Jul 20
I had that awesome dream about ‘ swap ‘ universe with Resident Evil Requiem but Village .
Karl was Victor
Rose was Grace
And
Chris was Leon …
How awesome it could have been !
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Kuwait
seen from Australia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Guatemala
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
I had that awesome dream about ‘ swap ‘ universe with Resident Evil Requiem but Village .
Karl was Victor
Rose was Grace
And
Chris was Leon …
How awesome it could have been !
I made Count Montague some Massive Headaches Familars
Jinxie, the little vampire turned too young and Axel Winther, his latest human familar
This is Victor Gideon with his children , you cant say otherwise
Him shooting them with the virus—
Feeling silly u.u
🩻 THE SURGERY 🩻PART 2
It had been a while since Karl forced himself to cool down after the argument.
The parlor’s lounge corner—an oddly cozy addition to such a strange clinic—had become his refuge. He sat there now, a glass of whiskey in hand, letting the burn settle his nerves. Strange or not, he had seen worse. Far colder places. Far crueler ones.
And right now, this… helped.
He regretted how he had lashed out at Victor.
He was the only person he could talk to—really talk to. The only one he trusted enough to let his guard slip around. And yet, being refused—that request, of all things—had left him bitter. Angry.
…And beneath that, something heavier.
Because deep down, he knew Victor was right.
At this point… why would he want to give it all up? The power. The strength. The way the parasite had barely changed him physically—
Physically.
His thoughts drifted back to Victor’s words.
“If you’re a monster… then what does that make me?”
Karl exhaled slowly, setting his tinted glasses down on the table before rubbing his eyes.
“…I should’ve been more careful. I hope I didn’t—”
“Ah… I knew I’d find you here.”
The familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Karl turned his head.
Victor stood there, looking down at him, his mask still covering half his face—but doing nothing to hide the calm in his gaze… or the softness that lingered beneath it.
Karl sighed, searching for the right words. He didn’t want another pointless fight. Not when Victor was finally speaking to him like this again.
“Yeah, I… I just—”
“You don’t have to explain.” Victor’s voice dropped into a quiet murmur. “I know you needed space. After what I said.”
Karl lowered his gaze, unsure. Opening up never came easily to him. It felt foreign, fragile—dangerous, even.
But how could he not try… when Victor made it look so effortless?
Before he could say anything else, Victor sat beside him. He removed his mask and placed it next to Karl’s glasses, letting out a soft sigh as he looked at the whiskey glass. A cigarette flickered to life between his fingers.
“…Whiskey? Same one as always?”
Karl hesitated.
Was that a jab? Or just an observation?
With Victor… it was always hard to tell.
He was too calm. Too gentle. And that unsettled Karl more than any hostility ever could.
But Victor noticed … Of course he did.
“You think I just insulted you again, don’t you?”
There was no venom in his voice—only quiet exhaustion, like he was tired of this misunderstanding repeating itself.
“Karl… we’re not enemies. I didn’t come back to continue that argument.”
A pause.
“You can drink whatever you want. Who am I to judge? I drink too, you know.”
Another small breath.
“It was just an observation. That’s all.”
Karl finally looked at him—eyes tired, and for once…
…unguarded.
“I know… it’s not you. It’s…”
A beat.
“…me.”
Silence settled between them, heavy and slow, broken only by the soft hum of jazz in the background. Victor’s hand found his.
“It’s not just you,” he said quietly. “I have my faults too.”
Karl stilled, staring at their hands, before shaking his head slightly.
“No, it’s not—”
“Love… it is.” Victor’s voice softened even more.
“I should’ve explained myself instead of reacting like that. But you… you affected me.”
Karl blinked, caught off guard.
“…Affected you?”
Victor? Affected ?
“…What do you mean? Because of what I asked…?”
Victor took a moment before answering.
“…Yes. The surgery.”
A breath.
“It shocked me. And I reacted poorly. I’m sorry.”
Karl tightened his grip on Victor’s hand and finally met his eyes.
“And… I’m sorry for asking you that.” His voice dropped. “You’re right. I’m… fine the way I am. I should be grateful.”
The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Because yes—Victor was right. He was stronger. More dangerous. Something more than human.
Who would willingly give that up?
…Who would choose to become nothing again?
But those words tasted just as bitter to Victor.
He watched Karl carefully, regret flickering across his expression.
“Karl… I didn’t mean it like that.”
A pause.
“I just… I got nervous.”
Karl frowned slightly, listening.
“…And I should tell you why.”
He nodded, silently urging him to continue.
“…I could do it,” Victor admitted quietly. “The surgery.”
Karl’s breath hitched.
“But like any procedure… there are risks.” Victor swallowed, his throat tightening.
The words he wanted to say—I don’t want you to die—caught and refused to come out.
The serpent of a man, always so composed, froze in place instead—forcing the emotion back down where it belonged.
But Karl understood.
For once… he understood.
And the realization made his chest ache.
Without thinking, he leaned into Victor, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders.
Victor didn’t hesitate.
He pulled him close in return—holding him tighter than he ever had before, a single tear slipping free despite himself.
“Please…” Victor whispered, voice breaking. “Don’t ever ask me that again.”
His grip tightened.
“I don’t care about anyone else—but you… you—”
A breath, sharp and uneven.
“Damn it, I love you, you idiot.”
Karl let out a quiet laugh against him, holding him just as tightly—something warm and unfamiliar blooming in his chest.
Regret.
And something else…
Something he was only just beginning to understand.
“…I love you too.”
A small pause.
“…Idiot.”
( HERE ! i did it ! Now time for bed :,) ! )
Sorry friends and fellow ~ yesterday wasnt a good day ;w;
I didnt had the Time to write the part 2 of the Gideonberg ‘’ Surgery ‘’ story
I will try tonight
( Small story short : i hurted my coccyx and i couldnt sit or tolerate myself + that time of the month … so yeah ;w; )
Something i had in my Mind this morning after the coffee finally hit the brain
Lets go my Gideonberg minions ~ mama is serving breakfast !
🩻 The Surgery 🩻
Karl talks …
He keeps talking — about it.
About the parasite latched onto his spine.
The thing that made him into… this.
The thing that gave him control over metal.
The thing that slowed his aging.
The thing that made him stronger than he was ever meant to be.
Victor listens.
or at least, he pretends to …
His eyes never leave the scattered documents on his desk. Elpis. His work. His obsession.
Victor has always been able to do two things at once.
Until now. Because Karl stops.
And what he says next—
Victor doesn’t see it coming.
And worse… he never wanted to hear it.
“…Do you think… you could remove it? If I asked you to.”
Everything freezes. Victor goes completely still, like time itself refuses to move forward. Slowly, he turns away from his research. For a man like him, it takes a lot to shake him. Even more to make him abandon Elpis, even for a second.
“…what?”
Silence.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Unbearable.
“You heard me … Can you—or not?”
Something snaps. Victor slams his hands against the desk, papers scattering in every direction.
“How dare you ask me that?! Do you take me for a fool?!”
He stands abruptly, towering, furious.
“Why would you want to get rid of it?! You’re perfect now! Better than all of them!”
His voice trembles—not from fear. From something deeper.
“You can’t be serious…”
Karl stands too. Now they’re face to face.
Tension crackles between them.
“You think I like this? Having this thing stuck to me ! waiting to take control?! … You don’t know what it’s like to be a—”
Victor cuts him off. Louder.
“DON’T say that.”
Silence crashes down again.
“You are not a monster ! You’re a masterpiece !
You’re evolution ! .”
His eyes burn into Karl.
“Whether you like it or not.”
But Karl doesn’t back down. Not this time.
But before he can speak—Victor turns away, scoffing bitterly.
“And a monster? If you’re a monster… then what does that make me? Eh ? Tell me … ”
His jaw tightens.
“You don’t even realize how lucky you are…
You could command an army with a flick of your hand…”
His voice sharpens, almost cruel.
“And you want to throw it all away—
just to be like them?”
A step forward.
“Ordinary. Insignificant. Replaceable.”
His words cut deeper now.
“Is that what you call a life? Being nothing?”
The silence that follows is worse than before.
Heavier … Sharper …
Karl exhales slowly. Behind his tinted glasses, something shifts. Less anger. More… something else. Something raw.
“You didn’t answer me.”
Another pause. Victor’s voice lowers … Colder.
“…Yes … Yes … I could.”
Karl studies him —but Victor doesn’t let him speak.
“But I won’t.”
And that’s it. That’s the breaking point.
“What?! WHY?!”
Victor turns, final, unmovable.
“Because I said so … And that’s final.”
A beat.
“Don’t ever ask me that again. Now , change the subject… or leave.”
Karl is already moving. The door slams hard enough to shake the walls. A frame falls. A picture of them …
Silence returns. Victor stares at the door.
His expression—bitter.
He knew this would happen.
He knew.
But it doesn’t change anything. His decision stands.
“…idiot.”
He sinks back into his chair.
Removes his mask to let it fall onto the cluttered desk.
A long, tired exhale.
Heavy with something he refuses to name.
Because he has his reasons.
But telling Karl now?
No…Not now.
It would only feed the fire
that’s already burning far too hot.
( tell me if you want a part 2 ~ 👀👉🏻👈🏻 )
Hey, I reallylike your headcanons <3 do you have any 'Victor being a dad' headcanons?
Awwwe thanks ! And i love to think about our snaky man 🐍 a lot ~ of course i have more bread on the table for us all ! Here we go—-
Victor Gideon as a father
He’s not the kind of man who says “I love you” out loud. Not often.But he shows it.
In the way he always knows where you are.
In the way nothing ever reaches you without going through him first.
He’s… intense ( like very ! )
Not loud. Not chaotic.
But controlled. Calculated.
The kind of father who scans a room in seconds.
Who memorizes exits.
Who notices when something is off — even before you do.
You grow up feeling safe.
Not because the world is safe…
but because he is there.
He watches his children more than he speaks.
He learns them.
Their habits. Their fears. The way their voice changes when something is wrong.
And when they break down? He doesn’t panic.
He kneels in front of them, steady, grounded.
“Look at me.”
“Breathe.”
“Tell me.”
He doesn’t raise soft children.
He raises strong ones.
Not cold. Not broken.
But capable.
He doesn’t shield them from everything —
he prepares them.
Because in his mind, the world is not kind.
And if he ever fails…
They need to survive without him.
—-
And … that is his fear …
Not death.
Not pain.
But becoming the thing that harms them.
Some days… he gets distant.
Quiet in a way that feels heavier than silence.
He disappears into his own thoughts, his past, things he will never explain.
And when that happens, he keeps a little distance.
Not because he doesn’t care.
But because he cares too much.
He’s not affectionate in obvious ways.
No constant hugs. No endless words.
But—
A hand on your shoulder when you pass by.
A quiet “good job” when you least expect it.
Sitting next to you without saying a word… just staying.
And in his good day ? He can be goofy too … not in a annoying way . Far from it .
Trying to crack at joke to his children . To be the ‘’ cool dad ‘’ ( and trying very hard to not make it cringe or ackward ).
He checks on them at night.
Always.
Silent steps. Snaking his way to pause at the door.
A look to make sure they’re breathing.
Then he leaves …
Like a ghost that protects instead of haunts.
Victor Gideon as a father is not warmth in the traditional sense.
He is something else.
Something quieter.
Something heavier.
He is safety.
He is control.
He is love…
Even if it doesn’t always look like it .
Victor Gideon picking up his kids on a motorcycle
Because , yes … thats something he would do.
He doesn’t say much… but his kids always know when he’s proud.
It’s in the way he adjusts their helmet.
Too tight. Always too careful.
The first time he showed up at school on his motorcycle … the entire courtyard went silent.
Other parents? Confused.
Other kids? Completely fascinated. His kids? Not embarrassed at all.
If anything — they climb on like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
If it rains?
He gives them his jacket.
Even if he ends up soaked.
