, trying desperately to wipe away your tears. They stream down your cheeks, burning against your already flushed skin as you sniffle. Suddenly his hands are encasing your own in a firm grip. With a surprisingly gentle touch he tugs them down, exposing you. The whites of your eyes are marred with tiny lines of red and your long lashes clump together from your tears. You’re a mess, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds you oddly endearing in the moment. Swallowing, you try to understand what’s going on. Your hands are still held in his, the feel of soft leather almost comforting against your skin, and you wonder if you’re dreaming again. Something stirs in you, glowing embers kicking up from ashes, and you try to pull away. It’s an admirable attempt but Heisenberg easily catches you, holding you in a vice-like grip against him. You whine at the harshness of his grasp and he frowns, loosening his hold just enough to make it bearable. “I’m sorry, alright?” He mumbles, hesitating. It’s been so long, too long, since he’s been in such close proximity to someone who wasn’t prey. You aren’t fighting him, you aren’t trying your damnedest to get away. In fact, you look as though you’re captivated by him. It’s a side of him that no one has ever seen before, the dejection of a man twisted into being a monster. Something inside you breaks anew at how lost he looks, the last and most dangerous of the Lords at Mother Miranda’s disposal. He’s nothing more than a dog on a choke chain, to be used when it’s suited and then discarded afterwards. Just like you. “Heisenberg,” your voice is hushed, woeful. The words are so genuine and your heart isn’t yet made of stone to be immune to their plight. When you shift in his grasp there’s no resistance and you reach up to gently cup his cheeks in your hands. The stubble on his face tickles your palms and his skin is warm and smooth to the touch. You find you quite like it, the contrast of textures. He does little in the way to stop you. In fact, he encourages you. His hands find purchase on your hips, thumbs brushing the delicate spots just below your rib cage. It elicits a soft gasp from you, your body stiffening beneath him. Glistening eyes stare up at him, a swirling maelstrom threatening to drown him along with you. He’s curious whether or not you’re ready to commit to this. Heisenberg knows what you want, or better yet, what your body wants, but your mind eludes him. He waits with bated breath to see what path you will take, the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety creeping in his bones. It’s like poison, a crawling taint that threatens to take over him. What have you done to him? The exact same thing he did to you. It’s a disquieting notion, one that almost overtakes him, until it doesn’t. The doubts are suddenly banished and relief washes over him at the feel of your silken lips against his in a tender kiss. The chain breaks; you're both suddenly free, and it feels euphoric .

#RE #RE8 #RE 8 #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 Village #RE Imagine #RE Imagines #RE8 Imagine #RE8 Imagines #Resident Evil Imagine #Resident Evil Imagines #Karl Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg Imagine #Karl Heisenberg Imagines #Karl Heisenberg x Reader #Heisenberg Imagine #Heinsenberg Imagines #Heisenberg x Reader

[milkteahood]

Heinsenberg with an artist s/o who probably has worse habits then him at working, is a constant mess of paint and ink, as they experiment in all the mediums, and also sometimes he catches them drawing him~ he's very smug about that!

He watches them focus of sketching out the village and the poor man. He's just ... enamored.

THAT’S ADORABLE ANON

He would be so proud of his s/o! He would make sure they have space to paint even if he’d pretend to be pissed off about having to move his things. I imagine his s/o would paint the factory’s walls. Everything would look a lot more welcoming. There would also not be a place that isn’t painted in some way. Even a tiny doodle Heisenberg would randomly find. I think they would also leave doodles on his plans and blueprints.

If they’re messy I can already picture this conversation.

“Um, love, you have some paint on”

“Where?”

“...everywhere”

Heisenberg’s ego would fly through the roof if he sees his s/o drawing him. Would make a lot of comments on it and tease them until they turn red. Little do they know Karl keeps all of their paintings. Everything is just so precious to him.

I also picture Karl as being someone who would ask his s/o to draw thinks he imagined or dreamed about. He would be so excited seeing his dreams come to life. Whenever they draw something, he likes to watch the process because it’s so interesting to him. All those colors and lines put together in an order creating something so beautiful.

#milkteas asks #heisenberg asks #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #karl heisenberg #re8 heisenberg #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you

[milkteahood]

Okay one more wing thought and I'm done bothering you😅 but Karl and the s/o with wings fighting something or someone and the s/o blocks Karl from something with their wings protectively. Even though he can absolutely take care of himself, he's Karl fuckin heinsenberg! But the idea feels so utterly soft and someone finally having Karls back feels NICE!

It’s no bother anon! You better keep on sharing your thoughts because I love them

Karl would freeze up in place. Imagine him getting ready to attack whatever’s coming towards him just to have a huge wing placed in front of him. That thing would hit the wings instead of him and his s/o would turn to him extremely worried like “omg are you alright?”. Then they would get even more worried as Karl would not respond and just stare at them.

He would definitely tell them it wasn’t necessary and he can protect himself. Now, imagine his expression when his s/o tells him “I know you’re perfectly capable of protecting yourself, but I love you and will get worried anyway”. Poor baby would be so overwhelmed. Will definitely stutter and blush, a lot.

It would be in that moment he realizes just how much he loves them and how hurt he would be if something were to happen to them. Karl would definitely become much more protective and clingy, needing nothing more than to feel his s/o close by.

#milkteas asks #heisenberg asks #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #karl heisenberg #re8 karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you

[milkteahood]

OHHHHH MY GOD I don't wanna say poor heinsenberg cause he probably deserved it for being an ass but my god s/o with wings would be BALLSY if they just dangles him 70 ft up ...course with the wings being heinsenbergs creation....he might just be an ass and toss them around if they keep being a brat.

Hell him just finding out the secret of their wings is either he finds them crash landed and busted up, either in the woods as almost lycan food or straight through the roof of his factory...or he befriended them somehow and they shared this and his F A C E. When the wings come out and they t o w e r up and out...

OMG I DID NOT THINK OF THAT. HEISENBERG IS AN ASS HE WOULD TOTALLY DO SOMETHING TO THEIR WINGS

BUT IMAGINE his s/o gets pissed with something he did, they pick him up and fly really high and he tries to control the wings. And his s/o would probably be like “do you even now how to pilot these or are we just gonna crash?” and he realizes even tho he can control them, he has NO IDEA how to use them properly.

Heisenberg being Heisenberg would totally use the wings to his advantage tho. I can already picture Alcina pissing him off and then him asking his s/o to “do the thing buttercup”.

If he finds them crashed somewhere and probably about to become lycan food, he’d definitely save them but I think more out of curiosity than care. Like he’d wonder who they are and how did they get there and why do they have wings. Will he think that’s Miranda? Probably. So he will be very skeptical about them at first. Now, if it’s someone he trusts and they decide to reveal the wings later on, Karl will think they’re fucking awesome. His face will go from “holy...” to “OMG MY S/O IS THE COOLEST TAKE THIS MIRANDA”.

#milkteas asks #heisenberg asks #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you