#also i know most of the aides were actually not children

[lets-try-some-writing]

I got the image of the Jack, Miko and Rafael learning to imitate Distressed/terrified Sparkling cries and using them against the decepticons. It’s a very efficient defense mechanism. Every cybertronian who heard them is freaking out because oh primus how is the squishy thing making that noise and I gotta protect it at all costs. The sheer chaos that would ensue as the ‘protect/rescue the sparkling’ programming kicks in full force.

——

The vehicons are clustered at the other end of the room panicking. They don’t know what to do. The human sparklings are looking right at them and making distress noises. The guilt is killing them.

Knockout going “is the car form less alarming?! If I turn into a car will you stop seeing me as the threat?!”

Breakdown is having a breakdown.

Starscream pinned to the wall on the other side of the room having an internal crisis. He doesn’t like this. Make it stop.

Soundwave makes no noise but you can FEEL the sheer distress radiating off of him.

Megatron is frozen. No thoughts, head empty. He’s not moving at all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.

——

The autobots have mixed feelings about this. They’re glad the kids have a way of defending themselves but please don’t do it near them. They’re stressed out enough as it is.

(This might sound kinda dumb but I thought it was kinda funny. Very tired while writing this)

Wait no this is actually brilliant.

The Decepticons never anticipated their long buried parental nature to be used against them. No one did. But they day the human children turned up on the battlefield looking far too confident, every Bot and Con present had the all encompassing feeling that something was terribly wrong. Their suspicions were quickly confirmed when, before the Decepticons could do much of anything to get the relics they were after, Rafael began to wail.

Normally, human screams meant nothing. But there was a certain pitch that sounded so close to a cry of distress from a sparkling that, to warriors who had not heard a sparkling in millennia, it was enough to send them running to help. In this case, the issue was only compounded as the children scattered like mice and started making the same noises. The Decepticons could hardly focus on the Autobots booking it to the relics as they frantically tried to locate the fictitious sparklings calling for aid.

The Vehicons managed to get to Jack, but he just kept looking up at them defiantly. Every time one of the dozen or so Vehicons on the field tried to grab him, blast him, or otherwise hurt him, Jack would chirp like a sparkling and send all of them scurrying back. It wasn't cute to the Vehicons. Having never seen actual sparklings but still having the coding needed to adore them, they looked at Jack and saw a weird frame-walker. They weren't sure what to do about it except try to haul themselves away while also keeping a vague circle around the human male.

Miko on the other hand made it a point to chase after Megatron and Soundwave, screeching like a sparkling about to be shredded. Neither stopped for her, but Megatron completely lost his train of thought every time that screech rang out. He could have been aiming at Optimus with a perfect head shot and he would be unable to fire as Miko's distressed sounds rang out in his audials. He KNEW she wasn't a sparking. His coding wasn't even that strong. But by Primus, hearing her screech was the same as watching a civilian get run over by a bus, repeatedly. Focus was impossible.

Soundwave wasn't much better. He didn't react outwardly, but the slowing of his steps and the way he tried to sidestep Miko gave away his distress. He avoided her like the plague, trying to refocus but being unable to really get far as Miko screamed like a demon. It was a fight against the Unmaker himself to keep Soundwave from bolting over to collect the sparkling who sounded so very upset.

Rafael, for his part, followed Miko's lead and harassed the other three members of High Command most often found out on the field. Breakdown ran screaming the moment Rafael started chirping at him. This was both out of fear of the frame-walker and to escape the inevitable overreaction of his coding. He may or may not have attempted parkour once or twice to get as far away from the smallest of the humans as possible.

Knockout tried to ignore Rafael when the kid chirped up at him, he really really did. But how does one ignore the Cybertronian equivalent of a soaking wet kitten meowing up at you? Simply put: you don't. Knockout gave in and quickly dropped down to try and soothe the non-existent sparkling every. single. time. Rafael pulled his noise trickery. He never fails to panic and attempt to flash colorful things at Rafael to get him to stop. Every Decepticon has since been endlessly disappointed in him.

Starscream, being terrified of things that really shouldn't be there, took the skies the instant the trio began screeching. Nope. Not today Unicron. He'll get the mission done or get the heck out of dodge to avoid coding coming online. He doesn't need empty nest syndrome on top of a crippling case of "I Love Power." He also doesn't need to deal with the horrific mental image of a squishy somehow managing to sound like a sparkling. Nope. Nope. NOPE.

The Autobots are grateful the kids can protect themselves a bit now. But by Primus, they have known NO peace since the kids figured it all out.

[icarusbetide]

i know washingdad jokes are more of a fanon, musical thing but really. i genuinely believe in my soul that historical washington was the type of guy to hear his aides chant "we want mcdonalds we want mcdonalds" and silently enter the drive-through just to order one black coffee, no cream no sugar and leave.

[monsterblogging]

"I know JK Rowing is a terrible person but her books are so good-"

You sure about that?

I mean, just for a start, have you taken a good look at her fantasy creatures lately? A whole bunch of them are straight-up based on malicious and dehumanizing stereotypes about actual people.

Remember the werewolves? And being a werewolf was made into a kind of metaphor for having AIDS?

And you know how AIDS was first associated with gay men? And how conservatives back in the day were claiming gay men were preying on children in order to convert them to gayness?

Remember how Fenrir Greyback preyed on children in particular? Yeah, she put that subtext in there. She was an adult in the 90's. She knew damn well what she was doing.

Remember the house elves? Remember how most of them loved to serve and needed to have a home and a master or else they just wouldn't know what to do with themselves?

Did you know that's literally what slavers in the American South said about the Black people they kept enslaved? Go look up the happy slave myth.

Do I even need to get into the goblins and the antisemitic tropes they're based on? No, folkloric goblins were not gold-hoarding bankers waiting for their chance to stab humanity in the back.

"But the characters are so good!"

Are you kidding me?

Most of her characters are pretty one-dimensional, including Harry. Her idea of making a morally complicated character is giving a tragic past to a bully. Numerous characters are little more than stereotypes. (Looking at Fleur right now.) Literally anybody, including you, can easily make dozens of characters just as good, if not better. (It doesn't exactly take a lot of character designing skill to go, "hey, actually, having a sad backstory doesn't make it okay to bully children" or "hey, maybe I should not base a character on the first stereotype that pops into my head.")

"But the rest of the worldbuilding!"

Sorry, but her worldbuilding is just as basic as her characters. Magical castles and secret passages are stock tropes. Magical people who keep their true nature secret from humanity is the premise of pretty much every White Wolf TTRPG. Most of her fantasy creatures are just common European fairy tale and folklore creatures with shitty stereotypes projected onto them.

I'm not saying "basic worldbuilding bad." I'm saying, you could do just as good, if not better, with minimal effort.

Also there's her magical bioessentialism, where only Harry's abusive blood relatives could provide him with supernatural protection from Voldemort. Rowling thus effectively declared that non-biological family isn't quite real family, and that abusive biofamily can give you some essential thing that a loving, supportive family that isn't related to you just can't.

The Hogwarts houses are one of the most insidious elements of her worldbuilding. The idea of being sorted gives you a little dopamine hit because wow now you have a li'l niche where you belong!

But the actual function of the houses and sorting system and the House Cup is teaching children to see each other as rivals, and ensure that the most toxic views of the upper class get passed on to every new batch of kids sorted into Slytherin.

Hogwarts effectively prepares children for a dystopia where magic serves to distract its citizens from how nightmarishly awful it is. Economic inequality is so bad that people like Arthur and Molly Weasley can barely afford to put their kids through school, casual sadism is just an accepted norm in everyday society, and non-humans are second class citizens. Rowling sorta acts like she thinks this is a bad thing with certain lines she gave to Dumbledore, but in the end, her special boy protagonist becomes an auror; IE, a defender of the status quo. So.

If you've never seen it, Lily Simpson's video goes into even more detail on how the worldbuilding of Harry Potter is actually incredibly fucked up, and how it betrays small-minded attitudes on Rowling's part. There's no separating the art from this artist, because Rowling's rotten values pour out of nearly every page.

Yes, there are many things in Harry Potter that evoke feelings and inspire people, but there's absolutely nothing in it that this series has a monopoly on. You can find those same experiences in much, much better media.

[fairuzfan]

But the other images I had was like a mass refugee camp. So basically at that point in time, two months ago, about 20,000 people had sought refuge both in the hospital and outside the hospital. And these weren’t tents. They’re still not tents. They’re makeshift shelters with bed sheets or plastic bag sheets. The ones outside sleep on the floor. They’re lucky [if] they get a carpet or a mat. There was one bathroom at the time for about 200 people that they have to share. And inside, the hallways of the hospital were also made into shelters. There was hardly any room to walk, and there’s children running around everywhere. It’s important to remember all these people were not homeless. They all had homes that were destroyed. They’re all displaced people that took shelter in the hospital.

So that’s the kind of mass chaos that I encountered initially, and then I was told that every time there’s a bomb, give it about 15 minutes and the mass casualties come. That was the other thing that at the time shocked me: What we’d been seeing livestreamed on Instagram, on social media or whatever, I actually saw myself and it was worse than I can imagine. I saw scenes that were horrific that I’d never witnessed before and I never want to see again. You have a mother walking in holding her 8, 9-year-old, skinny — because they’re all starving — boy who’s dead, he’s cold and dead and [the mother is] screaming, asking for someone to check his pulse and everybody’s busy in the mass chaos. So that was kind of my initial welcoming scene when I entered Khan Younis the first time.

{...}

What I saw — I’m an eye surgeon, an eye plastic surgeon, and so I saw the classic, what I penned “the Gaza shrapnel face,” because in an explosive scenario, you don’t know what’s coming. When there’s an explosion, you don’t go like this [cover your face], you kind of actually, in fact, open your eyes. And so shrapnel’s everywhere. It’s a well-known fact that the Israeli forces are experimenting [with] weapons in Gaza to boost their weapon manufacturing industry. Because if a weapon is battle-tested, it’s more valuable, isn’t it? It’s got a higher value. So basically they’re using these weapons, these missiles that purposely, intently create these large shrapnel fragments that go everywhere. And they cause amputations that are unusual.

Most amputations occur at the weak points, the elbow or the knee, and so they’re better tolerated. But these [shrapnel fragments] are causing mid-thigh, mid-arm amputations that are more difficult, more challenging, and also the rehabilitation afterward is also more challenging. Also these shrapnels [are] unlike a bullet wound. A bullet wound goes in and out; there’s an entry and exit point. Shrapnel stays there. So you gotta take it out. So the injuries I saw were — I mean, I saw people with their eyes blown apart. And when I was there, and this is my experience, I treated all children when I was there the first time. It was kids that [were aged] 2, 6, 9, 10, 13, 15, and 16, and 17 were the ones that I treated. And their eyes unfortunately had to be removed. They had shrapnel in their eye sockets that I had to remove and, of course, remove the eye. There’s many patients, many children who had shrapnel in both their eyes. And you can only do so much because right now, because of the aid blockade and because of the destruction of most of Gaza, there’s no equipment available to take shrapnel that’s in the eye out. And so we just leave them alone and they eventually go blind.

{...}

I was on the ground, I toured the refugee camps, I went around Rafah, I saw, and if there’s an Israeli invasion, I can’t emphasize enough how catastrophic it’s going to be. It’ll be mass killing, mass destruction, because all these figures come in, 50 dead, 100 wounded. But what people don’t realize is, being wounded is a death sentence. Being wounded in this environment with no health care system, completely collapsed, is a death sentence. And the wounded often will lose everybody, like all family members, so they have no supports, especially children, have nobody left to take care of them, not even aunts and uncles. It will be catastrophic. I don’t know what to say to the world to stop an impending invasion. You’ve got to rein this prime minister of Israel in. You got to do something to stop this stupid invasion that he still wants to do, because it’ll be catastrophic.

{...}

I had one young man, about 25 years old, he lost one eye that I took out myself. He spent about five, six, or seven years, basically spent thousands and thousands of dollars in IVF treatment because he got married young and they wanted to have a child and they couldn’t have one. So he spent years on IVF treatment and finally had a baby that was 3 months old. And there was a missile attack by Israel at his home. He lost his entire family, including his baby and his wife and his parents and family. He’s by himself, single guy. I took his one eye out, and he has nobody in this world. He just kind of walks around the tent structures, just kind of walking around with no home and trying to sleep wherever he can.

[zvaigzdelasas]

In the week since the International Court of Justice ruled that the Israeli government is plausibly committing genocide and ordered it to prevent potential further acts of genocide, Israeli forces have only continued committing atrocities against Palestinians.

Buoyed by the staying support of American officials, Israeli forces have killed at least 874 Palestinians and injured at least 1,490 in Gaza since last week’s ICJ ruling, according to Palestinian Health Ministry figures from Saturday, January 27, to Friday, February 2. That’s not to mention other acts of Israeli violence in the occupied West Bank and Jerusalem.The loss of life should not be dismissed as “collateral damage,” contrary to what Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has said.[...]

Backgrounding the atrocities in Gaza is the broader misery the entire population faces. The BBC noted that UNICEF’s biggest concern is the “estimated 19,000 children who are orphaned or have ended up alone with no adult to look after them.” CNN reported that Palestinians are eating grass and drinking polluted water amid famine conditions. The Guardian reported that 50-62 percent of all buildings in Gaza have likely been damaged or destroyed.

Earlier this week, a federal court affirmed the ICJ’s finding that Israel may be carrying out a genocide and warned the Biden administration to reconsider its unconditional support for Israel’s war effort. [...]

The Intercept asked Sen. John Fetterman, D-Pa., to comment on the court rulings that the accusations of genocide by Israel are credible. “I don’t accept that. I reject [the ruling of the International Court of Justice]. I don’t believe that is Israel’s intention: to commit genocide,” said Fetterman, who has emerged as one of Israel’s most staunch Democratic defenders, on Thursday. “I do believe that their goal is to neutralize or dislodge Hamas from that. And I believe that they certainly do not want to take the lives of any innocent Palestinians and I certainly don’t assign higher value to my children versus a Palestinian child. I mean, I wouldn’t want anybody to die throughout all this tragedy, and it’s just an awful situation.”

Within hours of the ICJ issuing its ruling last Friday, Israel alleged that 12 of 30,000 — 0.04 percent — employees of the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East were involved in Hamas’s attack on October 7. The United States immediately suspended its funding of UNRWA, the largest provider of humanitarian aid in Gaza, spurring a cascade of other nations to follow suit.

Sky News later obtained an Israeli document that actually downgrades the allegation to 0.02 percent of UNRWA staff (six people) being involved in Hamas’s attack. Sky News reported that the documents, which allege further ties between UNRWA and Hamas “make several claims that Sky News has not seen proof of and many of the claims, even if true, do not directly implicate UNRWA.”

The contrast between the U.S. decision to pause funding based on unverified allegations and its unwillingness to reconsider its military funding of Israel, despite serious allegations of genocide, is stark.

Fetterman also said that he supports the suspension of funding to UNRWA. When asked why the standard of suspending funding while investigating serious allegations doesn’t apply to the Israeli government, Fetterman dodged the question.

Fetterman: Well, again, it — well, it’s not. We need a full investigation and find out just how much a part of it was about that and how much, you know, the old question: how much they knew and when they knew that.

The Intercept: So you’re saying that for Israel as well?

Fetterman: Yeah, OK, so good, all right, well good.[...]

Reporter Said Arikat confronted State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller on the tension Wednesday. “I’ll say with respect to the charges of genocide [at the International Court of Justice], we believe that they’re unfounded,” Miller said. “We continue to support Israel’s right to take action to ensure that the terrorist attacks of October 7th cannot be repeated, but we want them to do so in a way that complies with — fully with international humanitarian law.”

Miller was then asked about Israel receiving aid even as Israeli government officials call for the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians and maintain good standing in government.

“When the secretary traveled to Israel on his most recent visit,” Miller said, “he made clear that he thought it was important that the Israeli government speak out against those matters and those comments publicly and reiterate that it is not the policy of the Israeli government to force Palestinians from Gaza.”[...]

Two days after the ICJ ordered the Israeli government to prevent and punish incitements of genocide from public officials, National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir and Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich were among 11 cabinet ministers and 15 coalition members of the Knesset who rallied at conference hosted by hundreds of settlers calling for the settlement of Gaza.

On Tuesday, Defense Minister Yoav Gallant reportedly told members of the Knesset’s Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee that afte​​r their military campaign ends, Israel will maintain military control of Gaza, so it can operate similarly to the way it does in the West Bank.

On Thursday, Smotrich said that allowing aid into Gaza contradicts the goals of Israel’s campaign, and that he spoke with Netanyahu, who supposedly assured him that things will change soon. Israeli ministers Benny Gantz and Gadi Eisenkot reportedly called to limit humanitarian aid as well. Meanwhile, at aid crossings, people in Israel have taken cue from their leaders, attempting to block aid trucks from entering Gaza, where hundreds of thousands of people — including the hostages held by Hamas — are at risk of starvation and malnutrition, every day since the ICJ ruling.

One clip even shows a right-wing activist telling an aid truck driver, a Palestinian citizen of Israel, that “I am the owner here, you are a slave here.”

2 Feb 24

[jewish-sideblog]

Clearly, y'all don't care about Jews, and the fact that Hamas is violently antisemitic doesn't seem matter to any of you. So let me go with a new approach, of equal truth and value. Hamas is violently anti-Palestinian.

This past week, Hamas attacked evacuation routes and prevented Gazan citizens from fleeing an active warzone. [1]

They did that because they routinely use Gazan civilians as human shields. Hamas intentionally builds military targets close to schools, hospitals, and mosques, putting soft targets in the way of both incoming and outgoing fire. Hamas encourages Gazan civilians and children to stand on the roofs of buildings they know the IDF is targeting. [2]

Hamas has refused to allow elections in Gaza since 2006. Not just Palestinian National Authority elections, mind you. No open elections for any office have been held in seventeen years. Palestinian rights to free elections and self-determination have been denied by Hamas. [3] (And good luck to anyone who tries to blame that on Israel, because elections were held by the PNA in the West Bank in 2012, 2017, 2021 and 2022. It's Hamas's intention alone to purge democracy.)

Hamas's track record on human rights is appalling. Palestinian prisoners in Gaza face unfair trials and death sentences after being tortured by police. Palestinian women are prevented from accessing the legal systems to escape domestic abuse situations. Political dissidents in Hamas, even ones who merely support the other half of the Palestinian government, have been summarily executed. [4] [5]

Peaceful organizers in Palestine protested Hamas's massive tax hikes in 2019. Hamas security forces responded by assaulting demonstrators, tracking them down, raiding their homes, and detaining them. And, as previously mentioned, prisoners in Gaza are not treated well by Hamas. [6]

Edit Nov.5, 10:30 PM: I forgot to add arguably the most important thing-- Hamas manipulates the humanitarian aid they receive away from helping Gazans and toward killing Jews. 5% of Hamas's budget actually gets used for humanitarian aid, while 55% goes to military use. Construction equipment intended to rebuild Gaza's crumbling infrastructure is used to build a complex series of underground tunnels. Those tunnels in turn are used to smuggle Iranian military equipment into the country. They were also used for human trafficking in the October 7th attacks. [7]

If you actually want Palestinians to be free, you can't just replace Israel with Hamas. But it's not like they're the only option for supporting Palestinian liberation. While Fatah doesn't have an immaculate historical track record, it now operates as a leftist, democratic socialist, secular Palestinian government that fights for a two-state solution. Similarly, Arab-Israeli political parties like the Hadash-Ta'al coalition support leftist, anti-Zionist, and two-state solutions from within the Israeli parliament.

You can and should support Palestinian liberation movements that abuse neither Jewish nor Arab human rights and dignities. Plenty of them exist out there. But if y'all continue to throw your weight behind an antisemitic and anti-democratic terrorist regime, Palestinians and Jews will both take note of exactly where you stand.

[meyhew]

“WHAT WE MOURN FOR THE DEAD IS THE LOSS OF THEIR HOPES.”

I never thought I’d make this post. Any time I imagined a One Direction member dying, I pictured myself weathered and grey. This was an eventuality that wasn’t supposed to be actualized until the boys and I had lived full lives. To have to come to terms with Liam’s death—his perpetual absence moving forward—in my mid twenties feels absurd. I wrote a long thing the day after I found out, so I’ve already gotten some thoughts out. I’m going to try and keep this short. I likely won’t succeed.

Liam was kind. If he’s remembered for anything, I hope it’s that. I know he helped out with food banks in London during lockdown because there were photos of him packing boxes, but I didn’t know until now how much money he gave them. £80,000 without any publicity. And it wasn’t a one-time donation. He kept working with various orgs to help food insecure people. In the week leading up to that unfortunate Wednesday, he gave away thousands to fundraisers—primarily set up to help people with severe illnesses. He’d been part of Soccer Aid for years. He was involved with anti-bullying campaigns. He worked with Rays of Sunshine to make hundreds of sick children happy. Over the years, he also donated to nonprofits that help children in Gaza and other places. The T-shirt he designed for Choose Love has garnered nearly £200,000; Choose Love has been working with the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund and Medical Aid for Palestinians to provide desperately needed aid in Gaza. Liam understood the value of his wealth, and what his social responsibility was. He did his part to make this world better.

All that without taking into account everything Liam did for us. The youtube videos he started during quarantine because it was a way to distract people, give them something to look forward to. His comedic timing was something special. The discord server where he talked to fans and highlighted their creative endeavors. His livestreams, the endless culture-defining tweets he made. I still see people laughing about his tweets. We all remember Mrs. Horan, yes? I mean, go all the way back to TwitCams. Just google the phrase and one of the first videos you get will be Liam’s. From day one, he took it upon himself to make sure the fans were happy. That we felt seen, heard. And he kept One Direction alive for us, on occasion at a great personal cost. He performed deep cuts we’d never seen sung live, he was always so enthusiastic about everyone else’s projects, he never shied away from talking about the band—because it made us happy. He knew what the band meant to us, the blend of hope and nostalgia many of us clung to, and he held on with us. For us. The masses ridiculed him for his clinginess, and he didn’t let go—for us. I’m sure he knew there are those of us for whom the name One Direction still means everything. And how right he was. Look at the global charts for the past two weeks. We’ve made history again. Because of Liam. He had been the glue holding a lot of the fandom together, whether people realized it or not. He brought us all together again in the most heartbreaking of ways.

One Direction came into my life at a time when I was becoming lonelier by the day. I had moved to a new country two years prior, and I didn’t yet have many friends because I knew only enough English to get by at school. Outside of school, I had no friends. They were all back home in the place I’d left. All I had was my two siblings—and when you’re 13 years old, your 14 yr old sister is hardly the person you want to spend all your time with. I didn’t have space for me, to do and to be something that was just mine.

Then I found 1d through a girl at school and they became that something for me. I bettered my English by watching them talk. I found this community because of them, and I have learned so much from being a part of it. So many wonderful people have touched my life because of them over the years, some I’ve fallen out of touch with and some I hung out with just this month. They—and, by extension, Liam—have made me wealthy in friendship.

Claudia, Ingrid, Mery; Thank you for putting up with my insanely specific demands and making headers for me. Ingrid, you’ve been so patient about teaching me how to gif. Mery, I still have your rec list for learning Spanish saved in my notes app. The TPWK print you gifted me hangs on my wall. Cloudy, do you remember that lineart you made of me? I still have it. You’ve all been so kind to me.

Rafa; You have no idea how much you’ve helped build my confidence as a writer. Lyab is a thing of the past now, but those hours you spent fleshing out the details of that fic are priceless to me. I’d never written anything so ambitious before. And, frankly, I don’t think I would’ve attempted a novel if I hadn’t written a 100k fic—which I couldn’t have done without your encouragement. I think this is my first time telling you I finished the first draft of my novel in September. Thank you <3

Yas; Beloved you are so dear to me. You have shown me such kindness over the years, at times I wondered what I had done to deserve it. Not many people check in with me the way you do. I value your presence in my life beyond words. You have so much love and affection to give, and I’m glad I get to receive so much of it.

If I wrote a personal note to everyone who’s in my life because of Liam we’d be here for hours and hours. Jess, Bella, Alex, Jack, Hayley, Hope, Soni, Kayla, Sara, Arsh, Tina, Ola, Cristal, Kylee, Hana, Ali, Antonise, Clare, Abby, Nina, fnh, mert, people I don’t follow anymore, everyone who’s come into my life because of liam—I love you. Literally every single person I follow should be named here because I wouldn’t even be on this website if it weren’t for 1d. You’re all so special to me.

I still can’t believe Liam is gone. I was at the grocery store and it hit me that it’s real, and I thought, no, there’s no way. It feels so fucking weird having this invisible hole in my life that’s never going to go away. But I’ll always be grateful for everything Liam brought into my life. I know I’ll grow old with a whole bunch of you in my life—I’ve already spent a decade with some of you in my life—and I wish Liam got to grow old and weathered with us all.

This is such an inadequate goodbye. I think I’ll keep coming up with things I wish I could tell Liam, or things I want to say to you all. There’s so much history here, so much to reminisce about. He took a piece of my adolescence with him. I’ll miss him forever. Too many of my memories are intertwined with him and I’ll miss him forever.

Sleep easy, Liam. I hope, in time, you’re remembered for your limitless capacity for love and your desire to do better, be better. You deserved more. 🤍

—————

tagging 1d people here because i know many blogs aren’t active on a regular basis. apologies if i missed someone (i’m sure i did). hugs for everyone

@1dclowns @hrrytomlinson @sandiazucar @fookinfreezin @hoeranghae @wlwmermald @tomlinsun @epubgf @heyangel @fireproofs @90sgrungelouis @lirry @iconichalo @itsnotreal @aquickstart @roguecurls @harryscuddles @hoteyelinerguy @babyy-honey @goldencereza @kindathoughtprovoking @kindofsharethat @fuchsiasea @queerbloodyangel @tofiveohfive @aboutmetamorphosis @wastelandbabyblue @delicatepointofview @twentybiqueen @girlcrushau @chaoticsue @chimnation @akasakasads @icouldbeluckyagain @alloutshirt @half-lightl @halohamilton @willowfey @meltedwings @softandslow @loustyles @onedirectiom @pop-punklouis @pridesobright @finexbright @femstyles @baawree @iamnathanscott @avocadolouie @userautumn @niallerer @itsnothesameasitwas @usignedupforthis @svpportive @svncourt

[shorthaltsjester]

there are literally no standouts in downfall because everyone sat down at that table and said hey you wanna see something cool and proceeded to Become their characters but idk if it’s because they’re beside each other and that aids the dynamic or just because it’s the delicious similarities and insurmountable distance between the god of death and the god of (in various ways) life but ayden and emhira’s interactions were so chewy and delicious. i’ll be thinking of their exchange fairly early on after ayden cast lesser restoration on that old man and emhira not cruelly but just simply stating “you cannot heal everything.” and ayden’s equally simple reply “we can always try.” emhira seeing the family trist has built and wondering at the presence of children, “surprised there is laughter in such a horrible place” and i know she’s speaking of hawk’s hill but i wonder if she is also speaking of exandria itself in some ways. the delicious space between in and out of character that only really happens in improv stories where as brennan is narrating and says “in this dark room” and nick interrupts and adds “it is not dark.” brennan’s incisive point in the cooldown that while the love that ayden and trist have for mortals and for exandria is warm and the kind of love someone would likely Want from gods, there is something maybe more honest or whole about emhira who says . actually these mortals are little shits that will kill you not because they fear you but because they hate you. whose very existence should be (and still often fails to be) a reminder that the gods can be usurped by mortals. the insight nick shared in the cooldown that ayden does not forget emhira’s origins but in a way dismisses them, that the god of death is a different beast. ayden wanting to find. way to save the people of aeor, insisting that the prime deities Win if they can find a way to do so. emhira reminding everyone that death is inevitable (and she does not add anything to clarify that she intends such a statement to only exist for mortals) as she argues for them to work to take down aeor and the people in it. the fact that the god with the most present connection to mortality is also the one given the most explicit clarification that she Is the god we know as SILAHA calls her the matron, brennan’s narration clarifies purvon is her champion, taliesin as asha asks for clarification on the recognition of emhira as a god and prompting the familiar spectre of a woman in a white mask.

i want to be very clear that when i say there are no standouts i Mean it because i’ve been awed and endeared and intrigued by every single character choice everyone made and as always brennan’s narration is so incredibly well suited for the mission impossible greek tragedy vibes that comes with this story and i’m so fucking delighted by the fact that laura, ashley, and taliesin are playing gods that their characters have known quite well in the past. i’m incredibly excited by what we’ve already gotten to see from abubakar, nashir, and nick and cannot imagine what other greatness is to come. i’m psyched to see the relationship between asha and the law bearer and am delighted that (perhaps for now perhaps for the whole arc) it is being seen through the lens of “my wife promised me a visit with apples and all i got was a rock ice emissary”. i also have many incoherent thoughts about the fact that, of the players who appeared as the same character in the opening and the story, taliesin’s ash and asha are the ones whose name remains the most unchanged.

i’m obsessed with the fact that this creature sent as a stand in by the god of law and duty believes his primary gift is love. while there is a certain mourning and sadness to every god we see, that SILAHA has a certain playful whimsy and jofyful curiosity about the world. that the only one of them who has been mortal before stops to steal an imp necklace from the neck of a drunk on the train (and that moment between brennan’s narration that this man will be dead by morning but, with death standing invisible in front of him, he is incapable of seeing it coming, and then laura as emhira breathing in deeply and brennan having that spark a coughing fit. they are Story Telling). asha seeing the erased image of a god, of a family member and saying “there’s a hole in all of us.” brennan narrating “this is a place where they tried to kill a story. it’s a very frightened thing to do.” (and god. the motif of fear. especially given the very present fear felt by the gods in current day exandria. they’re doing insane things in the critical role 3 part departure).

trist reminding ayden “he never tells the truth” and asha contesting “he only tells the truth, it’s just rotting.” emhira and asha both as perhaps the less Good™ much more neutral but doing so in such different ways, asha as bitter and hungry while emhira seems uncomfortable but there’s a familiarity and a certainty in her discomfort with mortality (the law bearer would also be included here but the emissary seems much more like trist and ayden (for now) than emhira or asha). something as insignificant as trist and her husband speaking to their children and affirming that little lies are okay while trist has lead a significant part of her life likely dishonest about who she is. the fact that there’s a certain childlike quality to the emissary who they’re all charged with ensuring makes it to the end of things even if they cannot. the fact that nahal (unclear which god they were, and i’m assuming it’s the first god of death but regardless still an absolutely compelling development in a short amount of time) in those opening moments is horrified by the concept of away which is unfamiliar to them only to soon after look upon their family and say. maybe away was better. Especially if those were words spoken by the god who would one day be replaced. these three episodes are going to haunt me and i’m excited to meet the ghosts.

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: ☀ APOLLO: God of Archery, Art, Music, & Poetry, Prophecy, Light & Sun, Healing & Plagues, Truth 🎶

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, you're graced with a light haloing over you. It's so bright yet soft. You also feel warm but you somehow feel like its a warm hug and its Apollo secretly giving you a hug.

The Apollo cabin welcomes you happily and they all gather around, singing you a welcome song. Some of them break out into an Acapella, while some whip out their instruments out of thin air. You find yourself at least humming to the song and maybe even singing along, the words just coming to you naturally. 

 You’re shown the sleeping quarters that are nice and warm, and when you press your nose against them, you can smell the sun on them. 

You’re also shown the ropes of the place, but most importantly where they treat the sick and injured. As children of Apollo, your natural gifts are used almost daily. If you’re not that hyped about seeing blood or the like, you’re moved away from the rotation and help out with other things: changing sheets, disinfecting, checking stock and getting stock, and so forth. 

You’re still required to learn how to do First Aid though. Even if your godly parent is the god of Healing, you’re still going to have to learn how to do the mundane medical methods. Better learn how to do proper CPR just in case. Sure, you could heal any damages but it's better not let it happen anyway. 

You just have candy in your pockets. You might think its odd but when you see a small camper hurt their knee and one of your siblings whip out a lollipop after patching it up, you realise you’re not just there to soothe physical wounds. 

Plus, you have candy. What’s not to love?

Though, speaking of Candy, you didn’t know you had to help out in sorting candy and inspecting it. Especially any red candy or specific dyes used in them. You learn immediately that once ago, there was a period of time that the campers acted very intensely, and after an intense lava wall incident and an almost burnt down pegasus stall, it was discovered that some people had consumed certain candies containing Red dye 40 and was affecting the ADHD.

The Apollo cabin is the place to be for entertainment. There’s constantly music and art being produced. There are even beat poetry nights. 

So many rap battles. 

The Apollo cabin often has collaborative efforts with the Hephatesus Athena,Dionysus cabin. There’s always some big project happening and it’s always a treat.

Hamilition. Cats. Hadestown. Heathers. Highschool Musical- all the broadway shows and musicals you can think of, the Apollo cabin have it down pat. Along with the Dionysus cabin, you just perform and break out in song. Eventually Mr. D and Chiron let you guys perform actual broadway musicals or general theatre because there were too many impromptu moments that broke through the entire camp. No one has recovered from the D's (Mr. D, the Dionysus, and Demeter cabin) and the Giant Strawberry incident.

When you get claimed, light envelops you with a soft mysterious song playing. It was warm and you swore you could imagine arms hugging you lovingly. You’d imagine Apollo used the claim to at least give his children a hug. You hugged back and you felt the faintest squeeze back. Before you could dwell on it later, the light disappears leaving a faint glow on your skin. 

The song you had heard had also drifted off as well, but it had spoken to your soul. Like it had been chosen for you. You saw a bunch of other campers stand around and begin going into verse, a choir of campers singing a song before you realized it was the same song from before. More and more people began to join in, singing in acapella, instruments being played, and people clapping along for the beat. You watched in excitement and you felt their music resonate with you, it went through your body, up your throat and before you knew it, you were singing along, leading it. 

When the song came to an end, the singers cheered and clapped before you saw a boy with curly blonde hair step up, giving you a beaming smile. You thought he looked like a golden retriever. 

“Hi! You definitely have the chords of a child of Apollo” he complimented, holding out his hand. You took his hand as you shook, “My name is Will Solace, and I’m the cabin leader of Cabin 7. Welcome to the Apollo cabin!”

[husbandohunter]

Two Shades of the Same Color

Synopsis: Protecting the law and protecting his family. The line seperating them were like two shades of the same color. Wriothesley just didn't know it yet.

Genre: Wriothesley x Reader, gender neutral pronouns, Reader and Wriothesley have a daughter

(A/n): this is my offering to the gacha gods praying for an early Wrio to come home 😔===============================

The Duke of Meropide often finds himself conflicted in the different roles he has to play.

In the daytime he carried his duty as the Warden. Having served his sentence through the years he was in prison, Wriothesley was appointed to be a suitable candidate now managing Fontaine's most notorious Fortress, guarding wanted criminals, convicts, and what justice deems guilty. Both feared and respected by them, it was quite an intresting story how he got into this rank. But he also didn't dislike his occupation. Perhaps due to this self-proclaimed 'rough around the edge' personality, he believed the prison wasn't so far disconnected from his nature.

"Wolf-ears, wolf-ears, daddy has wolf ears!" A sweet voice sang before imitating a growl sound.

Aaand there were those who really  disconnected him from his 'nature'. Wriothesley sighs as he rub his forehead, clutching a stack of unsigned papers while the girl pulled the little tuffs in his hair.

Your five year old daughter came home one day, announcing that the class had been given an assignment.

Two things arise in his head. First off, why are they already giving assignments to children? Shouldn't they be learning their alphabets and make crafts or something? Second, why does it have to involve taking your kid to work?!!

You failed to stifle a laughter at the sight, the poor man silently hoping that you would do something, "Come down little one. You wouldn't want to accidentally fall over now, would you?"

The girl shook her head, avoiding your attempt to hold her and squeezed her small legs around his shoulders, "Don't stop me! Mari wants to stay up here."

"But he's going to get tired if you keep shaking like that," you suggested, placing both hands on your hips.

Mari huffs, "That's up for daddy to decide. Right, daddy?"

You quirked an eyebrow and glanced at your husband who seemed to be under a lot of pressure. What can he do? When his daughter stares at him with her toothy grin and gleaming eyes that looks just like his own?

Helpless at her whims, he pleads silently, urging for your aid once again.

"Sorry honey," you shrugged and tilted to the side, "I tried."

"Oh really?," the man doubts, "Then why are you smiling like that?"

Wriothesley wasn't sure how he got into this mess in the beginning. Actually, wait. He did. He just...didn't want to admit it.

The initial answer to Mari's request was a no brainer. Allowing his little babydoll Marigold through the walls of Meropide was something he stricly forbade until she reached thirty years old. A reasonable negotiation, he thought. Not even the gossips plastered all over the Steambird newspaper would be discussed at the dinner table. The man vowed to keep his work life and family life seperate the day she was born.

"Why don't you go find them to help you with your homework?"

"I work at the Fortress too, silly."

Well-- maybe not you since the two of you met here, but that's different. Rules are laws and laws shouldn't be broken. There's a reason why order is meant to be taken seriously in Fontaine. And of course, in his house too.

Then you proceed to say-- it's because you keep spoiling her! Which he retorts, "I'm not spoiling her, I'm just making sure she has a fun childhood, that's all."

"Uh huh, you sure do a great job at it officer, maybe a little too well," you tease, wrapping your arms around your burly husband and nuzzled against his cheek.

Fits of giggles came from above, Mari starts rocking back and forth, "Now give him a biiiiig kiss!"

"Alright alright, that's enough you two," Wriothesley caught hold of his wiggling daughter and settled her down on the floor. Seriously, he could hardly focus. Wriothesley had planned to make his routine as boring as possible so she would leave and he could go about his day. It seems the man terribly underestimated the fact Mari had a penchant of finding entertainment. Should've been obvious that he would be the center of it.

"Can we go downstairs now? I want to see where the machines are working," Mari declares and throws her hands up in excitement.

Wriothesley clears his throat, "What did I say earlier about going downstairs?"

"It's not safe for ages under thirteen and only for members who are given permission because they're criminals," Mari sheepishly repeats.

"Aaaannd?"

"You're not allowed to abuse your authority or give me special treatment because the Warden must be fair and respect the rules from the Fortress of Marinetide, treating everyone equally."

"That's my girl," he nods with a grin. Though the pronounciation can use a little tweaking. Eh, he'll let it slide.

"Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit too much? The working grounds aren't that bad, even Sigewinne takes her strolls there during her breaktime," you chime in.

"Who's Sigewinne?"

The man expresses what seems like his version of a pout. Though you can never miss the small upturn slivering the corner of his mouth, "I'm starting to get the feeling that you enjoy seeing me like this."

"Nonsense," you lean on his shoulder, "I'm just admiring how much of a loving father my daughter has."

They're coaxing me into something, "No means no."

Wriothesley glances at Mari who had still been persisting him with pleads and questions. The reason why he wanted to keep his work life and family life sperate was because prison, in general, can shape a person entirely. Whether for good or worse  depends on the individual, she was far too young to be exposed at the kind of stories and complex reasonings people would have. Wriothesley knew very well that nothing is black and white. Perhaps from growing up in this kind of world, he wanted to know, to see, to let an innocent child experience life far differently than he did. Because now, he had a choice.

"I already know what you're thinking, it's written all over your face," breaking him out of his thoughts, you gently spoke to his ear, "Not everyday our little Mari gets to spend time with her father like this. She was so happy when the teacher said it was going to be a 'take your kid to work day' assignment,  you know?"

"I'd rather keep the details behind closed doors. There's not much that can be said outside the reputation everyone knows of," he reasons, "Besides, Sigewinne is the only exception because she's the head nurse. This little fellow here can hardly prounouce Meropide."

"Hey! That's not true. If I practice long and hard I can speak as perfectly as the papers on your desk!"

"Oh? You know what that's a great idea. How about we spend the day practicing your alphabets? We could also read the Boar Princess while we're at it," the Duke happily suggested.

"Wriothesley," you chide lightly, "As long as you're with her I'm sure there will be nothing to worry about," then you crouched down to Mari's height, "Right sweetie?"

"Yeah! Daddy is the strongest and smartest man in all of Fontaine!" She jumps up and down, "He can even lift me even when I'm wearing a backpack!"

Wriothesley eyes you both suspiciously, "I see how it is. Sounds like you two are teaming up."

"I like to call it a coincidential agreement," you tugged him at the arm and lead towards the stairwell, "Come on. Take the day off and let me handle the paperwork. Wouldn't want to keep the fun waiting, would you?"

Your husband folds his arms and scoffs, "A day off?"

"By the courtesy of Chief Justice Neuvillette himself," you responded.

Ah, they had it all planned out, "Astounding effort on your part, I suppose."

"Please, daddy? I swear I'll behave and not do anything to make you mad," Mari twiddles her thumbs, "Pleeease?"

Wriothesley closes his eyes, a habit he acquired during situations such as this. Well, looks like he was fighting a losing battle anyways. Maybe you were right. He was spoiling her.

"Fine. Only under one condition. You have to-"

"Call me 'Your Grace'!" She salutes immediately, " Oh, I mean...you, Your Grace."

Wriothesley glances at your way again and you merely returned a shrug. He smiles amusedly.

They really had it all planned out. 

•••

When Wriothesley stepped out of his office, he was slowly starting to regret his decision.

Mari, being far too excited for her own good, already bounced a few metres ahead. He sometimes wondered where she gets her energy from. For newcomers, they easily wear out before they become used to things. Ah, that's right, I have to make sure she doesn't disturb the inmates. If this keeps going then who knows where she might end up. Archons forbid it'd be the Pankration Ring.

"Up you go," for now, Wriothesley scoops her into his hold, having the girl seated on one forearm and the other supporting her weight. Until she calms down, at least.

"Mari is reporting for duty," she salutes again.

Wriothesley lets out a chuckle, "Since when did I ever act like a Marechaussee Hunter? Wait, let me guess, you snuck to see Clorinde."

Guilty as charged. The little girl slaps a hand over her mouth, "Whoopsies."

"I'm joking. I actually didn't think you snuck out to see Clorinde," he smugly states, "Well well looks like my little culprit reveals herself."

She huffs, "Heyyy, that's cheating."

"Sorry babydoll, but I think I win this one," Wriothesley boops her nose in a playful manner and allowed Mari to stand on her own two feet, "So, are you ready for a tour around the Fortress of Meropide?"

"Where are we headed first, Your Grace?" She chirped, eyes blown wide like she was on a sugar rush from last time.

Wriothesley raised a scarred brow, "Oh you're letting me decide? In that case you'll just have to wait and see for yourself."

"Yay, I love surprises!"

Even better. This way, he can guarantee that she won't wander off to places she shouldn't be in, no one should be in.

Lunch hour was approaching and the inmates were already finishing up their shifts. He could feel the frequent looks being thrown from the cafeteria, already knowing it will be the hot topic for the next few days or weeks.

Right, then there's this part I have to deal with.

It didn't help that the man's presence alone had the same affect under normal circumstances. Seeing their Warden with a babbling little girl was rather jarring. Mari was...how should he put it, good at stealing the spotlight. So much she easily attracted all the attention from the locals. Wriothesley had never knew someone could be so pestering that it became endearing. Other than you of course. Heh, I guess that's one of many things they have in common.

He doesn't try to hide the smile softening at his features.

"C-Could that be His Grace and..."

Welp, looks like the hot topic is already cooking. Wriothesley pays no mind. There's nothing wrong with being open about his family in front of other people at least. Just because he had a reputation as the Warden to keep doesn't rob him the identity of being a father.

His mind suddenly drifts back to you. Is that why you were so insistent about this earlier?

"Daddy, everyone is looking at us funny."

The word 'daddy' does not escape those around him, percise as a radar and pointed sharply at his direction. Wriothesley expected as much. Actually, he was more surpised she even managed to remember the honorifics for this long, "Ah who cares. Let them do their thing. Anyways, didn't you say you wanted to see how the machines worked?"

A pause before she breaks out into a wide, beaming grin, "Yeah!"

"Then hold on tight," without a warning, Wriothesley lifts her until she was settled on his shoulders and ran as fast as he could, away from the crowd.

•••

"Was that...the Duke just now?"

A confused inmate, still processing at what he just saw, allowed the bitten meal in his hand fall to the plate.

"Who knew His Grace had a soft spot," Another one snickers.

Wolsey who had been tending to the dishes behind the counter exhales exasperatedly, "His Grace ought to be more careful with his actions around others next time."

•••

The shaft doors open to reveal the upper level of the production zone. Wriothesley exits first before gently taking the girl's hand as she shuffled down the two stairs. Thankfully the area had been emptied, except for a few supervisors, it was much more peaceful compared to the cafeteria.

"Wooooahh looks at all those meks!" She ogled. Meks was her way of saying gardemeks. Spending time with a five year old made him more keen to the language innuendos they create, "It's like one gigantic gear working together."

"Not just gears sweetheart, the people here are responsible for making sure ever part of the machine is functioning. Without them, there would be no clockworks you see in the surface," Wriothesley opens a palm while he explains, "I know most of your classmates only think of them as criminals, but criminals have been working for honest income."

"Does that mean the same criminals are now helping to make meks that catches more criminals and keep Fontaine safe?"

The man pauses, thinking for a moment, "You could say that."

"Hmmm," Mari looks down pensively, trying to put two and two together, "So if criminals are honest people, how did they end up in here?"

"Well uhhh... " Wriothesley breathes out quietly. It's complicated. Sometimes he doubts if the word criminal is even a proper label. Becoming a criminal isn't always by choice, some are just born into it, eventually going down a path because there was no where else to go. And the few who escape are the lucky ones, "Ah very tricky, sweetheart. Don't tell me you're here trying to get ideas."

The mischeivious expression he gave her made Mari gasp in disbelief, "I would never break the law daddy!"

"Are you sure?" He insists with jest.

"Yes, and I promised a hundred thousand times already," she emphasized.

Wriothesley pats her lightly on the head. Although his hands were calloused and scared, they carried the weight of a loving father, "Good. I know you'd do the right thing."

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar silouette dressed in pastel colors. Sigewinne had been speaking with Grainville at the Operation and Widget equipment. As you mentioned earlier, the head nurse pays frequent visits to check upon the health conditions of inmates. For the Duke, it was natural that he'd want to know if there was anything he should be concerned about. But now is not the time. He didn't want to drag his daughter when this was meant to be a fun activity of theirs.

"What's that over there?!" She scurries off without a warning, specifically at the direction he was glancing earlier.

Or we can just check it out anyways. Wriothesley thought to himself, using his hands to prop against his knee, standing upright so he could catch up with Mari.

The Melusine was the first to notice, "Your Grace? I'm seeing you everywhere these days. I hope you haven't been swarmed with too much to do."

It's true that Wriothesley had been more present in his timing. The Primordial Sea issue was something he wanted to be resolved as soon as possible, "I'm actually doing just fine, thank you Sigewinne."

"Y-Your Grace. I'm surprised to see you here. Are there any newcomers I must train?" Now it was Grainville's turn to intervene, "Oh, and who's this?"

"Sigewinne?? That's the nurse, daddy?" Mari exclaims, baffled as she compares her height with the other, "Why is she so small like me? Did she get hit by the short disease?"

Jeez. Children can really run around without a filter these days.

"She may be small but a lot more older than she looks," Wriothesley reasons, gentle and firm, "Aren't you forgetting something? In front of you, these people have greeted us the moment we came by. What's the right thing to do, Mari?"

It took some time for her to realize but she perks up as soon as she did. Flustered, the young lass dips herself into a low curtsy, head following suit that her hat fell to the floor, "Good afternoon. My name is Mari. I'm five years old. Nice to meet you all."

Wriothesley maintains a straight face and picks up her hat. On the inside, he could feel his heart squeezing. No matter how many tries you practiced with her, she still doesn't get it quite right. Totally his fault. He never scolds her for it.

"Hello Mari, my name's Sigewinne and I'm the head nurse," the melusine beams, "Though I'm a bit surprised, Your Grace. I thought [Name] said you didn't want to bring your daughter here."

Quick, he had to make an excuse before, "Ah, that's--"

"That's because daddy is awesome and he cares about us so much!"

Urk.

Sigewinne's countenance suggested she caught on that the Warden had a weak spot for his overly coddled daughter, "I see. You're fortunate to have such good parents, Mari. His Grace had put in great effort to ensure the safety and well-being of the Fortress. It's probably why everyone is quite satisfied with living here."

"I know," Mari nods with agreement, "Since daddy does the same thing at home."

Warmth spreads inside his chest and the glaciers of the man's gaze thaws enough for one to notice. Did she truly feel that way? Somehow, for a long time, he didn't think it was enough.

"It's true. His Grace doesn't ostracize anyone and gives them an equal chance of a better life," Grainville added.

Wriothesley crosses his arms and returns a quipped stare, "Indeed. Though I'm afraid flattery will get you as far as none. Best get to work."

Grainville salutes, "Yes, Your Grace!"

"Wait daddy, can I stay and watch?" Mari tugs the hem of his fur coat, "When I go to school tomorrow, I can tell all my friends all the cool things we did today."

He straightens his posture, "No."

"But daddyyyyyyy."

Here we go again. Except this time, the man will avoid all eye contact. Maybe he can try getting earplugs next time, which of course, must be slipped on discreetly so she wouldn't notice. If you were here, he'd be getting an earful of the same conversation he had in the office. Equipment processors can be dangerous to use if something suddenly screws loose. Who knows what might happen?

Though a father can only resist so much and he couldn't ignore her forever. Wriothesley relaxes his shoulders, the crease in his forehead fading, "Are you sure you can be careful?"

"Careful is my middlename!"

"Grainville," Wriothesley commands. Authority drips from his voice that the supervisor nearly flinched from his place, "Check if there's any malfunction in Operations and Widget equipment. I expect a thorough search once I get return from lunch."

Without a moment hesitation, Grainville executes his task as if his life depends on it.

"Daddy, can we go buy some food?" Mari looks up, "I want Fonta!"

"No junk food until you eat properly," though now she mentions it, he is craving a cup of tea by now.

Walking out of the shaft once more, Wriothesley takes another look at the environment surrounding the cafeteria, through a different lens than the last. He recalls his first day. Young, brash, and full of poor judgement. They were not the best memories, but they were certainly memories.

How things have changed. For the better, as it should. To Wriothesley, that was probably the most important aspect of all. He likes seeing signs of strength and hope, reassuring him that tomorrow will be a better day. Though he made peace with the present constantly filling him with doubt. Can the same progress be as steady as he wanted?

He thought about what you said. Then the words he heard from others. The Fortress of Meropide had improved to the point it could function autonomously. On top of that, he received high praise from both surface dwellers and those who lived in the underworld. What drives him to maintain this environment stems from his past. The good and the bad. The mistakes and lessons. The two shades of the same color blurred into one.

"Daddy, I just want to tell you, I had so much fun today. Thank you for bringing me here!"

And if those experiences of his could ensure that his daughter could live a safe and peaceful childhood, then that's everything he can ask for.

[elodieunderglass]

So for some more details:

- I am fairly time-poor with a huge amount of commitments: Grownup Job Senior Promotion, three small kids on summer holidays/starting school, writing a novel fanfic for sick friend, peak growing/harvest season at allotment, etc. so im only offering “what I can actually deliver” at this time

- swan comic is a new idea, people like those don’t they? Not sure of how fundraising mechanism would work here but maybe taking prompts?

- not sure how essay would work but it’s probably my best/most appealing skill?

- material items in exchange for a minimum fixed amount. So offline I’m most known for material works. I’m not a BAD printmaker / craftworker and for this I would be looking at designing a sort of limited print run of greeting card style original hand printed prints. I know you guys aren’t familiar with this work from me, so this would involve a bit of trust that An Art from me would be worth at least £5 lmao. However it’s kind of nice to get something real in the mail right??

- super worried about fandom auction so this would be mostly a register of interest that I’d take to more experienced people and use as leverage to start an auction; I’m not in a great place to provide much actual legwork here. I also have huge guilt from like 2000-something where someone paid A HUNDRED AND LIKE 20 DOLLARS to charity for earthquake survivors and I DID NOT FINISH THE FIC AND I HAD to write to them, weepingly, apologising forever about it, and they were so graceful, they forgave me and wrote off my fandom auction contribution, but I had never watched the tv show they requested and was in the process of romancing dr glass and it all went SO wrong, this MIGHT heal my scars of shame from fandom auctions generally OR might make them worse. It itvery hard to write fic actually it’s my worst skill pls don’t pick this

Anyway

I will dance like a monkey and get sick kids out of Gaza. What would you like to see most?

[fruitsoxs]

this is long so i'm putting some under read more

BUT- Thinking about Astarion with a generally good tav/reader. I’m thinking it’s sort of an enemies to lovers type deal, where the two of you start off the adventure by bickering constantly over what to do. You always want to do the right thing, and it absolutely infuriates Astarion. He pushes back whenever he can, because your little rag tag group has other matters that are much more important than saving children, or rescuing girls from some hag. But of course, he’s always outvoted. You are easily annoyed by his constant complaining whenever you want to do something good, and so of course the two of you are almost always at each other's throats.

“Oh I’m sorry that I actually have a heart.” “You should be- we have other matters to attend to. Like, well I don't know, the thing inside our heads!”

However, there are moments where Astarion comes to learn that he genuinely likes your kind heart. When you easily forgive him for…hiding what he truly is. Or how you lie when a hunter is out and about. There are moments where you tend to his wounds in complete silence, gently wrapping a bandage around his arm. And when he says a quiet thank you, you simply nod and move on. 

He’d never say this out loud, and of course continues to act as if you are nothing but a nuisance, but he starts to appreciate you little by little. You are not just some naïve adventurer who will drop dead if someone were to ask. You are the strongest person he knows, someone he could depend on if needed. He watches you fuss over the group, solving everyone’s problems. He sees how much work you put into making everyone comfortable, and how little you ask for in return. And while he thinks you’re a little stupid for it, he also recognizes that most of his disdain comes from the fact that he wishes he had someone like you to save him when he was at his lowest. If good people like you exist, then why did nobody come to his aid? 

So maybe he gets less snippy. He doesn’t roll his eyes every time you put the mission on hold to do favors for others. Maybe he starts to fall for you little by little.

And maybe it all becomes clear to him when you get hurt.

It was supposed to be an easy little mission. A peaceful meeting that you were sure you could talk your way out of (it always surprised him how easily you could lie your way out of fights). And of course, Astarion and you just had to get in a little spat beforehand, so he stays at the campsite while you’re off bringing peace to the world. He doesn’t expect to see the others come rushing into camp, dragging your weak body along. He doesn’t expect to see you so pale, fighting for your very life-

He rushes to your side, demanding to know what happened. Something went wrong, and somehow you ended up stabbed with a poisoned dagger in the midst of a fight. He feels his insides churn when they lay you down on a bed roll, and he watches as you give him a weak smile.

“Hey fangs.” you manage to get out, entering a coughing fit shortly after. Your smile almost fades when you notice how scared Astarion looks. It isn’t like him to be so worried. You don’t like seeing him like that so you whisper. “It’s gonna be okay-” And gods does it infuriate Astarion that you’re still trying to help others, help him, when you’re basically dying by his side. So he snaps a bit.

“And how do you know that?” He bites at you, pain and anger in his voice. You flinch a bit, letting a silence take over for a second. You slowly reach out to grab his shaking hand, your grip so weak. “Just trust me.”

He sits by your side, barking orders at everyone else- demanding someone heal you. He’s a bit of a prick as Shadowheart kneels down to tend to your wounds. He seems so angry, but everyone can see the way he’s clinging to your hand. Everyone knows what’s going on. And after you’re healed, and left to recover, he stays by your side. 

When the rest of the camp is asleep, he gently pushes your hair out of your face while looking you over. He’s just now realized how hard he’s fallen. While you’re protecting everyone else someone has to protect you. He may as well be that person.

[ninapi]

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┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Kimetsu Daddies: Vol.1 ╝

Premise: Everyone has insecurities and parenting can certainly bring even more to the plate. Taking a trip to memory lane to the first days of his fatherhood journey makes Sanemi realize maybe he isn't half bad himself.

Word Count: 3639

Note: This is a prequel of sorts for my previous story "Liquid Sunshine" (which you can read here if you haven't yet), starting right after bonus chapter 2, but this is also the beginning of a new series as you might have guessed by the title change, lol. My love @huh01011 requested some smut to be added to this series, I must warn you all, I am not a smut writer, and there's not as much in it as I wanted it to be, but I tried to incorporate some in a way~ Also tagging pookie @cock-ainee who wanted to be tagged here ❤️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Summer was a dreaded season in the Shinazugawa household.

The excessive moisture in the air made almost impossible to work the fields for the younger lads adding even more load to the already overworked Sanemi.

Sanehiko, who could stand such temperatures, was the only one able to aid his father with the animals and the fields as his beloved mother was feeling under the weather.

The last few weeks had been odd. After having such an eye opening conversation with the children, your mood had been sour, making Sanemi feel he had done something wrong.

Dealing with so many little ones, he assumed you were just a bit overwhelmed, baby Sae was still a very demanding baby and Senri, who just started walking on his own, has been climbing trees and running around like a madman, plenty of reasons to be a bit grouchy.

But that was far from reality.

“Sanehiko, where’s your mother?” Sanemi asked his eldest as he hauled the entire harvest of tomatoes on his back.

“Last time I saw her, she was cleaning her own puke near the bath.”

The sound of exploding tomatoes hitting the scorching hot ground made Sanehiko shudder at the thought of the lost produce, “WHAT? She was doing WHAT?”

“Ugh…she was…” the boy stuttered, his mother wont be pleased knowing some of the tomatoes were squashed down by his father’s annoyance and it was most definitely his fault…”She was…ummm…on the floor? Yes, she was on the floor, with a rag cleaning after her…” he smiled proudly, able to recount the facts with as much details as possible without sounding so aggravating.

“Why was she on the floor Sanehiko? Is your mother sick?” panic was written all over Sanemi’s face, if there’s something that terrifies him is the thought of ever loosing you.

Thinking back, Sanehiko realizes he isn’t even sure why his mother was in such predicament, making him feel worse for not stopping to help her, “Not sure father, Genma is the one in charge of mother…I had to come get the milk out on time…”

“Tch, bring the tomatoes inside.” without a second thought, Sanemi marched back inside the house, in search of his darling wife who seemed to be feeling even worse than he thought.

When he found you, Genma was rubbing your belly in soothing circles while you clutched a pillow close to your face, “Hey, my love…what’s wrong…?” his tone of voice was laced with honey, he hated seeing you in distress and he knew you’ve been struggling lately.

“Nemi…” your voice was so weak almost a whisper, he could barely hear you.

“Yes, baby tell me…” holding your hand, he crouched down beside you, giving your knuckles an adoring kiss.

“I-…another one is coming…”

“What do you mean, babe?” realization hit him hard, your pale face, the morning discomfort, lack of appetite, uncomfortable nights…”Oh….OH?…you’re pregnant again, my love??” his eyes went from imminent despair to happiness overload in a mater of seconds, making you chuckle.

“I think so yeah, pretty sure actually, Nemi…isn’t it too fast…? I…I honestly thought Sae would be the last one…at least for a while...”

“Do you not feel comfortable having more children, baby?” sadness could be heard in his voice, but he would respect your wishes, no matter what they were.

“It’s not that, my love…it’s just…my body is still tired, Sae is still breastfeeding, I guess this time is really taking a toll on me, that’s all. Of course I want to bring your babies to this world.” your gentle reassurance brought him back to life, you were all that mattered to him, his entire life, a gift he had been given, one he would protect at all cost.

Forgetting his tiny son was around is one of Sanemi’s traits now a days, Genma was listening to the entire thing, mauling things over in his little head silently while you held each other, his sister however, had been hiding under the window seal, also listening.

“Mama, what’s pr’gnant?” Remi climbed her way into the room through the window, quickly sitting beside Genma.

“It’s when mommy has a baby inside of her, angel.”

Genma gasped loudly, “You did this to her, didn’t you father?! That night! I knew it, you hurt her!”

“No, no baby. Your father didn’t hurt me…he gave us another member of our family, it’s just…you know summer is tough on me, my love, having a baby inside is harder at the beginning, I’ll be ok in a few weeks, I promise.”

Sanemi was speechless, he couldn’t believe his son kept insisting on him hurting you, like if that was actually a thing, he was incapable of hurting a single hair of your head and he would have thought his own son would know this.

“But mother! You shouldn’t have to be this sick! We are already so many in this house! I don’t want you to be sick! Please stop putting babies inside of her, father!” the toddler started wailing, his sister not completely understanding why he was in such distress, hugged him gently. “Mama is ok, nii-nii, don’t cry…”

Sanehiko came into the room when he heard his brother crying, Sae sleeping on his back while Senri was holding his hand, “Genma? What’s wrong?”

“Mama ate a baby and he’s sad…”

“She what?” this time Senri was the one who started crying, his sister’s words scaring the hell out of him.

“I’m pregnant again, love. That’s all.”

“Oh yeah, I thought so. We heard you after all, that’s just how it works, right father?” Sanemi just nodded absentmindedly, while he was happy with the news, he started questioning his fathering skills lately. Genma clearly doesn’t trust him and even thinks he’s capable of hurting his mother, what could possibly led him to think that way? Was he a good father even? He knows he’s strict, having to provide for such a large family isn’t easy, discipline is needed, but he loves his children and he thought they knew it…

Getting up from his spot beside you without saying a word, he walked outside of the house and up a small hill he goes to when he needs to think. Contemplating his own mistakes was more daunting that he ever imagined, memories of Genma’s constant terrified face hunting him.

Sanehiko left the babies in your care and ran after his dad, “Father, are you ok? Mother looked worried…Is the baby sick?”

“No…no, the baby is fine…is your brother who worries me..”

“You mean Genma? Or Senri?” he plopped beside his dad, both had the exact same pose, legs crossed, a half scowl on their faces, it was like seeing himself in a mirror, just that without scars.

“Genma…”

Nodding, Sanehiko let out a sigh, he understands his dad’s predicament, Genma isn’t a difficult kid, he is actually quite a sunshine, but he is obsessed with his own mother and that makes Sanemi’s odds against him most of the times.

“He stopped crying already, father. It’s not that he doesn’t want another sibling, he just doesn’t like it when mother is sick. This time she really is in bad shape though, is it the heat again?”

“Yeah…heat has always been hard on her, specially when she’s in her first trimester…” that made Sanehiko think, none of his siblings had been in that part of pregnancy during summer, not that he can remember at least. “Really? Was it Genma?”

“No, it was you actually…” the memory of you throwing your guts out of the window during summer nights made a faint smile grace his lips.

“Was I a difficult baby, father?” Sanemi’s smile just kept growing with the memories, “Not at all, you were the quietest of all, a true gift…” 

Sanehiko had never seen his father this soft before, it felt oddly comforting knowing he was talking about him just now. “Did I give mother a hard time then? I feel like we’ve never talked about this before…” 

It was crazy, but true. Having to run a farm kept you both very busy and the more babies came, the harder its been to just sit down with your eldest and have a nice chat.

“We were young and inexperienced when you came to this world. For the longest time we thought you were a virus because she couldn’t eat a single thing without puking…” a soft chuckle left his lips as he remembers those sleepless nights of him rubbing your back until you could fall asleep on his lap, holding you while the moon shone above you, illuminating your beautiful face. Those days were quiet, nothing like the ones you have today, and honestly, he kind of misses them. Having you all to himself all day, all night…the intimacy and love remains, but there’s limitations to what he can or cannot do now.

Sanehiko chuckled along shaking his head, a clear image of his mother being painted by his father. “How did you guys know it was me and not a virus then?”

“Hmmmm…after a lot of arguing, I threw your mother over my shoulder and took her to see the doctor downtown, she wasn’t eating and it was making me anxious…”

“You're just like Genma, father.”

“Huh? What do you mean just like Genma? He’s the least similar to me from all your siblings.”

He shook his head, smiling “He’s just like you, father. Mother yawns and one of you is right by her side with a blanket, she coughs and there’s fresh tea in front of her in seconds. She makes a slight noise and the entire house is checking on her, those are the Shinazugawa genes, father, they come from you.” 

Maybe he was right, maybe he and Genma had more in common that he thought, getting the child to see that would be harder though.

“So, you took mother to the doctor. What’d he say?” this is the first time Sanehiko has story time with his father since he’s a little kid, it made him feel fuzzy inside and wanted to hear more of his upbringing.

Sanemi seeing his interest, turned to face him with a grin on his face, “Then he tells us she isn’t sick but round and full with our first child. I still remember that day like it was yesterday, man was I happy…” 

“You were happy because I was inside of mother?” he wasn’t expecting to hear that, while he knows his father loves getting his mother pregnant, he isn’t one to celebrate or smile like that.

“Of course! There was nothing I wanted more back then than to see your mother stuffed full with my child. I can’t expect you to understand this yet, but there is nothing better than knowing a piece of you lives inside the woman you love…”

“A piece of you…am I a piece of you, father?”

“Damn straight you are, son. Half of me, half of your beautiful mother, the result of our never ending love…”

“I’m the result of your love…” Sanehiko has never felt this loved before, his parents are usually very caring and understanding, but hearing his stoic father saying such a thing made his eyes fill up with tears.

“You really love mother, don’t you father?”

“More than I could ever thought possible, son…” Sanemi’s smile was pure, soft, love could be felt from the air around him, it was palpable.

“And…us?” while he was scared of asking, he knew his father loved him, yet somehow he needed validation.

“I love every single one of you with all my heart. Even when it doesn’t seem like it.”

Sanehiko scooted closer, wrapping his arms around his father in a way to comfort his aching heart, “We know you do.” resting his cheek on his son’s fluffy hair, they stay there in silence, until you called out for your eldest for help.

Sanemi decided to stay a little longer contemplating life once more.

Thinking about the days when you two were younger and so very much in love brought a permanent smile to his face. 

Sanehiko’s arrival was indeed the peak of his lifetime.

When you agreed to let him move with you to the farm for good, it took just a couple of hours before he had you pinned to the bathroom wall, this time without clothes in between, marks of his passion for you littering your beautiful silky skin, those gorgeous lips parted for him and screaming his name as he rammed into you nonstop, quite the memory really.

And it continued for a while, every day and night the growing needs to posses you, to fill you up with his essence, was overbearing. He needed the world to see you were claimed, to see you were his and his alone, that every single bit of skin on that beautiful body of yours was his, that your heart and all your love within it was exclusively just for him.

Memories of your face contouring with pleasure as he sucked on your perfect perky breasts like it was his last meal, the screams leaving your pretty lips and carrying his name through the wind every time he pushed himself within you as deep as he could and then some. The heat inside of you squeezing him dry, then making him hard once again at how good it felt to have you cum around his aching manhood, at how tightly you clenched around him with your core, holding onto him like if your life depended on it. He truly misses those days when his name echoed in every single wall of the house, your melodic moans and the sound of your heavy breathing all that could be heard for miles.

But when he held his first child in his arms, his world got upside down. He just didn’t know what to do with himself.

While he had witnessed all the birthing of his siblings, he had never felt such a bond before. The way Sanehiko’s eyes were barely open, how he held to his large manly thumb for dear life and hugged it to sleep, how he would snuggle on his chest and just lay there for hours just changed him.

You were his angel, his wife, the woman he loved from almost the moment he met you. A true gift from the heavens, but this baby…this little human in his arms….he was the outcome of your passion, of your fierce love for one another, he held all your dreams, your future, this tiny little thing who fit in his palm was the reason you both lived to that day, he was your anchor, the very core of your family, your reason to get up every day and make a living out of that devastated farm.

Sanehiko meant hope, joy, love. His first child, the one he so wished to have, his pride.

While he thought you’d be pregnant right after Sanehiko was born, because being real, he had his way between your legs daily; Genma didn’t come for a while.

You had time to bond with your first child, get to know him, play with him, teach him how to tend the animals. Being a parent isn’t easy, a first born gets to experience all the ‘firsts’ after all, but overall the learning experience helped you both create patterns for the future babes. While none of the kids were alike, at least it gave you a foundation already stablished to raise your children, and it worked quite well. Until lately, that is.

The heat was finally dimming down a little signalizing the day was coming to an end, the need to check on you being more significant than the dread he felt of facing Genma.

Heading inside the house he noticed Sanehiko was reading a story to the younger kids, Remi being already asleep on his leg. The sight made him smile, memories of little newborn Sanehiko still fresh in his mind.

In your room, Genma was still looking a bit sulky but you looked way better, lunch already gone from your system.

“Hey beautiful…felling better?” he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You’re normally not as physically affectionate in front of the children, but you could feel your man needing comfort.

“I am, baby. Don’t worry, our child is going to be as healthy as the rest, of that I’m sure. You know the heat hunts me when I’m pregnant…” your soft giggles made him smile, “Yeah I was telling Sanehiko that story earlier, how you’d puke every night and could only sleep on my lap…” his smile turned to a smirk, his lips finding your neck to give it a little nip.

“Mmmmm yeah…good old times…we need to time babies better so I never have to spend another first trimester in summer again though…” groaning you turned your head to bury your face in his soft hair, his natural scent was just so comforting, it made you feel better almost immediately.

“Yeah, I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to…” his soft tone and apology startled Genma, he’s rarely ever heard his father saying his sorry for anything, let alone be this gentle.

“I’m just as guilty of this as you are, my love. You don’t need to apologize. On the contrary, thank you for giving me another treasure…” the feeling of your soft nose buried in his hair was making him feel so emotional. Earlier he had felt like he sucked at being a parent but after bonding over it with Sanehiko and reminiscing of the time he was born, he just feels so complete…

“Thank you, babe…without you…I wouldn’t….I…I don’t know what I’d do or where I’d be without you…” his words were chocked up, Genma was still in shock, he could feel the emotional state of his broken father filling up the air.

“Father…are you ok…?” Genma held onto Sanemi’s leg, hugging it with his tiny body. It’s been a while since he feels his toddler’s warmth.

“I am son, thank you for asking.” 

“Father…I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier, I don’t understand this baby thing very well…but I know you wouldn’t hurt mother now…” Sanemi’s heart grew three sizes, he didn’t know he needed to hear this so badly, but turns out he did.

“You know? Sanehiko told me earlier that you’re very similar to me…that your obsession with your mother is all my fault for being your father…” that made you laugh, while it is true, it’s kind of ridiculous.

“You two are very similar that’s true, loving, gentle, big hearted sweethearts and gorgeous babes~” the last part made Genma fall into a crazy fit of giggles.

“Mother, how was I as a baby? I know Nii-chan was very attached to father, was I always attached to you?”

“Well yes, you’ve always been very much a mama’s boy…but when you were born…God…I had to line up to get some time with you, your father would hog you away and keep you all to himself all the time, even Sanehiko was jealous back then!” 

“I did not hog our child, ok? I was just…happy…” Genma’s little ears turned bright pink, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You were happy because I looked like my uncle?” while that was part of it originally, it wasn’t just that, he truly had a wonderful bond with his sons, he was happy to welcome a new one after so long, Sanehiko was already a toddler back then and having such a cute little baby coddled up on his chest would make his heart sing every time.

“No, when you were born you were bald, we didn’t even know you would have dark hair.” that was a lie, but it made the child glow with happiness, being cared for just for his similarities to his uncle is something he’s feared his whole life.

“Bald? I didn’t know I was an ugly baby!”laughing wildly, Sanemi lets go of your waist to pick his son up in his arms, “Nah you were the cutest baby I’ve ever laid eyes on…”

“Cuter than Sae? She’s real cute, father…” his little hands wrapped around Sanemi’s head, his cute tiny nose nuzzling the side of his face as he giggles happily, this sort of affection normally reserved just for you, made Sanemi think he might have been finally forgiven by his son.

“Oh she is, alright, she looks just like your mama. But you…your eyes were so full of love even when you were a day old…I’ll never forget the first time you smiled at us…We knew we were blessed that day…” Genma has never been this clingy with Sanemi, but it felt just right, it reminded him of a young Genya clinging onto him for support and for comfort, days that had been long forgotten, days he holds dear in his heart, those days filled with nothing but happiness, those came back thanks to you, thanks to the beautiful family you two were able to build based on love and trust.

Being a father isn’t easy, and six is indeed a very large number, but he would do it all over again as many times as needed just to see the smile in your face every time they’re around.

“But father, are you going to explain me now how does the baby pee work? Can you make more when she has a baby inside already? Do they line up? Or do you like turn it off? I’ve been smelling your tea, I didn’t notice anything different, I still want to know what you need to drink to make babies…”

“Oh god…not again…”

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Masterlist Previous Chapter

[yayakoishii]

Can I request sanji and reader being childhood friends and meeting again years later (and sparks fly obviously)… Maybe reader was told Sanji was dead after he ran away from Germa so seeing him is absolutely crazy for them. Ideally reader ends up joining the straw hats? No worries if you don’t pick this one but I thought it’d be cute!!

Gone | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: Light angst, fluff? Spoilers for Wholecake Island

A/n: First off, thank you for the request!! I tried my best to write it the way you wanted but I ended up having to slightly tweak the reader's role since it would have been impossible for Sanji to have a friend in his Germa days. I hope you don't mind! If this wasn't quite what you wanted, feel free to send in another request. I hope you enjoy ♡

also available on ao3!

Everybody in Germa 66 sang praises of the three princes. If asked to pick a favourite, they would all probably say either of Ichiji, Niji or Yonji's names. Not you though.

At 6 years old, you had firmly decided to yourself that your favourite prince was Sanji. Yeah, he wasn't as strong as the other three, but he was kind and sweet and most importantly, he was your friend. Well, your secret friend. After all, he was royalty and royalty wasn't supposed to lower themselves to your level.

Being the child of a nurse in Germa, you had been programmed to be born as fearless and unquestioningly loyal to the Vinsmoke family. Except, for some reason, it hadn't worked on you and you had turned out to be normal. At that young age, you didn't really know it, of course. But you could sense that you were different from the rest.

When you saw soldiers easily stepping in to let themselves be killed just on one word from a Vinsmoke, it made you flinch and it made you scared. You hid your fear from everyone except for Her Majesty, Vinsmoke Sora. Your job at that young age was just to look after, entertain and distract her. (The adults didn't tell you that you were supposed to be distracting her from her actual children.)

That's where you had met Sanji. He was the only prince who visited her. You didn't really understand much at that age but you couldn't get how any child could stay away from their own mom for so long. It made you dislike the other three.

"(Y/n), can you treat His Highness' wound like I had taught you?" Your mother asked you as she helped Queen Sora to lie down. Beside her bed, Sanji was standing with a scratched knee. He had slipped on a puddle on the way to Sora. You nodded excitedly and bowed to Sanji clumsily, like your father had shown you.

"Come with me, Your Highness!"

Sanji and you had sat on one of the couches in the room and you slowly worked on disinfecting the wound and putting on the medicine. The said boy was sniffling, which made you look up curiously. Everyone said the princes were supposed to be strong and that they never showed any fear or even cried.

"Am I hurting you?" You asked worriedly, trying to be even gentler. You were just waving the cotton in the air now, instead of actually touching him with it. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying!" Sanji immediately stopped sniffling, looking slightly alarmed. You could tell that he was scared– just like you! It excited you and you nodded enthusiastically.

"No, you would never cry, Your Highness, of course not!" You tried to wink at him but ended up blinking. Sanji stared at you, a little confused and fascinated, then nodded quietly. "What did you make for Her Majesty today?"

He startled at your question then said shyly, "I tried curry rice today, with an omelette."

"Ooh, did you get it to spill over the rice?!" You asked excitedly as you finished placing your personal favourite band-aid on his knee.

"It failed," he pouted. Before you could try to cheer him up, Sanji noticed the band-aid. "What is this?"

"It's my favourite Kakuma band-aids," you whispered, leaning in so that only he heard it. Sanji blinked at you unsurely before looking back down at the band-aids with a cute bear pattern on it.

"Who's Kakuma?" He asked, feeling foolish. You launched into a big explanation of your favourite show, Kakuma the Bear of Justice. The adults in the room let you two stay like that and that afternoon, you and Sanji became friends. When it was time for him to leave, he had asked you to not call him ‘Your Highness’ because now you were his (secret) friend.

"But I can't do that," you pouted, clasping your hands behind your back. "I am not allowed to call you by your name. But, I am allowed to call you my prince. Would that be okay?"

6-year old Sanji had flushed at the sweet way you called him your prince. He liked the sound of it. He didn't really understand why, but you were now his first friend and you smiled at him and told him about your favourite show and you even told him secret cooking tips that you had sneaked out of your mother to help him cook a perfect omelette with soft gooey insides.

From that day on, whenever Sanji visited his mom, he would also give you some of his food to try. It sometimes tasted horrible and was even inedible at others, but you would always take at least one bite and praise his efforts. You found him very cool for even trying to make all those difficult recipes– your mom wouldn't even let you enter the kitchen.

The two of you were each other's closest and only friend, so the day King Judge announced the death of Sanji at sea, your 7 year old heart broke for the first time in your whole life. Not long after, Queen Sora passed away too.

When you were 8, your father was called as a Wall by Judge and died. Within the span of a year, you had lost all the closest people to you and then came the attack on Cozia. Your mother and a few other nurses got attacked in the scuffle and she had pushed you, telling you to run far away from the battleships of Germa.

That was the last you ever heard of the only remaining loved one you had.

•

It had been 11 years since then. You were no longer the kid you once were. You had ended up lost in the East Blue, worked your way into a pirate ship as a apprentice. The crew managed to make it into the Grand Line when you were 13, but ended up stranding you on an island after an attack killed off most of them, including the captain.

You had hopped around islands over the years, exploring and picking up jobs or working in crews or delivery ships to travel as many islands as you could. Now, you were currently living on a small island that was a few islands away from Marie Geosie. You had contemplated it but, it would be foolish to try to enter the New World without a really strong pirate crew who could possibly survive it. Having made peace with that, you had settled into a small rural town where you worked in a bar at night and taught children how to fight in the day.

Being a small island where the log pose reset within 3 hours, not many pirates or marines ever came by or stayed long enough if they did come. It was the perfect place for a peaceful life– a rare occurence on the Grand Line, in your opinion. So you had taken the chance and established yourself within the community smoothly.

There were rumours going around, though. Of a new generation of pirates that were slowly making their way through the first half of the Grand Line. You had heard some names in passing but didn't really keep up with the news much until that one fateful day. The Straw Hat pirates had docked on the island at sunset and the news spread like wildfire. It was the most interesting thing to happen in a long while and there was a strange tension in the air.

There was also another small crew that had arrived just before them so there was a possibility that the two might clash. You hoped that there would be no fighting for the sake of your simple town. You were at your workplace, serving drinks and food to the customers, most of whom were people from your town or the surrounding ones. There were some unfamiliar faces as well, which you guessed were the new pirates.

You worked while keeping an eye on the ones who gave you a bad feeling. Just towards the end of your shift, you suddenly saw one of the pirates try to grope your co-worker. Within a flash, you were next to her side, standing in between the lecherous pirate and her cowering figure.

In a small town like yours, people were more fiercely protective. While in any other place the girl would have been told to tolerate it, that was not the case in your town. And you were free to defend them and drive the customer out in such a case.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," your voice was cold as you shot him a murderous look. The pirate could sense that you weren't joking with your skills and got out of his seat. You turned around to hold the girl by her shoulders and looked over her to ensure he hadn't hurt her without you knowing. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No, I'm alri–"

You were distracted by her answer and felt the pirate swinging at you a little late. Despite ducking, his sword still nicked the side of your neck. You hissed and whirled around, ready to beat the shit out of him when instead, a leg on fire smashed the pirate down so hard that the wooden flooring broke under the pressure. You winced a little at how the splinters pierced him but you were distracted by the owner of the leg which was no longer on fire.

"Getting handsy with a lady and then attacking from behind?" You jolted in shock at the sight of the man. That blonde hair… those curly eyebrows… No way. He was sneering at the man with disgust, a put-out cigarette in his left hand. The man on the floor groaned lightly; he was probably experiencing a concussion. The blonde man looked up at you with concern. "Your neck is bleeding."

"Oh," you automatically covered the wound, feeling the wet, sticky liquid dirty your fingers. You had nearly forgotten about it in the shock of seeing your childhood friend after so many years. He was alive? After all this time?

"Hey, you should go treat it," the co-worker you had saved spoke hurriedly. "I'll take care of things here."

"You sure?" You asked, eyebrows furrowed. Your brain was still frozen from the shock but your body was already moving on auto-pilot.

"Yeah, go quickly before you lose any more blood," she insisted, guiding you to the backdoor. You heard footsteps follow you.

"Wait," the blonde man– Sanji? –said from behind. "I, would you like some help with that?"

You could do it by yourself. You always dress your wounds by yourself. But instead of declining it like usual, you flashed him a smile and said, "I would like that."

Your co-worker seemed surprised by your words too and decided to leave you alone for now. You took the Sanji-look-alike with you to the backroom where your first aid kit was in the bag. For once, you were grateful that you always lugged the thing around; you actually had it on you for the kids you taught. The two of you settled down on the bench and the blonde carefully picked up the necessary medicines.

You just stared at his face, drinking in his features. It felt a lot like a dream. Sanji was supposed to have died. And yet this man in front of you bore such a striking resemblance to him. You had never seen curly eyebrows like this outside of the Vinsmoke family. But there was no way that Germa would let Sanji go, surely?

"Thank you for taking care of that scum," you said, eyes flitting all over the blonde's face. The more you looked, the more you saw your friend in him. Even in the dim light of the backroom, you could still recognise the bright blue eyes. "I could have taken him on if I wasn't distracted."

"I can sense that," Sanji smiled at your wound as he cleaned it up. He wouldn't meet your eyes for some reason but you watched him with half-lidded eyes. His touch was gentle and his fingers felt weirdly cool on your skin. It sent shivers down your back. You were reminded of that day when you had dressed Sanji's tiny injury. Funny how your roles were swapped now. "This might sound a little weird but, you really remind me of someone important to me."

Your breath hitched and you automatically teased, "Bet you say that to all the girls."

He laughed and finally looked you in the eye, "I could never. That person is too far away. I will never meet them again in this life."

He stared down forlornly at your first-aid kit. You followed his look to the plain band-aids in the corner of your box. A smile played on your lips.

"I couldn't find any Kakuma ones here," you said quietly. Sanji froze, wide eyes running all over your face. "Turns out Kakuma isn't very popular outside of North Blue."

"You…" Sanji suddenly grabbed you by your shoulders and you flushed at the close proximity. This Sanji was different from the cute boy you once knew. He was now handsome, but still just as cool. "(Y/n)..?"

"I feel like I'm dreaming, my prince," you admitted, smiling weakly. You placed your hand lightly on his right cheek, brushing the cheek faintly as if you were worried he would disappear with a touch. "They said you died in a shipwreck. Am I just missing you so much that I'm starting to see you on the Grand Line?"

"It feels like a dream to me too," he sounded a little broken. Your fingers pressed into the smooth skin and, it felt too real to be a dream. He was really sitting across from you. "How did you end up here?"

You sat there quietly for a few seconds, remembering the worst days of your life when you lost all your loved ones one after the other. You had kept that bottled up all these years.

"Let me change and I'll tell you everything when we're out of here."

Sanji nodded and slinked out the backdoor while you hurriedly changed, packed up and joined him. You decided to take him down the shore as you spoke about all that had happened ever since his death was announced. He told you about what happened to him the whole time, about the imprisonment, the actual shipwreck, the Baratie and the Straw Hat pirates. Both of you talked and listened for so long, the moon was up high when you finally stopped walking.

The sea was gently crashing onto the shore. Your bare feet dug into the dry sand from a distance as you stared at the horizon.

"So," you hesitated. "What now?"

"Now…" Sanji trailed off as he turned his head to face you. "Do you want to come join us?"

You hadn't expected that. Snapping your neck towards him, you stared with wide disbelieving eyes.

"Shouldn't you ask your captain first?" You asked nervously. The idea of being by Sanji's side for the rest of your life made your heart beat faster. He was different from the boy you once knew but the past few hours had only made you realise that this new Sanji was still the kind and sweet boy beneath all his differences.

"I'll convince Luffy," he said. You realised he was just as nervous as you felt. "I'm sure he won't mind."

"Oh," you looked away and back at the horizon. The part of you that still craved adventure was all in support of the idea. The other practical side of you wondered if you could just up and leave your life here. (Everyone would understand, wouldn't they?) "I spent so much of my life thinking you were gone, Sanji. Thinking that I had lost you forever. Thinking that I would never meet you again."

Sanji didn't reply, just slipped his left hand into yours. He squeezed it gently, as a reminder that he was here now. That he wanted to have you by his side from now on.

"I don't want to let you go ever again."

Your admission earned you a soft smile from the cook. He fully turned his body to face yours and you did the same. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead that sent your heart jackrabbiting.

"I don't plan to either," he whispered.

With those simple words, all your inhibitions were gone.

"Then take me with you, my prince."

You pulled him into a hug for the first time in your life. You were no longer a prince and a servant. No longer quite the friends you once were. But it seemed like you two were on the path to becoming something else entirely.

A something else that you both looked forward to.

°•❀•°

A/n: I feel like Sanji would treat you very differently if you were his childhood friend. He would be so much more serious than his usual perverted facade because you already know him at his lowest point. Also, Kakuma is a made up cartoon character. I took the name from the Japanese verb Kakumau, which means to shelter/hide/protect—something I really wanted to do for kid Sanji :(

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[liberalk1tsch]

In honour of Katniss’ birthday yesterday, I invite everyone to also remember the real-life men, women, and children in Palestine enduring unimaginable suffering in the midst of an actual war. To be aware of the censorship being deployed against protesters of this violence by corporations at the hand of unjust governments.

As you may or may not know, on the 6th of May, Macklemore released a song called "HIND’S HALL" in support of Palestine, where 100% of proceeds from streaming will go to supporting UNRWA.

Hind Rajab was a 6-year-old girl from Gaza. In January 2024, she and her family were shelled by the Israeli army while in their car. Hind and her 15-year-old cousin, Layan Hamadeh, were the only survivors, trapped within the car. They called the Palestinian Red Cross Society, with Layan saying, "They are shooting at us. The tank is right next to me. We're in the car, and the tank is right next to us." The PCRS sent a team to rescue them. However, after 12 days, on February 10th, when the Israeli army withdrew from the area, Hind Rajab and her six relatives were found dead in the car, along with the two paramedics sent to rescue them, who were also found dead nearby.

The song is not available on Spotify yet. It is not available on Apple Music yet. It’s available only on Youtube, where—for the first time in the 15+ years i’ve been using Youtube—they have placed an 18+ age restriction on the video that includes multi-step age verification, where viewers must prove their age with a government ID, credit card, or submit a photo of themselves to an AI age recognition program (that oftentimes won’t even load).

This is absolutely abhorrent of Youtube/Google to censor this video, especially in the light of the recent attacks on Rafah, where thousands of Palestians have been cornered in what was previously considered the final "safe" zone.

Macklemore has since reuploaded a second video including audio only which has not been age restricted (yet), but the lack of imagery greatly alters the impact of his message. Many people may not feel comfortable verifying their identity to a corporation we know to be corrupt. Others may not be "old enough" to see it, though as the next generation of voters, as the primary group fighting for peace, you all deserve to see the truth of what’s happening in the world. I have screenrecorded the video and attached it to this post, but if there’s any of you who have already verified your age or feel comfortable doing so, please visit and interact with the original video here to contribute to aid efforts. If you are under 18 or do not wish to verify your age, the audio only video can be found here. Remember that your streams hold power, and even those who have nothing to give themselves can make an impact.

Additionally, most of the people who interact with my blog are Hunger Games fans. You were all outraged when the men, women, children, medics were bombed in the books, when it was fictional characters. So why would you stay silent when it’s happening in real life?

Free Palestine. 🍉

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 4

Part 1 2 3 4 5

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 8k+ | cw: fem!reader, DEATH of characters/animals/monsters, POV shifts, mentions/depictions of violence, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional constipation, miscommunication, The Hound being abrasive, canon typical casual misogyny/violence, themes/mentions of menstruation/pregnancy/miscarriage, baby fever, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ❗❗please proceed this chapter with caution. i killed a bunch of characters/animals (well and monsters but i think deserve lmao)!!! ALSO POV SHIFTSS!!!! originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here. also fyi i post this story on ao3 first

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @j3nn-1

The Hound found himself wrong about the thieving, wrong about the missing livestock. He was so wrong it nearly cost him lives, including his own.

He was so sure about himself when he went into the woods, so sure that he was going to find at least two men, at most five, luring sheep there. It was the men he was prepared for. Fuck the livestock, the farmers can get them back after he killed the fucks stealing them.

Ah, the farmers, barging into his wife's estate... into their house, into house Clegane. 

Fuck 'em, fuck the lot of them, complaining again, complaining about their sheep and their cows. He had enough of their yapping, now was the time to act.

Fuck 'em twice for being shocked when he said he'd go into the forest to kill the fucker causing all of them trouble.

The superstitious peasants warned him. The Hound heard; he even humored them by letting a few spring chickens, boy-soldiers in the making, 'aid' him as he went to the forest.

Between the young farmer's lad, Andrew, and the man-boy, Carter, who he had been training be a soldier, it was actually the Hound who was the one most frightened by that thing that stared back at them.

It looked as though it was twice his damn size. It was darker than tar, and stinkier than shit. It made an unholy sound before attacking them.

He doesn't remember what happened after that in all honesty. His instincts kicked in and he can't recall what he had done. All he knew was, in the end, the two boys were cheering and dragging a black corpse all the way back out of the woods.

The villagers looked at him. They walked towards him and shouted. It was not an unfamiliar greeting-- being pursued by villagers, and yet, it shakes him; it takes him off-guard. They come upon him and begin to weep at his feet. They thank him. They thank them as they hug each other. The thank him as they wave at him. They thank him as they touch his armor like a devout would touch an idol.

The Hound is perturbed.

"Thank you, milord! You killed the beast!"

"You saved our sheep!"

"You saved our families!"

"You saved our lives!"

The Hound was never one to back down, but Sandor found himself taking steps back when a group of children ran up to him and began to ask him how he killed it. Their little hands and big eyes demanded answers from him. His insides rise up to his mouth.

The children begin to talk about how they can go to the woods now.

"Oi!" Carter calls to the ones in front the Sandor, "you do know there's more than one woodland monsters, aye?!"

"But now milord Cligay killed one! He'll teach us how to kill the o'vers."

"It's Clegane. Lord Clegane! And even then, you buggers can't just play in the forest. The brown bears still live here."

"I haven't seen a brown bear!" a little girl cries out. She looks to the Hound, walking up to him, grabbing his hand, "there aren't any brown bears in the woods, right, milord?"

Sandor looks at the small thing. His hand burns at her touch. Her hand was not even hot, not even big enough to grasp half his palm and yet he feels lightheaded. He feels like he's going to pass out.

The Hound finds their sentiment to be all too much at one point. He grumbles he's going home; he's got much work to do. The villagers thank him as he leaves.

When he gets home, just as he gets near the gate, he beholds Lady Clegane, the people's champion, his poor bride. She is outside, speaking to some peasants; it was all she did as of late.

A breeze blows and her dress dances with the wind. Her hair follows as well, and along goes the air from his lungs.

She is the sun. He is a mountain trying to reach her.

Sandor, who hadn't realized that he stopped in his place to gawk, is shaken out of his trance when the stable boy opened the gates for him. The small child named Polly, about as old as his wife when she fled this place, nods at him and motions, "pardon, milord," he says nervously, "I didn't know you were waiting for me to open the gates."

The Hound looks at the boy as he walks in, "I wasn't," he gruffs, eyeing him as he passed, "don't worry about it, laddie."

Lord Clegane looks away from the stable boy when he hears the shrill cry of a babe. He spots the maester walking over to his wife with a wailing child in his arms.

He thinks about the letter he had to write to the Citadel, requesting a maester come to Brown Wood.

Lady Clegane thinks her husband's initiative for it stems from his sense of duty as a Lord, but she'll never know he did it for her, for her to know if she really did have a late blood cycle, or if she lost a baby. Maester Yannick told him it was, regretfully, the latter.

The Hound waited for his lady wife to tell him about it, to ask him to hold a mourning ceremony for the unborn child. She never did.

Sandor watches Lady Clegane willingly embraces the woman who thanked her up and down, over and under, for saving her baby. She tells the weeping woman that it was not her work but maester Yannick that saved the babe. Maester Yannick says it was not his work but the gods.

Sandor tastes something putrid in his mouth when his wife coos at the child, who immediately calmed when the maester reunited the small thing to mama. His insides tingle at the sound of his lady's laugh.

He curses under his breath when she turns to him. He realizes then he had stopped in his tracks again.

The Hound begins his march.

Lady Clegane greets him, but he is not strong enough to reply with a greeting himself. He doesn't know why he stops to tell her that he killed a woodland monsters though. She looked very shocked after hearing that.

He wonders if she was disappointed. He wonders if she wanted him dead.

She touches him and questions if he was injured. Sandor flinches and steps back. She recoils her hand quickly and wipes it on her skirt-- disgusted.

The Hound says she shouldn't worry her pretty squirrel head, then walks away.

His footsteps are heavy as he heads to his office. He didn't want to go through the fucking endless piles of paperwork, but the apprentice he had couldn't grasp basic mathematics quite yet, so, there he went, to go through paperwork in a musty office.

He wonders if doing this shit made a difference to her, or if she'd always see him for what he was: a groom, forced upon her as a joke from a stupid blonde boy; a beast with ill features and temper; a Hound.

He is almost tempted to look over his shoulder at the loud sound of baby's laughter. He doesn't, cause he wouldn't see anything but a wall of he did anyway.

He wonders when she'd ask him again, when she'd ask for a child from him.

He promises he'd be gentler this time, gentler.

He doesn't mean to be so rabid with her.

She just had such an ablaze spirit, she was so fierce, and so vivid that he found himself wanting to devour her whole-- a true predator.

He wishes he could be more than that. He could be more than that to her, but it's so hard to fill in to be someone you're not. The Hound was not a proper lord, he was not that pretty boy Alistair. He can only do so much.

Sandor would do much and more for her than that scrawny, faerie pretty-boy ever could.

She might not like it, but he'll do his best to give her what she wants, to give her a family in stead of the one she lost. She will never love him, but he knows she'll love all the children he could give her, and that was more than enough, more than he could ever hope for or deserve. 

I carefully walk up to the office, clutching my hands together as I prepare myself to knock on the door.

I clear my throat and retell myself what I mean to tell my husband. My palms begin to gush like geyser. I dread the fight I know will be had because of this topic.

I let out a soft gasp when someone calls me from behind.

It was the stable boy, Polly. He had run up to bow and greet me good morning. I smile at him and reach out to him. I brush his hair back, "good morrow, Polly, dear."

The boy grins and bows again, "I'll be learning how to ride a horse soon, milady!"

I link my hands together as I chuckle, "my! Will you now? How awfully courageous of you."

The boy pushes his shoulders back, "it's no'ffin, milady. Just what a man ought to do. I would go to war for you, milady, I would!"

"My boy," shake my head, "I pray you never need to do such a thing. I hope you enjoy riding though. I find that I do not."

"Do you find riding scary? I wouldn't! I'll let you ride with me once I know how, promise," the boy nods as he places a hand on his chest.

"You are very kind," I smile, "I thank you for it, Polly."

The boy puffs his chest out and bows, "I'll be goin' then, milady!"

I chuckle as I watch Polly run off as quick as a rabbit.

My soul nearly leaves me when I turn around and see the Hound looming over me.

I gasp and step back. He reaches out to me and grabs my arm. He keeps me upright and leans down, "you better stop calling the boy dear." He releases me and begins to walk off, "he's already in love with you as is."

I blink rapidly at his words. I turn to him and watch him march away before scurrying after, "he's a child."

"Aye," says Sandor, "all the children adore you."

My stomach curdles at his words; I am unsure why. I rub my hands together, not sure what to make of myself, or what to reply.

"What were you doing outside my office?" he asks.

I run up in front of him and grab his arm, "there is something I needed to discuss with you."

Sandor stops. He looks at my hand on his arm, "can't it wait?"

I pull my hand away and shake my head, "I understand that you are very busy, my lord, but I-"

"Fine," he mutters, "I'll lay with you tonight."

My eyes widen and I topple back at his words, "what?"

The Hound steps forward, keeping me upright again, "that's why you're here, aren't you?" He releases me, "your bloods have waned."

I feel my face burn. I gulp and force a smile, "I-" I chuckle nervously and straighten up, "y-yes. My bloods have waned."

Sandor watches me closely.

I rub my neck and blink rapidly, "I thank you for your thoughtfulness," I dig my thumb nail into my pointer finger. I turn from my feet then to Sandor, "but that is not what I wished to speak about."

His face falls. It's not anything noticeable but I have become quite good at it, reading his face. He purses his lips then says, "be done with it then, I've got work to do, pretty squirrel."

I feel my face burn even more at his horrible nickname.

A group of women had been complimenting my dress when the Hound passed. I knew they did not know he would react that way, but it did not help the embarrassment I felt when the women asked my husband if he thought my dress suited me and he replied 'pretty for a squirrel'.

"I wanted to tell you that I... I still very much wish to be the one to speak to the people about their concerns," I am unable to look at him when I say this, "it is not because I think you are unfit for the task, my lord, but I have seen the way you act around them."

"Like a dog?"

I knit my brows deeply and look to him, "Daisy is a dog. And I love her very much."

"That makes one of us."

We stare at each other for a long, blistering moment. My throat constricts at his words, "... Sandor."

His face contorts. He scoffs and averts his gaze, "don't say my name like that."

My heart begins to race, it twists and clenches. I step forward and reach out to him, "I see how you try to listen, how you try to help, but it scares you-"

I gasp when he rips his arm away before I can even touch him. He grabs me instead though, ripping me close as he leans down, "I'm not scared of peasants."

My eyes water. It's not even because his grip hurt, but because it was as painfully clear as it could get that this man did not like me at all, no matter what I did.

The Hound mutters softly, "do what you wish," he releases my arm, "you want to do my work so badly then? Fine. I didn't want ya to do anything you're not meant to, but have it your way."

I scratch my eyes before my tears could fall. I try to look at him as I speak, but the tears threaten to fall when I do. Instead, I fix my eyes on the floor, "I do not do this to upset you, Hound. I do this because I mean to help you. I swear it."

He is deeply disturbed by the softness in which these words are spoken. Hearing himself be called Hound was unreasonably heart piercing.

"I do not like it when you are angry," I whisper, "it would have been fine if it was only directed at me, but you spur everyone around you."

I flinch when he calls my name.

I shake my head, "if it pleases you, lord, I will do as you said the other day. I will no longer speak to you. I will not bother you. I will not stand in your way." I step back and pick at my fingernails.

Sandor holds back from stepping forward.

"Maester Yannick has been giving me herbs to help with conception, but he said that I should be in good spirits when... consummating... I do not think we should do anything tonight--" I look to him through my wet lashes, "unless you want to--"

"No, I do not," he says coldly.

I gulp. Tears begin to stream down my face. My lips quiver. I shudder. Of course he doesn't want me.

I curtsy and walk off. I break into a sprint after a few steps, as I am no longer able to hold in my sobs.

Sandor watches this. He furrows his brows, unnerved by the interaction, gutted by the fact it ended in tears yet again. He replays the conversation. Was his touch truly that hard? He looks at his hand. He curses loudly and storms off to fuck all.

Sandor wakes before the sky does. He opens his heavy lids and sighs. He turns to his right on instinct; he watches his wife stretch out her arms in the expanse of nothingness between them. He likes to think that she is reaching out to him. He likes to think that if he reaches back, it'll make everything fine between them.

But then again, it had never been fine between them in the first place.

He makes sure not to touch or move her. Last time he did, she woke up. She truly was a light sleeper.

He slowly gets up. He quickly gets dressed. The moment he gets out of the room, he heads to his office.

He's finished his work by the time he hears a dog barking. He looks to the window, the sun looks back at him. He stands, stretches, and walks over to the sill, pushing the curtains open. He sees her, Lady Clegane, cuddling the mutt she named Daisy. Fucking Daisy. Polly, the stable boy was waving a stick, but the bitch could not care less about it, too preoccupied by her master.

He watches Daisy lick her neck. He watches how she scolds the dog for it but giggles anyway. Sandor sniffles. His mind wanders to the one time he had his face pressed on her neck like that. Fucking dog.

He watches the pair go inside. The Hound heads to the dining room promptly after.

He mutters to himself, trying to decide how to start, "I don't meant to make you cry-- I keep making you cry-- Fuck-- .... I know you don't like me," he stops in his tracks before he can get to his destination. He mutters to himself some more.

Fuck it.

He hears the telltale patter of Daisy's paws. It makes his fingers tingle.

When he gets to the dining room, he furrows his brows at the emptiness.

Lucy gasps at the sight of him. She topples back then regains her composure. She puts the plate of food she was holding down on the table with a bang. She looks at him and curtsies, "your food, milord."

"Where is she?"

Lucy's glare darkens, "she is dining with the servants."

He chuckles drily. He feels disappointment. He feels hurt. He immediately plays it off, "pretty squirrel's finally had enough of me."

"WILL YOU STOP CALLING 'ER THAT!" Lucy bursts, taking the Hound off-guard.

They both stare at each other, as if equally as shocked by the outburst.

Lucy fumes. Sandor freezes. The former decides she's already spoken, so she might as well continue, "she is a lady! You took her for this," she motions vaguely. "You need her," she speaks firmly, "just as much as she needs you."

The Hound scoffs. His insides burn and curdle at the idea of the little girl needing a beast to keep her safe. He snaps, "well, go ahead and tell her I will gladly be her hound and breed her little monsters as thanks for her nice, warm castle!"

Lucy makes no attempt to hide the revulsion she feels at the sound of the hound's words.

"You know what," he snarls, "why don't I breed her right now as a thank you?"

Lucy's face drops. She runs up to the Hound when he begins to storm off. She crumples like paper when he shoves her away. He doesn't do it hard enough that she shoots off to the table, but it's enough for her to get the message: he was deadly strong.

Lucy does her best to stop him. She cries and begs and screams. She digs her heels into floor and yanks him back but it doesn't do much, it doesn't do anything.

The Hound only stops when he finally sees her.

Lady Clegane is laughing with the servants as they watch Daisy roll on her belly for food. She feeds the dog just as Lucy runs up in front of him, severely distraught and tear stained. Lucy pushes her hands on his chest and begs him to punish her instead.

The Hound is sickened when Daisy runs up to him and whines. He recoils his hand when the bitch licks it.

"Lucy?"

Sandor flinches at the sound of his wife's voice and turns the other way.

I was in the middle of playing fetch with Daisy when she caught wind of something and ran off to the gate. Usually, this meant Sandor was home. Lo and behold, this moment was not any different.

I turn away immediately when we lock gazes.

The Hound had a large cut of meat on his shoulder. He grunts as Daisy barks and runs up to him, "fuck off, bitch."

He does his best to avoid the dog, nudging her away firmly with his leg as he walks up to a wagon and plops the hind of a cow on there. He hisses at Daisy when she gets on her two back legs and rests one good leg and bad one on his hips.

"Daisy!" I call.

She ignores me.

Sandor looks over his shoulder, "your mam's calling you, dog. Go on!"

Daisy clearly doesn't understand, or doesn't care, and barks at Sandor when he shoves her away. 

"Daisy!" I call and jog up to her when she follows Sandor out of the estate. I run up to the gate and watch as she is chased by the Hound. She runs as fast as her three paws will allow, clearly enjoying what she thought to be a game.

"Come here, you stupid bitch!" the Hound screams.

I turn to one of the men near me. I call Arron over and tell him to tell the Hound not to chase after her. He does just that, "milord! She will stop running if you stop chasing!"

I make a face as Lord Clegane curses and does his final attempt at catching the dog.

"Shall I bait Daisy with some meat, milady?" Arron asks.

I am about to respond but then there is a loud shriek from afar. It makes my blood go still.

The Hound immediately stops, straightens up, and looks at the distance.

I turn to Arron in a panic and tell him to get bait for Daisy. He quickly does that and calls for the dog to come back.

A bunch of peasants run and scream towards the estate; they scream milord.

Sandor goes to them.

When he reaches the panicked townspeople, he tells them all to shut the fuck up and explain what's happening. The old one clamours out that her daughter's been taken, says she was herding the cows then she was suddenly screaming, and he tried to reach her but it was too late. He says his son went to the woods to try and save her sister.

The Hound nods. He easily decides to go into the woods. The man's other son to leads the way.

In truth, the boy didn't have to go with him, he could just head to where the animals were fleeing, but he allowed it because he recognized the boy to be one of the ones in training. He has no idea what his name was though.

He was glad to hear the screams when he did, at least the ones that sounded human.

The Hound sees a lad and a lass running up to him, "RUN WHILE IT'S DISTRACTED!"

The boy by his side screams back, "the Hound is here! He's going to kill it!"

Well, Sandor was only meant to save the girl, and now that the girl was about to run past him, he didn't have to do anything, really. For some reason, he felt compelled to press on. Maybe it was the lack of his sense of self-preservation as of late, or no, don't call it that; it was his need for a distraction, his need prove something.

He sees it, the monster and its fresh kill. It must have been one of the girl's cows, or at least what was left of it. Gods, the abomination was a messy eater. He was glad, at least, it seemed to be starved and solely focused on eating.

His boots stomp into a puddle of blood when he charges at the thing and cuts its head off. That's was quick... and simple...

He's shocked when he hears a hellish scream behind him and gets knocked into a tree.

The Hound is dazed. He hears the battle cry of two voices. He watches the brothers do their best to stab at the thing that towers and claws at them. He promptly gets on his feet and charges at the disgusting fuck, managing to chop off its arm before it chops off the boy's head.

Just as he thinks he's about to get the upper hand, another vile beast pops up from the shadows. He fixes his footing and slashes his sword for his life.

One of the boys get injured. The boy's scream attract the monsters towards him, allowing the Hound to stab through one of them when it's attention is averted.

By the time one of the two vile cretins drop to the ground, the two boys are running for their lives with one monster on their tail. The Hound is forced to chase after them and curses the boys for running. He's not as quick as he was before.

He screams and grabs a rock, chucking it at the slimy tar creature. He throws and shouts some more until the monster is turned back and running towards him.

He slashes the stupid fuck with his sword when its close enough. It still picks a fight though.

He's losing his breath.

The next thing he knows, there's another monster screaming from behind him. The Hound prepares for the one behind him, but it doesn't reach him because its busy ripping something off it with a growl. It chucks something to the side. There is a separate whine that hisses with the wind.

The Hound finally kills the first monster that attacked him. It doesn't take much for him to kill the other as its belly was already gushing with viscous blood.

Once he's the only thing alive and standing, catches his breath and curses. He looks upon the fallen black creatures before him and reckons he ought to get out there before more come out.

But then he hears a rustle to his side. He immediately goes on the defensive and readies for another fight.

He follows the sound of heavy breathing.

His face drops when he hears the way the dog whines when he's spotted.

The Hound sheathes his sword and drops to his knees. He looks at Daisy, her one front paw bent, the other one not. Her hind legs were twisted unnaturally, her side was clawed. She was soaking in red, both hers and otherwise. She was panting and quickly losing blood.

Sandor reaches out to her. Her eyes were wide and teary. She leans into Sandor's touch and licks her nose in a panic.

He begins to feel a rage burn in him. He begins to feel loathe. He whisper-yells, "you stupid dog. You should have stayed home."

Daisy's breath quickens. He realizes see that she is trying not to whine. Gods, the pain she must be in.

He is about to tell her she was stupid for doing that, he is about to tell her she didn't need her help, he is about to tell her she was so fearless for no reason, but then Daisy whines. It was the most horrible thing he's ever heard.

Sandor huffs like he had been stabbed. He grips his hilt tightly, "thank you for saving me, Daisy."

Sandor screws his eyes shut and decides on what he has to do.

He draws his sword. Daisy does not flinch when he presses the sword onto her neck. He thinks about the day they'd first met. 

Fearless.

He strokes her face with his hand once. He screws his eyes shut when he feels her shiver. 

So afraid.

"You're a good dog."

His next stroke pulls Daisy's final breath.

The Hound stands. He looks upon his dog.

He screams.

He screams.

He screams, hell-bent on summoning more monsters. He kills three more stupid fuck, particularly enjoying how he butchered killing a young one.

He takes Daisy's body after. She is rigid against his chest when he reaches the village. He barks out an order to the villagers: burn those fucking monsters he killed. They were more than happy to oblige.

He passes the family he had helped. They are about to come up to thank him but they don't when they see what was in his arms.

He is swarmed with dread with what he is faced with when he reaches the estate. It was very clearly as search party for Daisy.

"SANDOR!" I cry out when I spot him from the distance. "DID YOU SEE DAISY WHEN-" I stop myself when I realize he is covered in blood. Suddenly, I feel awful for not asking him if he was injured before anything else.

His form becomes clearer as I jog up to him and call, "ARE YOU AL-"

I stop in my tracks when I see him adjust something in his arms. I knit my brows and continue walking towards him. Was it a head of a monster? Why was it brownish and not black?

The Hound gives me a solemn look as he inches closer. I furrow my brows at his expression.

It takes a second then suddenly, it clicks.

I let out a horrified cry.

The Hound buries Daisy in the garden himself. Everyone in Brown Wood watches. I force a glance at my poor dog, even though I wanted to do nothing but turn away. Her injuries chill me to the bone. Lucy stands beside me, clutching my arm as she weeps, but does not look at Daisy once.

Maester Yannick speaks some words for her, as per my request, before Sandor covers the grave.

Once it was done, maester Yannick comes to me and says he will plant daisies at her grave come morrow. I cannot find solace, I cannot find myself to care.

"Did you have to slit her throat?!" I demand lowly, voice aching and angry. I eye the Hound with hot contempt and cynicism, "was there REALLY no saving her?!"

"My lady," the maester holds me back, "I saw her body. Lord Clegane showed her mercy."

"Did you enjoy executing your mercy?!" I wail, ripping my arms away from Lucy and Yannick. My gaze does not trail to them at all, as I am intent on getting answers from my dog's executioner.

The Hound's face is blank, it enrages me.

I snarl through tears, "gods, I hope you did! I hope you savored finally being free of your bitch!"

Lucy calls after me as when I storm away. She means to run after me but shoots a glare at the Hound before doing so. She is momentarily stunned when he sees how distraught he looks at the moment. 

Sandor marches out of the estate.

I jolt awake when I hear the front door opening. I wipe my face and quickly stand from the chair in the middle of the living space. The fireplace near me had already burned out.

After the sound of locks disappear in the darkness, I take the unlit candle on the table beside me and walk up to the burning candelabra to light it.

I hear heavy footsteps draw closer.

Boots skid, "fuck."

I look up after lighting my candle. The Hound looks back at me.

"What are you doing?"

I purse my lips and turn to my feet. I clutch my candle, finding it hard to speak. 

"Lucy kick you out of her bed?" he mutters then begins to walk off.

I look up and follow after him. I finally muster out, "you arrive later and later."

He scoffs.

"It's been five days. I fear you'll not return by the tenth."

I pull my head back and stop in my tracks just as the Hound turns and chuckles, "don't worry, little girl. I like the wages of a Lord. Your hound isn't running."

"I know you're not running!" I snap, "I wonder why you think so poorly of yourself!"

"I think poorly of myself?" he hisses and points to his chest.

"Yes!" I bark and push myself up on my tiptoes to prove a point, "and since you are so keen to put words in my mouth, I hope you shove all the fucking pie the unwitting peasants gave you down your blasted throat!"

The Hound is shocked by my profanity. His face slips into confusion.

I heave and pull back, intent on walking away. And I do. I should have never waited for him.

"What fucking pie?"

I snap and turn back at him, "the one you could have eaten fresh had you spared a moment this morning before leaving for a monster hunt!"

Sandor is wholeheartedly confused.

I am aggravated by his expression. I wave my hands, unintentionally putting out the flame of my candle, "they love you, Hound! They're thankful and grateful!"

Though it was darker now, I see his face pinch in to a sort of disgusted disbelief. The sight infuriates me, it squeezes my heart, it pricks me frustration. I wipe my face and repeat the words that were spoken to me, "tell Lord Clegane that without him my children would be dead. Tell Lord Clegane that he has saved me family from hunger. Tell Lord Clegane that me, and my sons, and my sheep are happy to-"

"I didn't do it for them," Sandor cuts me off with a hand raise.

I purse my lips and slowly pull my head back at his words.

He lowers his hand and eyes me for a moment. I see how his gaze drinks my figure. He clenches his jaw and looks away, "you should be asleep."

My jaw slacks.

I wait for him to look at me. I wait for him to ask if I was going to sleep with Lucy again. I wait for him to apologize for keeping me up worrying. I wait for him to bring up Daisy. I wait him to do something, but he doesn't.

My eyes water, "my lo-"

"Good night," he dismisses and turns around to walk away.

"Aren't you-" my voice cracks, "-going to ask me to go to bed with you?"

He stops in his tracks. He does not look back, "do you want me to?"

I furrow my brows deeply. I feel like I was drowning. I let out a shaky breath and wrap my arms around myself. I shake my head and turn away. I chuckle dryly, "forgive me for even asking."

Sandor turns back, jaw hanging, hands clenched. He does nothing but watch.

"Do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"

"Yes."

"What's going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me."

Sandor laughs lowly, placing his hands on my cheeks. He swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."

He kisses me deeply.

"Tell me honest," he mutters through kisses, "have you ever done this before?" he speaks as his hands paw at my sides, "I would not judge you if you did."

I squeak when he touches me between my thighs.

He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't; you're a good girl."

I gasp at the sound of thunder. I jolt up from my bed-- I turn to my side, seeing a sleeping Lucy's form-- or I mean, Lucy's bed. I look for Daisy in the room as I slowly push the blankets off me. I still when I realize she wasn't here.

I huff and wipe my face. I try to push away the thoughts of Daisy out of my head. I try not to think of her so much because I end up melancholy and furious. I, instead, find myself drifting to the dream I just had-- been having.

The mind can be so treacherous. I nibble my lower lip and rub my belly.

I tried, you know. I went to the Hound the morning after we fought about his coming home late. I tried to make peace with him. I tried to persuade him. I tried to kiss him.

I gasp again when another crack of thunder echoes through the room.

He wasn't having it though. He pushed me away and told me it was wrong, that we shouldn't be doing that. He left the estate shortly after. He hasn't been home since.

I get out of bed and light a candle for myself. I walk to my bedroom and light any of the candles that went off on my way. I wrap my arms around myself and rub my skin. I open the door to room as softly as possible, though it didn't really matter in the end because it was pouring outside and the noise wouldn't be loud.

With a barely audible creak, the door opens.

And it was also empty.

I sigh at the made bed. I walk towards it and smoothen out the already smooth sheets. I decide to get dressed for the day.

I head to the office, which as empty as the bedroom. I light the candles there.

I sit down on the desk and go through the papers, the letters of requests, the list of complaints, the finances, the works. I rub my eyes, willing my sleep away. I look out my window, seeing barely any hint of sun through the dark clouds.

I don't know how exactly how much time passed between then and when Arron burst in, but it must have been a while, considering how nice it felt to stand after hearing him shout, "HE'S HOME, MILADY!"

I immediately blow out the candles as Arron tells me the Hound was in the living area. I thank him for telling me, gather my skirts, and jog out of the room.

I cannot hear the click of my heels over the sound of the persisting rain-- the persisting storm.

I stop in my tracks when I see a trail of water in the corridor that led to my bedroom.

A crack of lightning bolts through the sky when I walk in and ask "where have you been?!"

The Hound is dripping in rain water. He has his back turned to me. He is undoing his armor.

I clench my fists and storm up to him. I circle in front of him the same time he walks towards the closet. He stops there, still undoing his armor, back turned to me again.

I scowl, "Hound! I'm speaking to you!"

He looks over his shoulder, the one he was trying to undo, "what? I can't hear you over the rain."

I burn hot with anger and march up to him, "I asked where you've been!"

The Hound looks down at me. He releases the grip on his shoulder, "does it matter where I've been?"

"Yes!" I snap, "you haven't come home in 7 days."

He scoffs, "thrilling to know you've been counting," he points to the window, "well, as you can see, it's fucking storming."

"It wasn't storming the day you left," I hiss.

"Well, it was when I decided to come to my beautiful wife," he leans down and jeers.

I knit my brows at him and pull back when I smell the alcohol in his breath.

He takes my chin between his fingers, "come on give us a smile."

I pull away from him, heart racing, chin burning, even though his touch got my skin damp with rain water.

The Hound straightens up and undoes his armor again.

I step away from him, "Job said he saw you in the next town over."

"Who the fuck is Job?" he asks, not bothering to look at me.

"Polly's father."

"The stable boy?" he turns to me.

"Yes," I hiss and I feel anger build up in me.

He says nothing.

I nearly choke when I say the next words, "he said he saw you coming out of brothel."

The Hound stills. He drops his hands to the side.

Both of us just stand there for a moment. The rain seems to intensify, and so does the tension between us.

"Tell me the truth," I mutter, "do you-"

"It was the town with the fucking unavailable inn," he shifts in his spot to turn to me, "I went to the brothel instead and paid for lodging there."

I purse my lips at his words. That was not what I was going to ask him. I battle with myself, trying to find the words I want to say. I revise my words over and over again in my head. There were so many things I wanted to say, yet so little ways to make it easy to speak out.

I shake my head, "am I very hard to want?"

Sandor feels rain water drip from his fingers.

I don't know how I feel about the bewildered and perplexed expression that spreads across his face. I do know one thing at least, I feel too exhausted to cry.

I sigh and shrug, "I am no fool, Hound. I learned through the gossip of my maids and my aunts growing up that men are simply like... this. It is their nature to stray. Of course, I hoped different for myself, but we cannot have it all, can we?"

"But I didn't do anything," he snaps. He deflates, "I swear by the gods, old and new."

I press my lips into a tight smile. I slowly walk up to him. He watches me intently. I hear his breath hitch when I begin to undo his armor for him. I half expect him to make me stop. He doesn't.

Sandor steps forward. There's barely any space between us anymore. His heart is racing. His hands itch to touch. He releases a breath when his hand comes to my side.

My stomach swirls at the feel of his palm but I do nothing. Neither do I look at him when I mutter, "maybe you should."

Sandor watches me remove his armor. He furrow his brows and whispers, "what?"

I drop the steel plate to the ground with a clank. It is loud even with the sound of pouring rain.

He doesn't like it when he receives no reply. He takes my wrist. I stop my task. His hand is warm albeit the dampness, and so very gentle. 

I finally look up at him.

He leans closer and speaks louder. He shakes his head and furrows his brows, "what did you say, pretty squirrel?"

I raise my brows, "maybe you should."

"Should what?"

"Do something in the brothels."

His face falls. We stare at each other for a moment. He is clearly in disbelief.

I pull my hand out of his grip. He almost doesn't let me.

"It's not a trick, I swear it."

"What are you saying?" he shakes his head faster and finds himself playing on the offensive, "you want me to be with someone else?!"

"I want a baby," I mutter.

Sandor's face falls again, but then it twists. It is unbearable to look at.

"Find a woman you desire," I turn away from him, "and give her your seed. You may keep her here if you like, and I will let her take care of the babe, but the babe will be mine."

His lips part.

"You're right. I don't want the memory of my family to be tainted by monstrosity-"

He shakes his head once more.

"-and I am the last of my line. My line lives on with House Clegane. People remember names, not blood."

He takes my hand, "I desire you."

I cannot help it. I begin to cry because of that. I break into both tears and laughter, "you needn't shield my heart, Sandor."

Sandor's stomach drops, both at the fact his own words have been used against him and with how his name was spoken.

I place a hand on his cheek.

His knees go weak.

"We've both hurt enough," I smile, "I know you think otherwise, but I'm not a little girl. I know sometimes winning means admitting defeat when the loss is great."

He grabs both my wrists when I try to pull away. I gasp when he does so. He holds me for a second then releases my wrists to capture my cheeks instead. He wipes my tears with his thumbs. He swipes my lips, "I love you."

I screw my eyes shut and cling onto his forearm. I let out another laugh, "I don't think you hurt people that you love, my lord."

The Hound is pierced through his armor.

He doesn't put up a fight when I pull his hands off me.

I continue to undo his armor. He doesn't move an inch.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" he whispers. The sound of the rain is too loud that only him and the gods heard it.

Sandor had been out of it ever since his pretty squirrel ate his insides. He was thick faced, literally and figuratively; he's learned to take pride in it, to find solace in the fact all the years of flesh ripping torture-- figuratively and literally, had made him indifferent to what people think, made him apathetic, numb.

And yet her smile that day was worse than a sword through the spleen. Her disbelief in his words-- because she was right, you don't hurt people you love-- was heart wrenching, blood draining.

What do you say to that? How do you fix that?

You don't.

He knows you don't. You can't fix something like that.

And since this truth has dawned on him, since this truth has slit his throat, he's been a headless, mindless fucker. He was a dead man walking, and one more unwitting monster attack away from making it real.

"MILORD!" Carter cries, raising his sword to hack at the monster who managed to swipe his lately-been-aloof Lord Clegane.

The boy is fired up; his blood is pumping enough to enable him to cut the black demon's arm off and sequentially pierce it through its heart. Carter does it with a scream and regrets it a moment later; after all, they were in the middle of the woods.

They have to get out of here.

Sandor makes a pained noise. He feels heat surge down his arm and cold shiver up his spine.

"YOU'RE BLEEDING!" Carter gasps, mortified that his lord's armor was scraped off his back. The boy realizes suddenly that his Lord, the fearsome Hound, was not invincible. This newfound truth rips into his ribs the way, he thinks, the monsters would.

The boy immediately takes the Hound in his arms, though it wasn't like he could actually carry him if he wanted. Sandor steadies himself on the boy; Carter struggles even with that task. 

Still, the smaller manages to support his Lord out of the woods.

The next thing Sandor knows, he's screaming and thrashing. He vaguely hears the sound of footsteps skidding away from him.

"What's happening, Maester Yannick?!"

A deep sigh, "he probably feels the pain now."

Sandor realizes he's sat down on a stool, leaned against a table, or at least he was before he started flailing his arms around. He lets out a guttural cry as he pushes himself up. He realizes he's in the ward, being attended by the maester, and his wife was present and very troubled.

"My lord!" Yannick exclaims, raising his hands in both surrender and an attempt to soothe, "it's alright. I have stitched your wounds closed. Do not tear them open "

Sandor huffs through his nostrils. He turns to his side when he hears the soft way his name was spoken. Lady Clegane walks closer, hand wanting to reach out to him. He almost reaches back but then she digs her nails into her palms.

He sinks into the stool and watches her look at him. Her eyes are glassy. Why are they always glassy?

"My lord," Yannick walks towards him, "I'm going to wrap your wounds now."

Sandor huffs in agreement, or more accurately, acknowledgement. His eyes are still fixed on her though. He watches her hover around him, evidently unsure about approaching him.

He wants to reach out to her. He wants to touch her, to soothe her so, so badly.

He's shocked when she decides to take his hand and whispers, "shall I get you milk of the poppy?" 

Sandor looks up at her. Her voice was shaky and he hates how worried it sounded, how desperate. He hates how her eyes were constantly red. He knits his brows, "no."

She hisses, "are you certain? Your gashes are deep. No one in the world would fault you for wanting something to relieve the pain."

"I want to feel it," he mutters, "I want to feel."

She looks between the two of them in a panic, "but you've lost so much blood--"

"Perhaps," Yannick interrupts firmly. He starts binding his wounds, "he wants to feel precisely because he's light headed after losing blood."

Sandor straightens up slowly as he is instructed to. His attention is solely focused on the sensation on his hand though, on how the jittery squirrel was rubbing her soft fingers on his calloused skin.

She persists with this action until his chest and back is bound, she persists until Maester Yannick leaves the room, she persists until, next moment, she drops on her knees beside him. The Hound reacts in an instant.

He gets on the floor beside her, uncaring how it hurt his back, and clutches her face. He calls her name in horror.

"Are you punishing me?" she whispers as water in her eyes threaten to spill.

Sandor knits his brows deeply. He can't speak. He's too afraid to. Everything he's said up until that point has done nothing but rip them both apart. He was a hound after all.

"Are you trying to kill yourself to get back at me?" she mutters, distressed, pained, and defeated.

His face contorts even more. He hesitates but then shakes his head, "no."

"The boy said you've been acting differently as of late!" she grabs his wrists, "ever since I told you what I wanted from you."

His lips twitch. He looks away.

She tightens her grip, "please."

He is suddenly so acutely aware of his injuries. The pain throbs all the way through his heart.

"Please," she begs softly, "just tell me what you want from me-"

"Everything."

The way he responded was quick, as if it was practiced, as if it was reflex.

He avoids her gaze. He takes a deep breath. He waits for a response he somehow knows will never come.

When he turns to her, he notices how her face dropped. Gods, Sandor. Get it together.

"I want-" he starts but cannot continue because of how guilty he feels over the sight of her wobbling lip.

Sandor's hands loosen. They melt from her cheeks, down her shoulders. He grips the area, as if she was water about to slip through his fingers. He releases a breath, and with it, it seems, his thoughts escape. He mutters somethings that mean nothing. She doesn't understand anything.

She whimpers, "I have nothing left to give; you already have it all."

The Hound freezes when his cheek is touched, when his scar is touched. It's like it's being burned all over again.

"Is there something I can give you now?" she huffs uneasily.

He sighs. He feels the wounds throbbing; he feels his head pounding, "no."

"Then will you let me go now?" 

No. No, no, no, no-

"Or, please, at least loosen your grip."

Immediately, Sandor releases her shoulders. She sequentially lets out a breath and rubs the area. There is an imprint on the area of her exposed skin.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

"Do you want me to stay?"

Yes. "Do you want to stay?"

"I had planned to finish some errands before going to bed."

Sandor averts his gaze then slowly crawls back to his stool, "then leave."

It almost hurts as much as his cuts how quickly she stands. She looks down at him, "I will leave you to your solidarity."

Please don't go.

"I will tell Maester Yannick to come back to attend to you, Hound."

Hound. It sounds like shattering glass.

Sandor listens to the click of her heels as she leaves him.