#the-videodame

[hollisofficial]

49 and 50 for the OC ask game 😎

THANK YOU DAME!!!!!!!!!!! YIPPEE

49. Which one of your OCs would most likely enjoy memes

100% cena, whos entire existence is based around a meme from jr high. hes since became an actual oc with his own serious story, but his roots still remain and i continue to only make fun of him and redraw him over memes. his seriousness can continue to live in only my head.

alternatively: geb, who, if they knew what memes were, would fucking love them.

50. Give me the good ol’ OC talk here. Talk about anything you want

UNFORTUNATE FOR YOU im going to talk abt ttt. forever.

for background: ttt and a decent chunk of other characters only fit into my (human oc) stories via a character named jeanie who can see ghosts. i know. marry sue but i am free<3

ok!! so, ttt is a ghost and hes the second oldest ghost in the story (time on earth wise). my story is set in the way future of (maybe) this world, and ttt is introduced around the time that theres a giant nuclear war and subsequent fallout. while he was alive he was a doomsday prepper which was (for the time) rightfully so. he spends about 5 years living down in a bunker eating a shit ton of shelf stable doomsday prepper stuff. as you can imagine living alone in a concrete hole for years didnt treat him very well mentally, but thats besides the point for now. it will all be erased once he becomes a ghost (and replaced with more trauma). at any rate, he ends up running out of food/water earlier than planned and has to wander out into the wasteland to try to find supplies. he doesnt last too long out there (havent decided on a time but probably a little less than a year). he gets stabbed in the remains of a walmart over a can of beans. and ends up dying.

ttt becomes a ghost! in this universe when people become ghosts its usually for a reason (think unfinished business, need to atone, or have some grander purpose type stuff) but for whatever reason t just got fucked over and wasnt actually supposed to become a ghost. his ghost-ness coincides with a time period where a lot of fucked up things are happening with the deities that are in charge of the solar system and at the time the deities that controlled things like death + fate were MIA. so all in all ttt becoming a ghost was genuinely just a glitch in the system type thing.

because of this ttt is. interesting as a ghost. unlike all other ghosts he doesnt really have an appearance. instead hes just vaguely brown/gray humanoid (ignore the ttt sign on him for now, thats not part of his appearance and i'll get to that later). additionally, t cant remember a single thing about his time as a human nor what his name is, hence the name ttt. i know what his human name is but thats secret information not in the story. most importantly to t's story is that he cant be seen by 99.9% of other ghosts.

the reason behind this fact has to do with the weird mechanics of being a ghost. it kind of works like channels or levels on a tv. when you become a ghost youre randomly given a handfull of 'channels' you can access and this ties into certain powers that ghosts can have. for example: being able to touch a ouija board or mess with radio-frequencies would require you to have access to those two channels- not all ghosts can do so. almost everything runs on channels, even just simple things like 'have an appearance' and 'being seen by others' and 'see others'. theres also an insane number of duplicate channels, so for example one ghost could have quite a large number of 'being seen by others' channels which allows them to be seen by a large number of ghosts that share those channels. conversely, (in ttts case) he only has a few 'being seen by others' channels and quite a few 'see others' so basically he can see other ghosts, but they cant see or interact with him. sorry that was longwinded but i love my ghost mechanics. theres more to the mechanics via a ranking tier system but for the sake of brevity i WILL NOT BE GETTIN INTO THAT.

at any rate. because of weird ghost mechanics and because t was fucked up and wasnt supposed to be a ghost, he cant be seen by almost anybody, but he can still see them. as you can imagine this is horrible. ttt spends centuries wandering through the post-nuked world as a ghost trying to find other ghosts to interact with. as the centuries go on he just slowly loses hope more and more and bitterly resigns himself to the fact that he'll never be able to interact with people in the way that he wants. (small sidenote: despite ttt not having baseline/low level channels like being seen, he does have some fairly high level channels that let him interact with the physical world (think like typical poltergeist stuff like throwing small objects ect). this ofc is not a very good substitute for being able to interact with people).

so anyway, ttt spends centuries being functionally alone again. kinda meant to mirror his time in the bunker. resigning to not being able to mess with anything, ttt just tends to pass the time people watching and trying to entertain himself other ways. one day hes people watching and happens upon a literal murder (theres more to this bc its someone elses story but i wont get too detailed bc its edgy emo). this ofc isnt the first time t's seen something like this and (being a touch bitter abt his unable-to-interact-with-anybody situation), t basically just watches and once the murdered guy's ghost drags himself outta the river t just starts roasting the new ghost for being stupid and getting murdered, thinking he cant be seen or heard.

unfortunately this is the first ghost that can actually see and hear ttt.

the new ghost (whos name is perry) is basically just like. (status: doesnt know hes dead or whats happening) HUH?? WH?? WHO ARE YOU?? ttt proceeds to freak the fuck out bc HOLY SHIT THE FIRST PERSON WHO CAN SEE AND HEAR ME?!? WHAT?!? hes completely elated and brain short circuiting at the same time, so hes falling over his words and trying to explain things and say sorry for being a dick to him (thats the least thing perrys worried about). amongst the confusion perry somehow gets it into his head that ttt is his guardian angel because hes some like shapeless entity that appeared after perry (apparently??) died (perry voice: wh huh what do you mean i got shot???).

they speedrun getting to know each other bc ttts just railroading the conversation bc hes so excited and perrys still on like “my name… its perry right..?” brain . perry sticks with t for a while (still assuming hes his guardian or smth) but it literally only takes like half a night for perry to realize like . ok maybe im wrong . (ttt hotwires a car and drives the two of them around before crashing it [another pastime] and thats when perry kinda decides like . no i dont think this guy is an angel.) (during the carride perry also keeps phasing thru the seat + out of the car bc he cant do ghost stuff yet) (also ttts able to hotwire + drive the car bc touching irl stuff to an extent is one of his aforementioned powers).

oh also, the name ttt came from perry and t's first interaction. perry asked what t's name was and t (who didnt know his name) just made something up on the spot and ttt it was.

after that the two of them just end up constantly being together (bc perry really hasnt met anyone else yet so he doesnt exactly like, know theres others out there . and t is ofc not leaving perrys side). it is very evident that ttt is basically attached at perrys hip and VERY afraid to lose him. i mean, perrys the first person who hes been able to talk to for literal centuries and now that ttt has that lifeline hes clutching to it for dear life.

the more they get to know each other t opens up and lets perry know that like . yea youre the first person thats been able to see me and ive KIIIINDA been alone and unable to interact with anyone for a few thousand years . no big deal or anything (<-guy whos brain was becoming mush from lack of interaction). perry starts to understand just everything t must have been through + why he acts so.. like that. he assures t that theres no way he would leave t behind.

i dont have very much for what the two of them did between their meeting and the current timeline in the story, but basically the two of them fuck around for 400 years or so. sometime during that time perry finds a super old (prewar) magazine ad for fiji and the two of them decide they wanna go. so now their thing is perry constantly is trying to teleport (one of his powers) them to fiji but he cant bc fiji doesnt exist anymore and he keeps (unknowingly) teleporting them to the remnants of old fiji water bottles. theyre on like a mission to find fiji.

eventually, one of such teleporting incidents lead them to meeting the character jeanie by chance, who, by the power of I Say So (and a whole nother plot i wont get into), can see ghosts. perry and t end up staying with jeanie as well as a couple of other ghosts that hang with jeanie (their names ade hummingbird and ekr). the five of them become very found family. the rest of their story becomes the group getting wrapped up in/uncovering weird deity politics and subsequently trying to change jeanie and his friend pattersons fate and keep them from dying.

oh yeah, and the ttt thing on ttt's head is a floating apparition of a stickynote that perry controls so the other two ghosts can tell where ttt is.

more doodles:

[katewillaert]

Looking forward to an epic year of cranking out mind blowing forgotten history that will be criminally ignored until I run out of money once again and give up for good. :3

The current release plan for 2024:

- MED: Metroidmania #1 - MED: Mario/Popeye #2 (Patreon Preview) - S: Metroidmania #2 - MED: Mario/Popeye #3 (Patreon Preview) - S: Metroidmania #3 - MED: Mario/Popeye #4 (Patreon Preview) - MED: Metroidmania #4 - LARGE: Mario/Popeye #1-5 Complete - S: Metroidmania #5 - MED: Carmen #1 (Patreon Preview) - S: Metroidmania #6 - MED: Carmen #2 (Patreon Preview) - S: Metroidmania #7 - MED: Carmen #3 (Patreon Preview) - MED: Metroidmania #8 - LARGE: Carmen Declassified #1-4 Complete - S: Metroidmania #9 - MED: VideoDames #1

(The chapter previews are available at the $5 tier.)

[concussed-to-pieces]

Arbiter's Solstice; Part Three

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Pairing: Eventual Karl Heisenberg/AFAB!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

Summary: Karl was either going to spontaneously combust out of boredom, or spontaneously combust out of having to watch you working in the fields. Oh sure, he didn't have to watch you work. But he did. Sometimes. Most of the time.

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying what I do! Hopefully I'll see you soon, but if not, stay safe. 💚 Enjoy!

Tag List: @stargazerofgoldenwords @cookiethewriter @crookedmoonsaultpunk @colesterstrudel @spoopyredacted @velvet-paradox @kotall-ohh @calwitch @katreneebug @missjasmine98 @sunflowers-and-swear-words @savage-rhi @nova-ivy541 @xyaswrlldd @the-videodame @luvley-shadow @akashiiiiii @spook0 @leediavhs @wysterias-not-so-secret-diary @alldevilsmaycry @writtennotsaid @mulcivert @cedarsmokesrandoms @smallestsnarkestgirl @buttons-beads-lace @vodkafolie @theplagueworm @holydreamerpastadragon @story-chaotic-brain @ohlookapan @topgirl17 @fyufox @immajojoreference @that-thangiling @n-o-r-4 @hauntedadagium @redjahxfox 

[If you were tagged in error, please let me know and I’ll remove you!] 

Part One: Chosen

Part Two: Struggles

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains gore, mentions of death, canon-typical violence, depictions of mental and physical duress and unprotected sexual activities between two consenting adults. Stay safe!]

Karl stared aimlessly up at the smoke wafting overhead from the stubbed-out cigar in his ashtray, his fingers tapping the surface of his work bench. The bench was littered with scrap, bits and pieces he'd been attempting to make sense of all morning. 

When Donna had sent a request for all able-bodied villagers to assist with the salvaging of the fields and the planting of the autumn harvest, he had assumed you would wish to be exempted from such a tedious task. Instead, you leaped at the opportunity eagerly. Had he kept you cooped up for too long and you just needed to stretch your legs? Or was there something more sinister at work? Had Donna gotten to you with her damn spores?

Heisenberg groaned, rubbing his hand across his face.

The phone above the workbench began ringing, a dull clicking noise that Karl barely registered at first. He drew a circle with his finger, mentally trying to fit several pieces on the table in front of him together. If that goes to here, maybe I can–

Wait, the phone?  

The man bolted upright, seizing the receiver and nearly yanking the whole unit off the wall in the process. Through the buzzing hum of poorly-insulated lines came the sound of howling, snarling, and-

“Karl?”

“What the hell is happening, Donna?!” Heisenberg barked, already halfway into his coat. He could almost feel her mustering up the strength to say something through her obviously-crippling anxiety, but he stifled his pity for the woman. Something was clearly wrong. “Donna, what the fuck do you need?” He asked finally, trying to prod her to respond.

There was a choked gasp for air and then she exhaled, “the lycans won't listen.”

The lycans. Fuck. He hadn't spared a thought for them since well before he’d torn Alcina's throat out. They'd been on the same level as humans, annoying, useless. 

Heisenberg slammed the phone down into the cradle, certain he'd broken the rotary dial with the motion. It didn't matter.

He grabbed his hat, shoving it onto his head as he headed for the first of many doors to reach the outside. He'd have to muster up some kind of weapon as he went, unwilling to trust the durability of his old hammer. Worst came to worst, he could make something out of the salvaged tractor. He would be fine, it was the birds that unnerved him when he went outside but he would be fine– 

Why the hell was his heart beating so fast?!

…

You swung the heavy bucket, clobbering the creature in front of you grimly. The momentum carried you in a circle, almost toppling you, but you managed to catch yourself before you fell. 

The lycans had fallen upon the fields without warning, much fewer in number than they had been before the Lady's demise but no less ferocious for their lack of numbers. The villagers, armed with nothing but spades and rakes for turning the earth, quickly rallied and fought back. You had been returning from the well with a fresh bucket of water for the workers to drink, so you didn't even have the benefit of a long-handled tool to defend yourself!

Lycans didn't terrify you like the Soldat had. If anything, you were used to seeing creatures like lycans or Dimitrescu's Moroaică. You weren't thrilled about seeing them, but they didn't necessarily unnerve you, especially since you weren't dealing with them alone. Outside, under the cheery sunlight of midday, they weren't quite so imposing.

You brought the bottom of the water bucket down on the head of another lycan, water flying everywhere as the beast snapped and yelped in response. One of the other villagers swung his rake into the beast's ribs, scoring several deep wounds in the lycan's side. 

Where is Donna? you wondered frantically, glancing around for the unwilling leader of the village. The black-veiled woman seemed to have vanished into thin air, however. You and the rest of the laborers were evidently on your own. You set your jaw, working with the other villager to batter the downed lycan with your implements until it stopped moving. 

The brutality of the action was shocking, yet you felt nearly nothing about it. Pragmatism, maybe a new gift from your service under Karl? The Lady had always weaponized fear and anticipation in equal measure, where Lord Heisenberg was quick to make a choice and carry it out. If something was threatening you, be it Soldat or despot, end it. 

Simple.

You straightened up, wiping the sweat from your brow and squinting through the gritty dust. The fields would be ruined (well, more ruined) if this fight went on for much longer. Someone would need to be decisive to put a stop to the lycans marauding behavior.

That someone turned out to be one Lord Karl Heisenberg, the Iron Horse seeming to materialize out of the dust of the field like an apparition. The large man snapped his fingers, ancient shrapnel rising from the disturbed dirt to do his bidding. Without a word, without so much as a sound, he merely gestured with his hand and every lycan dropped. 

You were certain you weren't the only one standing there stunned by the speed of the whole endeavor, but you may have been the only one to notice how hard Karl's chest was heaving. That, combined with the way his eyes darted across the fields until they met yours and his shoulders visibly relaxed–

Gods, his eyes. You were suddenly breathless for an entirely different reason, feeling your body flush with heat as his gaze burned straight through you. To think, you had jumped at the chance to perform some labor away from Heisenberg's factory, just to give yourself the opportunity to have a little space, only to be rendered useless once more the moment his glance landed on you. So much for your noble attempt!

What was less surprising than his reaction was, unfortunately, the way he stormed across the dusty ground, the large man clearly making a beeline for you. You braced for his approach, mentally trying to remind yourself that he still had yet to be cruel to you. Sure, he could be more than a little terrifying, but that came with his demeanor! That came with just being who he was, it wasn't as though he was making a deliberate effort to be so…scary.

The man kicked a dead lycan aside, the limp body leaving a fresh furrow in the ground from the force of Karl's blow. A jagged piece of metal jutted proudly upwards from the base of the creature's neck, black ichor staining the dark hair darker still.

You swallowed hard.

“You,” Karl hissed, but…but he wasn't even looking in your direction? You cautiously glanced around, quickly spying Donna standing next to the field with Angie. “Don't you know anythin’?! You need to turn the soil first, get all the big rocks and metal out of the way before you try to plant! Imagine if one of-” There was a sickening squelching noise as a deadly sharp bit of metal pulled itself free of another lycan's head, the object rising to hover beside Karl's shoulder. “-your villagers ended up losing a hand from something like this?!” The metal shard darted through the air at Donna's head and you flinched, exhaling hard when it dropped harmlessly to the ground at her feet. “You need to think like a goddamn leader!” Heisenberg roared. “You're not some helpless stupid child, Beneviento, so act like it!”

“This reaction seems a bit overblown, Heisenberg.” That may have been the longest sentence you'd ever heard out of Lady Beneviento. Karl halted, obviously surprised as well. Donna's hands were clasped in front of her around Angie, her already-pale knuckles further whitened by the force of her grip, but her voice was steady when next she spoke. “Everyone, please take a short rest. We will return to work in half an hour.”

“Not you,” Karl growled when you attempted to slink off with the rest of the villagers. “You're staying where I can see you.” He then raised his voice to address Lady Beneviento once the villagers departed, “Why the hell did you call me? It's your damn village to manage.” The man griped, shoving his hands into his pockets as you sheepishly moved to stand beside him. 

Donna wavered, clutching at a nearby trellis for support. You stepped forward, instinctively looking around for something for her to sit down on, but Karl moved past you and took her arm. 

“Have you had anything to eat today? Drink?” He enquired gruffly, clicking his tongue when she shook her head. “Infuriating. It's hot and you're out here wrapped in black fabric. Did your gift eat your brain?”

“I am not so blessed as you.” Donna retorted dryly, gripping his arm. “It is difficult.”

“I'll go draw more water! Uh, can you…?” You held out the metal pail to Heisenberg, who flicked a hand at it and removed the fresh dents. “Thank you!”

…

“Your pet is so dutiful.” Donna remarked after Karl had settled her onto the tailgate of a nearby wagon. “They must be a great help.”

The lord gritted his teeth. “Don't call them that.” He couldn't read her expression beneath the veil, but he could certainly guess. “I'm not fucking Miranda, I don't keep these things around as pets.” 

“‘These things’,” Lady Beneviento chuckled, the noise as dry as parchment. “You still want to sound like her. Very well. Not a pet. What, then?”

He gave the frail woman an incredulous look. “None of your goddamn business, that's what. Since when do you care about my affairs? I feel like you've got much more important shit to consider.” 

“Indulge me.” 

“I'd sooner chop off my own dick,” was the man's uncouth retort. “You've got enough fires to put out, don't go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.”

“So vulgar.” The veiled woman leaned back, Angie kicking her heels rhythmically against the tailgate as she did. “I was only curious.”

“Don't act like we're friends just because I agreed to rebuild your crap, woman. I'm not here to facilitate your entertainment. And neither are they, for that matter.” 

“Understood.” Lady Beneviento sighed, actually sounding disappointed. 

Karl bit his tongue, both literally and figuratively as he kept himself from chiding her anew on her childish behavior. “Where did the lycans come from? Which direction?” He eventually asked.

Donna indicated towards what was left of Moreau's reservoir. “It has been so dry recently. Have they run out of food?”

The large man offered no response, instead kneeling to examine one of the quickly-dissolving bodies. The creature's ribs were plainly visible, pressing against the thin, ashen skin in unhealthy juts. 

“What will I have to offer you for your continued assistance as we plow and plant?” Donna called, interrupting his amateur investigation. Karl grumbled to himself, dusting his knees off when he rose.

“Scarecrows.” He watched her head tilt upwards beneath her thick veil, the woman obviously confused. “You heard me. Build scarecrows. You do that and I'll make sure the rest of the lycans don't get your precious villagers.” Heisenberg paused, a wolfish grin creasing his face. “At least, not while they work in the fields. Deal?”

“More than fair, especially from you!” Angie chirped before Donna could answer. “Maybe you're not so bad.”

“Keep your inane observations to yourself, you little creepshow.”

…

The heavy pail banged against your leg with every step. You weren't certain how much water the Lady Beneviento could drink, but if her appetite was anything like her deceased sister's, you may need another bucket! 

Flagging down one of the other women on your way by the resting band of villagers, you requested that she bring some bread and fruit to Lady Beneviento. No doubt the sugar would help to raise her spirits somewhat. To your surprise, however, the woman quickly shook her head.

“I'm not going anywhere near that…man.” She said, her voice just loud enough for the rest of the laborers to hear. “That's Lord Heisenberg.”

You squinted at her, a little baffled. But then, you recalled you had been much the same before everything that had transpired. Her apprehension was incredibly understandable. “Oh, of course! Just bring it to me then, I can bring it to them.” 

“Are you certain? What if he…does something to you?” The woman asked fearfully.

“Don't you recognize them?” another woman scoffed from her place at the fenceline, giving you a disdainful look. “They were his handmaiden, of course they're not scared of him. They're the reason we're in this mess, if they had just-!”

“The bread and some fruit, please.” To your credit, your voice didn't shake as badly as you feared. The first woman skittered off towards one of the houses and you set the bucket on the ground to wait for her return, intent on ignoring the daggers you could feel being glared at you. The snide remarks were a bit more difficult to tune out, though.

“No wonder the lord showed up so quickly-”

“What have they been doing in that factory? Can't be anything good.”

“We're only in such a bad state because they refused to follow the orders of their betters!”

“Imagine willingly working for something like that! And with Lady Dimitrescu hardly cold in the ground-”

A covered basket was pressed into your arms, the woman giving you a sorrowful look. “Take care, little one.” She murmured softly.

“Naturally!” You replied with an air of extreme cheer, determined not to let the rest of the gossips know how their words had affected you. Hefting the bucket once more, you listed slightly to the side before adjusting to the combined weight. “Thank you for your hospitality!” 

Perfectly willing to accept my help when I'm smacking a lycan with a bucket, but bringing some provisions to their leader is a bridge too far, you groused uncharitably to yourself as you made your way back to the other edge of the field. Ridiculous. If Karl had wanted to do something bad, I doubt Lady Beneviento would be able to stop him.

You hoped the rest of the villagers would be able to observe the lord and lady interacting. Maybe they would be able to comprehend that Heisenberg wasn't…

Well, wasn't as much of a threat as they wanted to believe. You sighed heavily, then straightened back up and pasted on a smile. “Some refreshments, Lady Beneviento!” You announced upon your arrival, waiting respectfully until the woman shifted Angie aside so you could place the basket on the tailgate of the wagon. Karl took the bucket himself without a word, filling the ladle and then passing it to Donna so she could drink. In the meantime you unwrapped the basket, surprised to see a jar of pickled vegetables as well as your requested rolls and a small bowl of raspberries. 

“What will you sample first, my lady?” The way you slid back into your more formal manners felt like putting on an itchy sweater. It fit, certainly, it was your place, but that didn't make it comfortable or desirable. You hadn't realized how much more casual you were with Lord Heisenberg until this moment. 

“You're eating.” Heisenberg growled, interrupting the woman midway through shaking her head. “You'll do none of those idiots any good if you're dead. You need to be alive if you expect me to keep showing up to deter the lycans. Now eat.”

“Perhaps just a few pieces of carrot?” You bargained, using the provided fork to spear a sliced carrot from the jar of vegetables. “And this bread looks fresh! Hours old, if that. You and Miss Angie are bound to enjoy it, especially with these raspberries.”

“Ah…I suppose. Perhaps you are right.” Lady Beneviento murmured, gamely accepting the fork from you. “The carrots are very bright this year.”

“They are!” you agreed, stunned but delighted. Was this an actual conversation? 

Karl refilled the ladle, his expression unreadable as he waited for Beneviento to finish chewing the carrot. “Drink. Small bites.” He instructed her, and you heard a snort from beneath the veil.

“Such a doting brother.” 

“Do it, you ungrateful little shit.” Heisenberg snarled. “You want me to protect your sheep? Take care of yourself because after the planting is done, I'm not coming back to your flock.” His eyes wandered to you momentarily before he seemed to snap back to attention, continuing, “you've put enough people in danger today. You need to be able to handle it yourself the next time it comes to your doorstep.”

“There is no need to scold me like an unruly child, Lord Heisenberg.” 

Karl tensed up and you quickly replaced the ladle in his hand with an herbed piece of bread, knowing all too well his weakness for the soft rolls. “Please eat, my lord.” You insisted, your cheeks tingling with the effort of maintaining your pleasant smile. “I can assist Lady Beneviento, I imagine you have more important things to tend to. To er, ensure the safety of the villagers?” 

The man tore a bite out of the roll, sharp teeth easily ripping the bread apart. “Oh absolutely. You know me, I'm a real…humanitarian.” He doffed his hat lazily at the two of you, then turned on his heel and headed for the small rise of land bordering the fields.

“It is curious how familiar you are with dear Karl.” Lady Beneviento commented once she seemed to believe the man was out of earshot. You froze, panic gripping your throat. “You were his…handmaiden, correct?”

“Y-Yes, my lady.”

“How very strange.” After that, Lady Beneviento didn't say another word, the frail woman seeming, frankly, exhausted from the morning's excitement. The villagers returned to their toil soon after Karl took his position on the rise, the lord pacing back and forth aimlessly as the ground was broken and dirt was sifted. You returned to your labor as well, continuing to haul water or break apart the larger chunks of loam to be sifted, and you did your best to ignore the broadening gulf of distance between yourself, the rest of the village denizens and Lord Heisenberg.

Karl would occasionally pause in his pacing to lift whatever shrapnel was picked from the earth, the man clearly collecting it with the intent to form some new weapon. He had a relatively sizable stack by supper time, when all labor stopped in order for folk to prepare their evening meal. Wearily the group of you trudged off the field, and force of habit led your footsteps towards what was left of Castle Dimitrescu. You were only brought out of your reverie by Heisenberg's voice, nearly jumping out of your skin when he spoke up behind you, “going somewhere, sweetheart?”

“N-No, not at all!” You denied, once more out of habit, turning to face him. “I was just…I was lost in thought.” Karl nodded as though he accepted your explanation, his own brow furrowed. “What are you doing following me, anyway?!” You sputtered.

The man shrugged. “The lycans. You never know where they might come from next.” He then straightened up, lighting a cigar. He hadn't smoked the entire time he was on guard duty, you realized belatedly. Just paced, back and forth, back and forth-

“Thank you.” You blurted out before you could think it through, dissolving into a stammer when he gave you a look of confusion. Something about his eyes tied your tongue in knots, but eventually you managed to explain yourself. “Thank you f-for coming today. I know you don't really like Lady Beneviento, so I really appreciate you–”

“It's not that I don't like her,” Karl interjected, his expression darkening. “It's…it's more than that. Look, don't worry about it. We made a deal, and I'm going to honor my side of it. That's all there is to it.”

It's more than that. 

A thought came to you as Karl fell into step alongside you, of Lord Heisenberg and Lady Beneviento…you flinched, shaking your head to ward off that mental image even as your brain pragmatically reminded you well they're not actually siblings, there's no harm in it. Perhaps they had simply found solace in one another due to their unique upbringing, it didn't have to be more complex than that. It would explain a bit of the animosity Karl seemed to harbor for her, especially after his binding–

You had to keep yourself from slapping your forehead in annoyance at your own stupidity, of course that's why Karl was on less than good terms with her! From the looks of things she had been in no position to challenge the Lady Dimitrescu when it came to Heisenberg's imprisonment. Alcina had been…well, a bit of a brute, really. You couldn't imagine Donna defying her in any sense, least of all regarding someone who, in theory, was the only one who threatened Lady Dimitrescu's total dominion over the region. 

To think that your misplaced jealousy (and it was extremely misplaced, why on earth would you believe Lord Heisenberg even thought of you like that?!) had led to you immediately assuming to know the hearts and minds of two individuals who were absolutely your betters in every sense of the word. You were ashamed of yourself, feeling small and foolish in your insecurity.

You were a handmaiden, nothing more, and that was how things had to be.

…

Karl was either going to spontaneously combust out of boredom, or spontaneously combust out of having to watch you working in the fields. 

Oh sure, he didn't have to watch you work. But he did. Sometimes. 

Most of the time.

He'd rest his arm on the handle of his new hammer, rest his chin on that and just let his eyes drift where they wanted. At least you seemed oblivious to his stare, too intent on your chores to bother to remain aware of your surroundings. Good thing Karl was there to ward off anything dangerous that may have approached.

And he had absolutely had his hands full for the first few days. The lycans had tried every which way to get past him in order to attack the vulnerable villagers, but it always ended the same: dissolving bodies pushed off to the side, a few grudging thank-yous, maybe an extra bit of bread and cheese thrown his way during the communal lunch. You'd think he would get a bit more recognition; not a single villager had died yet on his watch. 

A distant yell roused him from his staring match with the area you had occupied, the man finding to his silent dismay that you had vanished while he wasn't paying attention. 

The shout had come from the direction of the well. Heisenberg straightened up and the other laborers in the field seemed to take notice, their work pausing while they watched him shift his posture. Heisenberg ignored them, one hand reaching out towards the well. He closed his eyes to aid his concentration, the range of his power dependant on his focus–

Lycans. Multiple, his attention leaping from one to the next. A filling here, a screw in the knee there, bodies lighting up with hotspots of metal that he could turn to his advantage even at this distance.

Wait. He had needed to fix you after Alcina, a screw in the knee, what if he'd left something behind–

Another scream, this time from the other end of the field. The lycans had split what few numbers they had left, attempting to pick off outliers before Karl could reach them. The man growled, irritated, then stripped two pieces of metal off his hammer and sent them spiraling across the field. He barely waited to see if they had hit their mark before he bolted towards the well.

Karl reached out again, mentally straining to find something-

There! Bullet, lodged in a ribcage. He doubted you'd ever been shot in your life, so he took the gamble and latched onto the piece of metal, slamming it upwards until it tore free of whatever body it had resided in. 

Heisenberg finally crested the hill before the square, taking in the sight beneath him momentarily before he sprinted forward. 

It wasn't you. It wasn't you. Where the hell were you?! It was some man from the village, some useless man who was doing his best to defend himself by dashing back and forth around the well. 

Heisenberg gritted his teeth and brought the hammer down on the head of one of the frail lycans, spotting another one already dead. That must have been the bullet bearer. The last lycan whirled, snarling and howling at his intrusion. Karl bared his teeth at the creature, seeing Moreau pandering and groveling to Miranda every time he looked at the piscean lord's creations. “What's the matter? Were you expecting someone else?” Heisenberg sneered, watching the beast quail in real time as it seemed to recognize him. “Donna isn't here, little mutt. But you're going to wish she was.”

…

You turned out the loaf from its pan, exhaling in relief when it held strong and didn't collapse. The crust was a little darker than you'd like, but it would be edible enough! People were always hungry at the noon meal, so you had taken it upon yourself to bake extra loaves of the herbed bread. You had the time for it, after all, since Heisenberg took care of most of the chores in his factory! All you had really needed to do was prepare the dough in advance and transport it in the morning, then briefly break away to put it in a borrowed oven so it would be fresh for the communal meal. A simple enough task.

You wiped your hands off on your apron, wrapping the loaves in a clean towel and then tucking them into a basket so you could tote them to the mishmash of tables that had been set up outdoors in the shade of the gnarled orchard. The weather had continued to hold, a blessing and a curse for the backbreaking work that needed to be accomplished, but after such a long time cooped up in Castle Dimitrescu, the sunlight was wonderful and you cherished every moment you could get. 

A commotion outside caught your attention and you headed for the door, your basket safely slung over your arm. Perhaps everyone had decided to take the break a little early? It was warmer than usual today, it would certainly make sense-

Karl was in the middle of the field, surrounded by the rest of the villagers. “-want them found now, nothing gets done until they're located!” He was shouting, gesturing down at two more lycan corpses. Your heart leaped into your throat, you hadn't even known there was an attack! Had someone gone missing in the confusion?

“Sir?” One of the men spoke up, visibly shrinking when Karl glared his way and then raising a hand to hesitantly point in your direction. Heisenberg glanced up, paused, and then began shoving his way through the crowd. 

You had a ludicrous thought for a moment of fleeing, but you dismissed it immediately. Lord Heisenberg would be on you in an instant. It would be better to just take your punishment on the chin, so to speak.

That might have been easier to accept if Karl didn't look so exceedingly angry. He had even gone a bit red in the face, the color unfamiliar compared to his usual pallor. He towered over you, the large hammer landing haft up in the dirt as he mutely reached for your shoulders. You couldn't help the shudder that ran through your body when he grabbed you, bracing yourself for some terrible beating. 

A moment passed. Then two. Your eyes welled up and you blinked rapidly at the ground. 

“Look at me.” His voice was deceptively even. You wavered uncertainly, then managed to shake your head. “Why not?”

“I am afraid.” You admitted. “I know I should be able to look at you, but you seem furious. I…I am afraid.”

“You're afraid?” Heisenberg barked that strange, coarse laugh and then embraced you. “I was terrified.” He confessed, low enough that only you would hear. “I…I couldn't find you. I thought-”

Your heart was hammering so loudly in your ears you could barely make out his words. Terrified. He had been afraid…for you? “I don't understand.” You whispered.

“I know.” Heisenberg muttered. Then, “neither do I.”

…

The fields were finally all in order three days later. Donna was hoping (perhaps futilely) to have a bumper crop of corn to carry the village through the winter. The mended tractor had sped up the process considerably, but it was still an immense undertaking to cut back the dead crops and overturn them in the fields that Beneviento did want to use. Obviously she didn't exactly have the manpower that the village had enjoyed during Lady Dimitrescu's tyrannical reign, so she had to make several hard decisions to ensure the survival of the people she did have.

Heisenberg didn't envy her. Of course, that was nothing new, but now he really didn't envy her. It was no small feat managing a village. Hell, he'd had his hands full with his Soldats, and they couldn't even talk back! He knew himself too well, knew he didn't have the patience or the restraint for it.

His eyes wandered to you at your comically oversized stove and he had to snort at himself. Maybe he did have patience and restraint, but only in very…specific scenarios. Speaking of which. “Is it done yet?” He called for the fifth time, your little laugh warming him down to his core. 

“Almost!” You answered, turning to give him a quick smile. “I'm sorry, I know you're hungry.” 

“You have no idea.” Karl muttered half to himself, watching the sway of your hips as you resumed your task. Starving. 

“Are you helping to restore the barn tomorrow? Those that can't are stuffing the scarecrows, so I'll probably be doing that. I'm not much one for lumber.”

Truthfully Karl had forgotten about that next chore. Now technically Donna hadn't asked for his help regarding that anyway, so technically he didn't have to. But the thought of you sitting alone amongst the rest of the villagers was…irritating.

He had heard what they said, he always heard what they said and they were hardly kinder now that his imprisonment had ended. If anything, much of their vitriol seemed to have found a new target in you. Where they wouldn't say anything to his face, they were more than willing to say terrible things to you. He had watched you grin and bear it, but it didn't exactly brighten his day to know that you were enduring bullshit because of him. Add to that the fact that you hadn't ever brought it up to him so that the two of you could do something about it…

It was noble, in an exasperating and unfamiliar way, that you wanted to take on his woes or even shield him from them. As if you cared about him.

You were just some silly human.

Several fresh flatbread on a cutting board landed in front of him, and you carefully placed down a trivet on the table before managing to haul over a heavy skillet full of several eggs cooked in a molten hot tomato sauce. “Please be careful, it's extremely hot,” you warned, but Karl was already midway through digging a large spoon (more of a shovel, really) into the delicious-smelling mixture. 

“Do you have time to eat?” He asked gruffly as you moved to return to the stove. “With me, I mean.”

You paused, giving him a surprised look before answering, “of course, if that is your wish.” Karl made a small motion with the spoon and you practically glowed, your smile was so brilliant. You rushed to pick up a small bowl and then you attempted to serve Karl, which the lord immediately brushed off. He instead placed a substantial amount of the tomato mixture into your bowl, topping it with one of the eggs like a garnish. 

How much did you even eat? He wasn't usually in the habit of watching you consume your meals, too busy with his work to bother. The man tore one of the flatbreads in half to share, unable to fight his smile when you shyly accepted your piece. “Enjoy.” 

…

You were hopelessly in love, despite your best intentions. Absolutely smitten, entirely entranced, mired in juvenile infatuation. You stuffed more leaves into the patchworked shirt that would eventually become the body of a scarecrow and you did your best not to let your eyes wander to where Lord Heisenberg was working on the barn. It was a futile effort, of course, but you really did try!

It wasn't exactly fair that he had abandoned his shirt hours ago, the other villagers laboring alongside him in a similar state of undress. He was just so incredibly strong, and so casual about his strength. Carrying beams of lumber with ease to shore up the collapsing roof, using his strange power to tighten otherwise unreachable bolts or to wrestle with problematic nails…you knew you ought to have been paying more attention to your own task, but you also knew you weren't the only one looking at Lord Heisenberg.

Indeed, several individuals around you who were also busying themselves cramming dried cornstalks into old pillowcases would occasionally pause, hands going still while they watched Karl do something particularly impressive. Something in your chest tightened when you noticed the amount of attention fixed on Lord Heisenberg, but Karl tilted his head at that moment and caught your gaze. The man smirked, throwing you a wink, and you frantically ducked your head to avoid further humiliation amidst the tittering laughter of your peers.

Honestly, you had shared breakfast with Lord Heisenberg, not any of these other individuals. You had been Chosen for him at first, but after everything was said and done, he had chosen you. Perhaps…perhaps it wasn't so bad to have a little pride in such things.

You dared to sneak another look and when Karl met your eyes again, you gave him a soft, fond smile before returning to your task. There was still work to be done, regardless of your own internal discourse, and certain things couldn't wait. 

…

Heisenberg sought you out at the noon meal, the man having taken note of the furtive glances you'd been shooting his way all damn morning. He had to admit, it was…flattering, but also oddly sweet. 

He posted up alongside you on the bench, a trencher of excessively-cooked fish balanced on his leg. You passed him a slice of bread with some pork drippings while apologizing for the lack of salt, but the man waved you off, gesturing down at the fish. “Help y'self,” he mumbled through his first bite, “watch f’ the li'l bones.”

“I suppose-” you began, tugging at the still-attached tail and then making a quiet noise of surprise when the spine snapped, dropping the rest of the backbone onto the plate. “Oh dear. Well, that makes it easier.” You delicately placed the tail off to the side. “The Lady only ever had us prepare red meat or poultry.” You said, half to yourself while you frowned doubtfully down at the remains of the fish. “I'm not quite…sure how to do this.”

Before he could think better of it, Karl picked up a piece of the fish and easily stripped several sections off the ribs, offering them to you wordlessly. You accepted with a grateful smile, placing your portion onto your own slice of bread and then taking a large bite. The man continued to prepare his own smaller portion, pretending not to notice the way you gulped water with every bite.

“It's a bit, er, dry.” You mumbled when Karl finally asked how you liked the fish. “I'm afraid I don't understand the appeal. Maybe some seasonings would improve the flavor?”

Karl cleared his throat, stifling a laugh. The fish was as dry as a bone; he was more impressed that it had stuck together this long instead of just evaporating outright. “You're drinking more water than the fish did.” He remarked, making you sputter. “Don't worry, it's edible. Whatever you don't want, I'll finish.” 

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to be ungrateful.” You apologized guiltily, ducking your head. 

“We'll eat good tonight.” Karl crunched a needle-like bone, feeling it pierce the side of his cheek. “Let the rabble burn their fish and gawk at their betters.” 

“Oh, you noticed.” Your voice had gone thin.

“‘Course I noticed. I'm not goddamn blind.” Heisenberg growled, “they're terrified of me but they'll stare like slack-jawed idiots as soon as I show some skin.” He turned to the side, leaning in just a little and lowering his voice. “You're the only one I want gawkin’ at me, sweetheart.” 

You stared up at him, gawking in every sense of the word. Karl could feel his smirk making a triumphant return and he dared to slip a finger beneath your chin, feeling the way your pulse beat wildly at his touch. 

“Don't get all shy on me now, sweetheart,” he teased, tapping his thumb against your lips and then pulling away once more. “We can discuss further, when we have some…privacy.”

You blinked hazily before jolting, your back going poker straight as you focused your attention pointedly on the remains of the fish. 

…

“It's not hard to notice the way you treat me.” 

Karl turned from his workbench to look at you, the lord obviously surprised by your words. Your whole body was trembling but you did your best to maintain some level of eye contact. You already knew he could sense your fear, but hopefully he wouldn't misinterpret your apprehension. 

What you truly feared was rejection, or even disposal after brief fascination. The Lady had been so changeable in her moods and while Karl hadn't displayed quite that same level of vacillation, he did have a temper which seemed to burn hot. You weren't sure if you would be able to endure being disposed of, being ignored for the rest of your days once the shine wore off. 

“You treat me differently than the rest of the villagers.” You did your best to gentle your tone. This wasn't an accusation, after all, but an observation. 

Karl stood. “You make it sound like I shouldn't!” He half-laughed, but there was no humor in his tone. “Why wouldn't I treat you differently? You're the only one worth a damn in this entire village. You're the only one who treated me like a person, it's only natural that I'd treat you right.”

“You're a lord, though.” You pointed out. “You shouldn't display favoritism.”

“Have I ever given you the impression that I care about what I should or shouldn't do?” Heisenberg asked incredulously. “I killed Alcina. You of all people can understand that's something that I technically shouldn't have done and yet here we are, sans one noble House Dimitrescu.”

You shook your head, wishing you could just get him to understand. “It's not like that, it's just that…I mean, the rest of the villagers, they…” You trailed off, frustrated. What would you even say? ‘They're being rude to me’? Oh surely, what a change in behavior. “They just treat me differently.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” You were both startled by the speed and volume of your denial, Karl snorting in apparent disbelief at the outburst. You glared at the floor, making a futile attempt at hiding from the man. 

“Then what's the problem?” He asked brusquely, one ankle tucked behind the other as he leaned against his workbench. “I'm offering even more than what I've already done, and I don't want anything more in return. I'm offering what you know you want, sweetheart.”

“You know what I want, now?” You shot back, a little irritated at how easy everything seemed to be for him.

“Of course.” Karl replied with a cocky little tilt of his head. “You want me over you, or maybe under you. Behind you? Choices, choices.” 

Your dream from the other night raged to the forefront of your mind once more and you buried your face in your hands with a frustrated little scream. “I didn't want to be like this.” You mumbled through your fingers, oblivious to how stiff Karl's posture went at your confession. “It's not my place to be like this, surely someone else-”

“No one.” The lord said curtly. “Not a soul. They can look at me all they want, but it'll be you I'm coming back to every night.” His expression softened ever so slightly. “If you'll have me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. 

“If…if I agree to this,” you swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “If I agree to this, you have to promise me that you won't…I mean, that if you get bored of me or you grow tired of my company, you'll state it plainly. Don't lie to me to spare my feelings, just tell me outright. I couldn't bear continuing to…engage with you if you no longer found my company pleasant.”

“It won't come to that.” Karl stated firmly. “Promise me you'll do the same, though. If you decide you'd rather move on, let me know so I can send you off.” 

“I doubt it will happen!” You rushed to assure him, “but I will acquiesce, of course. Neither of us are obliged to stay if we are unhappy!”

“Good.” Heisenberg fidgeted for a moment. “Can we…” He made an odd gesture at your pallet, “discuss further?”

“What else is there to discuss?” You queried, genuinely confused. Karl rolled his eyes with a groan, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to your pallet. “Lord Heisenberg, I-”

“Karl.” He breathed in your ear, his voice sending an entirely different shiver down your spine. “Call me Karl when we're alone.”

“O-Of course.” Lord Heisenberg looked down at you expectantly and you bit your lip, hesitant even now. “Karl.”

“Sweetheart,” he practically purred the endearment, the gentle tone of his voice and the adoration in his eyes leaving you breathless. 

“I will meet you however I can.” You offered, propping yourself up on your elbows beneath him. “I am, however, not overly experienced in these matters.”

“Do you want me inside you at some point tonight?” Karl asked bluntly, smirking when you sputtered. “Don't worry about your experience. Whatever you've had, I'll make you forget about it.” 

“Oh.” You wheezed, more than a little frazzled. “Surely it would be better for you if I knew what I was doing?”

Karl ran his tongue over his teeth in that odd, nervous gesture. “Not really. I don't want you to be self-conscious.” He murmured, pressing his lips to the side of your neck. The man began unbuttoning your shirt, shoving the fabric off to the side so he could kiss your collarbone. 

The feeling of his facial hair on your bare skin had you trembling beneath him, your hands feebly gripping his shoulders in an effort to ground yourself. Oh certainly, there had been juvenile fumblings under the stairs in the kitchen, but you had never engaged in anything so…all-encompassing. Karl seemed ready to undo you entirely, the man taking his time with every button and hook that he encountered. 

He finally untied your breast band, slipping the cloth out from beneath you with a soft rustle. “I'm going to put my mouth here,” Karl warned you, his expression serious. 

Unsure of where here was, you still nodded your head, crying out when Karl roughly laved his tongue over your right nipple. The man coaxed the bud into his mouth, humming while you bucked and squirmed under his ministrations. No one had ever-! 

His free hand sought out your other breast, fingers teasing and fondling you to stiffness as you whimpered and bit down on your knuckles in an effort to keep quiet. The man growled something against your skin and then his knee dug beneath your thigh, hooking your leg up over his own and pressing his pelvis to yours through the layers of clothing. His skin was so hot, and the way his intense eyes watched your every move as you reacted helplessly to him…it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Karl,” you half-sobbed, fingers fumbling at the open throat of his shirt. “Please, please Karl-”

“You don't even know what you want,” the man gently teased you, undoing the laces on your skirt and splaying the homespun weave open on either side of your hips, leaving you wholly exposed aside from your underthings. Karl shoved your legs up over his thighs, leaning his body forward to return to your breasts. As he did however, he rutted against your pelvis firmly, making you whine without intending to. You flushed hot, avoiding his eyes as he cautiously shifted his weight. “Mm, what's wrong sweetheart? You're so quiet all of a sudden,” the lord breathed, grinding his body down in an abrupt motion that startled another whine out of you. “Is this what you want, hmm?”

He didn't wait for whatever reply might have been forthcoming, the man busying himself at your breasts again. You arched your back, feeling his canines scrape your sensitive skin in a delicious tingle of sensation. “Karl-” 

“I know, sweetheart.” He whispered, slipping a hand into the band of your underwear and tugging them off, then unbuttoning the placket of his pants. “Look, look at me.” 

You managed to raise your head to stare down the length of your body at whatever he was trying to show you, your half-lidded eyes widening and the flush rising on your cheeks once more. Karl huffed out a breath, stroking his cock and pressing the heated skin against your wet cunt. You were so slippery that he ended up sliding over your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your clit with a harsh little bump that had you whimpering.

“Too much?” Karl asked through gritted teeth, forcing out a laugh when you vigorously shook your head. “Good, right? Feels good?” 

You could barely get a word out, your voice dissolving into a moan when he reached up to toy with one of your nipples again. “Yes, yes, please…” 

“Alright, I'll keep goin’.” Karl assured, using his hand to spread the lips of your cunt a little wider so he could slot himself against you more firmly. His low rumble when he rutted his cock between his hand and your cunt fanned the ache deep in your stomach, making your hips jolt up of their own accord. “Oh, easy, easy,” the man gasped, obviously startled. “I know you want more, sweetheart, but I don't want to hurt you.” He held up his hand and you realized dimly that it was trembling. “Inside, yeah?” 

You nodded wildly, propping yourself up on your elbows again in an effort to watch what he was about to do. Karl shot you a wink, making you let out a nervous giggle. The sound quickly turned into a gasp as he tapped his thumb to your clit and pressed his middle finger against your entrance, the rough pads of his digits rasping along your skin briefly. Then he breached your cunt, his finger experimentally stroking at your insides while his thumb rolled over your clit. 

“Say my name, sweetheart.” Karl instructed you softly. 

“Karl, I-” your voice cracked and broke when the man pressed his index finger into you, spreading you wider and making lewd, wet noises with your cunt. 

“I know,” he crooned, “I know sweetheart, you're already so wet for me but we need to make sure. Show me what you like.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassed. “I don't–I don't know.” You admitted softly, arching your back when he flicked over one of your nipples again. 

“Mmm, I think you do.” Karl growled, tormenting your nipple with firm strokes that he echoed on your clit, making you squirm and cry out. “How do you make yourself feel good?”

“I haven't!” you denied desperately. “I wasn't allowed, I-I–”

“No?” Karl interrupted you, raising an eyebrow. “You never found something that made you feel nice? Never took advantage of…oh, I dunno’, a certain angle, maybe a pillow?”

“Wasn't allowed.” You reiterated, practically babbling while his fingers curled and thrust into you. “Wasn't allowed wasn't allowed-”

“But did you?”

“No!” You sobbed, caught off-guard when he twisted his wrist and did–something with his fingers that made an explosion happen behind your eyes. Your whole body went tense and then a warm sensation flooded your groin, pulling a bone-deep groan out of you as you sank into the pallet once more.

“Coming so soon? Guess you were serious.” Karl sounded surprised, but also like he was talking to you from down a hallway. You whimpered instead of replying, making him laugh. 

His cock slid along your pussy again, sending a lance of heat into your belly. Your cunt was still riddled with aftershocks from whatever Karl had done to you, the man panting softly as he rolled his cock over your twitching entrance. Back and forth, back and forth, every motion inspiring that same heat to build in your stomach and causing you to moan in response. 

“Spread your legs, sweetheart.” He requested, clapping a hand to your shaking calf. “Let's get these nice and wide for me, loosen everything up so you're comfortable.” Broad palms kneaded at the insides of your thighs, the man helping to warm up the spasming muscles with careful strokes. His fingers were still wet from being inside you, leaving cool trails along your inner thigh when he moved his hand. “I…I can't promise this is going to be good at first.” Karl warned, his expression slightly pained. “We can stop now.”

“No, I want it. I–” you hesitated, still not certain of what exactly you were hoping for. “I want everything.” You finished instead, hoping you sounded firmer than you felt. “I can endure it.”

Karl chewed on his lower lip. “If it's too much, you'd better tell me.” His voice dropped into a lower, more grave register. “Understand, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, Karl.”

“Good.” 

…

It still took Heisenberg a few minutes to work up the courage to start. He justified the delay by continuing to work you over with his fingers, mentally warring with himself while you sighed and panted under him. 

He could stop. He wasn't an animal. He could be careful, and you had given your word that you would tell him if it was too much. 

It would be enough. It had to be. Damn it all, if he couldn't trust himself to manage this now, he never would. Karl grimaced, tucking his fingers beneath your chin to hold your gaze. “I'm going to start.” He said quietly, “it may be uncomfortable.”

“I understand.” So brave, always so brave, staring up at him with a hazy sort of determination that sent a hot rush down his spine. 

The lord barely refrained from nervously laughing, choosing instead to spread you wide and rest the head of his cock against your entrance. He didn't move for a moment, giving you the opportunity to say no, but in a surprising twist you wrapped your fingers around your own thighs, clumsily helping him to hold you open. 

Karl slowly, slowly pressed his dick into you, the man finding himself having to adjust multiple times in order to keep the motion relatively smooth. Gods, you were so soft and warm, it was incredible. If it wasn't for the guilt he felt welling up inside him, it would be perfect. But despite your natural lubrication and warmup this was still obviously a massive undertaking, your voice cracking when you exhaled a moan of what seemed to be discomfort as he bottomed out. “Oh, Karl, oh God–” you whimpered, fingernails digging into your own thighs. “Can I–can you hold still? I need-I need a minute t-to…”

“Of course.” Karl muttered before you could finish, settling you carefully into the cradle of his hips. “Let me know when you're ready.” He rested his thumb on your clit, the digit sweeping softly back and forth while you breathed deep and adjusted to his size. “Take as long as you need, sweetheart.” He continued, hanging his head when you inadvertently clenched down on his cock. “As long as you need, I can wait.” Truthfully, being inside you at all was undoing him, but he wasn't particularly concerned about his own stamina. He doubted you'd care either. 

Speaking of which, you tilted your hips upwards slightly and Karl watched your eyes fly open, the man biting back a smirk as you all but fucked yourself onto his cock for a breath. Heisenberg pressed a hand to your chest, easing you flat once more.

“I can take it from here, sweetheart.” He murmured, “do you mind if I finish inside you? Promise it won't do anythin’ but make a mess.” The cadou, the gift from Miranda, had given many things to him, but it had also taken much away. Humanity, normalcy, the promise of a simple life with someone else…

In response your heels dug into the small of his back, sheathing him impossibly deeper into you. “Please,” you begged, your eyes teary and cheeks wet. “Need you, need all of you.”

Heisenberg snarled, fucking down into you. He tugged your legs up off his hips, bending them at the knees and forcing you wide open, vulnerable for what he knew would be an insatiable event. “Take it then, sweetheart, take what's yours.” He crooned, certain deep down that he was being at least a little mean. After all, you were giving him this precious gift, the least he could do was behave himself. Easier said than done with your nails scraping tiny crescents between his shoulder blades though, easier said than done when your mouth was right next to his ear and you were sobbing his name while he fucked the sense out of you. Maybe you didn't mind him being a little less gentle? 

Karl pulled out and rutted against you for another moment, enjoying the way your clit pulsed when he tapped it with his cock and the way your body went tense with the pressure. Evidently you were wound even tighter than he was, despite your lack of experience. You cried out when he reached up and teased one of your nipples, your back bowing in response. 

“You close again? Want to come on my cock?” Karl asked, laughing outright when you nodded desperately. “Anything for you sweetheart. Hurt a little less?”

“It's not–it doesn't hurt, you just…” your fingers tangled in the sheets as you fidgeted, obviously trying to explain what it was that you felt. “You're so deep. It's not a…not a hurt, it's more of an ache.”

“Too deep?” The man queried, already considering what he needed to adjust posture-wise to keep you comfortable.

“No, I–” Karl felt the heated flush that spread across your skin, the man patiently waiting until you admitted, “I enjoy it, Karl. It's…I like it.”

“You like me deep inside you?” Heisenberg rolled his hips, sheathing his dick once more and thrusting hard enough to knock the breath out of you for a moment. “As deep as I can get?”

“Please-” you begged, “you fill me up so well–”

“Well I'm sure as hell going to,” Karl grunted. “I want to keep doing this forever, if you're amenable.” 

“I'd like that.” You smiled tearily up at him and Karl's breath hitched, hips stuttering as he lost his battle against the urge to spill into you.

“Sweetheart-” he gasped in your ear, the thunder of his own pulse nearly drowning out your whimpering. “Fuck, sweetheart, you're everything, you're all I want, you…I love you.” 

The man froze, realizing what he'd just blurted out (and the way your body had reacted to it). You tilted your head back, panting and moaning while your soaked little cunt throbbed around him and fucking hell–

Maybe it was alright. Maybe you hadn't heard him. 

“‘Love you too-” you managed to say, your voice weak and tremulous. 

Something inside Karl snapped (snapped more?) and the man buried his face in your neck, growling swears and entreaties in equal measure as he fucked you through your climax. Your answer was to wrap your arms around his neck and beg for more, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging until his scalp ached hotly. Karl wanted to scream, he wanted to fight something, but more than even those most primal urges, he just wanted to fuck you until you forgot your own name. 

A combination of your come and his own began to sluggishly drip from your cunt onto the sheets, clearly not helped by Karl’s relentless rhythm. The man absently slid a hand beneath the small of your back to adjust you and his fingers passed over the raised area of the multiple cursive Ds branded into your flesh. Again speaking before he thought, driven entirely by base instinct and possessive rage, the lord bared his teeth and seethed, “You are mine. Nobody else gets to touch you ever again.” Not Alcina, not fucking Moreau, never again.

“I'm y-yours, I'm yours Karl…” was your stilted, hiccuping reply, not that he'd even needed (or deserved) an answer. Heisenberg felt his expression soften, felt the fight-ready tension in his shoulders unwind, and the man placed apologetic kisses along your breasts and collarbone. You were so impossibly good to him, it was evident he would be repaying you for the rest of your time together.

“I dreamed about doing this.” The confession was soft, rasping in his dry throat. “Stuck in my cell, I-I'd think about it. You were so damn nice to me, I just…” Karl hesitated, well aware of your half-lidded stare boring a hole through him. “I wasn't used to humans being kind. Hell, anyone being kind. Guess I'm a little fucked up.” ‘A little’, fuck's sake.

“I would have let you.” 

Fuck's sake.

Karl closed his eyes, resting his forehead on your collarbone and exhaling raggedly. “I wouldn't have been good to you.” He admitted. “I was still too angry, too mean. I don't…it wouldn't have gone well. Trust me, it's better this way.”

You pressed your face into his neck, inhaling deeply and pressing kisses to the sweaty skin there. “I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault, sweetheart. I was fucked up before you were born.” The man shook his head, rolling his shoulders absently. “Fucked up, stuck in the cycle of being bitter and hateful, helpless to do anything but wallow and further other people's ambitions…it really got to me.” He nudged his nose into your cheek teasingly. “And then you came along.”

“The Lady chose me for you, she said it was a great honor.” You rolled your eyes, huffing out a breath. “She didn't mention the part where I would be sacrificed at the solstice, of course.”

“Well yeah, you wouldn't have agreed to it otherwise,” Karl allowed, his smirk fading slightly. “But then you chose me. A hard road to walk, sweetheart, and I don't take it for granted. I…thank you. For–well, for everything.” 

You sniffled, burying your face in his neck once more. 

Karl hummed in contentment, continuing to fuck you at a leisurely pace. “What do you say–” he panted when you clenched down on him again, “we do something special for the winter solstice?”

You squinted up at him, your brow furrowed in confusion. Karl just pressed a kiss to your forehead and smiled his usual, self-satisfied grin.

…

“I'm not certain that I-” you paused, excusing yourself as you yawned broadly. Karl continued wrapping a patched scarf around your neck, patiently waiting for the rest of your question. “-understand what the whole point of this is, Karl.”

“Have some cider.” He insisted instead of answering you, pressing a warm, chipped mug into your hands. “It's almost time.”

You grumbled a little to yourself but obediently sipped on the mulled beverage while Karl banked the fire in the stove and put on his own coat. Several days before the winter solstice, the man had gone out and constructed a small shelter on the rise of land the Duke normally inhabited, and it was from this shelter that the two of you emerged into the frigid blue of dawn. The Duke, parked nearby in his cart as ever, offered a wave but no further commentary, for which you were immensely grateful. It was still a bit early to be cordial, nevermind carry on a full conversation.

The air was breathtakingly cold; you could feel the rush of wind whipping past your nose and biting at any exposed skin it could find. The hot cider was now a lifeline and you kept your mittened hands tightly wrapped around it, taking a more hearty sip.

“Not long now.” Karl murmured, embracing you from behind and resting his chin on the crown of your head. 

“Are you going to explain to me what the point of all of this is?” You grumbled, slouching back against him.

It was several minutes before Karl spoke again, the man seemingly content to sit in silence. “It's…I don't know, it's like the opposite of the binding ritual.” He fidgeted with your coat for a moment (well, it was one of his coats, but you'd sewed an extra thick lining into it to keep yourself warm), eventually tucking his hands into the pockets. 

You hummed, not overly certain you understood what he was getting at, but also no longer cold.

The sun slowly rose over the horizon, burning through the tall pines and setting the morning mist alight with prismatic eddies in its wake. You squinted against the brilliant beams, every inch of your body suddenly tingling. It felt a bit like waking up after a long, long sleep in an awkward position, disoriented and rumpled. Sometimes in Heisenberg's factory you could go days without seeing the outside world, so perhaps your reaction was to be expected. It was a beautiful sunrise, all things considered.

Karl sounded a little faint when he said, “I think…I think there might have been something to that old witch after all.” He shook himself bodily, as if he was a dog that had just been given an unwanted bath. “Granted, nothing she can do about me now. But it does feel sort of–mystical.” He muttered something you couldn't make out under his breath, then raised his voice again. “Shortest day, longest night, rebirth, blah blah blah. We'll have to have a huge bonfire tonight, I guess.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head back to look at him. “Why?”

“Burning away the old, in with the new.” Karl sucked in a deep breath. “I'm…I'm happy you're still here with me.” He said gruffly.

“I'm happy to be here.” You assured him, your voice soft. 

“...I haven't told Donna I'll be building a massive fire next to her shitty little village.” Heisenberg mentioned casually moments later, as though it had only just occurred to him. Judging from the incredibly smug grin on his face, however, that had been his plan from the start. 

With Karl animatedly explaining about the Wild Hunt and the connections between someone named Freyja and the winter ‘rebirth’ of the sun, the two of you set off into the woods to search for dead trees and other dry kindling, his hand in your own. His grin eventually softened into a genuine smile as he answered your questions, and you found yourself falling silent just to hear him expand upon what was clearly a favored subject to him. He had a strange light in his eyes, but not necessarily an unwelcome one. It seemed more like he was returning to life.

The arbiter that was the solstice appeared to have once more come to bear, the cycle beginning anew. You had broken the previous cycle of course, so you hadn't the faintest idea of what this new one could have in store for you, but you knew for a fact that whatever the future held, you and Lord Heisenberg would face it together. 

Karl, you thought privately, a content little smile on your face.

“Why are you starin’ at me like that?”

You started, realizing belatedly that yes, you had been staring at the large man currently giving you a sideways look. “I–you seem happy, that's all. And I'm glad that you are.”

Karl blew out a raspberry, the steam from his breath swirling into the air. “‘Course I am. You're here.” You started beaming and he groaned, rumpling your hair while teasing, “don't get any ideas, sweetheart. Just because I want to keep you around forever…”

A terrifying lord, a ferocious fighter, The Iron Horse…and lastly, your love.

[arctophyllax]

Beyond Stars and Galaxies (Zevlor/Tav/Gale)

Requested by @the-videodame

Picture published and enhanced by NASA.

[NSFW content]

It had always been clear to you that Gale wasn’t the type to yearn for another person while being with you. Neither did he seem happy if you offered him freedom with someone else nor did he seem happy if you asked to have fun with another person. And this had always been fine with you, though a certain tiefling had been stuck inside your mind ever since you helped him and his people at the druid grove.

Surprise was an understatement to what you felt when you saw Gale’s gaze linger a moment too long on the former Hellrider after you had saved him from the colony and coaxed him out of the nightmares the Absolute tortured him with.

Zevlor seemed afraid after what happened there, his eyes never meeting yours for more than a fraction of a second, always looking elsewhere when you attempted to hold eye contact. He seemed guilty, embarrassed even, that he was manipulated so easily, by a goddess whose intention isn’t willing faith but blind devotion. That he of all people, who abandoned his god before, fell so easily for the tricks of one not his to pray to.

You had been there, you had saved him from that colony, pulled him out of the mind flayer pod. He fell against you when you opened the pod and you felt his tears fall upon your shoulder, you felt his sobs wreck his body. To keep him from falling, you wrapped your arm around his waist and slowly stepped back to put a safe distance between you and the mind flayer pod. You had seen enough of those to last you a lifetime.

What you failed to perceive, as you held the former soldiers in your arms, were Gale’s concerned glances, his eyes flickering with profound interest and silent understanding. He heard his whispers as he was caught in there, the nightmare of failing his people on repeat in his tortured mind. Gale knew what it was like to have failed a god, to feel unworthy of that god’s love and protection. But a part of him also knew that gods were far from perfect, that they made mistakes. That they usually had it in them to forgive those who lost all hope.

You brought Zevlor to camp with you later that day, tending to his wounds. Feeding him a proper meal and making sure he got some much-needed rest. He was mostly silent during that late evening. He complied when you pried his armour off, though he shuddered when cold air hit his bruised skin. Gale tended to the campfire, using magic to create a flame, staying there to ensure that it didn’t die out before Zevlor is tucked was and asleep.

Gale wasn’t usually this warm and caring of people you invited to join your camp for a night. Even if they were injured or distressed, it would usually always be Karlach reassuring them and Astarion making a few insensitive though somewhat funny remarks. Usually, Gale would simply cook dinner for everyone at camp, eat in silence and retreat to his tent early. To do whatever wizarding thing he needs to do. Be it reading books and studying or disassociating to the point his body accidentally enters the astral plane. You would lie if you said that this didn’t happen before.

But today, he was there. And he cared. There was a tenderness in the way he handled the old tiefling that was usually only reserved for you, yet you didn’t feel territorial over Gale at all at that moment.

On the contrary, you treated Zevlor just as lovingly, sitting next to him before the campfire, draping a soft blanket over his shoulders and running your hand through his messy hair, removing the hair tie which travelled down to the tips of his hair after the fight.

Gale was much more reserved with his approach and instead simply sat next to him, looking for any sign of discomfort or hurt as he ate the last bite of his meal.

As soon as he finished his food, Gale took his bowl and asked whether he was still hungry. Zevlor politely refused and mentioned that he was way too restless to fill his stomach properly that night. The wizard showed understanding and immediately joined you at the campfire again after putting the cutlery away.

You sat behind Zevlor now, running your hands over his back, finding tense muscles there, beneath the blanket that was still wrapped around him. You didn’t quite massage the tension out of them, far too afraid to hurt the tiefling any further. He had too many injuries right now, and you didn’t want to risk being the source of any more discomfort, though you were aware that if it were to cause him discomfort he would not admit to it and let you continue nonetheless. Your arms wrapped around his waist instead, and you buried your face in the back of his neck, inhaling his slight sulphuric scent, mixed with a metallic scent of blood and armour, and salty sweat that hasn’t been washed away yet.

Gale took one of Zevlor’s hands and pressed it against his chest, heart beating wildly directly beneath the netherese orb. He leaned forward, whispering to the oathbroken paladin.

“Forget gods and faith for this one night. Let us show you love that surpasses that of a deity. Feelings that by far surpass your nightmares and pleasure that makes anything you‘ve known before seem small and insignificant. Let us have you tonight. And if you like it, perhaps, forevermore.”

His brown eyes didn’t leave blown yellow pupils for even a fraction of a second, and your arms tightened around the former Hellrider’s waist, lips leaving a trail of kisses along his spine, as if to authenticate the wizard’s words.

“Let us love you, Zev. You deserve this and more.”

“You offer your love so freely to an old man like me… but I can’t find the will in me to refuse that offer.”

His reply came out hoarse, he was clearly still exhausted and his body was still aching, but there was an undeniably excited undertone to his words.

His consent induced both you and the human wizard to continue in your efforts: Gale kept ahold of Zevlor’s hand and brought it to his lips, planting kisses from his fingertips to his forearm, the tiefling’s hand going lax in Gale’s. You didn’t stop kissing his skin either, hand travelling from his waist beneath his shirt, feeling his abdomen, tense muscle and marred flesh, deep scars telling stories of countless battles fought—not always in his favour, but survived nonetheless. And never had you been more glad for someone else’s life. You couldn’t imagine the emptiness in your heart had you come too late to save him from the colony.

For him, you would travel far and wide, find him in every corner of the universe and defend his life with your own.

“Do you want to go any further or do you wish to keep it at chaste kisses? I wouldn’t mind either way, tonight is all about you.”

You paid little attention to the conversation between Gale and Zevlor, your hand still feeling over old scars and infernal ridges. You wished to never let him go, too afraid that he would end up being harmed again, but at the same time, you did not wish to thieve him of his freedom.

“I want to go as far as you’re willing to go.”

At his words you raised yourself to your knees behind him, one of your hands reaching up to wrap around one of his horns, gently pulling at it to encourage him to turn his face to the side so you can embrace his lips in a kiss. You did your best to be gentle, knowing that he was injured still, no matter how enthusiastically he consented to this. You knew that he wouldn’t admit to any pain, so it was best to avoid causing any in the first place.

You settled back against the ground and pulled Zevlor back with you, letting him lean against you between your spread legs, when you saw Gale’s hands travel downwards to your new lover’s waistband. The new position made it easy for Gale to pull down the layers of fabric with minimal effort required from Zevlor. His lips found the skin at the tiefling’s lower stomach, mouth drawing down further until Zevlor let out a desperate noise into your mouth when Gale’s hot breath hit his erection.

His tongue darted out against the shaft, following veins and ridges there, licking an obscene stripe up the backside of it. Zevlor whimpered again into your kiss, and you felt his body tremble, his tail wrapping around your thigh, tightening it around your leg involuntarily every time the pleasure wrecked his body.

“Isn’t he good with his tongue? I almost envy you, you’re basically burning…”

And your words were true, both parts, Gale was indeed divine with his tongue, and Zevlor’s skin was indeed heated to the point where he could compete with Karlach. You couldn’t blame him for it—he seemed absolutely depraved and finally, he was getting what he was denied for so many years.

When Gale’s hand reached toward the base of Zevlor’s sex, finger rubbing over his perineum, magic leaking through his fingertips, leaving a pleasant tingle on the sensitive skin that ultimately brought Zevlor over the edge, tail tightly curling around your thigh as he came all over his stomach, and, partially, over Gale.

The wizard kept his hands on the disgraced paladin, letting him ride out his orgasm, leaning down to lick the seed off Zevlor’s stomach—much to his abashment.

At his panicked wail, you only smiled and Gale laughed against his stomach before looking up and grinning at the older man.

“You really do taste as sweet as you act!”

Cat got the cream.

(I didn’t want to write too much and make the plot too rigid, so this is a semi-open ending and you can imagine the rest: either they continue all night or they let Zevlor have some well deserved rest. The choice is yours)

[1morey]

@the-videodame

[haru-sen]

Tag Game

Being bullied by @theemptyislost

Some things about me

Favorite color: Purble

Last Song: Softcore by The Neighbourhood

Currently Reading: Reread the Kate Daniels series (Wilmington Years) by Ilona Andrews. Thumbing through The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows by John Koenig.

Currently Watching: Nothing

Currently Craving: A really chewy gnocchi (maybe boba-sized) with fresh mozzarella pearls and puttanesca sauce. IDK, pre-burnout makes it hard to tell what I really want. Gotta excavate those feelings with heavy equipment, but I don't actually wanna do that.

Coffee or Tea?: Whatever caffeinates me without jitters. (Zest Tea is winning right now.)

Bullying @ada-melodies, @the-videodame @trashcritter @dustdeepsea @lolliputian

Hurt people hurt people blah blah blah

[inksandpensblog]

I'm gonna make it it's own post so I don't keep scrambling Tulip's notifications. This analysis is inspired by Tulip's speculation here.

How might the series portray Chosen, if they put him in an antagonistic role the next time he appears in-series? Here are my thoughts:

I've always been firm in my deduction that Chosen doesn't want to hurt other stickfigures, or to see other stickfigures be hurt by Dark.

He has no qualms about frikin murdering AIM and doing who-knows-what to all the other icons.

But then he spares Dark for seemingly no reason.

While the two of them are rampaging, Chosen has no qualms about causing destruction on user-dominated sites, or about enacting violence against the possibly-sentient NPCs and PCs in videogames.

It's only when their rampage takes them to Stickpage, and other stickfigures come under their fire, that he begins to falter.

(And then he keeps faltering on Newgrounds, which isn't full of stickfigures, so I took that to mean he just sees web-animations differently from, like, animated videodame sprites for some reason.)

And my biggest piece of evidence for this has always been: judging by ...

the map hanging on his wall

the fact that he launched the first virabot at the IP-sky

the fact that he sent his virabot swarm directly into web-portals open to user-dominated sites

the fact that never, not once, did we see Dark directing any of the virabots towards stick-cities

Dark had never planned on targeting stickfigures with the virabots.

And yet, when Chosen freaks out about it, he only imagines Dark targeting stickfigures with the virabots.

Now, the implications of this communication failure between Chosen and Dark are a whole 'nother essay in and of themselves, but all it means for now is that Chosen doesn't like it when stickfigures are hurt, and he doesn't want to be the one hurting them.

Chosen's one exception to this code-of-conduct, so far, seems to be Dark himself, from the present-day scene in The Flashback and onwards into The Showdown (and, if Dark survived The Second Coming's attack, presumably onwards into the next AvA main series episode). Because, in Chosen's eyes, Dark became a danger to stickfigures.

Chosen caused a lot of collateral damage on alanspc, in his attempts to exterminate the virus. It's possible that this was because the computer belonged to his former abuser, so he felt no need to make any efforts to preserve anything. But it's also possible that Chosen was simply of the mind that what gets destroyed doesn't matter, as long as the source of danger to other stickfigures is eliminated. (The episode's animation barely gives any attention to the color gang, during Chosen's battle, but you'll notice that until the virabot cobbles together an Adobe Animate mec for itself, Chosen did a pretty good job of keeping the virabot on the left side of the desktop, away from where the color gang were stuck. And then once the mec collapses, he keeps it up above them, within the top half of the desktop, once again far away from the color gang, who are unstuck by that point and could theoretically run across the taskbar.)

Dark's status as (in Chosen's mind) a danger to other stickfigures might've just overtaken his status as a stickfigure himself, as well as his status as Chosen's companion.

I'm not saying that Chosen was wrong for this. But I am saying that this proves his morals aren't as cut-and-dry as "don't hurt stickfigures" and "don't let stickfigures get hurt." Because, as AvA5 proves, it's possible for those two rules to conflict with each other.

And now, we come to the rocket org. We don't have an actual name for the enigmatic entities (or possibly singular entity) behind that mysterious rocket logo on the television set and the wanted poster, yet. So I'll be calling them "rocket org." for now.

Due to both of its appearances so far having been within a stick-city, I think it's fair to guess that rocket org. was started by, and is run by, stickfigures.

My theory about web-space exploration notwithstanding, as of now we don't know why rocket org. has connections to the user-dominated site YouTube, or why they are offering rewards for reported sightings of Chosen.

The simplest theory is that rocket org. wants to hunt Chosen down, either to kill him or detain him.

Again, there could be any number of reasons why rocket org. wants to do this. It could be because Chosen hails from beyond the IP-sky barrier. It could be because they saw The Showdown on YouTube; and with Dark seemingly dead, and Orange having returned to the computer, Chosen is a loose end for them to do something about. It could be because rocket org. has stickfigures from Stickpage among its ranks, and they either want revenge or want to contain someone they see as a threat.

But why rocket org. wants Chosen isn't the point of this essay. The point is...how might Chosen respond, to being hunted down by stickfigures, potentially under threat of capture or death?

Chosen doesn't want to hurt stickfigures. But I highly doubt he would concede to being imprisoned once more, no matter who is doing the imprisoning. And something tells me that Chosen wouldn't see himself as a danger to other stickfigures.

And he's already proven that he will make exceptions to his rules.

And it's already been hinted that collateral damage is irrelevant to him, as long as the danger opposing him is handled.

Fear of captivity is not an evil motive. Freedom is not an evil goal.

But what might Chosen be willing to do, to stay out of enemy hands?

I think that, as a character, Chosen has the potential to be a very compelling take on a sympathetic antagonist. And not because of his backstory, but because of how his own choices have shaped him.

[bagellu]

Rules: Pick a song for each letter of your URL, then tag as many people as there are letters in your URL.

We shall see how much thought i need to put into this lol, thanks for the tag @miraakswhore

B - Black & Gold (Sam Sparro)

A - Andromeda (Gorillaz)

G - Goldrushed (The Royal Concept)

E - Embers (Just Jack)

L - Lost in Paradise (ALI)

L - Lethargy (Bastille)

U - Uptown Girl (Billy Joel)

gonna tag @worsip @sukisweetie-main @mere-glim @the-videodame @abstractredd @analogthoughtsithink @orrlais

[crj-200]

hello again i was tagged by @wannabeapilot!!

Last song i listened to: careless by atwood

Three ships: i like to call a cessna and a piper at my airport girlfriends but that's the only thing close to shipping i've been doing lately lmao. i don't have anything else to add here :( me/some fucking sleep maybe

Currently reading: nothing 😭 last book i bought was the 2023 FAR/AIM

Last Movie I watched: everything everywhere all at once

Craving: sleep. please

i have to tag 9?! tagging @pilsburypumpkincookies @hatsunemikufan108 @pepsinister @inkubye @realjoebiden @pleasespellchimerical @airbussy-a330 @myturtlegotjacked @mudkippey @the-videodame sorry i mightve tagged 10. my eyes hurt and im tired. no pressure of course!!!!!

[esutonia]

Tag nine (9) people you'd like to know better!

I was tagged by @thesnackthatneversmilesback! I meant to finish this earlier but this week was arghhhhh. ughhhhhhh. blehhhhhh even. Anyway, thank you for the tag! I enjoyed reading your version of this post.

Last song: "Lilo" - The Japanese House

Currently watching: Hannibal. Yeah I know 😔

Currently listening: "Is This Happiness" - Lana del Rey

Currently reading: "Call Me by Your Name" - André Aciman. It's...just okay. Reading it while shaking my head the whole time so everyone knows I don't agree with the age gap. But the protagonist is very thirsty and maudlin which is so me. I'm so Elio-coded frfr, we're both fruity and dramatic af

Current obsession: Yakuza/RGG. As you can tell I'm into media portraying morally dubious m/m relationships. I swear I'm well adjusted irl

Tagging: some of my moots!

@coolspork

@faustic-trobairitz

@lelouchootori

@aphbielarus

@teotoffee

@the-videodame

@toyotayaris

@spoonerise

@galacticmackerel

[volzaannir]

i was tagged by @ehlnofeh on my main account [the-videodame] like a long ass time ago im so sorry WHOOPS

since i wanna do this about Signe i'll be posting it here!

---

Seasoning: cinnamon

Weather: a colder but clear sunny autumn day, that quickly turns to a bitter blizzard when the sun is gone

Color: purples, blues, and golds

Sky: a chilly sunrise with some scattered clouds

Magic Power: the thu'um, of course, but also some alteration magic

House Plant: various assorted vegetation for alchemy

Weapon: dual nordic steel axes, a custom sword and shield combo, or a large dragon bone greatsword

Subject: HISTORY, this bitch can fit so much historical hyperfixation in her

Social Media: signe would absolutely have a twitter, either that or a tiktok/twitch account to livestream her dumb choices

Make-up Product: charcoal and paint, the kind a nord will smear across their face before battle

Sweets: honey nut treats and various crostatas

Fear: while fire is her main one, a true deep-setting fear is her soul not going to sovrngarde with the rest of her family - which is an obvious problem considering her circumstances

Ice Cube Shape: perfectly round, save for the obvious cracks that only grow larger the longer its held under the surface

Long Distance Travel: horseback, preferably, but she can deal with a carriage ride too. she just doesnt want to travel long distance completely on foot

Art Style: traditional nord style carvings in wood!

Celestial Body: the Thief constellation

Mythological Creature: would saying a dragon/wyvern be too obvious?? otherwise Fenrir or the Jotnar

Stationary: an intricate and beautiful wooden paperweight statue that definitely feels cursed but im sure its fine

---

i dont like to tag specific people but i encourage my mutuals to try this out!

[hollisofficial]

tag game: (9) people you'd like to get to know better

THANK YOU @soupcrouton FOR TAGGING ME!!!

last song: the mind electric by miracle musical (miracle musical my beloved)

currently watching: i havent committed to a show in so long BUT im finally playing disco elysium so its taken the reigns for 'thing spinning in my brain'

three ships: SPONES NATION RISE LETS GO SPONERSQUAD(star trek), jeanpress (mha but let me live this single rarepair is like the only thing i care abt in that show), pickleface (metalocalypse)

favorite color: blue, but the aquamarine kind

currently consuming: quiche

first ship: prev thank you for mentioning graystripe/firestar bc it made me realize thats also my first ship

relationship status: single

last movie: what we do in the shadows

currently working on: 1) writing a paper with my lab about bat wing punches <-guy who is so so scared . 2) fursuit. <-guy whos just annoyed

tagging: (not 9 ppl, more just ppl i like seeing in my activity :) feel free to ignore ofc!) @the-videodame @t4tpeworm @perfectpossumprincess @gooptrials @dosic @skittlez2932 @puppetlooselystrung

[ehlnofeh]

i was tagged by @elfinismsarts so we’re gonna do a little thing for Finwe (whom i do not have a picture of yet)

Seasoning: vinegar

Weather: a cool day on the coast

Colour: gold and green

Sky: a clear, starry night

Magic Power: restoration magic and the thu’um

House Plant: anything she can’t easily kill

Weapon: sword (of various material) orcish dagger and shield

Subject: politics - she likes to know why things are happening

Social Media: youtube videos of blacksmiths making interesting things

Make-up Product: fuck if i know

Sweets: anything with honey in it

Fear: the past catching up with her and losing control of her future

Ice Cube Shape: big chunks that clink in a glass

Long Distance Travel: boat if she can, but by foot otherwise

Art Style: more sketch/blueprint kinda style

Celestial Body: Secunda

Mythological Creature: griffon

Stationary: parchment and quill, but often doesn’t carry any on her

let’s tag @the-videodame @mere-glim and @kagrenacs for this one (:

[concussed-to-pieces]

Arbiter's Solstice; Part Two

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Pairing: Eventual Karl Heisenberg/AFAB!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

Summary: You had never seen a Soldat in the light before, or as much light as this. It was human-shaped but it did not look…correct. You knew you made a noise, some startled sound, and the thing turned.

A/N: A little Black Friday special. Enjoy!

Tag List: @stargazerofgoldenwords @cookiethewriter @crookedmoonsaultpunk @colesterstrudel @spoopyredacted @velvet-paradox @kotall-ohh @katreneebug @missjasmine98 @sunflowers-and-swear-words @savage-rhi @nova-ivy541 @xyaswrlldd @the-videodame @luvley-shadow @akashiiiiii @spook0 @leediavhs @wysterias-not-so-secret-diary @alldevilsmaycry @writtennotsaid @mulcivert @cedarsmokesrandoms @smallestsnarkestgirl @buttons-beads-lace @vodkafolie @theplagueworm @holydreamerpastadragon @story-chaotic-brain @ohlookapan @topgirl17

[If you were tagged in error, please let me know and I’ll remove you!] 

Part One: Chosen

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains gore, mentions of death, canon-typical violence and extreme depictions of mental and physical duress. Stay safe!]

Your head was throbbing, but you still forced your eyes open after several moments of waiting for the spinning to subside. White cloth met your eyes, dim, flickering light filtering through it. You tried to move, only to discover that your arms and legs appeared to be secured somehow. 

Panic thrummed beneath your ribs. The sound of a heavy metal door being firmly closed echoed distantly; you had no idea how far away it might have been. Soon enough, however, footsteps made their way towards you. Confident strides, though not slow or heavy enough to be the Lady's. 

Heisenberg?

You twitched when a firm hand caught your wrist, whoever it was silently taking your pulse. “I know you're awake.” He finally said. “Can you hear me?”

Karl. You nodded, gasping in pain when a headache sprang to life. 

“Easy, easy, don't move. I did what I could for you. Can you open your eyes under the wraps? Tried not to cover them but-” You felt him shrug. “-aesthetics are not ever going to be my concern when dealing with head wounds.”

“What happened?” You could barely hear your own voice, it was so feeble. 

“You got your head split open.” 

“Mmhm, remember that.” You paused, “where is the Lady Dimitrescu?”

“Dead.” 

Your eyes widened behind the wrappings, then filled with tears. “What…what will happen to me now?”

Fingers plucked at the bandages on the side of your head, catching an edge and slowly unwinding the fabric until you could see again. Your head ached anew at the unshielded light of several candles in the room, and the grave expression on Heisenberg's face (riddled with unfamiliar scars) did little to assuage your concerns. 

“What will happen to me?” You asked again, staring up at him helplessly. “I…I don't have anywhere to go, if not House Dimitrescu.”

“No family?” Karl's voice was strangely hoarse when he asked, his hands busily working to apply a fresh dressing to the wound on the side of your head. 

“No one.” 

The man closed his eyes, turning away. “Got it.”

“Lord Heisen-” Karl's head jerked up and he inhaled sharply, the motion startling you enough to make your already-weak voice peter out. His gaze was as intense as ever, but you found it familiar, almost comforting. 

Almost.

“I need you to rest.” The lord said stiffly. “You're still exhausted. You need time to heal.” His fingers grazed your wrist, loosening whatever had restrained you.

“I'm aware.” You retorted, getting him to crack a wan smile. Then, “thank you.” 

Karl's brow furrowed, the man obviously confused. “Rest.” He finally grunted. “We'll reevaluate how thankful you are once you see your stitches.”

“Is it bad?”

Heisenberg groaned, smoothing a palm down your forehead to usher your eyes closed. “Sleep, damn it.”

…

Your recovery was slower than you'd like. After the beating you had taken from both Lord Moreau and Lady Dimitrescu, you knew you were lucky to be alive. Even if you weren't overly mobile at the moment, you were still grateful. What you could gather from Heisenberg's sparse conversations about the incident led you to believe that you were in a very bad state when you had been…recovered.

“I did what I could.”

You couldn't complain, all things considered. It was odd having someone else take care of you, though. Your food was brought while you were asleep; aside from Karl you saw no living thing. But you could hear them in the halls around your room. Shuffling footsteps, metal banging and scraping, the occasional low groan. 

“Are there still Soldats?” You asked one day. From what you could gather, your ‘quarters’ were simply a corner of Karl's workshop that he had partitioned off, the man always laboring over some piece of machinery on an enormous workbench when he was present. 

Karl stiffened from his place at his bench, the muscles in his neck visibly cording when he did so. “Yes.” 

“Are they safe?”

The lord lolled his head back, leaning against the bench with a put-on, languid air. “Why, got a little cabin fever, sweetheart?”

“Definitely not!” You replied hastily, “I can still barely manage to sit up! I was just curious-”

“I know you can hear them. I'm sorry.” He actually looked apologetic for a moment. “Whatever Soldats and Haulers that are left are so fucking old and they were braindead from the start, so I can't exactly ask them to be quieter.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't realize.”

Karl waved you off. “You're allowed to ask questions, don't sweat it.” He turned back to his work, but then swiveled to face you once more. “Do you…want to try to walk soon?” He offered, his tone flat once more, almost formal. “May help speed the healing process if you can…uh, move.”

“What would you recommend?” Karl snorted in response to your question, the man stalking over to your pallet and shifting the blanket off your legs. You shivered without meaning to as the chill air of your surroundings hit your legs and Heisenberg flinched, eyes darting to your own. “Oh, it's just a little cold.” You explained, trying for a smile. “I'll be fine!” 

Karl stared down at his hands for a moment, then cupped them to heat them with his breath. “Let me know if they're still too cold.” He muttered, reaching for your left leg. 

You subtly braced for his touch and you were stunned when his fingers were hot, your calf resting in one broad palm while his other hand ran up and down your shin. 

“Let's bend your knee, alright?” Karl suggested after several seconds of silence. “Nice and slow.”

Your muscles ached when he began to move your leg, but you did your best to keep a straight face over it. It wouldn't do you any good to whine about this, you knew you were lucky to even have your severely-limited range of motion. Most of your bruises and lacerations had healed over, save for one long wound that had needed stitches on the outside of your left thigh.

“Alright?” Heisenberg asked, his voice rasping. You nodded, keeping your lips pressed together tightly. The lord exhaled, continuing to bend your knee slowly. “Good, good. Looks like your range of motion was maintained.” He then lowered your leg and unfortunately you couldn't stop the whimper when the action pulled at your stitches. Karl flinched again at the noise, glancing up at you. “Where?” 

“Just the stitches, I'm fine.” You managed to say through your teeth. “Other leg?”

“If you need to-”

“Other leg?” You interrupted him, the pain making you eager to get this over with. 

“You're not some fuckin’ machine, sweetheart.” Lord Heisenberg snapped, standing up. For a heart-stopping moment, you were unsure as to what he might do. It was an immense relief when he simply took a step over your pallet and crouched down on your right side. The man took a short eternity to warm your muscles up on that side, even making the effort to rotate your knee outward slightly to stretch your unmarred thigh. “Nice and slow,” he breathed, his touch impossibly gentle. 

You had seen his ‘siblings’ tear people limb from limb, you knew just how much strength had to lurk in his body.

He killed the Lady, and…and Mother Miranda.

He had effectively ended whatever life you'd had before last year's solstice. Admittedly it wasn't much of a life, scurrying around trying to avoid incurring the Lady's wrath. It hadn't even been safe, but it was what you knew. It was frightening to not have any sort of routine.

This or that.

“Is there…” You swallowed, finding your mouth oddly dry. “Is there anything I can do to repay you for your kindness, Lord Heisenberg?” Karl stared up at you, his hand stilling on your shin. His expression was remarkably unguarded, almost childlike in its lack of guile. He was…surprised. You raised your eyebrows. “What? I know my skills may not be overly…impressive to someone like you, but I can set a table, cook and clean-”

“I don't have a table.” Karl interrupted bluntly. “And no one cleans this shithole.”

“Cooking, then?” You knew you sounded desperate, but his flat affect was rapidly siphoning off your vague hope of being useful to him. 

Heisenberg raked a hand through his hair, looking more confused now. “What would you need to do that, exactly? I don't have…there's not a kitchen in here.” He said awkwardly. You abruptly recalled that none of the food brought for you had ever been warm, or even cooked. It had been apples, cheese, various nuts... “Might be able to wire you up some kind of hotplate?”

You paused, uncertain if you had just insulted him by reminding him of his lack of facilities. “What's a hotplate?”

“Really small stove. One pot, that sort of thing.” 

“How do you cook if you don't have a stove?”

“I didn't need to cook.”

“Are you…do you only eat vegetables?”

His roaring laughter echoed off the walls, Karl wheezing for breath in between his bouts of mirth. “No, sweetheart, I ain't a vegetarian.” He finally choked out, still chuckling. “I've got a parasite in my body, just like the rest of those idiots. I can eat damn near anything, cooked or otherwise, as you've seen.” He made a grand, sweeping gesture to take in the moldering structure around you. “And I was too busy to cook while building my army.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” You apologized automatically, your brain stuck on one word. Parasite. Parasite. Parasite. He had what inside of him?! “Would you prefer to eat cooked food?”

He looked uncertain. “I mean–I never really thought about it. Easier to digest, I guess.” Karl suddenly narrowed his eyes. “Wait, no. You're not doing anything for me. I owe you my fucking freedom.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You.” Heisenberg jabbed a finger at you. “You helped me. For no reason at all! You defied your master, defied that overgrown bitch, for me.” 

“W-Well, yes, but–”

“No buts.” Heisenberg snarled, seizing the bedding near your side. He stared at you intently. “You were terrified of her. She was a monster.” 

“To me, yes.” You admitted softly. “I never knew her as anything else.”

The man warned, “but I'm also a monster,” his tone bleak. “A worse one than her, all things considered.”

“You have not been cruel to me.” Karl scoffed at that, rolling his eyes. You wondered if he even recalled the first time you had said that to him, insisting, “you haven't! And you've had ample opportunity to do so, I've been helpless in bed for days.” 

“I'm not so much of a bastard that I would repay your kindness with violence.” Heisenberg seemed to be attempting some sort of levity, his head tilted to the side. “Besides, I worked pretty hard to stitch you back up. Be a shame for all that to go to waste.”

“I appreciate that.” You smiled up at him. “I should be able to cook for you in a few more days, once I'm steady on my feet.”

“You cook for you. If there's leftovers, fine,” Karl retorted. “But you don't work for me, got it? You can leave whenever you want.”

Distress sent a pang down your spine. “Do you wish for me to leave? I'm sorry, have I been imposi-”

“No,” Karl interjected sharply. “Christ, that's not what I'm saying. You're not in any position to move right now. I'm saying if you want to leave once you're ambulatory, I'm not keeping you here.”

You hesitated. This was all very confusing. “I'm sorry, I don't…I don't have anywhere else to go, Lord Heisenberg.”

“Then you can stay until you do.” He stomped back to the workbench, your conversation evidently over.

…

“Hotplate, hotplate…” Karl muttered to himself as he sifted through the loose scrap, thoroughly irritated. How hard could it be to make one, anyway? He recalled the enormous, wood-fed cooktop in House Dimitrescu's kitchen with more than a small amount of envy. That was a goddamn stove, with an oven. 

He paused, mentally going over the makeup of said stove. Probably cast iron…I'd need to find a spot for the chimney. Not exactly like the big bitch has any need for her fancy stove now, right?

The idea of pilfering the giant stove from the wreckage of Castle Dimitrescu grew on him immediately, and soon enough Karl was making his way across the muddy grounds of the village. 

The rest of the residents were still in disarray after the upheaval Heisenberg had inflicted, most of them seemingly expecting him to be the one to take the reins. Ha! No such luck, Heisenberg thought bitterly. Let Donna figure it out if they want a leader so damned bad. Her and her freaky doll.

As far as he was concerned, the village could rot with Alcina, Moreau and Miranda. 

The castle still managed to loom even while half-destroyed, one lone parapet stretching to the sky was all that remained wholly intact. The rest of the structure had been decimated by Dimitrescu's transformation and their subsequent battle, the faux siblings so intent on destroying one another that not a care had been given to whether the castle came down around their ears in the process. 

At least, not until after Karl had triumphed. Then he cared, the heavily-battered former lord retracing his steps through the rubble until he finally managed to locate your unconscious form. Through some miracle you had been sheltered from the majority of the destruction when a section of the chamber’s ceiling had broken loose and fallen onto the altar, shielding you from further harm. Moreau, unluckily (or perhaps luckily), was not graced with the same fate. If Alcina dropping him squarely on his head hadn't outright ended him, the simpering, sniveling little shit was crushed beneath the collapsed spiral staircase. And good riddance to him.

Heisenberg shook his head. There was no point in recalling that, he needed to find the damn stove. 

…

“Oh.” You said weakly.

The large, cursive D emblazoned on the front of the hulking stove recalled to you several instances of being thrown around in the kitchen by an extremely-irate Lady Dimitrescu. Oblivious to your plight, Karl asked, “Where do you want it?”, the man hefting the massive appliance to rest on one shoulder. It was an impressive display of his strength, but also a grim reminder that whatever he was, it certainly wasn't human. 

You swallowed hard. Heisenberg stood there for another moment. “My lord,” you began, your voice cracking. “Could I ask for a favor?”

“Anything. It's yours.”

Reeling from the speed and ease of his reply, you blurted out, “could you take the letter off the front of it?”

“Ah.” You watched as Karl's jaw suddenly went tight. “I saw that. On your back.” There was a sharp, metallic pang! and the front of the oven door was as smooth as glass. Perhaps it had been welded shoddily? “Better?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice. He must have seen the marks from the stove's ornamentation while you were unconscious, you usually took great care to hide them. 

“I can run the stove pipe essentially anywhere in here, but my forge tends to be hot as Hades when it's actually functional.” Heisenberg said evenly. “I also don't know whether the cold will affect you in the winter. I don't feel it.” He patted his abdomen absently with his free hand. 

“Where would you recommend, then?”

Karl grunted, placing the stove down and then swearing under his breath when four of the six legs on it broke through the floor, leaving it to teeter unevenly. “Stupid goddamn--out of my floor.” He growled, gesturing with a hand. The range, much to your bewilderment, began to float a few inches off the beleaguered floor. “So it looks like I'll be reinforcing wherever I need to put this.” 

“What are you doing?” You questioned sharply, eyes wide in confusion.

Karl, his back to you while he rummaged through a crumbling bookshelf, paused and glanced your way. “Looking for my factory blueprints so you can decide where the hell I'm putting this?”

“Not that, I mean the--” You made a few panicky noises, pointing at the hovering oven. 

The man hesitated, tilting his head. “Are you…so you don't know.”

“Know what?”

“What the hell was in those fucking histories?” He grumbled, waving a hand at the huge hammer mounted on the wall over his workbench. “How do you think I killed Alcina?”

“I…” you hesitated. “I don't know. I thought maybe you knew of some kind of…weakness she had?” 

The hammer came flying off its mount and Karl caught it with ease. “No.” He replied grimly, palming the massive weapon. “I put every piece of metal in that stupid castle through her body, pinned her to the ground and beat her to death.” 

Oh. You stared up at him, the breath stolen out of your chest. 

Lord Heisenberg shook himself bodily, then tossed the hammer back to its mount. “Sorry. It's uh…I guess it's not your fault for not knowing what I do.” He apologized, his voice strained. “Doesn't sound like you've had a stellar education when it comes to me.” He offered you a feeble smirk. “You did lend me a hand though, giving her the poke you did with the dagger.” 

“I'm relatively certain she barely felt that.” You said, though as the hazy memory returned to you, you continued, “but she screamed when I did it.”

“That knife had so many toxins imbued into it, one wrong move during the solstice ritual and she might have offed herself instead.” Heisenberg's laugh was humorless. “Save me the damn trouble.” He tugged a small crate over next to your pallet, spreading the worm-eaten blueprint out on the surface. “Now, where do you want the stove?”

You got the feeling that he was trying to change the subject, but you obligingly shifted your weight forward to try and make sense of the warren you were presented with. “I'm also going to need cooking implements, like pots, pans…oh, and food of course!”

…

It wasn't such a bad life, you reasoned. Certainly better than how your life had been with the Lady Dimitrescu, though that bar wasn't exactly high. Lord Heisenberg was amicable enough, if a bit stiff and distant. You supposed that was to be expected. He was, after all, one of the lords of the village. Certain behaviors could not be adjusted so simply.

He only put his hands on you in a clinical manner, for which you were immensely grateful, and he had yet to shout at you, though he had the occasional frustrated outburst at his workbench. You would dare to say most days it was almost peaceful.

The afternoon you were shepherded from the bowels of his factory to emerge into the sunlight felt nearly surreal, like you had been sleepwalking, like your time serving House Dimitrescu had been nothing but a bad dream. 

Castle Dimitrescu no longer overshadowed the village with its dour mass, instead sporting nothing but a forlorn tower teetering high above the rubble it had collapsed into. Seeing the destruction, even at this distance, was enough to stun you. You had assumed that Lord Heisenberg exaggerated a bit for your benefit, but looking at it now you weren't so sure.

Karl cleared his throat from his spot alongside you. “The Duke will be annoyed if I'm late.” 

Between the strange and distinct personalities of the four lords (former or otherwise), one would assume that a simple merchant wouldn't stand out overmuch. An incorrect assumption, of course, but a common one. 

For one, the Duke was enormous, his bulky and ponderous frame often ensconced in a small horse-drawn wagon. However, for all his mass he didn't seem to have any trouble actually getting around. If anything, he would set up shop in the strangest places.

The merchant sold items from beyond the village, and was always permitted to come and go as he pleased. Indeed, you imagined anyone would be hard-pressed to impose any sort of restrictions on the man, as his eternal joviality and good nature couldn't help but to heavily imply a fair amount of sway in the local economy. It would be unwise to dissuade such a man from returning to the village, you were fairly sure.

“What are you looking for in his inventory?” You queried, adjusting the padding for the crutch Lord Heisenberg had graciously crafted for you. 

“Information about the outside, mainly.” The lord squared his shoulders, then set off in what seemed to be a random direction. You followed along behind, noticing that after a moment he slowed his pace, long strides shortening to accommodate your lacking speed. “May see what supplies he has, as well.” He mused. “It'll depend on his cooperation.”

“What do you ask him about…well, the outside world?” You had never devoted much thought to that world, bleakly certain in the knowledge that you would not be leaving the village in your lifetime. To be fair, you hardly had the time to think about anything outside of your duties for most of your life. 

“Anything and everything. Hopefully he'll have a current newspaper he's willing to part with for the right price.” The two of you had been angling for a stand of spindly rowan trees just above the valley's edge. As you came up level with the rise, you realized their branches were doing a poor job at concealing the familiar cart of the Duke. The dark horse responsible for hauling said cart had been picketed off beneath the shade of a few more trees, grazing peacefully while you and Lord Heisenberg approached.

“Ah, and here is the man of the hour.” The Duke greeted Karl magnanimously from the bench of his cart, his eyes flicking curiously to you and then back to the Lord. “I see you’ve brought an…assistant. Quite capable too, all things considered.” The large man gave you an appraising look. “Regrettably, my dear, you may need more than a poisoned dagger to put me into the ground, but I appreciated the display all the same. Such a thrill!”

“Enough.” Karl snapped, his brows furrowed. “You know damn well I don't care about your omnipresent bullshit.”

“Come now, is that any way to speak to your old friend?” The Duke feigned hurt, pressing a hand to his broad chest. “My dear Lord Heisenberg, it has been a short eternity since last we did business!”

“I can come back later.” Karl's lips twitched. “I'd have you strung up if you weren't so goddamn helpful.”

The Duke's laughter washed over you and Lord Heisenberg finally cracked a smile. Evidently this was just how they spoke to one another? It all seemed a bit…chilling. “It is good to see you out of your cell, my lord.” The Duke said warmly, clasping Karl's hand in his own and pressing a worn packet of cheroots into his palm. “Your favorite brand, as I'm sure you recall.”

“Gods, how did you–nevermind, I don't want to know.” Karl tore open the packaging, quickly accepting the proffered light from the large merchant. 

“And for you, my dear?” The Duke beckoned you closer while Karl worked to light his cigar. “Perhaps some food staples, or an exotic trinket from not-so-distant lands?”

“Oh, I don't have-”

“Give them whatever they want.” Heisenberg interrupted you, white smoke issuing from his mouth as he spoke. “Now's your chance, sweetheart, find something you wanna’ eat.” You gaped at him, stunned. For all his talk beforehand, clearly Karl wasn't as concerned about expedience as he had tried to imply beforehand. If anything, he looked a bit like a man about to settle in for a good jaw outside a general store. 

The Duke was quite thrilled at the prospect of showing off his wares and you had a multitude of meats, cheeses and other staples slowly paraded in front of you as he carried on a conversation with Lord Heisenberg. The choices seemed nearly endless and while you knew Heisenberg had told you to get what you wanted, you also wanted to be mindful of whatever expense you might incur. Mutton would be the most cost effective of course, maybe followed with some sausage? The Duke did have flour and sugar as well, but those seemed in shorter supply. Evidently you'd need to adjust to a different diet if you hoped to get any sort of length out of the common staples. 

“Any news on Donna?” Heisenberg queried nonchalantly as the Duke wrapped your chosen meats in waxed paper for transport.

“She's settled into her role with a fair amount of trepidation, but I am confident she will thrive. It remains to be seen whether the rest of the village will fall in line.” The Duke gave Karl a thoughtful look. “Are you certain you don't wish to…?”

“No. The place can burn for all I care.”

The Duke inclined his head, his contemplative gaze shifting to you once more. When next he spoke, however, he was still addressing Lord Heisenberg. “I don't suppose you'll be needing prophylactics, my lord?”

Heisenberg's overgrown canines abruptly crushed through the cigar, the stub of which he spat vaguely in the Duke's direction. This prompted the bulky merchant to roar with good-natured laughter, nearly toppling himself off the cart bench while Karl silently glowered at him. 

After several uncomfortable seconds had passed, Karl finally stated, “We're leaving,” the lord seizing you by the arm and hoisting you up onto his shoulder, crutch, groceries and all. The Duke tossed a rolled-up newspaper to him as if in farewell, which Heisenberg easily caught and stuffed into his bag. 

“May your chosen path bring you happiness.” The Duke called, blue eyes twinkling with some kind of secret joke. Heisenberg fished around in his satchel for a moment, finally withdrawing a messily-wrapped parcel. He proceeded to whip it at the Duke's head, which only made the large man laugh even harder.

Judging from Lord Heisenberg's reaction you weren't overly certain you wanted to know the punchline, even if you had no idea what a prophylactic was.

…

Karl spent the following few days slamming things around uselessly on his workbench or smelting at his forge, attempting to tire himself out before eventually coming back to rest and read his precious newspaper by the light of an electric lamp at his beleaguered bench. 

Usually you were asleep by the time he returned from the manufacturing area, but you would always leave him a carefully-covered plate of food to enjoy. As your strength returned, you took to foraging in the surrounding area for berries, evidently willing to battle the local wildlife for a few precious morsels of vibrant fruit. Karl mutely appreciated the scraps you could acquire, the man so used to surviving off of a gray amalgamation  that anything above it was a culinary delight. As much as he didn't want to give her any credit, clearly Alcina hadn't tolerated you being anything less than a decently-competent kitchen aide. 

Tonight's dinner was a few slices of pork with some kind of fruit…sauce, accompanied by a small loaf of bread. 

Karl absently chewed on a piece of the pork, his eyes roving to the partition that separated your (his originally, not that it mattered) sleeping area from the rest of the room. You must sleep like the dead, because nothing ever seemed to rouse you once you tucked yourself in for the night. It's either that or you were still weaker than he had anticipated, and just doing a little scavenging and cooking wore you out entirely.

Karl grimaced, tearing off a bit of the roll and popping it into his mouth. To be fair (and honest) he had never given human recovery time much thought. Your appendages were attached, extremities operational…you had higher brain function, for God's sake. 

It had never mattered. 

Karl shook his head, disgusted. It wasn't something he had ever concerned himself with before, he would be damned if he started now.

Damned regardless, really.

He shuffled his stool back a step from his bench, reaching into the scrap bucket for a large rag. Despite the area's somewhat-lacking agricultural endeavors, it seemed that there was still a budding market for wagon kingpins and singletrees. Karl had never fancied himself much of a wainwright, but pieces were easy to make and he trusted the Duke to put them into the right hands. To supplement the more specialized pieces, the lord would also make groups of five or so hammers, maybe screwdrivers or wrenches. The old witch's mold tore through most materials, but Karl always ensured that his tools were heated to a temperature so vicious that not even the Black God’s ingrained spores could survive.

After he had wrapped the quintet of screwdrivers and kingpins, he carefully set them aside and picked up a fresh rag.

Motion out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and the lord lashed out, iron fingers seizing hold of an arm. You gasped, losing your grip on his dirty plate. The item struck the side of the bench with a resounding crash!, sending shards of ceramic tumbling to the floor.

Karl hesitated, desperately trying to will his hand to release your arm before he bruised you (or snapped your arm off at the elbow). He was just so used to-

“I apologize for startling you, my lord.” Your voice wavered slightly, but other than that you seemed remarkably calm. Alcina. “I was unable to sleep, I…I wanted to make myself useful.”

Finally, Heisenberg managed to peel his fingers off your arm, the muscles in his hand spasming wildly. “Of course.” He murmured blithely, like his reaction had been the most normal thing in the world. “Thanks for that, sweetheart.”

The side of his mouth ticked up slightly when you sputtered something and began to look flustered. He really ought to get this…whatever it was under control. It wasn't practical for him to be constantly bemused by every little turn of your expression. Soon enough that would lead to him just–doing things to watch how you behaved, doing specific things that he knew would give the reaction he wanted. As intriguing as that sounded, the lord could feel his mood souring. 

“Get some rest.” He ordered you, his tone curt. “I'll clean that up.”

“I–yes, Lord Heisenberg.” You acquiesced even though you clearly didn't want to, your eyes glued to the floor. 

Heisenberg's brow furrowed. Christ, he did not like this feeling, whatever the hell it was. 

…

“My dear! I see you've been allowed to roam the countryside today. Could I tempt you with a crystal figurine?”

You shook your head, smiling up at the Duke. “No sir, I was wondering if you had any more lamp wicks, or perhaps some twine.” You rummaged around in the satchel Heisenberg had generously allowed you to borrow for your errands, searching for the list he had scrawled in a messy hand. “My lord has requested another current newspaper. And...” You paused, squinting at the letters. “Cam…camembert cheese?”

“Always work with that man!” The Duke complained good-naturedly, “I understand, business is business, but even so. He's moving nearly quick enough to outpace my sales! Clearly he cares nothing for artificial scarcity or supply and demand.” The look he gave you made it seem like you were supposed to agree, so you gamely nodded. Truthfully you had no idea what he was talking about, but that was a common occurrence in the life you had led. The Lady always spoke of grand plans, her machinations seeming leaps and bounds above your comprehension.

All that being said, you were a bit curious, attempting to slyly broach the subject moments later while the Duke tied a fresh layer of cheesecloth securely around a somewhat-battered wheel of cheese. “Lord Heisenberg has personal dealings with you, then? I imagine they must be much more important than what he sends me to do.” Had you been more familiar with the corpulent merchant, you might have picked up on the mischievous little snort he let out.

“Our dear lord is the only one keeping the village running, my child.” The man chuckled, giving the wheel one final pat and then passing it to you. “What on earth do you think he's been up to in that factory? He is manufacturing.” 

Midway through depositing the cheese into your satchel, his words caught up with you. You paused, furrowing your brow as you attempted to recall what you had seen Lord Heisenberg working on. “He's absent by the time I wake up, and most evenings I'm already asleep when he returns.” You realized aloud.

“Ah.” The Duke leaned back, folding his hands over his generous stomach. “So you don't know, then. The Lord Heisenberg is working, you see, always working. The Iron Horse, tireless and unfeeling, unaffected by his lengthy imprisonment.” He arched a conspiratorial brow. “Or so he would have us all believe.”

You suddenly felt as though you had overstepped, your fingers nervously gripping down on the threadbare strap of the satchel while you bid the Duke a hasty farewell. 

The merchant inclined his head graciously, offering you a slow smile.

…

“‘I went into town today, saw some people with familiar tools’.” You shook your head at yourself, staring down at the soup on the stovetop. “He wouldn't believe that! I should just be honest. The Lady said to be honest-”

“You don't work for that Amazonian bitch anymore.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, whirling to face Lord Heisenberg. “My lord! Forgive me, I didn't hear you approach.” 

Karl grunted, reaching for your shoulder. You barely resisted the urge to squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever might come.

The strap of your large apron had slid down your shoulder, and Karl's fingers brushed your shirt when he tugged the fabric back up. “I don't care if you're honest to me or not.” His voice was low and harsh. “Honesty born of fear isn't something I'm interested in.” 

“O-Of course, my lord.” You quickly agreed, looking everywhere but his face as you attempted to change the subject. “Are you hungry? You've returned early tonight!”

There was a long pause. “...I think so.” Heisenberg sounded slightly baffled (if such a person could ever be baffled). “It smelled good, so I clocked out early.”

You replied brightly, “I'm glad you think so! It's not quite done yet, but the biscuits are r–” The pan of biscuits that had been cooling on the stovetop was suddenly in Karl's hand. The lord jammed an entire biscuit into his mouth and you blinked, stunned. 

“Did you get the cheese?” Karl asked once he'd swallowed, his eyes lighting up when you nodded. “Duke's good for something, I guess. Paper?”

“On your bench, as always.” 

For that, you received a clap on the shoulder and a devastating smile, the man happily taking himself (and the tray of biscuits) to the workbench.

You had never seen him in such good spirits. It was…entrancing, in a way. You stirred the soup absently, thoughts in a tangle. 

…

Truth be told, you ought to have been an expert at balancing a bowl. To your credit, however, the last time you'd had to do it your path had at least been illuminated and free of debris. Now you had the added excitement of toting an old railway lantern in one hand and cradling the bowl in the crook of your elbow. 

You had been so sure of yourself earlier in the day! If Lord Heisenberg doesn't come back for supper before I go to bed, I'll bring him his supper at the forge. It had seemed like an intelligent idea; clearly if he was working late he was busy, and he would need to keep up that pace, which a hearty dinner of leftover soup would help with! You had even made another small batch of biscuits.

The only problem with this plan was, well, you had no true knowledge of where the forge was. Oh certainly you had an idea, and there seemed to be an increase in heat along your chosen path, which was heartening. You carefully picked your way along, mainly keeping your gaze trained downward to prevent you from tripping or stepping on something a bit sharper than your boot’s old sole could manage. 

A warbling groan immediately tore your attention upwards and you desperately tried to steady the lantern without burning yourself on the hot globe. What is-?

You had never seen a Soldat in the light before, or as much light as this. It was human-shaped but it did not look…correct. You knew you made a noise, some startled sound, and the thing turned. 

Lord Heisenberg had never precisely explained the process of creating his Soldats and the stories you had heard never went into much detail, only mentioning how fragile they were and how easily House Dimitrescu had overwhelmed them.

A motor thrummed, sputtering to life, and as the Soldat faced you you realized why it hadn't looked correct. Its left arm had been replaced by the bulk of some monstrous machinery that was crowned with a sluggishly-spinning drill. Its right arm was just a stump, pale flesh hanging from the remainder of the joint. 

You hesitated, unsure of the thing's comprehension and whether it knew you as friend or foe. The lycans were unpredictable, you didn't see why this would be any different. “H-Hello,” You called nervously, struggling to be heard over the drill (which seemed to be gaining speed). “I'm here to bring the lord his dinner, if that's alright?” Of course, there was no reply. 

It took a heavy step towards you. Then another, and another. The drill began whining at a high pitch, and you took an instinctive step backwards.

The Soldat broke into a clumsy, loping run, drill reeling back for some sort of blow. You turned and bolted, fleeing the way you'd come. Desperately you tried to remember the path you'd taken in reverse, hoping against hope that you'd be able to outrun the thing. Twisting, turning, stumbling over things in your path-

Out of the nearly pitch-black darkness ahead, you heard Lord Heisenberg's voice calling, “Sweetheart? Where are you?” 

You screamed something as a section of rotted flooring gave way beneath your foot, swallowing your leg up to the shin and sending you tumbling to the ground. The lantern flew out of your hand, globe smashing and the last of the meager fuel going up in a rapid flare of light. That flare illuminated the hallway ahead, reflecting off of Karl's eyes like he was…

Well, you had known he wasn't exactly human. Not that now was the time to be dwelling on such thoughts! You rolled over, desperately fighting with the jagged wood that trapped your leg, and you tried not to think of the amount of times you'd butchered animals for dinner and the way their joints snapped under a little pressure–

A red glow heralded the Soldat's approach and you struggled harder. Karl barked, “hey! That's close enough, freak!”, but it was as if the Soldat didn't register he was speaking to it. Maybe this one didn't have ears? “I said-” A large boot hit the floor beside your ribs, Heisenberg's body overhead lit by that hellish red light. “-that's close enough!” The Soldat's drill began to grind and shriek as it came down, like it was being forced to spin in the wrong direction. You didn't even have the wherewithal to scream, your whole being dedicated to freeing your leg. 

There was a sharp grunt of exertion. A hand slapped against your elbow momentarily before fingers crushed down in a chokehold on your upper arm. Fasteners erupted from the floorboards around your leg and as they did, you finally managed to wrench yourself loose. When Karl heaved you backwards out of harm's way you caught only a momentary glimpse of his free hand bracing that terrible drill, the skin of his palm mangled by the still-spiraling machinery. 

Once the lord released you, you scrambled away on the floor until your back hit a wall. The Soldat issued a garbled yell and Heisenberg roared in reply, ripping the drill off its shoulder. Nuts and washers clattered to the floor, hydraulic fluid coming in arterial spurts while the Soldat clumsily flailed at its maker. 

Half-blind in the dark, all you could do was stare as Karl tore the Soldat limb from limb. When it inevitably toppled to the ground it could barely be considered a torso, that red light on its chest flickering weakly and starting to slowly fade. You shut your eyes tightly, aware that Heisenberg was speaking but your ears were ringing too badly to hear him. You felt nauseous and lightheaded, the floor seeming to buckle and spin beneath your trembling body. 

…

You would have been fine, if the damn floor had held. You would have outpaced that old junker in a flash. You wouldn't have even been in any danger!

Karl crouched beside you, barely resisting the urge to grab your chin and force you to look at him. “What the hell were you thinking?” He asked incredulously, but it was as if you couldn't hear him. The man huffed in irritation, getting back to his feet and walking to the hole in the floor to inspect the damage. His boot landed on a domed object, startling the lord somewhat as he'd assumed he knew every piece of junk on the floor between here and his forge. He bent to inspect the object and he realized it was a bowl, christened with the splattered remains of leftover soup. Beside it were several sad and dirty biscuits, their plate having overturned and skidded along the grime of the floor. 

Food.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry my Lady, I'm so sorry, please, please, I'm sorry-” Your voice was pitifully quiet. You'd put your hands over your ears and you were rocking, pleading, begging some specter of his faux sibling for mercy. Karl felt his heart sink and he realized in a sudden burst of uncharacteristic clarity that he hadn't been angry.

He had been afraid.

Afraid of what might happen to you. 

Gods.

“It's alright.” He breathed, settling to the floor in front of you. He nearly reached out to touch you, but hesitated when he caught sight of his bloodied fingers, forcing his mangled hand into a fist at his side instead. “It's alright. It's just me.” 

You sobbed hysterically and Heisenberg wasn't sure for a second whether you'd even heard him, then you flung your arms around his neck, clinging to him and crying into his shoulder. Karl froze, stunned. No one had ever…

Well. It didn't matter. 

“I've got you.” The man said gruffly, resting his intact hand gingerly on the top of your head. “You…you're safe.”

It felt like you just crumpled against his chest. Like every ounce of fight in your body had departed, leaving you limp and frail in his arms. All Karl could do was gather you up, the man rising to his feet after a moment of fumbling. It seemed as though you had lost consciousness, your arm dropping to hang and your head lolling back in the crook of his elbow. 

I've got you.

…

You started awake, unsure for a moment where you were, what time it was…what had happened to you?

From his place at his workbench, Karl cleared his throat. There was a snap as he folded his newspaper, then tucked it beneath his arm as he stood. The former lord approached your bedside and you couldn't help the way you shrank down into yourself, barely fighting the urge to hide beneath the covers. 

Heisenberg stopped further away than normal, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “How do you feel?” A mild enough question, given the circumstances.

Honesty. “My leg hurts a little,” was your truthful response. “But I suppose it serves me right. I shouldn't have-”

Karl cut you off by clearing his throat, the man fixing you with a stern look. “In the future, if you get any ideas about bringin’ me dinner, just yell for me. It'll save both of us a lot of trouble.” 

Shame sent a hot flush out across your cheeks and you nodded, hoping that was the end of your discussion. 

“You could have been seriously injured. I know you probably don't grasp that, but I sure as hell do. I've seen what my Soldats were designed for.” Lord Heisenberg's expression had gone grim. “It ain't your fault. I'll start decommissioning them.”

“Oh, but don't you need them?” You burst out, concerned for the inhabitants of the village that you had only recently found out relied on Karl's craftsmanship to thrive. 

The lord shrugged elegantly in reply, stating, “Before, I needed them to help because of the scale of the operation. Now though…I think I can afford to cut back on a few dozen units.” He sighed, momentarily looking exhausted. “A lot of them just wander anyway, it's not as though they're vital.”

A thought struck you and you exclaimed, “my Lord, your hand! I…” Karl tugged both of his hands out of his pockets to display them to you, raising an eyebrow. They seemed wholly intact, not so much as a crooked finger! How-?

“I heal quick.” He informed you with a flippant rotation of his wrist.  

“It was a drill, I saw it rip--h-how did-?” You were nonplussed by the whole thing. Were you so damaged by your previous trials that you had begun to imagine travesties occurring?!

Karl, however, raised an excellent point. “How many times did you wipe the blood from my back and you're worried about some fuckin’ drill yanking off my pinkie? Did you forget that I was Alcina's favorite vintage?”

“No, but-” You struggled with your words for a moment. “I just…I apologize. I did not fully comprehend the extent of your...talents.”

“Suppose that's for the best.” Karl muttered, seemingly half to himself. He abruptly clapped his hands together, giving you a stern look. “I expect you to stay put until you fully recover, understand?”

…

Karl yelled some random assortment of expletives, the latest collection of tools rocketing at the Duke. “-nearly killed! I nearly got them killed! What the fuck was I thinking?”

The Duke, having caught the bundle with ease, began sorting the tools out on his lap while Heisenberg continued to seethe and stomp around the cart. “You seem vexed, my lord. Has something occurred?” The merchant asked blandly. 

Karl shot a blistering glare up at the enormous man. “If you don't stop laughing at me-”

The Duke raised his hands in a peaceable manner. “I meant no offense, my lord! You are simply entertaining when you are so…undone.”

“Keep your commentary to yourself,” the lord growled, “this is all your fault anyway!”

The merchant had the audacity to look surprised. “My fault, my lord? I fail to see the connection.”

“It's all because you had to make your little jab, you piece of shit! If you hadn't said anything, I wouldn't have thought about it!” Even as the words left his mouth, Karl knew he was lying. 

Long before the Duke had cracked wise about prophylactics the incarcerated lord had harbored certain thoughts about you. Granted, at first they were nothing but insane fantasies. He wasn't getting free, what was the harm? He couldn't exactly gratify himself either, bound as he had been. There was little he could do aside from think, and Gods had he thought. 

And then you had released him. 

“Ah.” Heisenberg had no idea how one simple noise could sound so unbelievably smug, but he supposed if there was anyone who could manage it, it would have to be the Duke. He debated the benefits of ripping the man's head off for longer than he would care to admit, before he just slouched against one of the cart’s wheels in defeat. The Duke chuckled quietly, his girth shifting enough to make the axle creak. “I can see you are having some trouble, my lord.”

“I really ought to kill you.” Karl muttered without any real bite behind the words, dragging his hands down his face. He had spent the better part of a week tracking down every Soldat left and disassembling them, throwing the spare parts where he had amassed the bits from the Haulers. It had been an involved and tedious process, but he could always make more if the need arose again. He also made sure you watched him take apart multiple Soldats, doing his best to involve you in several related tasks so they weren't so…so much to you. You originally had shied away, but closer to the final one you displayed some tender curiosity, some minor touch of interest in his old servants. “I don't know what the hell to do.”

The Duke made a thoughtful noise, stroking his chin. “My honest opinion is that I believe you overcomplicate things.” Karl scoffed but the larger man persisted, “they have a good heart! I don't understand your resistance, I'm afraid.”

“Alcina once had me convinced that I was doing things for the right reason.” Heisenberg rested his forehead on the side of the cart. “I believed her. Trusted her.”

“Your…assistant doesn't strike me as the scheming type, my lord.” The Duke paused, then continued, “and in regards to your behavior, you are not the Lady Dimitrescu, nor are you her thrall any longer.”

“The debt I owe is extensive and I don't know how to repay them.” It was so simple to say, but it made Karl's skin crawl. All he had ever been good for was furthering someone else's ambitions. What could he do for you? You didn't exactly harbor any great expectations; you seemed wholly content to tend the fire and cook meals for the rest of your days.

Something brushed against his leg and a familiar, grating voice said, “well, don't you look like death warmed over!”

Karl punted Angie as hard as he could, unable to keep his laughter in check while the doll tumbled end over end through the air. She finally crashed to the dirt and Donna scurried by, the veiled woman gathering her beloved doll up into her arms. 

“What's the big idea?!” Angie shrieked at Karl, moving like she was going to free herself from Donna's grasp. “Is that any way to treat me, after all we've been through together?”

“You?” Karl's good humor swiftly turned foul, the man striding towards Donna with his fists clenched at his sides. “You, little rat, were the one who sold us out to Alcina! If it wasn't for you-!” Heisenberg paused, inhaling through his teeth. Donna seemed…smaller. Not that she had ever been particularly sturdy, but now she appeared like a strong gust of wind would knock her over. “You look like shit.” He said instead, grudgingly reining himself in.

Donna inclined her head. “I am. Not a leader.” She whispered, her words stilted. “It is difficult.”

“I could have told you that.” Heisenberg tugged free a cigar, the man lighting it after a moment. Meanwhile Donna just…stood there. As if she was waiting for something. “What the hell do you want, Beneviento?” Karl growled around the cigar, barely fighting the urge to rudely blow smoke in her face. “No mind games, either. Come out and say it or fuck off.”

“I can't–" Donna paused, and Angie continued in a whining tone, “it's hard, and we don't want to!”

The former lord gestured at the treeline, offering his faux sibling a joyless grin. “So leave. I'm sure there's a million other places that would happily accept a freak like you.”

“Or you!” Angie shot back tartly. 

Karl chuckled without humor around the cigar, nodding. “Yeah, ‘or me’.”

“You look better.” Donna whispered.

“I've been eatin’ right, getting in my exercise.” It wasn't technically a lie; your cooking was much more rounded than he'd ever eaten in his life. “Not exactly difficult to look better than I did while I was withering in the giant bitch's cellar.” 

“I'm sor-”

“Don't.” 

Donna inclined her head, dutifully falling silent while Angie snickered to herself. Heisenberg barely kept from biting his cigar in half, the man painstakingly removing the cheroot from his mouth before he did something he'd regret.

The Duke then spoke up, “I believe Lady Beneviento had a proposition for you.” Karl nearly jumped at the sound of the large man's voice; he'd practically forgotten he was even there, witnessing this little spat. 

Tucking his cigar back into his mouth, Heisenberg puffed a few times to ensure the thing was still lit and leaned back against the cart wheel, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. “Talk, Donna.” 

“I need equipment.”

Karl raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

The woman hesitated, obviously struggling to articulate herself. “I…the people need. Farming equipment. A-A tractor.”

Ah. “One?”

“Two would be b-better. One is…acceptable.” Donna paused again. “The cornfields-”

“-got real messed up when you fought with Alcie!” Angie finished, the doll's jaw clattering a bit. “Plus you ruined half the vineyards!”

“I'm not talkin’ to you, you little shit.” Karl grunted, making Angie sputter. “Unless you want to fly again, I suggest you stay out of this.”

“Leave Angie alone.” Lady Beneviento's tone was abruptly icy and firm. “We are having a discussion, Heisenberg.”

Karl dutifully obeyed, ignoring the doll to focus wholly on his faux sister. “Do you even have an old tractor? Scrap? Blueprints? Something, woman, I can't fabricate a tractor out of nothing.”

Beneviento produced a small, rolled piece of paper from her sleeve, handing it over to the glowering man. She then clasped her hands in front of her nervously. “We have two…two tractors. Very rusted.” She warned.

“Probably more like moldy.” Karl mumbled, only half-listening as he looked over the smudged manual page. “I'll need to see what you have for a carcass.” He finally said grudgingly.

“Ha! I knew it, I knew he would-!” Donna swiftly scooped Angie up, muffling the doll's mouth with an artfully-placed section of her black veil. The woman then offered Karl a deep bow, after which she beat a hasty retreat back down the hill while Angie continued to squall around her makeshift gag.

The Duke snorted, obviously attempting to stifle a laugh, which set off Karl’s own mirth. 

…

“Hold it–hold it steady, dammit.” 

Obligingly you adjusted your posture with the lantern, your hands too sweaty in their protective mitts to maintain the lamp's position for long. Late summer had truly set in to the valley and you were hard-pressed to find a moment where you weren't sweaty.

Heisenberg had begun repairs on an old tractor in earnest shortly after his unexpected conference with his ‘sister’, but the working conditions weren't exactly ideal. It was either labor in the shade of the moldering, poorly-lit barn, or work in the farm yard and be wholly at the mercy of the eager sun. 

The man grumbled something under his breath, the majority of his upper body currently beneath the engine as he wrestled with some unseen bolt. There was a loud thud and he began swearing in a continuous stream, shuffling out from under the machine while shaking his hand. “Rat bastard, son of a bitch,” Karl huffed, examining his quickly-reddening knuckles. “Jammed that good. Dammit.”

“Can I…?” You offered hesitantly, not really sure what he needed but willing to give it a try regardless. 

The man blew out a breath. “Yeah, damn it all. You've got smaller hands than me, maybe you can get them into where it needs to go.” He then held out one of the many rags he kept nearby, muttering, “cover your head though, you don't want to get greasy.”

Once you'd extinguished the lantern and removed your mitts, you obliged Heisenberg and carefully wound the rag around your head, making certain to pull it low on your forehead after noting the grease smeared on his own. Then, you laid down on your back and tugged yourself beneath the rickety machine alongside Karl. 

A small rubber tube was shoved into your hand, and the man gestured up at the arcane workings of the small engine. “This stupid little thing needs to go up there. In between–look, see that slot sweetheart? It needs to be fed through there so that it can be plugged in up above.”

“Why didn't you feed it down from the top instead?” It was an innocent question, you hadn't meant anything by it! But the silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the noise of Heisenberg's teeth grinding together.

Karl snatched the tube back and scuttled out from beneath the machine. You heard scraping for a moment, and then a triumphant “aha! Can you grab the other end of it now, sweetheart? Just hold it for me.”

You managed to slip your fingers into where he had indicated, just barely grasping the end of the tube and tugging it a bit further. “Got it!”

“Finally, alright.” Karl threw himself down once more, using the front axle to maneuver into position alongside you. “We need to take that and plug it-” His hand closed down on your own without warning, startling you to the point that you went stiff. Heisenberg clearly noticed; he stilled for a second but then immediately carried on, “-place it here, see?” He guided your hand to hold the hose to its appropriate inlet. “Then, we screw down the clamp to keep the hose attached.”

“Oh.” You murmured, watching him twitch his finger and the fastener on the clamp rushed to respond, twisting itself tight to secure the tube. “How would you do it if you didn't have…if you were like me?”

Karl looked at you sideways for a moment before it seemed to dawn on him, the man tapping a finger down on the screw. “Flathead screwdriver, see the groove? Pop the driver head in there and give it a twist.”

“Thank you.”

He scoffed, “‘course,” rolling out from beneath the machine and offering you a hand up. “Job isn't done yet, grab the lantern again.” He barked, “gloves!” when you almost touched the scorching handle of the lantern in your haste to obey his directive.

…

“Are you ready?”

Your head swam. Ready for what?

“I'm not moving otherwise.” 

Moving?

Somehow you were beneath the tractor again. Had you fallen? Karl's forehead bumped against your own, his body crowding yours in the small space. His eyes–

He was back in the cell, but he was no longer restrained. The lord lunged at you, groping, fondling, touching–

No, you were in his workshop, machinery crashing to the floor so Karl could press your back to the workbench, the large man burying his face in your neck and–

You started awake, intensely aware of the slick sensation between your upper thighs and the heated flush on your face. Blinking in the dim room, you struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

What was that?! You thought in a panic, frantically fanning your face to try and cool off. You had rarely ever dreamt, and you'd certainly never had a dream like that! 

You jerked your eyes up, darting a glance at the workbench, but it was mercifully vacant. Lord Heisenberg must be elsewhere.

Lord Heisenberg.

That's right. Lord Heisenberg. Not Karl, not someone you were close to, regardless of how kind he was to you. Your place was beneath him, and it always would be. 

No matter what pretty words he had said.

You helped me. 

You can leave whenever you want. 

You shook your head, frustrated and embarrassed. Maybe this…infatuation was to be expected, you had tended to the lord for quite a while. You understood his needs to an extent, you cared for him, but you may not necessarily care about him. It was to be expected that the waters might get muddied, the lines between servant and more blurred by the passage of time and the familiarity that came with it.

I hope.

Part Three

[1morey]

@the-videodame

i'm crying rn.... the fucking Torta.....

[1morey]

@the-videodame