#harrynate

[wedontdeservethestars]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Uncharted (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nathan Drake/Harry Flynn Characters: Nathan Drake, Harry Flynn Additional Tags: Drinking, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Harry and Nate are both bi sorry I don't make the rules, First Meetings Summary:

In the midst of a depressive episode/drinking binge at a bar, Nate meets an angel. Takes place after Uncharted 1 and before Uncharted 2. If it wasn't clear, I was heavily inspired by the vibes of "Elevator to Heaven" by Chris Bell.

[catofoldstones]

j0ns@ isnt 100% to me but stans disbelieving in the ashford tourney interpretations now because it didnt fit what they wanted makes me lol now its invalid by having robert arryn when its not supposed to be a 100% recreation, harrold harryn is too much coincidence that it signals sans@'s suitors ,saying the final targaryen suitor died is coping because like Valarr Targaryen, jon also just died the difference is he'll get resurrected

my favourite excuse is "well nobody married lady ashford" well duh its a tourney,it might not even happen in a romantic light more for desperate political reasons the denial is hysterical

Hi anon,

I understand their need to constantly be “debunking” the theory because how dare Sansa have a parallel in another book and thereby be an important character in the series as a whole😤

I don’t think Robert Arryn is the chink in the armour they think he is. With all of Sansa’s previous suitors & Harry, there have been concrete plots to get her married to them. She was officially betrothed to Joffrey (the Baratheon suitor) before the Tyrells brought in Willas (the Tyrell suitor) and were actively planning to spirit her away to Highgarden right under the Lannisters’ noses, only for them to catch wind of the plan (if it can even be put that way) and forcefully get Sansa married to Tyrion (the Lannister suitor). As for Harry, Baelish’s northern plan comes into play which rests on the heels of Sansa getting married to Harry. Not to mention Hardyng is a pretty unknown House to just throw in, dontcha think?

Lysa brings up Sweetrobin in passing, with no plan or even an actual intention to marry them. This is literally never brought up again when Lysa is alive, or even after. The only one repeating any similar sentiment is Sweetrobin himself, who has a crush on Sansa but clearly doesn’t know what it means. So should we take Sweetrobin as a valid suitor? I mean, do crushes count? Because then why not include a whole legion of other Westerosi men who are interested in Sansa and make it a watertight argument. Baelish absolutely wants to marry Sansa, he even asked Cersei for Sansa’s hand in marriage, why isn’t he included? “Because…” yeah you’re there. My point is, the arguments against Baelish & SR are both strong but take a step back to what they have in common, Sansa’s story is leading somewhere else and thematically neither of them fit. One is less serious than the other & thats SR. Be fr with your SR arguments jesus.

Moreover, the Ashford theory and Sansa’s suitors don’t have to be perfect analogues of each other. Hell, we know nothing about Lady Ashford except that she’s 13 and involved in a tourney that was disrupted, and that Sansa is 13 and involved in a tourney that will be disrupted. Man, does this girl have to be named Pansa Ptark now for it to be a valid parallel? Why does George even bother naming his books, he should start calling them the war of the roses and be done with it. Why are we even reading political fiction, let’s just open today’s newspaper. Tf.

And I don’t think I can add anything to the Jon - Targaryen suitor theories that hasn’t been proposed + your points too. We consider R + L = J to be true, first and foremost. The “white guardian”, “dark hair” “the Targaryen suitor being dead” etc etc. In the same vein as the argument above, does he need to be named Jonnel/Jonos now to be taken seriously? Well, he is in another parallel but even that is “reaching” so what can I say? 🤷‍♀️ They’re not going to see what they don’t want to see, but, like you said, watching them jump through hoops and perform mental gymnastics and open a whole circus in the process is truly hilarious lol.

You do bring up an excellent argument, anon, that all of Sansa’s previous suitors have been for her claim to the North, so her marriage with Jon might also be for political reasons. However, the slight exception of Joffrey who was a King in his own right (lmao) exists; which again sort of foils Jon and his actual claim to the iron throne. So I feel that while a political marriage is totally on the cards (solves one too many problems for my liking 😤), Sansa might marry him out of love considering her theme of independence and not-marrying-for-claim. But who am I to say 🤷‍♂️

Lastly, nobody crowned Lady Ashford the queen of love and beauty so Sansa isn’t marrying anyone is sort of funny. Well, Loras gave Sansa a red rose amongst all the young maidens present there, are they a foreshadowed endgame pairing now? Also, how does one come up with Sansa is gonna end up as Lady of the Vale by marrying HH and Sansa is going to end up alone in the same breath?

[pontipines]

Westeros ma sono le regioni italiane! feat:

L'alto piano è la zona di Toscana/Umbria/ Emilia. C'è la cittadella che è Bologna dei poveri, hanno le sommosse politiche,sono ricchi ma si fingono maledetti bohemien. Cersei odia Margaery perché è una maledetta comunista e mette a repentaglio i valori della famiglia . Mace Tyrell è un vero umarell che passa la vita a guardare i cantieri mentre la famiglia complotta!

Le terre del Ovest sono la Campania perché solo il sud™ poteva produrre i Lannister.(e lo so bene io,che sono campana E ho una famiglia di biondi/occhi verdi,me compresa!). Cersei come sopra è quel tipo di donna del sud che siccome ha i soldi e si è trasferita nella grande città si è elevata rispetto ai terroni,ma continua a raccontare i fatti suoi a chiunque come se fosse al mercato di Torrione. Castel Granito diventa Castel dell'Ovo. I Rayn dimorano nel Maschio Angioino e i Lannister per denigrarli li chiamano "Castel Nuovo".

Approdo del Re è il Lazio, per ovvie ragioni. Siccome la squadra di calcio di Robert ha perso il campionato contro la Roma ora lui pretende di abbattere il Colosseo. Roccia del drago è collocata nel Molise perché solo una terra di nulla può ospitare il castello dove vive Stannis Baratheon. Per chi se lo chiedesse: Il Vaticano è l'equivalente del Tempio di Baelor.

Le terre dei fiumi sono la Lombardia perché vogliamo essere geograficamente accurati. Robb è riuscito ad allearsi con loro perché ha fatto leva sui separatisti padani,anche se Cat non è convinta perché "non lo so mi sembrano un po' radicali",e infatti questi si ricicleranno qualche hanno dopo come sostenitori della Westeros unità. Walder Frey ha costruito tutta la sua fortuna capitalizzando sul Ponte Coperto di Pavia, perché si.

Sempre per coerenza geografia le terre della tempesta sono in Veneto. In particolar modo Capo Tempesta è a Belluno. Come con i Lannister:solo la terra delle bestemmie poteva produrre i Baratheon.

Le isole di ferro solo la Sardegna. Un po' per motivi seri (in epoca romana era effettivamente ricca di ferro ed altri materiali simili,sono un isola) e un po' perché mi diverte pensare che Euron sembri parlare in valyriano ma in realtà è dialetto sardo

Umbria e le Marche sono la Valle, perché l'assassino di Jon Harryn può tranquillamente essere avvenuto a Gubbio (se solo Westeros avesse avuto don Matteo)

Vi ricordate quel discorse™ sui siciliani dove la gente non riusciva a decidersi se erano italiani o PoC? Ecco, Tumblr fa la stessa cosa con i Dorniani! Lancia del Sole Castello Svevo lascia le altri regioni di sasso perché "Svevo? Ma questi non erano solo arabi/spagnoli??". Inoltre in HotD Gawayn da del terrone a Criston Cole quindi direi che abbiamo anche la giusta dose di campanilismo

Il Nord manco a dirlo sono Piemonte e Val d'Aosta. Cioè guardate il castello di Fénis e ditemi che non è Grande inverno. Hanno pure il meta lupo sullo stemma lo so che dovrebbe essere un leone argentato shhhh. Gli starkettini sono bilingue e lo sfruttano a loro vantaggio:Sansa a dato della stronza a Cersei in francese e poi lo ha spacciato come un complimento. Pure la Liguria è compresa perché fa tipo l'attaccatura dove si trovano i Manderlyn,che infatti non vengono presi sul serio.

Round Bonus: come aveva suggerito @mircallaruthven ,i Targaryen sono i Arbëreshë,che essenzialmente sono la comunità italo albanese. Loro sono per lo più ortodossi quindi abbiamo anche il conflitto con i democristiani di Westeros. Pure lo stemma è adeguato!

[aivoton-idiootti]

Kaikki on satua - Pariisin Kevät on jotenki nii Harrycoded albumi. Niinkö, okei, etenkin nää biisit:

Olen kuullut merestä: Tää on ehkä eniten pelkkään fiilistelyyn perustunu valinta. Mutta! Veteen liittyvät metaforat tulee kyllä esille pelissä ja sitten on myös unia + unohtamista niiiiin tää on mun mielestä perusteltu silti.

Saari: Shivers ja maailmanloppu fiilistelyjä. Ja sitten referenssei ite siihen pelin plottiin mm. se saari jossa The Deserter on ja kirkossa tanssimista. Etenkin ku siellä on se 2mm reikä. (Tanssi tanssi, älä pelkää, kun kuolema hevosiaan kengittää).

Sytytä valo: Unet on yks mun lempiasioista discos...plus keuhkot mainittu! Ja sit se koko "Mitä sulle on käynyt?" joka sopii Harryn koko juttuun.

Kesäyö: SHIVERS niinkö etenkin tää kohta:

Saapuisi hiljaisuus / Kertoisi minulle / Kuinka kaikki lopulta katoaa / Näen valot taivaalla, ja juoksee / Selässä kylmiä väreitä

Vanginvartijan uni: Amnesia. Tarviiko tätä sen kummemmin selittää?

Häikäisee: Dora/Dolores Dei...yeah.

[lpsgirl109]

Im gonna start hardcore shipping HarryNed and PhinGwen on this account just to make people mad

[filmszeresz]

FILMSZERÉSZ TOP 100 TÉVÉSOROZAT - 75. Derrick

🎵 Derrick fe-lü-gyelő és intelligens társa, Harry🎵 - énekelte Galla Miklós a főcímzenére jó régen már.

De nem olyan régen, mint amennyire régen indult az NSZK bűnűgyi filmsorozat a tévében.

Ki ismeri azt a Hahota zsebmagazinban megjelent viccet a 70-es, 80-as évekből, hogy Derrick főfelügyelő miért tudja mindig a megoldást? — Mert a szemei alatt lévő táskákban van a tettes neve.

Meg voltak ennél jobb és gyengébb viccek is. Társán, a valószínűtlenül jóképű Harryn is ment a poénkodás. Teljes joggal.

Ez a sorozat szerintem azért jó, mert benne van az a tipikusan németes feszülés, meg a profizmus is. Sötétek az ügyek, nem annyira vidám a nyugat-német valóság. Jó sok országba eladta a ZDF, az ORF és az SRG. Ők már nem vetítik, mióta nyilvánosságra került Horst Tappert háborús múltja. Érdekes ügy ez.

Nálunk még tévés főzőcskézni is voltak a főszereplők. Akkori szinkronhangjaikkal, Szabó Ottóval és Gálvölgyi Jánossal is találkoztak.

[harryfeatgaga]

pimppi pimppi kikkeli kikkeli harryn kikkeli!!!!!!

you guys know that song from twitter and tiktok??

I do not

[ao3feed-rarry]

Syöpyneet hulluuteen, pian

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/fpreBXS

by Sisilja

Harryn rinnassa sykkii toivon sijasta hysteria ja silti Ron kuvittelee enkelinsiipiä hänen selkäänsä.

Words: 508, Chapters: 1/1, Language: Suomi

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley

Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley

Additional Tags: kauhuun vivahtavaa synkkyyttä, synkistelyä, Suomi | Finnish

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/fpreBXS

[valencing]

, and for my capstone project, “‘good use of underwear ads or bad use of underwear ads?’: toward a podcast theory of the homosocial,” i will be discussing why jon favreau shortens jon lovett’s name to the single syllable “lo,” while harry enten lengthens nate silver’s name to the four-syllable “nathaniel.” preliminary field research indicates that

[girl-bateman]

Moodboard for anon (INTJ/Slytherin/Thunderbird/Chaotic Good)

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

Aemond Targaryen x Reader: He takes off his eyepatch

Warnings: mentions of violence, scars

Summary: Y/N and Aemond are betrothed in an arranged marriage and barely know each other but there is definitely an attraction. However, Aemond lost his left eye in a fight with his nephews as a child after he claimed his cousin's dragon, Vhagar. He feels insecure about his appearance yet he shows his face to his future wife.

A/N: The style of writing is a little bit different than usual because I try to use vocabulary similar to one George R R Martin uses in his books. Of course, it's a completely different setting, time and universe from the things I've written of before, but still, I hope you like it.

HOTD AND GOT MASTERLIST

* * *

“How have you been, my Lady?” asked Prince Aemond, stirring Y/N from her thought. She looked up from the book in her lap and closed it. She stood up and bowed to her future husband. His eye shone as bright as the Northern Star as he waited eagerly for her reply.

“I’m…” began Y/N and contemplated whether she should tell him the truth or whether this was just a courtesy. “I’m alright, thank you. How about yourself, my Prince?”

“You do not sound quite as well as you claim. Has something happened?” asked Prince Aemond and took a step closer, turning his whole body towards his betrothed. His lips pursed into a thin line. Y/N stared up into his eyes neither focused on his eyepatch nor his healthy eye.

“No,” said Y/N and looked away. “Everything… Everything’s fine, thank you.”

Prince Aemond measured her, not convinced by her words, much less by the tension in her shoulders and her neck. She avoided his gaze unlike this morning when they broke fast together when joy glistened in her eyes, when she embraced him with the warmth of her voice.

“Will you walk with me, Lady Y/N?” suggested Aemond and offered her his arm. Y/N smiled and took his elbow. He smelled of blood oranges and sandalwood and his body felt secure by her side for which she was grateful.

“What book have I disturbed you reading?” he smiled lightly.

“Oh, you haven’t… It’s quite dull, really, I wasn’t going to finish it but have a look if you like,” stuttered Y/N and showed Prince Aemond the leather-bound book.

“The Conquest of Dorne as witnessed by Maester Harryn,” read Aemond.

“It is not the subject that is dull but the writer, I’m afraid,” said Y/N almost as an apology to her Prince. The Conquest of Dorne was one of the greatest Targaryen achievements after all. “He speaks highly of Lady Visenya. She was Vhagar’s first rider, was she not?”

“She was,” confirmed Aemond and seemed to recall something. Light disappeared from his eye and his gaze hardened. Y/N’s heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze.

“If I have given offence, please forgive me, Prince Aemond,” she spoke carefully as she stopped on her tracks. Her hand untwined from his elbow before she bowed gracefully. The ivory silks of her dress whispered in the seaside breeze as she remained bowed. A gush of wind pushed her hair off her bare shoulders where the plain gold necklace with her house’s sigil now rested in solitude.

“You have not given offence, my Lady Y/N, nor could you even if you tried, I am sure,” said Prince Aemond and rose her chin to meet her eyes. His thumb caressed her cheek as he glanced at her lips. Y/N blushed and averted her gaze but her heart beat faster. Prince Aemond took her hand instead and kissed her knuckles. He gestured her to sit with him on a nearby marble bench overlooking the summer garden. Peaches and oranges were so ripe they kept raining onto the bright green grass, the birds were singing late in the evenings and as they turned to sleep, crickets and waves took their song.

“I was reminded of a memory,” began Aemond although he had never meant to share this story with his future wife. But there was something about Y/N’s presence, a warmth, a gentleness, an understanding that one could say anything and be met with a compassionate heart. “When I was a boy, my brother Aegon, my nephews Jace and Luke, they all had dragons. All of their eggs had hatched except my own that was given to be as a babe. It is a Targaryen tradition.

“When we have children,” paused Aemond, “they will also receive a dragon egg in their crib.” Y/N nodded as she tried not to react at the prince’s mentioning of them having children. She understood it was her duty to bare him children, to any man that would be her husband, but the thought always made her uneasy.

“They were training their dragons in the Dragon Pit and I was there too. Mother always said I could still claim a dragon when I would be older should an opportunity present itself,” continued Prince Aemond. “One day, my brother and my nephews told me they had found me a dragon. It wasn’t a dragon though… It was a pig and they strapped parchment wings on its back.”

Y/N felt Aemond’s pain and humiliation as if it were her own when she listened to the story. She was the second child herself and a woman at that which did not sit well with her family.

“I am sorry they were cruel to you,” said Y/N and took Prince Aemond’s hand instinctively. She squeezed it but had not noticed she had done so until Aemond caressed her knuckles with his thumb. His hands were large and strong enough to wield a longsword with one arm alone. They swallowed Y/N’s small, gentle hands like a sea-storm swallows a boat.

“Is that when you lost your eye?” whispered Y/N softly. Prince Aemond’s thumb stopped caressing her palm in an instant as he froze in place.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I understand,” she reassured quickly and took back her hand.

“I lost my eye when I claimed Vhagar,” said Aemond out of the sudden. His hands reached to his head and unbuckled the eyepatch around his silver-gold hair. “I told my mother it was a small price to pay. I lost an eye but I gained a dragon. The biggest dragon in the world,” said Aemond and pulled the leather patch off his face. Slowly, almost fearfully, he turned to Y/N and showed the scar that marked his face. Y/N struggled to supress a gasp at the sight of a big round sapphire that gleamed in the eye’s stead. The setting sun lit a thousand glimmering stars within the crystal.

Y/N reached slowly for her betrothed’s face. Aemond turned away and Y/N stopped her hand. She licked her lips and tried again, this time caressing Aemond’s cheek. She turned his face to look at her but his gaze was still avoiding Y/N until it whipped at her eyes and faced the devil. He did not find it though. The disgust, the despise he expected to see was not there. Instead, Y/N traced her fingers gently across the scar and leaned in ever so carefully. She kissed Aemond’s brow where the scar had split it so many years ago.

[saturnsmidnight]

watermelon sugar; BTS

here’s a blurb of a series I’m thinking of writing with harry and the character acting together in the WS music video and having a relationship from there :)

warnings: none. maybe this is not good because i don’t know how to do it, but i hope you like it.

2020 - WATERMELON SUGAR

liked by yourusername, jefezoff, annetwist and others

harrystyles DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. Practice social distancing. Watermelon Sugar Video Out Now.

sunsalutations CRYING THIS IS SO GOOD

golden.h.s.2 that should be meeeeeee

yourusername it was awesome to be a part of it!!!! congrats ❤️🍉

nevergoutofstyle harry you are hot but this cast- I’M DYING

ephrizzy CONGRATS HARRYYYYY!!! 👏👏💖

annetwist 💕💕

cherrystyles THE SUMMER MUSIC

liked by harrystyles, bellahadid and others

yourusername a little bit of that day because everything was amazing and perfect.

erodasoty I’m in love

maya_s your teenage dreams come true

yourusername shut up

harrystyles 🍉🍉🍉

sunflowervol_hs WHAAAAAAT

tpwkharries he commenting and liking 😭😭

harry_sty0102 it’s not that deep lol

only.angel12 some fans are so thrilled

2021

liked by loveonhs, stylesnews and others

harryupdates Harry & YN/YLN out today in New York! (October 16th, 2021).

lhhgf didn’t she participate in the WS mv?

harryupdates yes!

carolinas13 they are together? like, dating?

ynfan1 nobody knows! maybe they are just friends

harryfan6 started the rumors 🙄

harryfan9 from now on will have pictures of them every day

harryfan3 it’s just a picture, stop being boring

harryfan1 my parents

2022

liked by gemmastyles, kaiagerber, harrystyles and others

yourusername late night talking music video is out now!🌃 Harry, I’m so happy for everything you’ve been accomplishing and even happier to be in it!

ynharrydaily 🥺🥺🥺🥺

harryfan16 i love them

annetwist ❤️🐇

harrystyles I love you.

liked by harryflowers, ynfan8, harryn and others

cinemaharry 2020 / 2022.

harryfan23 they’re so good together

ynfan1 who is the luckiest?

harryfan16 JUST THEM.

yourinstagram ❤️

[lpsgirl109]

I CANT BELIEVE I JUST KILLED JADE A SECOND TIME first It was harryned now this

[sisiljan]

First Lines ✨

Kiitos tägäyksestä @valokki (:

“List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than  20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!”

  Vanha kelpo sanonta kuuluu: kun antaa pahalle pikkusormen, se vie koko käden.

Lester Nygaardin muotokuva (Fargo, Lorne Malvo/Lester Nygaard, Explicit/K-18, 3400 sanaa, lukemaan pääsee vain ao3-tunnuksella)

Morse ei juo siksi että haluaisi unohtaa.

Vaikea vuosi (Endeavour, E. Morse, Teen And Up Audiences/K-11, 1300 sanaa)

Siinä se nyt seisoo.

Rappion tila (The Power of the Dog, Phil Burbank, Mature/K-15, 1300 sanaa)

Baker Street 221B:n olohuoneessa väräjää melankolinen sävelmä, jonka John tuntisi vaikka unissaan.

Tähtikirkas yö (Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock/John, Mature/K-15, 4300 sanaa)

John näytti erilaiselta.

Hänen Johninsa (Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock/John, Explicit/K-18, 7600 sanaa)

Häntä taputetaan olkapäähän, ja kysymys kumajaa väistämättömänä kuin suora valokeila sumun keskellä: Olisiko nyt minun vuoroni?

Heterokromia, heterokromia (Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock/John, General Audiences/sallittu, 500 sanaa)

Kello on kahta vaille kymmenen.

Kimpassa kuksiminen on kasuaalimpaa (The Office (UK), Gareth/Tim/Dawn, Explicit/K-18, 2700 sanaa)

"Et sitten haaveilekaan minusta", Tim huokaa nojautuessaan työpöydän yli.

Vapaata rakkautta hiukan homoille (The Office (UK), Tim/Gareth, Explicit/K-18, 2000 sanaa)

Marokon aurinko on juuri niin kuuma kuin Douglas pelkäsikin.

Casablancan paine (Cabin Pressure, Martin/Douglas, Teen And Up Audiences/K-11, 7400 sanaa)

Sota tekee ihmisistä hirviöitä, vaan Sylvia oli sellainen jo ennen sotaa.

Vääriä juhlia (Parade’s End, Sylvia/Christopher, Teen And Up Audiences/K-11, 200 sanaa)

Big Ben / 08:06 Heräsin ja sain tietää ettemme olekaan rakastavaisia!

Aivot altaassa (Sherlock (BBC) RPF, Benedict Cumberbatch/Martin Freeman, Mature/K-15, 7800 sanaa, lukemaan pääsee vain ao3-tunnuksella)

Kun en ole kyllin väsynyt unohtaakseni vaan juuri tarpeeksi virkeä muistaakseni, tunnen kosketuksessasi ummehtuneen kellarihuoneen isäni ja äitini talossa.

Taas ja jälleen (Harry Potter, Harry/Draco, Explicit/K-18, 500 sanaa)

"Tiedän etten ikinä soita", Sherlock sanoi ennen kuin hänen isänsä ehti edes tervehtiä.

Rahtu lohtua (Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock/John, Explicit/K-18, 6000 sanaa)

Ensimmäinen tekstari tulee hyvin nopeasti paneelin jälkeen.

Sherlock Holmesina olemisen sietämätön keveys (Sherlock (BBC) RPF, Benedict Cumberbatch/Martin Freeman, Explicit/K-18, 7300 sanaa, lukemaan pääsee vain ao3-tunnuksella)

HERMIONE: Aiot siis oikeasti viedä tanssiaisiin kauneimman sinut huolivan tytön, vaikka hän olisikin aivan hirveä tyyppi?

Riikinkukkoilua rakkausrintamalla (Harry Potter, Harry/Draco, General Audiences/sallittu, 3600 sanaa)

Narikkatyöntekijä tuijotti heitä kuin ei olisi ennen nähnyt kahta miestä käsi kädessä, mikä oli naurettavaa.

Ei tarvetta ranskalaisille (Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock/John, Explicit/K-18, 6000 sanaa)

On kohtuullisen tavallinen sunnuntaiaamu ja Ilja oksentaa hotellin kylpyhuoneessa.

Kakomiskompleksi (The Man From U.N.C.L.E., Napoleon Solo/Ilja Kurjakin, Explicit/K-18, 1800 sanaa)

"Okei… mitä sanoitkaan meidän tekevän täällä?" John kysyi viisi sekuntia sen jälkeen, kun he olivat astuneet narikasta baarin puolelle.

Tämä on mitä on, rakas (Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock/John, Teen And Up Audiences/K-11, 4700 sanaa)

Pääni on raskas.

Vain miesten kesken (Harry Potter, Harry + James/Sirius, Teen And Up Audiences/K-11, 2900 sanaa)

Erosta oli vasta kolme päivää, kun John tapasi Harryn meluisassa ketjukahvilassa.

Vuosien jälkeen (Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock/John, Explicit/K-18, 5400 sanaa)

Pohdiskeluja alla!

Tämähän oli todella kiva (ja perusteellinen!) tutkimusretki siihen, mitä kaikkea sitä on viimeisimmän puolentoista vuoden aikana tullut kirjoitettua (uusin näistä fikeistä on julkaistu tämän vuoden tammikuussa, vanhin heinäkuussa 2020). Näistä aloitusvirkkeistä jotkin toimivat ihan hyvin yksinään, kun taas toiset kaipaisivat kipeästi peräänsä niitä seuraavia virkkeitä, jotta tarinan alku kuulostaisi kiinnostavammalta.

Vähiten innostava aloitusvirke on The Office -fikissäni Kimpassa kuksiminen on kasuaalimpaa, koska kellonajan toteaminen nyt vaan on tavattoman mälsää. Se on toisaalta ehdottomasti tarkoituskin, hehee. :D Suosikkialoitusvirkkeeni on joko The Man From U.N.C.L.E. -fikissä Kakomiskompleksi, koska virkkeessä annetaan ymmärtää, että oksentaminen olisi Iljalle tavallista, tai sitten Fargo-fikissä Lester Nygaardin muotokuva, koska kyseinen virke on näistä kaikista harkituin aloitusvirke eikä se olisi voinut mitenkään olla vaikka fikin toinen virke. Yleensä mulla ei ole tapana hioa tekstin ihka ensimmäistä virkettä kauhean koukuttavaksi, ennemminkin pyrin muodostamaan muutamasta ensimmäisestä virkkeestä iskevän kokonaisuuden. Silloin se ihan eka virke voi olla tylsähkökin. Yllätyin tosin siitä, että näiden fikkien aloitusvirkkeet olivat näinkin pitkiä, mutulla olisin väittänyt että mulla on keskimäärin hyvin lyhyet ekat virkkeet. :)

Tägään teidät, jos teitä huvittaa tutkia ja jakaa omia tekstiarkistojanne: @beelsebuttt, @hallahaave, @jossujb, @kapteeniangie, @kellopelisonaatti, @lurikko, @ricolette, @toivomusluu, @vendelaishere, @violasmirabiles

[katacha]

A fiam feltette a millió dolláros kérdést:

A láthatatlanná tevő köpenyt miért csak akkor lehet látni, ha nincs rajta Harryn?

[zelenacat]

Chapter 2- When We Were Young- An Obitine Story

The Duchess was careful the first four months of her first pregnancy, she wore flowing outfits with ruffles and loose-fitting sashes to draw eyes away from her stomach. Satine would appear at state events and cut ribbons, and make speeches on holidays or days of historical importance, and of course, she opened parliament. By now, she had made her political views very clear, she was a pacifist, and she supported the New Mandalorians. Those who were critical of the new Duchess' views claimed she was a shame to her clan, to her War Lord father, and that her sister should be more involved in government. That hurt Satine, but she decided that people had to let their anger out somehow. At least, none of the courtiers had claimed their dissent in her face, though Satine wasn’t sure how long that would last.

In her fifth month of pregnancy, that’s when things got harder.

“Satine?”

Sighing, the Duchess looked up, Khaami had a worried expression on her face.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The Mandalorian Society for Peace would like you to give a speech at their banquet next week.”

Fesma frowned.

Satine rested her hands on her stomach, “That will be tricky.”

“You can’t deny them,” Fesma stated, “you’ve shown yourself to be an advocate for peace.”

“A staunch one at that.” agreed the Duchess.

Khaami huffed, “We need a way to get around this.”

The room got quiet.

“Perhaps,” Satine began, “I could claim I have a former engagement but record a speech?”

Khaami brightened, “That might work.”

“But if you give too many televised speeches,” Fesma fidgeted, “won’t people get suspicious?”

Satine grinned, “Not if we implement my new idea.”

Raising an eyebrow, Fesma asked, “And what would that be?”

“Corsets.”

Khaami gasped.

“Satine,” Fesma sighed, “no.”

“We could work them into my outfits,” the Duchess suggested, “like we did with my coronation outfit.”

“The seamstresses did that.” Fesma corrected.

“And isn’t it dangerous for the baby?” Khaami added.

“I have to take some risks,” Satine swallowed, “I want this baby, but it’s going to be difficult.”

A silence once again descended over the room, Satine’s thoughts riveted through her skull.

“I’ll tell your writers to start drafting a speech then,” Khaami stood, “and I’ll stop at the tailor’s room on the way back.”

“Thank you, Khaami.”

Fesma sighed heavily as soon as Khaami closed the door.

“What is it?” Satine asked.

“This would be much easier if you,” Fesma paused, “if you-”

“I can’t,” Satine’s hands began to shake, “I don’t have the courage.”

“But this will be so much harder.” Fesma urged.

“I know,” tears sprung into the Duchess’ eyes, “but I love the baby’s father too much to get rid of it.”

“Satine-”

“Stop, I won’t have this conversation again!”

Fesma nodded, “Yes, Your Grace.”

In two days time Khaami and Fesma outfitted Satine’s newest dress. It was blue with silver embellishments and a purple sash.

“Ah!”

“Sorry, Satine.” Khaami grimaced.

“Tighter.” the Duchess ordered through ground teeth.

“Satine,” Fesma brought a mirror over to Satine, “are you sure?”

The Duchess turned sideways and stared at herself in the mirror, it looked like she had gained some weight, but it didn’t look like she was pregnant.

“You know what,” Satine gasped, “this will do.”

After recording her speech for the Mandalorian Society for Peace, Satine attended a council meeting with her newly selected advisors. They drew up a list of societies for the Duchess to give speeches at or attend, and advised her on when to hold court.

Looking around the table, Satine committed her advisors’ names to memory and thanked them for their support.

“Of course, Your Grace.” bowed the Prime Minister, Jaru Djarin.

The Duchess waited before all her advisors had left before hoisting herself upward, leaning heavily on the table. Her back hurt terribly these days, and sometimes she had trouble sleeping.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, Satine sighed, some of these days were starting to blur together and she felt lonely. Hopefully that would change soon.

“How did it go, Satine?” Khaami asked, unbuttoning the Duchess’ dress.

“Eh, same as usual.”

Fesma frowned, “Satine, I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

The Duchess’ dress fell to the floor.

Fesma sighed, “You’re not yourself anymore.”

Khaami met Satine’s eyes in the mirror as she undid her corset.

“Do you agree, Khaami?”

The lady’s eyes saddened, “You are a little down sometimes.”

Satine sighed as her corset came loose, standing in just her underwear, she turned and stared at herself in the mirror.

“It’s definitely noticeable now.” the Duchess observed.

“Would you,” Khaami began, “would you like to tell us about him?”

Satine blushed.

Fesma picked up the Duchess’ dress, “Satine, we know you wouldn’t do something like this without reason, tell us about him.”

Letting loose a giggle, the Duchess bit her lip and shook her head.

“Satine?” Khaami asked, shock in her tone.

“He was so kind to me,” Satiine said at last, “gentle and trustworthy, and he even had a snarky sense of humor.”

Satine watched as Khaami and Fesma glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.

“At first we only argued,” Satine admitted, “but then we agreed for Master Qui-Gon’s benefit that we should try to be civil.”

Khaami snorted, “Civil?”

“Our first kiss happened on a ledge overlooking a valley,” Satine smiled, “the sun was setting.”

“Satine,” Fesma sighed, “don’t tell me you’re a romantic.”

The Duchess laughed.

“What was his name?” Khaami asked.

Satine let her eyes fall to the floor, “I called him Ben.”

“Ben?”

“Meaning: mine.” Satine explained.

“Here, Your Grace,” Fesma said after a long silence, “let’s get you changed.”

Once Satine was in her nightgown, Fesma went for tea and Khaami clamored onto the Duchess’ bed.

“So,” Khaami grinned, “have you picked out any names yet?”

“Names?”

“You know,” Khaami crossed her arms, “for the baby.”

Satine opened her mouth to speak, the air recycler went on.

“Well I,” the Duchess paused, “I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Khaami was about to answer, when a vent popped out of the wall. Satine turned.

“Don’t move.” came a growl.

On shaky legs, Satine stood.

“I said not to move!”

It was a man, clearly, and he was dressed from head to toe in rusty Mandalorian armor. The man’s eyes fell onto Satine’s stomach.

“Well, Your Grace,” the bounty hunter sneered gleefully, “you certainly have something to answer for, don’t you?”

“Who are you and what do you want?” Khaami managed to stutter.

 “I’m just here for the Duchess, little lady,” the bounty hunter pointed his gun at Satine, “and if she comes with me I won’t have to kill you.”

“Her Grace is going nowhere.” said Fesma, appearing at the door, tea tray in hand.

Satine yelped as the intruder grabbed her arm and yanked her in a hold against his chest.

“Move and she dies, they’ll take her dead or alive.”

Satine could not let this happen, she decided to try a trick she’d seen Obi-Wan do before, ram your head into that of your attacker. So, she did.

“Ah!”

Satine held up the bounty hunter’s shooting hand and wrestled the gun from him.

“It’s treason to attack a monarch.” The intruder pulled a knife, “They said you were a pacifist.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t protect myself.” Satine spat.

“You sure it isn’t the momma bear instinct?”

Satine pulled the trigger, she was lucky, the bullet lodged in the bounty hunter’s neck. Shaking, the Duchess dropped the gun.

“Your Grace?” a voice called.

Thinking quickly Satine hid behind her dressing partition, a few seconds later a guard entered.

“Where were you,” Fesma shouted, “he tried to kill the Duchess!”

“Forgive me, my lady,” the guard said entering the room, “we were in the middle of a shift change.”

The guard spoke quietly into his communication device before calmly stalking towards the intruder.

“What happened here?”

Satine peaked around her partition, she saw Harryn, the captain of her personal guard.

“This assassin tried to kill the Duchess.” answered the first guard.

“And you killed him?”

“No, sir,” the guard shook his head, “he was dead when I arrived, I heard the shot.”

“Then who-”

“I did,” Satine’s words were rushed, “but in the report I would like it said that I waited for professional assistance.”

Harryn bowed, “Yes, Your Grace.”

The Duchess’ personal guards were so focused over the next few weeks, that when a palace nurse came to them with the news of a missing medical droid, they didn’t look into it, even though they said they would deal with it.

“What are you going to do, Satine?” Fesma asked.

The Duchess and her ladies were sitting in her personal parlor, a receiving room connected to her bedchamber. This and her bedroom were the only rooms where there were no microphones, only cameras.

“I hate to do my father this dishonor,” Satine began, “but I have to do this for the baby.”

Fesma tilted her head, “What dishonor?” 

“I want to claim this child is my niece or nephew,” Satine lowered her eyes, “that they’re the child of my bastard brother.”

Khaami gasped.

“I know people who can fake the documents-”

Khaami’s mouth fell open, horrified, “You know people?”

Satine hesitated, “I’ve heard of people.”

“I agree with Her Grace,” said Fesma after a short silence, “this seems to be the best course of action.” “We’d have to pay them in kind,” Satine stated, “they can’t accept credits.”

“What could we use,” Khaami asked, “jewelry?” “I was thinking of physical monetary value.” Satine confessed.

“So,” Khaami paused, “bills?”

“Yes.”

The Duchess looked to Fesma, who was mulling over the prospect.

“I think jewelry might be best, Satine,” said the lady, “it’s easily exchangeable and has good value.”

“Alright,” Satine agreed, “we’ll pay them in jewelry, but where am I going to, you know-”

“Give birth?” Khaami whispered.

Satine flinched, “Yes, birth.”

Fesma frowned, “It has to be somewhere no one frequents, and it has to be soundproof.”

“The bombing basement?” Khaami ventured.

Satine grinned, “Unconventional, but it might work.”

By the time her third trimester began, the entire plan was in place. Under Satine’s bed lay a stolen medical droid and a bag of missing pain relievers, on her toilette in a mahogany box sat a cheap set of jewels, authentic, but not the grandest thing Satine owned. Finally, if one went into the bombing basement, they would find an old mattress covered in stained sheets and newspapers surrounded by tapestries on the walls and candles on the floor.

“Things seem to be looking up, Satine.” Khaami commented when the Duchess returned from a council meeting.

“We might actually be able to do this.” agreed Fesma.

Satine swallowed, “My advisors think I should marry as soon as possible, make a political alliance and sire heirs.”

Fesma groaned.

“Just when we thought things were looking up.” added Khaami.

“I told them I would consider it,” Satine sat down, hands on her stomach, “but I’m not sure how long I can hold them off.”

“Just until the baby is born,” Fesma assured, “then, once it’s safe, you can marry.”

The Duchess began to sob.

Khaami ran to her lady, “Oh, Satine-”

“I’m still in love with him, after all these months,” Satine choked on the air in her throat, “and he hasn’t contacted me once!”

“Satine-”

“I kriffing hate the Jedi!”

Fesma heaved a long sigh, “How very Mandalorian of you.”

Satine planted her face into her pillow and screamed.

Khaami tried again, “Satine-”

The Duchess screamed again. Then she groaned, sat up, and wiped her eyes.

“You know,” Satine swallowed, “sometimes I question my life choices.”

The Duchess was met with silence.

“Like why, for instance,” Satine continued, “did I have to fall in love with a Jedi?”

Fesma and Khaami shared a glance.

“It’s alright, you know,” the Duchess crossed her arms, “you can answer.”

Khaami opened her mouth to speak, but it was Fesma who spoke. 

“You know, Satine,” the lady placed her hands on the Duchess’, “it’s okay to be upset.”

All at once, Satine’s anger level began to lower.

“I don’t have a heart anymore,” the Duchess began to tear up again, “I’ve given it all to him.”

“That’s alright,” Khaami wrapped her arm around Satine’s shoulders, “it will come back to you eventually.”

“I’ll never stop loving him.” Satine said matter of factly.

“Then the baby,” Fesma assured, “your heart will grow again when the baby arrives.”

Satine nodded, “Thank you, ladies.”

“Of course,” Khaami kissed the Duchess’ cheek, “and now, we must think of names.”

It didn’t take much deliberation for Satine to decide that if she had a boy, she would name him Korkyrach.

“After the warrior king,” the Duchess said, “but we’ll call him Korkie for short.”

“And if it’s a girl?” Khaami asked excitedly.

Satine faltered, “I want to give her a regal sounding name, a hyphenated name.”

“Ooh.”

The Duchess blushed, “I think I like Tyra Satine.”

“Tyra Satine,” Fesma grinned, “it certainly has a ring to it.”

A month later, Satine sent Fesma and Khaami, disguised under heavy cloaks, to a seedy bar in lower Sundari with a chest full of jewels. The Duchess listened in from her room, carefully following the criminal’s instructions on how to spread the news. Then the items were exchanged, three USBs for a chest of jewels. Fesma and Khaami nodded, so did the criminal conspirator, before going their separate ways. Still, Satine was nervous until they arrived back at the palace.

“Oh, thank you,” the Duchess embraced her ladies, “thank you!”

“Of course, Satine,” Khaami smiled, “things are going to be better from now on.”

The next morning, a story broke about the Former Duke of Mandalore, Adonai Kryze, the rumor going around was that he’d had a bastard son who had died in the civil war, and that he’d left a wife and child behind. After a week, the rumors grew so big that Satine was asked about them at a press conference.

“I do not know whether or not what people are saying is true,” The Duchess said solemnly, “I learned of this possibility from the media myself.”

At the end of the press conference, Satine traveled back to her room, claiming she had a slight headache. Khaami and Fesma were waiting for her.

“How did it go?” Fesma questioned.

“Good,” the Duchess paused, “they ate it up.”

Grabbing onto the back of her chair, Satine groaned.

“Satine?”

“I think-”

A burst of water splashed onto the floor and the Duchess swayed.

“Satine!”

Fesma ran to the Duchess and pulled her arm around her shoulder, supporting her just below the arms.

“Khaami, the droid and the pain relievers!”

As quickly as they could, the trio made their way through the less populated halls of the serving corridors down into the basement. The first wave of pain hit Satine two landings from the basement door, it was as if her lower half was burning and decaying at the same time, flaring up and dissipating at the same time. She gasped heavily and faltered, but Fesma held her steady.

“I can’t feel my legs,” the Duchess moaned, “I can’t-”

“We’re so close, Satine,” Fesma assured, “we’re so close.”

Finally, when the pain passed, the Duchess and her ladies continued down the stairs. 

“Please,” Satine whined as Khaami struggled with the door, “it’s starting again.”

The door opened with a creek and Fesma flinched, but Satine yanked her forward as she made her way to the bed. Khaami set down the droid and closed the door, then she opened a metal drawer of steaming towels.

“How-”

“Stolen from the guest freshers,” the maid smiled, “I thought we’d need them.”

Satine nodded, lips drawn tightly.

Something buzzed, “I am Oiyo, the medical droid, what seems to be the problem here?”

“I’m kriffing giving birth!” Satine swore.

“Stay calm,” advised the droid, “and please answer some questions.”

The Duchess opened her mouth to yell at the droid again, but a shriek escaped her instead.

“You are a female of the human species, correct?”

“Yes!” Satine gasped.

“Is this your first baby?”

“Yes!”

The droid turned to Khaami, “Nurse, get behind the human female and support her upper body.”

The maid obeyed, and Fesma began to undo Satine’s corset.

“She shouldn’t be wearing that.” the droid observed.

The Duchess heaved a sigh of relief when the tightness left her stomach.

“Spread your legs, please.”

Shaking with the effort, Satine managed to spread her legs.

“If we have any pain relief,” the droid droned, “we should administer it now.”

Fesma stood, “I’ll get some water.”

Satine whimpered as Fesma sped from the room. Khaami rubbed her back.

“Roll up your skirt, please, I need to see my work.”

Satine pulled up her skirt and clenched her hands tightly around the material, hissing as the droid touched its cold fingers to her inner thigh.

“Contractions are progressing nicely,” the droid stated, “you should begin pushing in approximately four point three minutes.”

Satine groaned, the only thing she could feel was pain.

“I’m back!” Fesma announced, shutting the door tightly behind her.

Satine noticed the two water bottles in her ladys’ hands, and the Duchess began to pray.

“This is almost medieval.” Khaami noted as Fesma hand-fed Satine pain relieving pills.

“That will only ease some of the pain.” the medical droid agreed.

“Still,” Fesma frowned, “We agreed to help our lady.”

As the hours progressed, Satine’s throat grew hoarse as her screams grew more violent.

“What time is it?” Khaami questioned.

“Eleven o’clock on the twenty third of Mae Month.” stated the medical droid calmly.

Satine wailed. Fesma, who was assisting the droid with warm hand towels and holding its tools, ducked her head and inhaled sharply.

“What is it?” the Duchess simpered.

“I can see the head, Satine,” Fesma’s face went blank, “it’s a very messy business.”

In response, the droid leaned down and worked silently. 

“Push, please.” it beeped cheerfully.

Satine squeezed Khaami’s hands like her life depended on it, and after a tremendous heave and seven quick gasps, Satine had a baby.

“Congratulations, you have a son.”

Bursting into tears, Satine held her arms out. Fesma wiped the baby clean then placed him into his mother’s discarded corset. Khaami leaned over the Duchess’ shoulder and dabbed her eyes.

“Here you go, Satine.” Fesma grinned.

She took the baby in her arms and sniffled, cradling her son’s small body against hers.

“Korkyrach Kryze,” Satine smiled, “it’s wonderful to meet you.”

The baby giggled in response.

“Aw!”

“He should be kept in a blanket.” the droid suggested.

Fesma stood, “I’ll go get one.”

“Bring two!” Satine called, laughing.

The medical droid’s innards began to whirl and soon a piece of paper was ejecting out from its stomach.

“Printing birth certificate.”

Satine stared at Khaami, wide-eyed.

“Please input information correctly,” the droid stated, “it is a felony if you do not.”

“A felony?”

The droid handed Khaami the birth certificate.

“We have to fill this out correctly, Satine,” the lady bit her lip, “we could make a fake one and hide this one in the palace archives.”

Satine looked down at the baby, then nodded.

“I’m back!” Fesma panted.

“Wrap Korkie in the blanket,” Satine ordered, handing Fesma the baby, “we have to fill out the birth certificate.”

“Birth certificate?”

The medical droid beeped and offered Satine a pen. Turning her upper body, the Duchess pressed the sheet against the wall and wrote.

Name: Korkyrach Kryze  Date of Birth: 23, Mae, 39 BBY  Birth Time: 11:12

Home Planet: Mandalore  Mother: Satine Kryze  Father: ___________________

Satine’s hand began to shake.

“Why don’t we leave that one blank.” Khaami suggested kindly.

“Something’s wrong,” Satine said suddenly, “it hurts again.”

“Is it the placenta?” Khaami asked, taking the paper and pen from Satine.

The medical droid leaned down and examined its patient.

“Your body is preparing for another birth,” the droid observed, “you’re having twins.”

Satine’s mouth dropped open, then she began to grunt in pain.

“Lay back down,” Khaami suggested, pulling Satine’s shoulders back, “you can do this.”

Fesma offered her lady a quick sip of water before returning to help the medical droid.

“This one’s coming quickly, Satine,” Fesma stated, a mix of shock and fear in her voice, “not much longer.”

The Duchess screamed. Korkie cried, he was back in his mother’s arms now, and Satine was trying not to squeeze him too tight.

Wailing, the Duchess prayed and begged for this to be over soon. Fesma handed the droid a knife.

“One last push, Satine!”

As soon as the Duchess stopped crying, another pair of lungs did.

“Congratulations,” the medical droid beeped, “you have a daughter.”

Fesma wrapped up the baby in the spare blanket and gently placed her in her mother’s arms. Khaami rested her head on Satine’s shoulder.

“Tyra-Satine,” smiled the Duchess, “I think it fits her perfectly.”

Within the next hour, both birth certificates were filled out, and while Khaami helped Satine nurse the babies, Fesma wiped the droid’s memory and began to clean up.