#A tired romanian man speaks his mother tongue

[zevanthsnecromancy]

Seras you absolute muppet head.

[rjshepherd]

4 Lords headcanons - Karl Heisenberg

Karl is my new favorite resident evil character. He’s just so unlike anything we’ve seen before in any of the other games. Ricardo irving MAYBE but he didn't quite hit the nail on the head with the dark humor and likeability. I saw a tweet from Al yang ( resident evil resistance’s director) who said that Karl and daniel fabron would be besties because they have the same style and interests and i am 10000% behind that. You all know how much I love daniel.

Anyway, here are some of my headcanons for Karl heisenberg. Long post under the cut.

So im getting this one out of the way first: i've been canoning karl as jewish since before the whole N*zi discourse started. No reason for this in particular besides the fact he’s german and he reminds me of my best friend who is also Jewish. It made my friend happy so I just decided to roll with it.

I don't think Karl is practicing, or that he follows a particular belief system. I doubt miranda would allow such things and he really strikes me more as an atheist, particularly after all he’s been through. It's mostly a heritage thing, something he might actually be interested in learning more about if given the chance.

Speaking of discourse, that necklace of his is just a trinket. It's not his or even a family heirloom, hence why it's blank. I canon that Karl likes to collect stuff from the junkyards or post war scrap yards around the village. When he was younger he often snuck out of the village to go exploring and brought back things he found to keep or repair, like Moreau’s television or the Half-track motorbike Ethan uses.

I imagine he found a large box of factory reject dog tags and just decided to take some. He strikes me as a “well I'll find a use for it” kind of man. When he got distracted by more important projects, he decided to just wear one. It went with his aesthetic after all.

Also that compass on his necklace is now completely non functional. Karl’s powers have ruined its magnets. He keeps it for aesthetic and sentimentality, yes but he also likes to use it to check his power levels, the faster it spins the stronger he’s getting.

Despite mostly collecting Junk that he can use or repair, Karl also likes to find intact things. He can be a bit like a magpie, taking things he just finds cool or aesthetically pleasing. He had a room much like Ariel from the little mermaid, filled with stuff from the outside world. Unfortunately, much like Ariel, his treasure trove was destroyed by Miranda when she discovered it. Thankfully though, she never tied it back to him. He’s sad that it’s all gone but is too afraid to start collecting again, lest it get destroyed once more.

His favorite things to collect are tokens from Germany. Things from the DDR, Metal figurines, war medals, pins and old money are his favorites but he also has a few old toys ( like train sets) and even has a piece of the Berlin wall in his collection.

He’s not fussed on war memorabilia. He has no use for it, prefering to take scrap leftovers so he can make something new from it.

He can't speak german unfortunately. Maybe a few words here and there but nothing substantial. He was able to speak it as a child, but since Miranda raised him to speak English, he lost more of his mother tongue the older he got. He can speak some basic romanian, mostly for communicating with people just outside the village or trading for scrap but he’s far from fluent.

He can , however, speak decent sign language.

Miranda was a terrible english teacher. I'm very surprised Karl doesnt have more of a stutter. As a child, when he spoke german, she would hit him and if he spoke english incorrectly, she would berate him in front of others.

Speaking of stutters, Karl has mostly grown out of his, but when he is tired, frustrated or nervous for whatever reason, it comes back .

He’s trying to teach himself german again as an adult but he has little time for it. His german books are gathering dust in some forgotten corner of the factory while he works on his plans for revenge.

In his very rare moments of free time , he can usually be found either reading, listening to LPs or tinkering. His favorite books are , unsurprisingly, Science fiction but he also likes crime novels as well as technical manuals.

Given that Karl enjoys collecting things, I believe he likes to create collectibles too. I can see him making a series of little metal sculptures to have around his factory. They're only small, he doesn't like to waste precious scrap on frivolous things.

Despite his family crest being based on a knight, Karl isn't fond of chess. He can play, but he just doesn't have the patience for it. Not to mention all the other lords take it far too seriously and are both sore losers and sore winners. Looking at you Alcina.

Additionally, Karl is a little uneasy around horses. When he was a child, one kicked at him. He only got a small scar from it but since then he hasn't been too fond of them. He is able to ride one but would rather walk if there's a choice.

We all know that in another world or another lifetime, Karl would have made an amazing performer. Maybe he would have had a youtube channel for showing off his creations, like man at arms .

He comes across as someone with a bombastic personality, someone who likes being the center of attention. Part of that is the lack of attention given to him as a child but more so his lack of self esteem. His confidence is all surface level; he fears rejection and is perhaps even more self conscious about what Miranda has done to him than Moreau, although he hides it better.

Behind closed doors he’s a very quiet introverted man. He prefers his own company and has gotten to the point where he even finds meetings with the lords draining. He's not shy like donna nor does he purposely lock himself away but if another lord came to his factory he would absolutely pretend not to be in.

Karl suffers from severe nightmares as a result of what Miranda has put him through. He often doesn't sleep for days at a time, only to collapse when the exhaustion becomes too much.

I know we all canon karl as a lycan and an outdoorsy type. I write him that way a lot because it's what people seem to like, but it's not actually how I envision him. To me, he’s sort of a stay inside type. He rarely leaves the factory and has little interest in hunting or survivalism or even in the lycans .

That’s not to say he’s bad at these things. He’s skilled at tracking, hunting and surviving off the land, but he would prefer to remain at his factory with electricity and indoor plumbing.

Speaking of hunting, Karl prefers not to use guns. Ammo is at a premium in the village, not to mention very loud. He is far more accurate and silent when just using magnet controlled knives or scrap to kill his targets. For bigger targets, or when he wants to make a statement, he’ll use his hammer but it is mostly for show.

He’s kind of a nerd to me. His background is in mechanical engineering, but by the time of re8 he’s branched out to electrical engineering and biomechanical engineering too. He’s a rough and tumble hands on kinda guy but he’s also surprisingly delicate when he needs to be, with an eye for detail and a genius mind.

I canon he has some medical training. I know he’s based on Dr Frankenstein but I very much doubt Karl has the patience or training of a medical doctor. I'm thinking more like EMT, First-aider or maybe a combat medic? I don't think he’s ever been to war or even ever enlisted, but it's possible someone from the village is a veteran and was able to pass on their knowledge to him.

Aside from the medical training, he is entirely self taught.

He really has little to do with the Lycan pack. They're too dumb for his purposes, too hard to organize and worse of all, loyal to Miranda. He can direct them, probably better than any of the other lords , but he tends to stay away from them unless he needs something to test his soldat against.

He rarely leaves the factory except for the above headcanon, lord meetings and getting parts for his experiments ( either scrap or dead bodies). He despises the cold of the village in winter and the insane amounts of pollen in the summer

I don't think Karl was ever fully brainwashed by Miranda. He is an incredibly stubborn individual and is skilled at pretending, charming and manipulating. I believe he had miranda fooled or at least they reached a point where he had certain freedoms or she didn't care to rein him in because she saw him as little threat. Alcina has never been fooled by his act.

His favorite food is anything from a german deli. He would love to go to the KaDeWe some day and try all of the deli’s there.

Karl has the biggest sweet tooth out of all the lords, even over donna who practically lives on cakes. He metabolises energy very quickly, particularly when he’s generating electricity himself for his experiments. Virtually all his favorite sweets are from Germany: black forest cake, gummy bears, Berliners , marzipan and stollen to name just a few

what else? Man loves his carbs, definitely the type of person to fill up on bread before a meal and take a few more rolls home with him for good measure.

He doesn't have a least favorite food to be honest. He’ll eat pretty much anything you put in front of him and always tells you how much he enjoyed his meal. I canon miranda used to starve her experiments as punishment, so he’s always grateful for food. I think he might turn his nose up at Liver however. It's not the taste or even the texture, but with its incredibly high iron content he swears he can feel it moving around in his stomach when he uses his magnet powers. Whether that's true or just psychosomatic is unknown.

Karl doesn't drink often but when he does, he drinks a lot in one go. He has a terrible habit of mixing beer and spirits and spending the rest of the week regretting his poor decisions. He likes German beer, obviously, as well as polish and russian vodka and the occasional drink of expensive whiskey. He really , really doesn't like jagermeister. He says it tastes like cough syrup left in the sun.

He’s sort of a sloppy drunk. Lots of singing and dancing on the villagers tables and getting carried away. One of the (many) reasons Alcina doesn't get on with him is that he lacks decorum when drinking and prefers to party or drink with others ( like the villagers) rather than have a “sophisticated” drink after dinner.

Alcina invited him to a wine tasting once, forgetting to mention you aren't actually meant to swallow the wine. Karl didn't get this memo and now feels quite nauseous when presented with red wine. Alcina had to throw out her favorite rug after he left.

Sexuality headcanon? Hmmm well much like the others, i don't hold a particular one as true. I tend to treat most of my characters as fluid so I can write them for anyone. If absolutely pressed i would say he's got some strong bi/pan vibes. He flirts shamelessly with anyone and everyone but the moment it actually goes anywhere or someone reciprocates he starts to malfunction and forgets how to talk or act like a human.

Karl has no love for any of the other lords. Looking at them and how brainwashed they still are makes him uncomfortable. That being said, he still feels a great deal of pity for them. I canon Donna was the last infected, I imagine Karl may have tried to prevent this without giving himself away to miranda. He carries a lot of guilt around for not being able to prevent another child becoming like him. Moreau disgusts him, both physically and morally but he still cant help but pity the creature he’s become. I hc Moreau used to be a doctor, an intelligent and respected man who actually gave a shit about the village. These days Karl finds it hard to look past his grotesque form and even more disgusting devotion to miranda.

As for alcina? In some way’s hes a little jealous of her. He hates that she got to live a normal life and still threw it away to come to the village. She’s still one of Miranda's playthings but she takes an absurd kind of pride in being their abuser's favorite that he just doesn't understand. He does pity her at the end of the day but that pity is buried under a lot of animosity and dislike.

When he was a bit younger, maybe a teenager, he had a habit of pulling his hat down over his face when embarrassed.

He’s a very fidgety person, although not as bad as daniela. He has plenty of fidget toys to play with while he works, sometimes they help him think or concentrate. Others are just to keep his hands occupied so he doesn't scratch at his scars.

Karl is very good with his hands, he always has something to keep them occupied. He likes to roll his own cigarettes and cigars. His favorite cigars are cuban, imported by the duke but he saves those for special occasions. He chain smokes regular cigarettes when he’s stressed but usually only smokes a few a day.

He’s ambidextrous, he writes with his right and does most other things with his left.

Like most of the lords, he's very good at art! He leans more towards sketching and sculptures than crafts like donna or painting like alcina. He’s also really good at sewing! Almost as good as donna! Mind you, he’s mostly sewing himself from the various cuts and scrapes he gets or stitching up dead bodies.

Karl was crystalised like Zoe Baker at some point in his life. Possibly as a punishment from Miranda, possibly when he first merged with the cadou. This resulted in his white/silver hair despite only being around 30 years old. Similarly, he was born with green eyes that have faded to blue/gold as a result of his crystallization.

His facial scars are from fighting with alcina but he has many more that we cant see, particularly across his back.

He can generate static shocks of his own will. He mostly uses this to zap people he doesn't like coughalcinacough. He gets power from thunderstorms but has difficulty with cold and damp conditions as they don't conduct very well.

Scent headcanon? I know people like these for some reason. Karl generally smells like oil and cigar smoke but that's sort of a given. When he’s been using his powers a lot he smells like ozone and damp and when he’s freshly washed he smells vaguely minty.

Animals really don't seem to like Karl. Maybe it’s his mischievous aura or mayne his magnet/ electric powers make their fur feel weird. Birds don't like him because he messes with their navigation and cows don't like him because as a child he liked to run through the fields and spook them. They have very long memories.

wow i absolutely have more but i had to take a step back and think "maybe you should keep some things a mystery". if i over elaborate on him there wont be any room for headcanons will there?

[natashacoco]

In Your Arms

Florian Munteanu x Black Reader

Warnings: Mentions of naked bodies (m/f), slight mentions of depression/depressive traits. EXTREME AMOUNTS OF FLUFF AND FEELS 😭. *None of the pics are mine. Credit to their original owners*

Prompt: Florian comes home from a stressful day of filming and seeks comfort in readers arms.

Inspiration: “All these soft, warm nights going to waste when I ought to be lying in your arms under the moon - the dearest arms in all the world - darling arms that I love to feel around me - How much longer - before they’ll be there to stay? When I do get home again, you’ll certainly have a most awful time ever moving me one inch from you”-love letter from Zelda Fitzgerald to husband F. Scott Fitzgerald

You’re clearing the kitchen when you hear the front door to your boyfriends flat slam shut. Florian had texted you about an hour ago and told you that he was on his way home from a day of filming his latest project.

You hear Florian step out of his shoes and place them near the front door, his gait unmistakable as he walks further into the flat. You wipe your hands on a dish towel as you see Flo walk past you, his face contorted in some strange emotion, not so much as a hello is muttered to you as he walks by.

“Flo, Florian, Iubitul meu” you say trying to get his attention, clearly seeing that he has something on his mind. He quickly turns his head to look at you when you speak in Romanian, his gym bag slung over his back as he turns his whole body to you. His expression is softened, only slightly as he looks at you. His usually vibrant eyes are distant and tired, somewhat cold as they appear to look right through you. You’d never seen that look on him before and are instantly worried.

“You okay babe?” You ask, throwing the dish towel on the counter top and walk over to him. When you near him, you reach up and cup one of his cheeks with your hand and he leans into your touch, eyes closed as he feels your soft skin on him. His large frame becomes smaller, almost timid and meek as you hold on to him. Your black skin a contrasting against his paler complexion as you hold his face in your hand.

“Rough day, I’m sorry Y/N. I’m gonna go shower and head to bed, I’m not really in the mood to talk.” He replies. You couldn’t tell earlier from standing farther away but his eyes are a little red and puffy when he opens them like he’d been crying, and you guess as much when you feel a wetness on his face as you run your thumb across it. You ask if he wants you to make him some food but he replies that he already ate as he walks towards the laundry room to drop off his clothes.

You catch a glimpse of him as he walks into the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. You hear the water running for a few minutes without the shower being started and a strange sloshing sound. Thinking that Flo forgot about the water, you walk over to the bathroom door and knocks softly. You don’t hear a response but push the door open slightly, not wanting the hot water to run out before he gets in. You’re surprised to find Flo in the tub, his arms pulling his knees close to his body as the water continuously filling up as his head turns to look at you. You notice some residual makeup on his body and the faint scent of his sweat.

A chill runs down your spine as you notice the same look in his eyes, a type of sadness or sorrow that breaks your heart. You walk up to the tub, lean down and turn the water off, turning back to sit next to the tub on your knees to be at eye level with your boyfriend. Flo turns his head and watches your movements with indifference, his head returning to its original state as he stares at the wall.

“Florian, what’s wrong? Whatever it is, you can talk to me, you know that” you say, your heartbeat feeling like it’s about to burst out your chest as you reach your hand out to scratch the back of his head. Seconds feel like hours as the silence becomes deafening. “Do you want me to leave? If you need your space, I’ll give it to you, whatever you need” you whisper, not sure how to proceed. Taking his silence as an answer, you begin to get up. Water slouches as his arm shoots out and reaches for you.

“No dragâ, don’t go, please. Can you..can you stay with me a while” he pleads, his accent thick and moisture forming in his eyes. You nod, standing up to strip off your own clothes, kicking them aside. You grab a bottle of Lavender essential oils and drop a few in the tub. Instructing Flo to scoot up, you slide in behind him, placing your legs on either side of his hips. You wrap your arms as much as you can around him as you press your front to his back, him letting out a heartfelt long held sigh. You run your nose up his back, taking in his scent, kissing up his spine as you feel the tension in his back.

You hold Florian, gently rocking him as one of his large hands comes up to rest on yours. Suddenly the damn breaks and Florian begins to sob, his entire body shaking. You press your cheek to his back as you continue to rock him, his sobs growing in volume as you realize this is what he needs at this moment. You reassure him that you have him that everything will be alright and to let it out, anything to help soothe him in this moment. He pushes himself back so he’s laying more on you. Cupping water in your hands, you run the water down his back and chest as the lavender oil begins to work.

“Y/N” Flo says in a hushed tone, almost like he’s afraid you’re just part of his imagination, using his wrist to wipe at the tears on his face. Your strong, intimidating, giant teddy bear of a man was breaking down and along with it your heart. He had seen you cry, both in joy and sadness, never judging or criticizing you. He was always the shoulder you could lean on and now you would be that for him.

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere” you assure him. “I just want you to know, if you want to talk, we can talk, if you don’t, we don’t have to. Whenever and wherever you’re comfortable, I want you to know that I’ll be here to listen to you be it now, in a few hours or whenever” With that, you grab and pour a healthy amount of his body wash into your hands and lather it into his skin, washing him thoroughly from his day and then did the same to yourself.

“We had a scene today that really hit home with me. I used some of the negative moments from my past to help get into the mindset and I feel like it’s finally catching up. It happened when I was getting into the mindset for Drago, but this time I had to delve deeper and now...” he trailed the last part as you’re washing his broadened back. You give an encouraging squeeze of his shoulders for him to continue at his own pace “I just want to make sure that everybody knows that my take as Viktor Drago isn’t the only thing I have to offer with acting, that I’m not just some big intimidating guy who boxes and got lucky. I want to make everybody proud of me, Mama and Tata, my brothers, you” he adds, turning his head to look at you.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding Mama’s calls?” You question, remembering how he mentioned he couldn’t speak to his mother when he was filming Creed 2 because she would know something was amiss with her son.

“Yeah, the last thing I need for her or Tata to do is worry about me. You too. I know that you’re here with me, but lately I feel like I’ve been distant and cold and I don’t mean it at all dragâ. Being here with you and doing this for me, it means more than you could ever know.”

“You don’t have to thank me Iubitul meu” you say, Flo smiling at the use of his native tongue. “I know that you would do it for me in a heartbeat. I know that you’re more than some ‘large intimidating man who boxes’” you quote. “I know that you’re a man determined, someone who loves his parents dearly, who would and could move heaven and earth for those closest to him. I know the serious man, the teddy bear, the giggly drunk, Big Nasty (whom I’m quite fond of), how you try to always constantly give every part of yourself to anything you do. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you and everyday I fall more in love with you than I do now.”

You hug him tighter, both staying in the tub until the water loses its heat and your fingertips are prune-like. Eventually Flo pulls out the stopper and the water begins to drain. You get out first and wrap a fluffy red towel around your body and then wrap one around Flo’s waist as he gets out. Standing there you notice that he’s off in his head again, gently raising your hand you cup his cheek to bring him back to you. He brings you closer and kisses the top of your head, your ear pressed to his chest as you listen to his steady heartbeat.

The both of you do your nightly routines and instructing him to go to your bedroom, you make each of you a cup of chamomile tea. Upon entering you give Flo his cup and sit with him on the edge of the bed. You grab your Shea and Cocoa Butter lotion and lather it on your skin, doing the same thing to Flo as he continues to drink his tea. When you’re finished, you set the empty mugs on the counter and discard your towel on the floor, too bothered to return it to the bathroom or to put any clothes on.

You pull the covers of the bed back and climb in, tapping your chest to indicate for Flo to lay his head on your chest. He gives you a weary look, his large body a contrast to your smaller one. You give him a reassuring nod before he takes off his towel and he climbs into bed, nuzzling his nose between your breasts and inhaling your scent before laying his head over your heart and envelops you in his arms. Both of your naked bodies are intertwined together, your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. You grab the blanket and pull it over your bodies, kissing his head as sleep finally claims the both of you.

[mrs-hollandstan]

Here’s The Deal || Sebastian Stan

Warnings: nothing that I know of, just cuteness

Word Count: 2,542

Author's Note: I'm graduating today! So I had a request for a dad Sebastian and here it is! I hope you guys enjoy and I promise to be less MIA! 💛

My Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

When Sebastian found out that his fiancée was pregnant, he was more than ecstatic. She was so afraid that he'd be disappointed because they were cautious when it came to their sex life. He already had a son; what would make her think he was ready for another? He was over the moon when she told him though.

"Oh gosh sweet thing, your belly is gonna get so big! Gah, I'm so excited!" She'd never seen him like this and it was a little overwhelming for him to be so excited, but she didn't mind. He practically forced her to sleep naked. Just seeing her skin grow to accommodate his little bub had him giddy to see more of her body's changes. Sometimes he'd pretend to be asleep, waiting until her breathing leveled out before pulling the blanket back just enough to see her ever growing bump. He was infatuated with it, and he even got the baby's big brother to love it, constantly sitting little Xavier just beneath her belly, on her hips so he could kiss and hug and coo down at the baby inside her.

And when her belly finally did pop, she didn't know Seb could be more enthralled. He was completely enamored by that point. He didn't care how crazy he looked, running his hand over the bump every few seconds. All he cared about was that his beautiful girl, and the little baby fluttering out to meet his hand excitedly were happy and healthy. That's all that mattered to him.

Finding out he was having another little man was an exceptionally prideful moment. Xavier was a spitting image of his father and he figured their other little man would be the same way. From what he could tell on the 3D ultrasounds, he was kinda right. The little one had a tiny button nose that resembled Sebastian's and for that he was proud. Seb figured if the new baby was anything like his little five year old, he'd be a handful. And from what his fiancée could tell, he was right. The little one in her belly kicked up a storm, especially if his daddy was present. If he heard even a snippet of Seb's voice from an Instagram video, the seemingly sleeping baby in her womb was awake and ready for his daddy to talk to him. And it was ten times worse if Seb WAS present, because most times he had a least one hand over her skin that the baby loved to kick out to meet. Baby was lulled to sleep when his mother would whine and Seb would sing little Romanian lullabies, eventually putting them both to sleep. And that was the prime of his picture taking moments. Getting shots of her sleeping, looking like the absolute angel she is with her bump peeking out from under one of his shirts if he allowed her to wear one.

Around six months was when the nursery planning came about. Something about the way she looked, bent over a table in one of his old band tees, testing paints on a bare wall made him fall for her even more. With her hair tied up in a bun and her face completely barren of any makeup made him realize how in love with her he was. He loved to walk up behind her and caress her bump, complying in agreement with all the things she stated.

"I like the dark blue. What do you think?" He just nodded, gently rubbing her fluttering belly. Kissing the exposed skin of her neck, he just kept nodding,

"I like that one too. It'll be perfect for him." The little squeals of delight that left her lips made him even more happy. The closer she got to the due date, the more she appreciated the bump. Seb constantly caught her laying back in the bathtub talking to her baby, running the steaming water over it. Seb wasn't the only one to get a rise out of their little love. The baby loved his mother just as much and whenever he heard her voice, he grew just as excited. There were numerous times that she'd scare her husband, gasping and making him think she was going into labor only to take his hand and press it over wherever the little one was stretching his legs.

They agreed to keep the names they wanted for their little love quiet until after the baby shower. Seb had his own, and his now wife, had her own. But one day when he let the name that was in the forefront of his mind slip, he cursed himself.

"God dammit darlin. I'm sorry. I know we-"

"Your favorite name is Oliver?" He looked up to find tears in her eyes, her hands placed over the bump almost protectively. He just nodded, his heart swelling ten times bigger when she quietly replied,

"That was one of my favorites too." That was the first time he held her while she cried over something so minimal. So just before the baby shower, not quite what they planned, their little one had a name. Oliver James Stan. Seb was so obsessed with it. He was constantly referring to the baby as Oli. So much so that his oldest son called his step-mother's belly Oli whenever he was talking to the baby. He'd constantly kiss the skin, cooing down at the ballooned belly.

"Good morning Oli." Xavier would cheerfully speak up when the woman walked into the kitchen in the morning, quickly going back to coloring while she walked over, wrapping her arms around Sebastian's toned body, her bump poking him in the back. He'd smile, rubbing over her hands and asking how she'd slept. She, half asleep, would reply with "fine."

The closer she got to the baby being in her arms, the more tired she was. Seb would have to talk Xavier into bringing her breakfast in bed around eleven just to wake her up. She'd just nuzzle further into her husband's pillow, only rolling over when Xavier whined that he couldn't reach the baby. Then she'd lay on her back, still dozing off while Xavier talked to Oli, and Seb mumbled little things to his wife, trying to keep her up. Rubbing over the bump, she'd just groan, trying to turn away from him. She'd fall asleep on the couch almost every day, Seb's hand gently rubbing over her belly, the other hand tangled in her hair, gently lulling her to sleep.

The night she delivered their little one was one of Sebastian's most miserable ones. He hadn't seen the mother of Xavier go through it. For that matter, he hadn't even known she was having his baby. But seeing how bad his own wife hurt made him loathe doing it to her. He knew she was more than ready and more than willing to have his baby. Just to hold a little blue eyed baby boy that she and Sebastian had created together was more than worth all the pain, but he hated seeing her go through it. Hearing her little moans as her body was plagued with contractions was torture for him because he couldn't do anything to help but hold her hand.

"Sebbie, it hurts." She whined, squeezing his hand. He tsked, watching his oldest tuck his thumb in his mouth and practically fall asleep with his head layed over where his baby brother would be for a few more hours at most. Letting her squeeze as hard as she needed, he cocked his head in sadness,

"I know baby, I'm sorry." She just stroked Xavier's dark hair, trying to focus on something other than the pain. It worked for a few moments before she shuddered, squeezing Seb's hand again and again. He just took it, smiling down at his little family.

It only took two hours of her being in labor for Oliver's wails to cut the air. Seb was both relieved and in love, looking over his new baby. Little Oliver, resembled his older brother so much, you could convince anyone they were from the same mother. Sebastian tended to his exhausted wife while nurses cleaned their baby, handing him to his mother briefly. She just held him, sniffling back her falling tears. She was so in love with her new little boy and Seb was in love with them both,

"Congratulations mommy. You did it." He whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek. Only then did she let the tears fall, laughing through them,

"He's beautiful Sebastian." Stroking her hair and looking down at his newest baby, he smiled,

"He's got your nose. I thought he'd have mine but it's yours." She giggled through her tears again, looking up at her husband,

"I can't thank you enough. You gave me the best thing ever and I've seen the way you are as a father. You're absolutely amazing and there is absolutely no one I'd want to have a baby with other than you." He smiled, leaning in to kiss her softly,

"And I can't thank you enough for giving me my little Oliver. He's the best thing I could ask for. You're both the best things I could ask for." Smiling, she leaned into the father of her son. And he could not be more content. Once Xavier was brought into the recovery room, Sebastian was most happy. He had both boys and his wife and he could not be more happy.

"Do you wanna hold Oli, Xavier?" The oldest boy just nodded, sitting excitedly in an armchair and watching as Seb set the baby gently in his lap. He placed an arm over his baby brother, looking down at him through his lashes,

"This Oli?" Seb nodded, crouching down beside his boys and watching Xavier's face light up. Listening to his oldest coo down at his youngest, his heart fluttered,

"Give him a kiss X. Just like momma and I taught you." The little brunette stole a glance at both parents before leaning in to kiss the little one gently. Seb looked up as his wife cooed in absolute love, her own heart fluttering at her littles.

She remembered how crazy Xavier was when she first met Sebastian and him. He was almost two, running around a store and barreling into her. Sebastian apologized profusely, collecting the little blue eyed babe in his arms, but tripping over his tongue as he realized just how beautiful she was and how much he was already in love with her despite having just met her. To see Xavier grow and flourish into the kind and gentle little man he was once a female was in his life. She had such motherly instincts that Sebastian was in love with. Sitting at a restaurant for their first date, feeding the little one bouncing in his high chair even though she had no experience as a mother. She was so caring and loving towards his baby boy that for once, he felt protective over someone other than his son. Her laugh, her smile, all the love she had. He wanted that for him and his baby. He thought they both deserved that at the least. She thought so too.

"Seb?" Her voice was the first thing he heard. But the loud wails of Oliver brought him too. Swooping in, he scooped the little one up, trying to bounce him. When that didn't work, his wife giggled, drawing Seb's attention.

"What?" She shook her head, propping herself up and setting a pillow in her lap,

"He's hungry. Bring him here." Seb felt stupid after that. Of course the little was hungry. Carrying the little blue bundle to his mother, he watched in awe as she pulled her gown down and latched her baby, instantly silencing him.

"Where did you learn that?" She just shrugged, holding her little boy steady,

"I watched some videos. A friend of mine is a nurse too so..." She just shrugged again, watching the little one nurse. Sebastian was seriously impressed by how easy it was for her to do. Normally the hospital had nurses for that, but here she was, wincing every once in a while as the baby clenched down around her nipple. She stroked his cheek, cooing down at her baby.

She'd felt the flutters of her little one in her belly for all those months, but nothing compared to holding the little munchkin. Seeing the project her body had been working on for nine long months was a magical thing and he was even more beautiful than she'd envisioned. Sure he knew he'd look like his father, but to have a living embodiment of the man she loved and her was all she wanted and never knee she needed. Oliver was far past beautiful and she knew that even if it wasn't her little one, she'd be impressed with how handsome he was.

"All done." She cooed, pulling her gown back up to cover herself while Seb hoisted his oldest onto the bed. Walking over to his wife, he stroked her hair,

"I'm so proud of you. You're a little trooper. Just had a baby and you've got so much energy and you're lively and I just... you're amazing." She smiled up at her husband, looking down as Xavier cooed down at his new little brother. She brushed the dark curls from his eyes with a smile,

"I'll do it again... just for reference. If you want another, I'm allowing it now." Seb chuckled,

"Tryin for a little girl?" She shrugged, picking her little one up as he slowly fell asleep in her lap,

"If you want a little girl we could try. I just want more babies." Seb smiled, leaning in to kiss her temple as Xavier nuzzled in beside her again,

"Lets hold off. We have Oli now. Let's focus on him." She smiled, closing her eyes,

"Of course. But I'm giving you my official permission for more." He chuckled, climbing into the bed with his family, scooping Xavier up into his lap,

"Alright love. Whatever you want." Nuzzling into her husband, the woman sighed,

"I love you. I know we didn't plan these babies, but I'm very happy with our little family. There is nowhere I'd rather be than right here with you and our boys." Kissing her cheek, Seb hummed contently,

"I love you too sugar. I couldn't agree more with you. You and these boys are the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't know where I'd be without you." Smiling wider, she kissed him again,

"You'd be fine Mr. Stan. You'd just be depressed." Chuckling, he pressed one last kiss to her forehead before looking down at his boys. He never imagined such a beautiful family. Sure he'd thought about kids when he was younger but nothing could compare to holding them in his arms. He never imagined that he'd call these three perfect human beings home and that he couldn't function without them. He never knew he'd be hopeless without a beautiful woman and two baby boys. But now he knew. Now he knew what purpose he served in life. Being an amazing husband, and father.

[psychokai1972]

The  Boss - Part 14

The Boss- Masterlist

Part 13

CEO!Sebastian Stan x CEO!Reader

Word Count: 1893

Warnings: implied sex

Summary: Y/N and Sebastian are co-CEOs of a successful company. Their relationship is not the best. It’s more a competition than anything. But eventually they’ll have to learn to cope with each other.

A/N: Enjoy the happiness and fluff while it last, because bad things are coming.

The sound of the alarm made her groan, she felt as if the gray phone was inside her head. She rolled over to her side and slid her finger across her phone, the sound stopping almost instantly. She rubbed her eyes trying to adjust to the light and opened one, seeing that her phone screen showed it was 6 a.m. She yawned loudly and proceeded to sit at the edge of the bed, little tasks like this were becoming harder  and harder with the growing baby in her belly. 

“Seb, up.” She muttered into the room, her voice coming out hoarse because of the lack of use. Y/N got no answer, not even a sigh or a groan. “Baby, we have to go to work.” She said again, her voice recovering and turned her head slightly to the side, but Sebastian was not in bed. Y/N looked around the room, but there was no sign of him. She stood up from the bed and picked up Sebastian’s shirt, that had been thrown somewhere throughout the bedroom along with the rest of their clothes, and covered her naked body with it. She found herself dressing more often with his clothes when she was home, they fit better than her own on her growing body. She took a pair of panties and slipped them on. Y/N looked out the window, seeing her backyard covered in white, snowflakes falling from the sky; she smiled to herself, feeling like a child; the perks of living in New York in December.

Walking down the stairs to the kitchen, her hand was resting on her belly, an action she had been doing unconsciously. She found Sebastian there, placing pancakes and blueberries on a plate. Y/N smiled to herself and wrapped her arms around him from the side. 

“Are those for me?” She asked with puppy eyes. 

Sebastian looked down at her and smiled tenderly, his lips resting against her forehead briefly. “Good morning, draga. Yes, these are for you.” He placed the dish on the kitchen isle and pulled out one of the stools for her to sit on. “How’ve you slept?” He asked. “And how’s my boy?” He placed his hand on her round stomach and rubbed it gently.

“Pretty good actually, to both your questions.” She said;it even surprised her that she had a night without struggles, normally baby James would be up kicking her insides or making her crave for food.  

“Glad to hear that.” Sebastian said with a smile crossing his handsome features. “Aaron called.”

“What did he say?” She asked.

“He said that we have five meetings today.” Y/N sighed and lowered her head, already feeling tired. “Take it easy, most of them are with investors for the charity and with companies that want to work with us now that we've gone green.” 

She tried cheering, but the excitement was not in her body in that moment.

Sebastian squeezed her butt cheeks softly as she was looking at herself in the mirror with no more than a set of lace underwear, leaving little to his imagination. He let his hands travel her body, going up her thighs and tracing the outline of her hips. “Do you think we have time to repeat what we did last night?” He asked with a husky tone against her neck, his warm breath hitting on her skin made goosebumps rise on her whole body. His lips brushed lightly against her, going up to her ear and bitting her earlobe gently.

“Mhm, I don’t know.” She spoke almost in a whisper, it was becoming hard to speak as his hands went to every inch of her body; now dangerously playing with the waist band of her lace panties. “ Maybe.” She breathed out as his lips connected on her neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses to her jawline. Y/N stared at them in the mirror, his arms wrapped around her body from behind and his head submerged in her skin. She loved the sight of it. “Yes.” She said in a fainted moan as his hand slipped under her panties, rubbing her wet folds.

She couldn't help it but close her eyes at the feeling of his touch where she needed him most.

____________________________________________________________

The CEO greeted  Aaron with a lift of his head as he walked past his desk to Y/N’s office. Sebastian had suggested numerous times for both of them to work in the same office, that way he could keep an eye on her in case that anything happened; but being the stubborn woman that Y/N was, she turned the offer down always, saying that she worked better if she was alone in the room. And that was  true. But they had their last meeting of the day in less than fifteen minutes and he hadn't heard from the mother of his child in more than an hour. Sebastian knocked on the door in front of him, but received no response. He opened the door and what he found before his eyes made him smile lovingly. Y/N was curled up on the couch sound asleep. The romanian carefully closed the door behind him and with light steps his legs made their way to her, squatting in front of the couch and resting his hands on it for support.

“Sweetheart.” He muttered softly to her, his fingers pulling her hair out of her face. “Wake up.” Sebastian kissed her cheek and saw her eyes moving under her eyelids before she opened them. “ Sleeping at work, huh?I think that’s against the rules.” Certain humor was in the way he talked.

“What are you going to do, fire me?” She asked wryly with a chuckle as she attempted to sit on the couch, Sebastian swiftly assisting her. 

Sebastian massaged her shoulders. “I thought you slept well.” He said, remembering her words early in the morning.

“And I did, but lately sleep is following me around everywhere.” She said with a tired expression and threw her head back, resting it on Sebastian’s shoulder. “This pregnancy and work are really tiring me out.” She breathed out hiding her face in the crook of his neck, his scent filling her insides.

The blue eyed man lifted the corned of his mouth and thought his words through before he let them slip out of his tongue, not wanting to make her think wrong. “Why don’t you take the maternity leave?” He asked shrugging his shoulders.

Y/N quickly lifted her head and turned to him, her eyes narrowed. “I’ll be coming to this office until it comes the time to push the baby out of my vagina or the doctor says is better for me to stay home.” There was again, her stubbornness.

Sebastian huffed loudly and stood up from the couch, knowing that there was no point in arguing with her right now; he would say it again another day, when she was in a better and  more welcoming  mood. “Okay, let’s go, we have our last meeting for today.” He helped her out from the couch.

___________________________________________________________

“But why won’t you just at least think about it?” Sebastian asked once again following her in the darkness of the house to the living room. Y/N turned the TV on, at least now he could see her face with the light coming from it.

She turned at him with a desperate and annoyed look on her eyes. “Okay, I’ll think about it.” Y/N closed her mouth in a tight line and connected her eyes with the ceiling. “Nop.” A loud popping sound left her lips with the last letter.

Sebastian sighed and mentally asked himself why was he even trying; but then remembered why, because it was Y/N, and he cared about her. “Y/N,baby. I think you should give it more thought, I mean, today you fell asleep on the way home. Work is eating you up, stress is.” That was true and both of them knew it.

The woman groaned and sank her body into the couch. “But I don’t want to.” She pouted looking up at Sebastian.

The romanian sat beside her and asked softly. “Why not? Tell me what’s going through your mind.” He held her hand in his, kissing the back of it and rubbing her knuckles soothingly.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek and pressed her tongue against her lips before speaking up. “ Its just, I will be worthless then if the only thing I do is stay at home.” She muttered coyly , her eyes going down to their point of connection. “Besides, I feel that now more than ever we have to be united with everything that’s going on with the company. And I’ll have plenty of time to stay home when James is born, I mean I’m one of the owners of the company and I don’t think the other one will mind letting me stay a few extra months at home with the baby.” She smiled at him.

Sebastian’s expression softened, his icy blue eyes staring at her ruefully. “ Oh, sweetheart, you are not worthless and you will never be worthless. You are the most brilliant woman I've ever met, and you deserve the break of remaining at home these few months before James is here;  because after, we will be both stressed with a newborn that just cries all night long, you need to rest.” Y/N was about to protest but the romanian stopped her lifting his hand up. “But nothing; listen if it keeps your mind at peace, I will still consult you on everything that’s going on in the company and I won’t make a decision without your approval, deal?” He asked lifting his eyebrows hopefully at her.

She bit her lower lip. “ Let me think about it for a couple of days.” She spoke finally making a small smile appear on Sebastian’s features. At least, it was something more than just rejection. “Now, what movie do you want to watch?” She asked.

“Mamma Mia!” He answered excited and took the bowl of popcorn placing it at the top of her baby bump, it stayed there perfectly.

“Hey! It’s not a table.” She argued with a chuckled.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and looked at her. “Please, I've seen you do the same thing hundreds of times.” He said matter of factly.

She shoved some popcorn in her mouth. “Shut up.” She shivered a little, some of the cold from outside was making it’s way into the house. 

Sebastian felt her trembling body and took one of the blankets laying around strategically in the living room and covered their bodies with it. Y/N was laying between his legs and her head rested on his comfortable chest. He was her own personal pillow. “By the way, I forgot to tell you; Chris is going to come on a visit from Boston, remember him?”

“Evans?” She asked not taking her eyes off the movie, she felt him nod. “ He’s a good friend of yours, isn't him?” He hummed this time. “Yeah, I remember; and I also remember him being very handsome.” She said with a shit-eating smirk on her face.

“I feel offended.” He mumbled looking down at her.

Y/N lifted her chin so she could look up at him. “Don’t be, you are the father of my child, not him; and you are the one I choose to have beside me, not him.” She said with a soft smile and kissed his jawline.

It put Sebastian’s mind at peace.

Part 15

MASTERLIST

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[nikopetran-archive]

✘ sfârșitul unei moșteniri.

A self-para dedicated to finding peace, for the first time in sixteen years and the cliff notes version of the path taken to get there.

word count: too fucking many 2,309  featuring through niko’s pov alone: @drewsimon triggers: a few. death mention and the like, nothing too crazy as I said, cliff notes.

It started out like most mafia - based movies. Enter the scene of a man grey with age standing alone with an umbrella to shield him from the rain pouring down from the sky as he stood before two well-decorated gravestones. The names Viviana and Adrian Petran etched in the stone, În iubirea memoriei  1962-2002 already was fading off of the rock. It had been sixteen years since he’d stepped foot in this cemetery. Sixteen years since he faced the life-changing moment that would finally come full circle, and like all good movies, the introduction was left vague and grim. ‘They said you wouldn’t show --- ‘ English, thick and almost broken brought him to turn lazily to look at the speaker. Romanian, suit worn like armor much like the casual pea coat that he, himself wore to battle the weather. “Nu am uitat, vorbesc limba noastră maternă, Draco -- “ His gaze was sharp, and he looked over at the man from the bottom, a holstered weapon on his ankle, his torso, another one in his jacket paired with a knife as well for aesthetic’s sake he could only presume. He knew Draco, slightly older, much more bitter and jealous over the younger more personable Nikolas Petran having taken his place as Viktor Dobrescu’s right-hand man. He wondered if that was where Draco sat now, right at the throne, he wondered if that meant he would have to be removed as well. ‘You look good, vechi prieten ‘ the words were poison, dipped in hot red liquid meant to burn and eventually cauterize a wound he’d never let close and Niko nearly recoiled at the thought of it. By then, his gaze had reached the now stranger’s face, wrinkled, scarred and more tired than his own, he’d wondered when he would get the full head of greys like Draco, but wondered if with such aging came a stronger ability to survive if a fight had come down to it. He was sizing him up, but it didn’t matter, yards away was his brother, his gaze locked in through the scope of a Dragonuv SVU. That was his emergency escape plan though. Right then, something else needed to happen. “So I see you got my message.” His words were still spoken in Romanian, his accent growing thicker as the familiarity of hearing it spoken so...accurately made everything feel like home again. The clouds above them were beginning to pull together, the rain forcing small mud puddles near his feet, yet the two men stood in the empty cemetery, Niko in the middle of his parents one final time and the man he had once known as something of a friend. “Your silence is deafening. Does he want to hear what I have to offer? Or does he think that he will be able to take me out right here, right now?” The space between them was vast, but nothing in comparison to the distance served to protect the spirits that walked around them. In another story, there would be two days of silence, men, and women in masks and costume, living the life of tradition. He wondered if they served coliva at the wake, or if they dressed his parents up in traditional wedding attire or a suit and simple plain dress and he stood before a man who knew the answers to his questions and yet said nothing until finally, Draco spoke up again, “ --- Frate, you know better than to think he would just simply kill you, you were once one of his most trusted. So, tell me, what is it that you have to offer that would interest my uncle?” A wisp of wind flushed through the cemetery, causing Niko to turn back, wondering if it was a sign from another plane of existence, his father attempting to protect his bastard son. It was all moot, his plan already in motion. “We are not brothers, Draco.” he reminded the other coldly, his tone strictly like ice that would have formed if the weather had been just a  bit cooler. “In fact, that is what I’m here for, to offer you my own. You see, Viktor found out that my father had another son.” Another son that paid for the sins of his father, as Niko had years before, and he too, paid with his life. They all suffered now, and Niko wondered if it was a part of a Petran family curse that they remained so....broken even after so many years and a new generation. For now, he would simply continue the ruse, using his brother as a way to force the meeting. It was when Draco spit on the ground that his heart began to pound a hiss of the word mincinos sounding from his mouth leaving Niko emotionless, but seething in fury. So close to his mother’s burial spot, disgraced by God knew what that man’s mouth had been near, he took a deep breath, absorbing the anguish, the fury and directing it into his vocabulary instead, “It’s true, you killed his curvă mistress yourself, from what I heard of the ground, and you messed up --- you left a son alive, angry. This would be the second time for this family I’ve noticed, a habit...I don’t think you would want to keep, hm?” A step closer, his umbrella still held high above his head as he closed the distance wearing the comfort of his own personal weapon on his belt, another up his sleeve. “I’ve come to offer him to Viktor as a truce, a... son for a son, I suppose.” It was hours later and he was on his knees, weapons removed, the cut on his face from an incident in Ukraine reopened as blood formed a small pool on the granite floor he was forced to beg on. This was a position at a time he was used to, on his knees like a servant begging the king for forgiveness, groveling like the weak minded child he once was, but it had been a long seven years of running that hardened his reserve, taught him what loyalty truly meant and also taught him how to lie through his teeth like the silver-tongued devil he’d become. Enter the slow climax of his story, one that had been building for sixteen years when a young Nikolas made an oath to his newest protector, Viktor Dobrescu that he wanted to be strong, to learn to protect those that took care of him which he couldn’t do for his own family. He’d vowed to destroy the one responsible for his parents’ deaths. Sixteen years go by. Seven of them on the run, two of them on and off in Rockford, Illinois where he thought that he was finally able to breathe again without the weight of everything from his past hanging on his shoulders. It was a pipe dream. Sixteen years went by and Niko’s knees were bruised from where the punches hit his sides, a desperate and vulgar attempt at getting information where questions like ‘how do we know we can trust you?’ and ‘how do we know that is really Adrian’s son?’ rang through his ears as the bell chimed between them. He’d learned a trick or two during his time with Equinox, and one of them was how to handle obvious attempts at torture and while they were brutish, the work over left him feigning close to death in a piled heap on the ground. “If I --- “ Blood was pooling in his mouth, he spits it at Viktor’s feet. The man was never afraid of getting his hands dirty, so the rust-colored splatter on his designer shoes shouldn’t have left too much of a mark...until it did. “If I was going to waste my time lying, why would I risk coming back here?” The question came out harsh, his throat swelling from the salt water thrown on him just moments before, “I’d be as far away as anything, living my god damn life.” It was a struggle back to his feet, his bound wrists behind him struggling with the zip ties that left small indents and would likely leave red rings around them for the following days, it would be one more thing on the list of what Melanie would question, and he couldn’t have that, he couldn’t have her worry. No longer on his knees, though they shook with the weight of his body, he stood face to face with Viktor Dobrescu, a man that once seemed so much....taller when he was younger, but now Niko towered over him feigning a weak face and a heavy heart, ‘Where is he then?” it was the question Niko had been waiting for, one that perked his ear behind him as he shrugged a shoulder, the muscle screaming out in protest. “You want to know where he is?” A dry laugh, followed by a hack of a cough that only drew more blood, and he continued, “He’s already here.” It started in the form of an explosion, what was expected to be the downward spiral of the Petran brothers and the flames that surrounded their lineage. It could have ended with a knife that sliced through him like butter, catching him in the side unexpectedly. It was a moment of weakness that nearly brought him down for the count, blood pooling through the shirt he wore. He would be fine --- he couldn’t quite say it as the adrenaline coursing through his veins wouldn’t allow, but ultimately, he would be fine. He had no choice but to be fine as there was a lingering promise kissing the side of his neck that he’d made back home, he’d promised that he’d make it home -- at the very least. All good things were meant to end in a firefight and with Drew safely protected by the church wall, he was able to push backward, a motion for his brother to follow. Viktor wouldn’t have stuck around to view his greatest defeat, his only option had been to run which was ironically what he’d left both of the Petrans to do some time ago. They didn’t speak, two silent brothers connected solely by their purpose and the only time they voiced anything on any matter being when the younger had a needle in the other’s skin, a macabre attempt at stitchwork of a wound that didn’t seem to want to heal on its own. It was the final moment, so they thought, the moment all of the things he’d learned from Equinox becoming useful at that time. A silent entrance, prepared for an all-out assault, he’d found the safehouse, discovering quite easily that as the old friend Draco lay on the ground sputtering blood, his dying words were not nonsense and he gave him all of the info Niko could have wanted to survive, to end this once and for all. It was the perfect closure, one gun pointed between the eyes of the man that ruined countless lives and futures, and the other pointed at the onslaught of guards meant to...protect him. Funny, something Niko wanted to inform his former boss, funny how the tables turned, and he couldn’t help but ask, with Drew on close watch at his side, “Is this what it felt like?” he shoved the nose harder against his forehead, “Is this what it feels like to ruin lives?” Of course, Niko was well versed in that art, Equinox trained him on many things, dodging the truth in his actions was one of them and as Drew also began to learn he couldn’t help but fear his brother would turn into something of a monster as he had become, it was why he didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger --- the only way to ensure that that weight wouldn’t wear on his shoulders. His brother was too young to do something so cold, ironically enough. When the body hit the floor the rest of it was quick, almost...painless in the most cathartic of ways to the point where Niko was uncertain memory would serve, or just that he’d simply locked it away for it to return to him in the future likely in his sleep, as most of his demons would. They were able to end it, leaving Viktor Dobrescu, mob boss holed up in Bucharest, Romania, dead in a cottage, his men all fallen to his side. All else was a blur until the early morning, the sun kissing the suburban streets, his brother pulling up to a gated home, uncertain if that was the right location. It was. Niko’s intel was rarely wrong, and the gates opening for them started an entirely new chapter in everything that they had nothing of before in the form of knocking on a heavy oaken door and a woman Niko remembered well enough to be his aunt. He was.... home, in a sense. The story concludes surrounded by long lost family, welcoming the nephew they never knew they had, elated to see the one they thought they had lost to the toils of their home-cooked war. They were able to sit, laugh and a few of them even managed to cry at the sight of it where times spent in good home cooked meals and promises of other visits hung in the air. He was able to sit with his brother as the sun fell, talk to him as they rarely got the chance to again as it seemed from the beginning, while Niko wasn’t sure this trip would have been the best for his life, it ended up okay in the short run (save the gaping wound that had to be restitched...twice in the making). Both of them were able to go home with some accomplishment on their heads. Niko, and his trek to finally find some peace, and Drew, seemingly to find something he’d never had before, but family.

[eurosong]

Eurosong's ESC '17 ranking and commentary

Good afternoon, folks! The clock is ticking down to the final and it's now about that time of the year where I unleash my commentary on all the songs. I tried to limit myself to a few sentences per song, but since there´s 42, this will doubtless be considered by some as a big read. Tongue in cheek in part but very candid about my views on some of the songs - don't proceed if you don't want to see a few songs savaged. As the ancient Romans said, de gustibus non est disputandum, and these are just my views and tastes.

1 Portugal From which planet did this extraterrestrial talent come and why do his people want to break our hearts so exquisitely? I cannot speak highly enough of these three perfect minutes of melancholy, longing, and yet, at the same time, love and hope. This performance speaks to the soul so intimately. It is a pure and timeless composition that I feel like I've known all my life, but have been waiting all this time to hear. Extraördinary and twelve cuts above everything else in the contest in my eyes. 2. Hungary How I love the fearless Magyars and their tendency to dance to the beat of their own drums, sending things that sound like nothing else in the contest. This is one of the most emotional performances in the contest and certainly one of the most meaningful lyrics - talking about the prejudice he faced as a Romani and the salvation he found in songwriting. The music is a sui generis blend of rap, traditional folk and other elements - and the pure passion invested into the lyrics and their delivery gives me goosebumps. 3 Belarus This is what three minutes of unshackled, care-free joy sounds like. Naviband are adorable, their chemistry pure, and their song is so full of joie de vivre. I feel like I’m out in the primordial forests of Belarus hearing the call of the ancients. 4 Armenia Another nation keen to exhibit its traditional music in curious new blends is Armenia, who this year bring us something that sounds at once distinctly Caucasian and East Asian. A curious mélange of genres and influences make this almost as far as you can get from the tired "Melfest reject" mould. I love the non-linearity of this song, and the æthereal feel that makes the song feel like a forgotten psalm to the gods. Great effort. 5 Iceland If you combine dark but infectious electro beats with some of the most subtly meaningful lyrics of the contest, you get this, in my book, one of Iceland's best contributions to the contest in some time. Svala's song is very personal to her and, through an extended metaphor, talks about struggling with accepting yourself for who you are. A very underrated track in my eyes.

6 Czechia Speaking of underrated, we have the perennially undervalued Czechs sending us one of the most understated and sincere offerings this ESC. Czechia's is a very subtle song about strength in adversity and human connection. The music is very pleasant, and the lyrics are sung with heart. 7 Belgium No matter the disastrous reaction to the rehearsals, City Lights remains for me one of the most unique and meaningful pieces in the contest this year. Whilst last year they sounded like a 90s girl group trying to emulate the 70s, this is year 3000, futuristic cool. There is a powerful minimalism in the lyrics that lets their many nuances sink in. "Are we going to lose it all?" 8 Romania You get instant ESC-snob credit by disavowing this Romanian effort, which on paper - a yodel-rap about breaking away from the 9 to 5 - sounds like it should be a ludicrous mess. But you won't see me doing anything but praising it as it is an instant ray of sunshine in a song. I love how much Alex and Ilinca, an incredibly cute pair, love their song and how they put their heart into each performance. I feel lifted up to the Alpine heights by each listen. 9 Azerbaijan For the first time ever, Azerbaijan stand to get into my top 10. They’re still raising my hackles by importing music from Sweden, but this time they’ve picked a credible and glacially cool artist with a mystifying and dark composition about obsessive love. A step in the right direction. 10 Italy The bookies’ favourite by far, and I can understand why - Francesco exudes cheeky chappie charisma and his song is one that can appeal across generations. Why only 10th then from this bonafide Italophile? I always found the chorus of the song to be very dated, sounding like the theme tune of an early 90s quiz show, whilst the verse and bridge has a much more monumental, anthemic air. I was more able to overlook the repeats of the chorus before they made disastrous cuts and excised most of the first verse and all of the second verse, leaving a song that is still fun, but a lot more repetitive. 11 Netherlands I’m honestly amazed that O’G3ne, a band with such a ridiculous name and a dubious pedigree, are on the cusp of my top 10 this year. They sing songs that are so dated that they wouldn’t have counted as fresh even in the early 90s. And yet, their song has a certain child-like naïveté in its lyrics about their ailing mother that it makes it unbelievably moving. 12 France A nice enough song from France this year, but nowhere near as good as Amir last year in my eyes. What really took the song down a notch was the clunky addition of unneeded, comparatively cacophonous English lyrics, which replaced the existentialist French chorus of the original with some throwaway clichés. 13 Macedonia Some fans consider the Macedonian entry fresh despite its reminding me of 3-4 different 80s’ songs blended together. What it is though is catchy and kitschy in a fun way. I have doubts about the live performance given her scandalous playback in London, though. 14 Finland As Holly Brewer  sang, “I wish I loved you more.” I should love a song like this, but instead I don’t enjoy it as much as I might because I feel they put a distance between themselves and the audience not fitting for such an emotional song. 15 Ukraine It’s no secret that I’m a rocker, but unfortunately, a lot of the rock at the contest has been sub-par in recent years - or has been “rock” in inverted commas. This is not a bad effort from Ukraine, but nowhere near the britrock-inspired heights of Georgia last year. It’s a bit too repetitive for my likes. 16 Latvia Something less to my typical tastes is this unexpected piece of 90s rave revival, a step away from the cool Aminata-penned electronica Latvia has sent in the past two years. It’s a welcome stylistical oasis in a desert of identikit pop ballads, but qualitatively isn’t great, and her nasal, oddly pronounced vocals are an acquired taste which I am yet to acquire. 17 Bulgaria Very nice, relaxing background music but I don’t think of it as much more than that. 18 Ireland This starts out so promisingly with a gloomy and mysterious beginning, but soon degenerates into an early 2000s B-side that was not only rejected by Westlife but also by an assortment of C-list bands imitating Westlife. It’s even complete with the obligatory key change that launches young Brendan into a register so high that it could shatter contact lenses while they're still on your eyes. Yet, I do find some charm in it, and this would be a contender for places 11-15 for me were it not for the god awful last minute. 19 Albania For once, Albania don’t completely destroy a song in its revamp - they maintain most of the rock-ish edges of the original, instead of neutering them like they did with Përallë. As is typical, though, they lumbered Lindita with a bewildering and clunky English translation that takes a lot of my enjoyment away from the song. 20 Germany This couldn’t be more middle of the road if it tried - so it’s apt, I guess, that it has a position almost precisely in the middle of my ranking. Levina was the best of a bad lot in Germany’s insane format of a national final and she soldiers through a song even she seemed like she preferred not to sing. The riff ripped from Titanium is so blatant - and the song is brought down too by some ridiculous lyrics. “Almost a sinner, nearly a saint.” So you’re almost exceptionally holy and almost someone who frequently sins at the same time? *Head explodes* 21 Switzerland An innocuously bland mid-tempo pop ballad. Not much to say about this one.   22 Croatia A man singing a duët with himself, giving a motivational message - to himself. One half in the quivery, syrupy upper ranges of an R&B tenor, the other half in a booming operatic baritone. It’s as ridic as it sounds and yet this Jeckyll and Hyde act is saved from the very bottom by its endearing barminess. 23 Denmark Disposable pop with a shout-sung chorus, albeit by a performer with some charm and connection to the audience. 24 Australia Musically, not so bad at all, but there’s something offputting about a chap young enough to almost be fœtal putting on a drippy voice and ridiculous puppy dog eyes, singing a song of a life of broken hearts and lost love more befitting of an old man. 25 Serbia Serbia used to be one of my favourite countries in the contest. They stuck to their own language and sang songs imbued with Balkan rhythm and tradition... now they send someone sending a poor rip-off of Katy Perry’s Firework. Каква срамота. 26 Moldova Evidently, meme status can open doors and can gift you a return ticket to the ESC. It’s a shame, as even in Moldova, there were better options than this rather misogynistic effort that seems to have been Bing translated, not even Google translated, and which sounds like it was based off a MIDI ringtone. Apparently bound for the final just because it’s upbeat. 27 Austria This exudes that relentless forced cheeriness that makes my blood run cold. It’s such a plim-plom song that bounces along whilst saying nothing. Most songs aim for the top and I can admire that, even if they have no chance - this aims for mid-table mediocrity in the final. 28 Israel Generic dance track with words plucked at random and thrown onto the paper. 29 Norway Robotically cold. Most songs make me feel something, even if it’s annoyance. This just leaves me numb. 30 Poland An oppressive dirge with lyrics that rely on a rhyming dictionary a little too much (rhyming fire, desire, wire and higher in the space of ten words!) and a bizarre song structure with an anti-chorus and no real progression, which make these 3 minutes feel very long indeed. 31 Sweden Predictable, repetitive pop with one of the most laughable performance routines (blokes trying to act “smooth” by doing very silly gestures) and lyrics that read as though written by Jay in the Inbetweeners. Let’s not romanticise uncontrollable lust. 32 Cyprus A rip-off of Rag and Bone Man’s “Human”, but without a message. Instead, some incredibly daft lyrics written by someone who failed physics even in primary school. Hovig likens himself to gravity because he will catch his paramour when she falls - when it is in fact gravity that pulls her down to her grizzly death. 33 United Kingdom Turgid rent-a-ballad delivered in a hammy style with not a whisker of sincerity - compare that with the virtuoso performance of her rival in the final, Holly, who sang like she felt the pain. I’ve been saying since the contest that it will do well, though, but I’m not sold one bit. 34 Spain Many of us Eurovision fans in Spain wasted money voting for other songs in the national final, only to find that the jury - 2/3 comprised of people with vested interest in one of the candidates - was able to override thousands of televoters when it came to a draw. They put the televote’s 3rd place, Manel, first, leaving a considerable bad taste behind. And what for? One of the most inane songs the contest has ever seen, in which either “do it for your lover” (do what?) or “just do it” are repeated on average less than every 4 seconds. It sounds like a homebrand Lazy Song and the songwriters sure were lazy. Playing this on a loop for just 15 minutes could make even the toughest commandos cry for their mammies. 35 Estonia Part of me wants to put this at the very bottom of the pile, but sadly, there are worse horrors yet to come. It’s really disappointing when your favourite ESC country in recent years throws aside a bunch of daring possibilities to represent them in 2017, in favour of something so aggressively bland, a cynical Eurosong by numbers with hackneyed, ultra-repetitive lyrics that mostly consist of entoning “á-a-a-a-à-a-a-a-á-a”, performed by a duo who have as much chemistry as two inert gases and spent most of the time hammishly gurning. 36 Montenegro How does one interpret it when one of the European countries with the biggest problems of homophobia - with 71% of the populace thinking homosexuality is a sickness and where a number of hate crimes have been registered just against people who support LGBT rights - sends such an OTT act with lyrics that are packed to the brim with single entendres? For me, it seems a cynical move. Slavko himself seems a cool guy but the song itself is a hot mess. 37 Lithuania And this is a hot mess, frozen then microwaved, then frozen then set on fire with a flamethrower. Be careful of watching this with pets or small children or they may well end up traumatised for life. Whilst unbelievably sweet in interviews, the lead singer of this act seems like a banshee possessed by demons whilst singing. Her bandmate seems like her creepy “keeper.” They sing a song with about 180 instances of the words “yeah, yeah” and some trumpets that sound like they were taken from Windows 95 sound effects. 38 Slovenia This has to be one of the most overblown and pompous entries in many a year. Omar claims he was waiting to unleash this on the unsuspecting public for over a decade - even back then, this grandiose attempt at a Broadway-style number would have sounded dated. 39 Greece I will never forgive the genius lyrics “rain falls from abooove!” Neither can I forgive the fact that such a completely generic track with lyrics written on the back of a Cornflakes box is probably destined for the final with the help of some gimmicky staging. 40 Malta This song fills me with all the energy of someone who’s been in a coma for 15 years. 41 San Marino Some folk are happy to see Valentina Monetta back for the fourth year. I’m sad to see a talented performer come back for scraps of infamy no matter how bad the song she’s offered. And my god, is this disco rehash fever dream bad. 42 Georgia Georgia is typically one of my favourite nations in the contest, because of their willingness to break away from the mould, to enter things that are very atypical of the contest and often do well with them - like the exhilerating psychadelic-Britrock of last year or the trippy folk of a few years before that. This year, they couldn’t have gone more off into the other direction, into the methane-scented hinterlands of mediocrity.  I find this song disasteful in so many ways. The overt and ham-fisted political nature of it. The creepy music, like the soundtrack to a cheap straight-to-VCR horror movie, which creates an oppressive atmosphere that makes me feel like the music is holding my head down under the ghoul-infested waters of a frigid lake in a winter forest. The ghastly, cliché-ridden lyrics, where “keep the faith” is repeated so many times that by one minute, my faith that the song will ever end is already shaken. Ugly composition.

[paper-moon-pen]

Strigoi Chapter 1

A shattering sound woke me up that morning. I picked up the rock that had flown through the glass in my room. Three letters had been attached to it, I wasn't too curious or concerned about what they might be, yet I trudged out of bed in my robes and picked up the rock among the broken glass pieces. The first letter simply read Strigoi, written in red, a romanian mythological creature my grandmother had told me about. "No, Caulles, it is not the vampire we fear. The children do not cry vampire, it is the Strigoi they fear." so she had said. Apparently the Strigoi were where the idea of vampires had originated from, and were thought to be far more powerful, versatile and evil than the vampires, if anything the vampires served the Strigoi as minions. The second letter had a sentence I could not read properly. There was however one word I knew clearly that was written there, "Impaler.', and the final letter simply read "Leave."

I sighed softly, wincing slightly for a moment as I noticed I'd gotten a cut upon my finger. "Strigoi huh?" I mumbled to myself as I stared upon my finger. A drop of blood fell onto the glass shards below. "A curious thought." I said as one of the maids burst through the door.

"Sir! Are you alright?" said the maid with a thick Romanian accent as she entered the room, staring down horrified at the glass that had been scattered across the floor. She hurried over and quickly began trying to clean up the glass. "My apologies. I'll call for someone to come fix it immediately, please go down stairs and have the nurse tend to your wound." I glanced over at her blinking. I looked down then, and closed my hand with the bleeding finger into a fist.

"No, it's quite alright Angela. It's just a cut. Besides, you won't be able to find a repairman in the village willing to enter this castle. It would take a few hours to reach the next town over. Simply clean the glass and leave it be." I said, stepping over to the broken glass doors. The doors lead to a balcony, overlooking the beautiful lush Romanian village, where I now took residence.

"But sir, it's dangerous to leave it open, not to mention you'll freeze at night, and the bugs will come in and." Angela fretted wildly coming up with a new concern before the first left had out of her mouth. I chuckled softly.

"It's alright. I came to this village to experience a more natural lifestyle, a few bugs and a breeze is perfectly alright. Besides, perhaps a bit of sunlight coming into my room will dissuade the beliefs of the villagers that I'll crumble into ash under it." I said with a jovial tone. Angela opened her mouth to object to my statement, but then simply nodded vigorously.

"My apologies for the disturbance then sir!" she said in a hurried tone, exiting my room. For a girl no older than nineteen, she had already developed quite a few worries with the world she'd never actually seen outside the village. I suppose I should backtrack a bit.

You see, my family has a long and rich history in Romania, always being of a somewhat aristocratic status, even among all the revolutions, my family had always played the part of being a neutral third party that simply held funds and did business without discrimination. Thus we went relatively unnoticed for most of our history, outside of being admired as providers of business and prosperity for a few small villages.

The proud Romanian bloodline split off with my father who'd long grown tired of farm villages, and age old mercantilism. Packing his bags with a few of the family jewels and his wits alone, he immigrated to the United States. From there it was the typical American dream of living an average middle class lifestyle, settling down with his own wife and starting a family. However, my mother was a true American, through and through for generations. Marrying outside the family was rather frowned upon in rural Romanian village culture, and so my grandmother quickly lost contact with my father over it.

I'd amassed a large amount of wealth rather early on in life, sitting financially secure at the age of twenty three, with enough wealth to reasonably provide for myself for the rest of my life. The details of that story and how I arrived to that wealth are not worth going on for the sake of my current narrative.

The point is, just as I had reached this comfortable level of success I received a letter from none other than Angela. I was told that my grandmother had mere weeks, if not days left and she wished to meet with her grandson before she passed on. Apparently, Angela was the only one in the village there who could properly speak English, otherwise my grandmother would have sent for me herself. Angela was the daughter of my grandmothers caretaker, or rather a line of caretakers for that matter. I'd been told that her family had traditionally cared for mine for many years.

When Angela's mother grew too old and feeble, she took on the mantle of caring for my grandmother at the tender age of twelve. It was apparently Angela's mother who had taught my father to speak english and told him of the wonders of America. Angela's mother attempted to escape family life by moving away to the U.S before being pulled back by a sense of duty to my grandmothers failing health. Even as a young woman, my grandmother had a multitude of health issues that required her to have a caretaker.

My father had passed away for quite some time due to an untimely accident, and my mother knew nothing of my fathers homeland, so I had to consult my father's old journals for confirmation about this story. It took a terribly long time, since they were all written in the Romanian language. Nevertheless, his journals had lined up with the story I had read in the letter. So without hesitation, and with a degree of curiosity, I made preparations to visit my grandmother.

Once I arrived in the village, about an eight hour drive from the nearest modern city, I fell for it immediately. The land was so breathtaking, and liberating compared to the life I had lived before. I thought perhaps, I could find freedom and live the rest of my days comfortably here. In the land of my people, in the land my family had owned for generations. The things my grandmother said to me then, and how I came to form my current relationship with Angela is, a tale for another time, yes, one I will address later. In any case, my grandmother wanted me to become familiar with my homeland, and had Angela take me around the village. It was then I fell in love with not just the land, but one building in specific.

At the top of a hill, overlooking the valley and village was a stone castle, it looked a little worse for wear, but I felt a sense of fantasy when I entered, an alluring mystery behind each corner, a place I simply had to explore more. When I had asked Angela the reason for its abandonment, she had told me a former count centuries ago built it as a getaway home, but once Vlad the Third came into power and began impaling the aristocrats, the count fled the country, leaving the castle empty. Naturally, the castle eventually fell under the ownership of the state, giving it the moniker "Castle Of The Impaler." once it fell into the government's hands. From then on, nobody cared to enter, and nobody in the government cared about this rural village off in the corner of the former Wallachia.

A beautiful land, a fascinating castle with a fascinating history, I couldn't help but become enticed by these things. I decided then, that I would completely redesign the castle to suitable living conditions, hire back the servant family that worked alongside my family for so long and spend the rest of my days in this remote village.

I sighed softly, and stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the village wistfully. Unfortunately for me, my fantasy didn't work out as planned. For starters, my father had betrayed the village, leaving it without an heir, and my grandmother too old to produce another child. Even more so, he committed the sin of marrying an outsider. He kept stacking up his sins when he tossed away his history and did not even teach his children to speak the tongue of his homeland or inform them of where they came from. His sins passed onto me, not to mention I inherited the foreign blonde hair, blue eyes and pale complexion of my mother.

Yet! My troubles did not end there.

In this village, while my family was something of the head of the village, it was a typically matriarchal order. There's a saying in the village that goes "Men cannot be trusted to rule. They will drink, fuck, eat and battle the village out of order. It is the orderly woman, who will not kneel to her base desires who must lead." My grandmother took care of all the village affairs, and both the elders and youth came to her for advice in relationships, business affairs, and all conflicts. She was the Great Mother of the village. So while I had resolved to take over the village affairs and become the new head of the town, they would not accept a man as their ruler.

So, a blonde haired, blue eyes, pale, male foreigner who does not even speak the tongue of his homeland arrives, assumes the role of leader without a hint of knowledge about century old village traditions. He then rebuilds a long abandoned castle titled "Castle of The Impaler" and secludes himself within it, taking a young beauty and her family with him.

Of course I am known as Strigoi and a mythological blood sucking creature. To these rural people who have never seen a hint of the outside world for generations, I've trespassed upon something sacred, this result was only natural.

I stared out over the town and bathed in the dawn I'd fallen in love with and sighed yet again. "Really now? Strigoi? I wonder what it must be like to see others in such a manner." After spending a few more minutes to enjoy the fresh air and sunlight, I went back into my room and began to dress myself, in a sort of business casual manner. A simple shirt, dark blue suit jacket and jeans would do for today.

I opened the large creaking mahogany doors to exit my room and stepped out into the cobblestone hall. I did not bother putting on shoes that could potentially stain the velvet carpet. I rubbed my chin in thought, realizing I'd been here so long I'd grown a beard, my hair too now went to my shoulders. "I'll have to ask Angela for a cut later." I mumbled out loud, passing a glance over the knights armor and paintings that were interspersed throughout the castle. "I ought to ask Angela where those came from too, sometime soon." I thought to myself

By the time I'd navigated my way through the large stone castle, I'd found my breakfast along the large dining table had already been prepared. Simple eggs, toast, bacon and tea, all fresh from the village. Angela stood conversing with a male servant.

I gave a nod to both of them, and took a seat. "Good morning to the two of you." I said, taking a seat, feeling a little empty being the only one eating at this large table. Both of them gave a bow to me, saying good morning in their native tongues.

"How goes the village?" I inquired, taking my silverware and beginning to eat the breakfast. The male servant spoke to me for a bit in Romanian, with Angela standing alongside him, nodding.

"Dmitri says that there have been reports of broken windows and mysterious figures leaving scrawled writing across some of the barns and decapitated chickens." said Angela in a soft voice. I raised an eyebrow for a moment, taking a sip of my tea.

"The troublemakers who threw the stone in my window maybe? Or perhaps stones they are getting thrown into my window because of that." I commented. Angela simply shrugged.

"The farmers are shouting Strigoi and pointing the finger to you sir." she said. I rubbed my chin in thought.

"Ask Dmitri if he can draw me a map of the farms that have been attacked. The farmers usually awaken at the crack dawn, and spend two hours after nightfall putting all the animals to rest. Coupled with the strict self imposed curfews here, there's only so much ground a group of troublemakers could cover in a single night. If we pin down which neighborhood they're coming from we can narrow down the suspects from there." I said.

Angela nodded and spoke to Dmitri. "He wants to know if there's anything he should tell the villagers to be aware of." said Angela

"Tell the mothers to keep a closer eye on their children. Tell the farmers I will also personally shoulder the cost of any animals they lost last night." I said

"Won't that provide incentive for farmers to slaughter their animals early?" said Angela.

"Perhaps, but anything like cameras or audio recordings I use will be shunned and ignored by the villagers. If this gets drawn out too long because of that and I don't act to reimburse them, I'll be blamed for this and really "sucking the life" out of the village as it were." I responded, sipping my tea. "Furthermore, pay a few farmers to patrol each of the streets at night. If they really are killing their own animals, the murders will stop when they start patrolling."

"The villagers could be afraid of...working for you sir." she said with hesitance, as if I was going to hit her if she gave the wrong answer.

"Then tell them Dmitri wants to hire them to keep tabs on me." I responded cooly. "If the villagers hear that Dmitri doesn't trust me and wants to hire them to keep an eye on me, it'll incentivize them more. These people will gladly jump at any chance to smear my name"

I finished my tea in a quick sip after that, placing down the cup and standing up after having finished the breakfast. "Furthermore, it will weed out the liars right off the bad. We can mark those who claim to have seen me lurking about as suspects right off the bat." I said, walking out of the dining hall.

"Where are you going?" called out Angela as I began to walk. I waved a hand absentmindedly.

"I'm off to do some investigating of my own. Worry not, I'll be back in time for lunch." I said. Without another word, I opened the door out to the dining hall, and made my way out to the village