#sandor's characterization

[horizon-verizon]

A lot of us in the ASoIaF fandom throw around the word “antihero” a lot when we talk about certain characters like Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Sandor Clegane, etc. George R.R. Martin himself calls Daemon Targaryen an anti-hero, despite some fans claiming that the book character likely killed his first wife, Rhea Royce, for her property.

But what is it and why do we (some of us) like them so much? 

[Warning: Lots of quoting]

“Antihero” Defintions

An anti-villain is the polar opposite of an anti-hero: a character with heroic qualities, who turns out to be the villain. Their intended goals are usually good, but their methods range from bad to ugly.

Anti-heroes are still good people, but their approach to achieving what they want might be different than what society deems "acceptable". On the other hand, an anti-villain is evil and does whatever it takes to get ahead no matter who gets hurt in the process (StoryFlint)

the central character in a play, book, or movie who does not have traditionally heroic qualities, such as courage, and is admired instead for what society generally considers to be a weakness of their character (Cambridge)

An antihero is a protagonist that displays qualities that do not align with the traditional hero. The qualities can include laziness, greed, selfishness, i. These characters more accurately depict true human nature because of the flaws given to them (Writing Explained)

An antihero is a protagonist or main character who does not embody traditional heroic qualities such as grand displays of bravery or unwavering loyalty/honesty. Most antiheros could be described as ordinary. Sometimes, they even embody unappealing characteristics such as lying and cheating. However, they are overall still a good character that does good things for other people (WoodheadPublishing)

“Antihero” Purpose

[...] an antihero has to work to make readers trust them and feel invested in their storyline. However, with appropriate character development, the end result is a much deeper bond as audiences watch the antihero grow and develop, all the while the antihero is becoming more likable and accepted.

Additionally, antiheros are more easily related to than traditional heroes. Every person has flaws and it can be hard to relate to perfect heroes because they are less like us. With antiheros, there is a very natural and complex sense of growth that results from the events and characters the antihero has to navigate. This mirrors real life more fully than the traditional hero-villain arch. The sense of suffering and overcoming is highly valued in literature, especially in contemporary times (WoodheadPublishing).

The use of an antihero as the protagonist in a literary work can serve several important purposes. By including a main character with flaws, it creates a more realistic main character. It also allows for the character to exhibit growth if he or she overcomes these flaws  (Writing Explained)

“Antihero” Traits

will often do what's best for their own self-interest even if it means putting other people in danger. They're not necessarily evil, but they definitely don't have the same sense of honor and duty as a traditional hero does

belief in something is what motivates them and sometimes they can be morally grey. They're fighting for the greater good, just not necessarily playing by all of the rules that a hero would follow.

...because their methods are often questionable, this can also lead to a lot of inner conflict and turmoil for the anti-hero. They're doing what they think is right, but it's hard to be proud of their questionable deeds when they were selfish or done at someone else's expense

unwillingness to play by the rules and live up to expectations put on them. They don't want someone else telling them what they can or cannot do, even if it's for their own good.

[...] internal conflict [...]; And because they don't always have the best coping mechanisms, this can lead to them being self-destructive or anti-social

don't trust authority figures or people who are more fortunate than them, and they can be pretty cynical about life

one of the reasons anti-heroes act differently than heroes is because they've probably experienced some pretty traumatic events in their lives.  (StoryFlint)

usually has one of the "Dark Triad" personality traits: narcissism, psychopathy, or Machiavellianism ("The Antihero in Popular Culture: Life History Theory and the Dark Triad Personality Traits”)

Disclaimer 

Anti heroes act in or are adopted to have these traits. Since they don’t exist as real people and are imaginative creations that you could use to study human thought patterns, but aren’t solely made for or manifest as such. The below definitions of the “Dark Triad” in regards to literature is metaphorical or just not the same as when existing in real life. The meanings of narcisssm especially come to contradict each other through the historical thoughts on it, and we are in our medical psychological, “everything must be real and individualistic” place.

Narcissism: 

often regarded as an unhealthy characteristic, and investigations of the interpersonal functioning of narcissists support this view. In short, narcissists seem to be interpersonally inept. They make good first impressions, yet are eventually regarded negatively as arrogant and self-centered (“Parenting Narcissus”)

Narcissists want positive feedback about themselves, and they actively manipulate others to solicit or coerce admiration from them. Accordingly, narcissism is thought to reflect a form of chronic interpersonal self-esteem regulation (Britannica)

it tends to be the result of indulgence instead of deprivation ([Karen Horney’s thoughts] Personality and Personal Growth)

Psychopathy (called today, anti-personality disorder if though as a psychological disorder)

basically persistent antisocial behavior

less sense or capacity for empathy and guilt

bold uninhibition and egoism ("Triarchic conceptualization of psychopathy: Developmental origins of disinhibition, boldness, and meanness")

Machiavellianism :

manipulativeness

callousness

indifference to morality (“Studies in Machiavellianism”) By definition, they do not take a moralistic view of themselves, others, or interpersonal relations and should feel no greater qualms at admitting their behavior than they do at performing it

Antiheroes can be on spectrum of relatability, appeal, and intensity of traits listed above, just as villains and heroes and “anti-villains” are.

Who is the most anti-hero and who the least?

[loryel8706]

[justforfunfic]

How they spend Valentine's Day

A/N: I’m a little late for Valentine’s Day but I thought this would be a fun prompt for some of my favorite GoT characters. Some of the characterization might be a bit off just for my preference but I hope y'all still enjoy :)

Jamie: Jamie is not a huge fan of  Valentine’s Day, but he sure knows what to do for it. Expensive roses, fancy chocolates, reservations at a three Michelin star restaurant, you have everything you could ever want on Valentine’s Day with Jamie. It was all for you, to show his love and devotion to you, but there was another reason he did it, not that he would ever tell you. He loved one-upping everyone else. The other men dining at the same restaurant with their girlfriends and wives were obviously able to get reservations, but were they able to get a matching set of gold earrings and a necklace for their love? He didn’t think so. What was more is that he knew that none of your exes had ever done anything like this for you on Valentine’s Day, or would’ve even if they had the money. Those thoughts, along with your smile and visible delight, went straight to his head. He was on a power trip and couldn’t wait to take you home. That’s where the real delight would be. 

Sandor: Sandor doesn’t really care for Valentine’s Day, but to do nothing would be a disservice to you. He’s never had someone to share Valentine’s Day with, so he’s accustomed to sitting at home and drinking by himself. He rarely went out because he didn’t want to see others coupled up around him, suffering dozens of love declarations, a handful of proposals, and twice as many stares. But being with you changed that. One your first Valentines together, Sandor asked you what you wanted and where you wanted to eat that night, and the both of you settled at a local Italian restaurant. Sandor brought a small bouquet of flowers, but nothing grand. The wine was nice and the night even better. The next Valentine's Day you spent together was better though. Sandor had still brought you flowers, but this time insisted on cooking for you. He made steaks, searing them to perfection, as soft music played in the background. The two of you laughed in the kitchen while he cooked and you chopped a salad, despite Sandor’s protests that he wanted to make everything. The two of you ate in the dining room, an unlit candle between you.

Tormund: To Tormund, Valentine’s Day is just another excuse to have sex. While other couples spent the day re-declaring their love and showering their partners in affection for the first time in a while, it was just another day with Tormund for you. He was constantly telling you how much he cared for you and regularly took you out and gave you gifts throughout the year, so Valentine’s day was like any other weekday but with roses. However, that’s not to say you wouldn’t celebrate. The two of you would go out for a nice dinner, something hearty with a baked potato for a side. In the car, chocolates would be waiting for you. Little did Tormund know, you also had chocolates for him, or rather chocolate syrup and a can of whipped cream. You told him about your little surprise in the car, smiling shyly and waiting for him to get the hint. Whether he feigned confusion or really didn’t understand, you don’t know, but you leaned over in your seat and whispered what the syrup was for and where it would go, eyeing his chest. It clicked for him instantly and you spent the rest of the concerningly short drive begging Tormund to obey traffic laws.

Jon: Valentine’s Day with Jon is special, but not in the way your friend’s think. While your friends are spending the evenings with their partners at a fancy dinner, the movies, or in the bed, you and Jon are makin moves. Your Valentine's Day plans are centered around your shared interests and goals. The two of you had been planning a big hike on a difficult but beautiful trail through the mountains together. It would be challenging, but facing a challenge with Jon was one you didn’t really mind. At the same time, the two of you had been wanting to learn how to throw pottery. Ok, you really wanted to and Jon was slowly roped into the idea, but now he was just as excited as you. He pictured hosting a small party of your friends, showing off the vases and bowls that you made together. The two of you probably wouldn’t decide which activity to do until the night before, but it wouldn’t matter which one you picked because either way it would be something you both enjoyed.

[lemonhemlock]

The way that people refer to Aegon and Aemond as Criston's sons makes my heart break. Would it really have been so bad if the show was more explicit in the text of allowing Criston to be the surrogate father to Alicent's kids rather than just shoving this "jilted and violent brute" characterization in the audience's faces? Hell, Sandor kind of got the pseudo-dad treatment with Arya and he's also a piece of shit!

yeah, this stuff is kept vague and in the subtext, but it would be so much more interesting if they committed to the bit. let him cook!!! man of the house energy. aegon and aemond ARE his kids and they ARE going to behave or else no supper!! then back to his lovely wife the queen for more slaps and wall seggs

[laurellerual]

Arya and Sansa storyswap: an exercise in imagination

Premise: I tried to speculate what might happen if Sansa manages to escape King's Landing and Arya gets stuck in the capital. I collected my thoughts on this scenario trying to make logical, credible choices that respected the characterization of the characters and the timeline of the books (the wiki was very usefull for this). I discarded all the scenarios that end in "…and then she dies horribly" because they're boring. I write with assumption that they would still remain POV characters and therefore mantain a minimum of plot armor. Like everyone, I have my biases so it's not perfect, but I tried to put myself in the most neutral mindset possible. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts. Part 1, Part 2

Part 3/3: Reunion

A Storm of Swords

Sandor and his “squire" are captured and bringed to Stoney Sept in the Riverlands. The Brotherhood without Banners takes them to Hollow Hill. Clegane is put on trial for various atrocities committed by Lannister soldiers, but he survives and is freed.

Arya is recognized by Harwin and Sansa. The two sisters reunite and remain under the "protection" of the outlaws. Because of this, the story takes a very different turn from here on.

For example, I don't think Arya would try to escape the Brotherhood so soon. As a result I don't think the Hound would be unable to kidnap the Stark girls again. However, the Hound could also decide to stay with the Brotherhood. He could plan to go to the Twins, introduce himself to Robb as Arya's savior, and ask him for a job.

So the Brotherhood proceeds as planned, they now have another valuable hostage and intend to take both girls to Lord Edmure's wedding and ransom them to their family. A group of men (like Lem, Harwin, Tom, etc) accompanies the sisters to Harroway to cross the Trident, but their journey is delayed because they find it flooded (like in Arya IX).

They reach the Twins just in time for the Red Wedding, and the outlaws manage to drag the Stark sisters away and save them. Arya and Sansa go through a complicated period of mourning but the fact of being together helps them. The two want to hold onto hope that perhaps their mother might have survived.

One night Arya has her first wolf dream in a long time: she sees Cat's body and drags it out of the river. In the morning Sansa suggests asking the men to go back and look for the woman, but Arya tells her that she's dead. As per canon Lord Beric, Thoros and the others come across the corpse and Dondarrion dies to resurrect her.

Lem's group continues their journey, this time they intend to take the girls to Lysa Arryn, but they discover that the mountain clans are bolder than ever and decide not to take the risk and return to the Riverlands.

The Stark sisters are getting impatient, Arya suggests that the two could run away and try to get to Winterfell alone. Sansa has to inform her sister that Winterfell was conquered by Theon months ago. She is devastated and abandons all plans. Lem's group returns to the Hollow Hill to discuss a new plan with Beric or perhaps to take more men as escorts before returning to the Vale.

Waiting for them in the hill, there isn't the lightning lord but Lady Stoneheart! Mother and daughters reunite.

A Feast for Crows

That's it. Final cliffhanger, sorry.

[fromtheseventhhell]

I will say that it’s not surprising for book Sansa fans to dislike GRRM’s writing because he doesn’t write her coherently at all, and treats her as more of a camera than anything. Not to mention he pairs her with too many much older men (I hate Sansa’s ships but GRRM clearly write Sansan as romantic). I’ve always thought that GRRM’s writing for Sansa’s chapters is some of his weakest. He doesn’t know how to handle this character. But her fans can’t admit that because then they would be admitting that the parts they love from the books is all the headcanons they made up instead of just being like “yeah I made up someone more interesting and complex because the book is weak and shallow in this area”. That’s why Sansa fans actively get offended when people bring up canon moments and canon quotes from her arc that go against the delusional metas they’ve read.

I have to agree, although for me the issue is with Sansa's characterization itself rather than the quality of writing in her chapters. I think George has done a great job with writing the plot surrounding her and she offers an interesting perspective on things, similar to how we get Catelyn's POV on Robb's war. The issue is that George expanded her role but he doesn't seem to have a solid idea of what he wants to do with her character. She hasn't become more active with her increased story presence. She does have moments that influence the plot but most of those aren't intentional and come in the form of her revealing information to the wrong person (i.e. telling Cersei of Ned's plans and Dontos of the Tyrells'). She hasn't learned or grown as much as her "peers" have and a lot of her chapters do have her used as a "camera" to show what's going on with non-POV characters. I think her character gets overshadowed by the plots she's involved in. George uses her to introduce and hide the plotting of others which is interesting to read, but it also leaves Sansa in a position where she just isn't meant to grow and learn like other characters. If we knew about, say, Littlefinger's true intentions from the very beginning then things wouldn't be as interesting.

To me, her strongest characterization was in AGOT, which makes sense because her role in that book is the one George created her for. She got to be directly contrasted with Arya and overall, I think her relationships with other characters are where we've seen her grow the most. I hate how George has written her relationships with all of these older men, but I do think her relationships with them (platonic) are an interesting showcase of her character. With Sandor and Tyrion, for example, we see Sansa confronting her shallow ideas of beauty and knighthood. With Littlefinger, he uses her as a pawn and manipulates her, but he's also teaching her and potentially handing her the tools of his own undoing. The issue is that a lot of people don't look at how she's actually written and assign her growth she doesn't have. I can understand the urge and I genuinely believe that if Sansa had the same level of growth as others, she would be one of the best characters in the books. She will undoubtedly continue to grow in the last two books but for where the fandom wants her to be, George would need to give her four books worth of development in a few chapters which seems...unlikely.

I do agree that there's an issue with her stans getting angry when confronted with the book content. I've had people get upset with me for simply mentioning that Sansa was a part of LF's plot to poison SW. Her stans want her to simultaneously be the smartest character in the books while also being the purest, most naive character in existence. If you "insult" her intelligence then you're misogynistic but saying that she knows something that she was basically outright told is also bad. A really frustrating attitude that comes from her stans being unhappy with how she's actually written in the books. I think a lot of it comes from people wanting her book plot to line up with the show, but there's just no way that's happening. The sooner her stans come to terms with that and learn to like how she's actually written, the better.

[minsyal]

The Great Stone Knight, Pt. XI

Sandor Clegane x Reader

Warnings will remain vague and be for the work as a whole as opposed to each part individually: violence, death, assault, my shitty characterizations, explicit language, sexual content (will be noted), and having too good of a time reading this.

Masterlist

The bodies of the dead lay around the small campfire that had since been extinguished. You frowned, uncomfortable at the way their unrested eyes watch you as your hands gathered their belongings and compiled them into your pack. Bits of silver and copper were all they had, along with the same swords and the same blades attached to their bodies. Sandor was too concerned with the hare they had been roasting, having gladly sat amongst the men as he stole their meal - a meal that would have gone uneaten otherwise.

“Arya, come here.” You motioned for her as you gathered a tuft of fabric in your hand, wet with some water stolen from their canteens. She stayed frozen to the ground, focusing solely on the silver coin she held between her fingers. “You’ve got blood on your face.” She somberly walked over, still fixated on the dead man that she ruthlessly stabbed. You gathered her puffed cheek in the palm of your right hand, the left gently wiping the blood from her brow. It wasn’t hers, but it bothered you all the same.

“You’re very motherly.” She said suddenly. The language of her body changed to her normal rebellion, quickly losing the dread that overtook her.

“Only to certain people.” You smiled as her face cleared.

“I don’t want to be motherly.”

“Never?”

“No.” She reaffirmed. “Ladies are motherly, and I don’t want to be a lady.”

“Well, I think it’s okay to be motherly.” You let your hand fall from her face as you discarded the cloth back to the man you had taken it from. “It’s something reserved only for people we care about.”

A calculating look etched its way across her features as she scrunched her nose and narrowed her eyes. She was thinking quite hard, you thought. Focus shifted from you to Sandor who was stood now, moving back to his steed as he brushed the dirt from his legs.

“So, you care for me.”

“Of course, I do.”

“How?” She said in an accusatory tone, untrusting of everyone she comes in contact with. “What have I done to make you care?”

“I don’t know, but that’s the beauty of caring for people. We don’t have to have a reason why.”

“And him? Do you care for him? How could you possibly?”

You frowned, looking to the giant of a man who was brushing the dirty strands of hair from his face, and muttering something to himself about how women complicate things and how you need to keep moving. “I do, quite a lot.”

“But, does he care for you?”

“Hurry up, would you?” Sandor hollered, preparing to mount and ride off without the two of you.

“I think so.”

“I don’t care for him.” Arya said, leaving you with your thoughts as she returned to his side. He lifted her, easily placing her small frame upon the horses back. You joined them, your hands squeezing his shoulders as he took the ground from beneath you, placing you behind Arya.

“‘ere.” He extended his hand upward to reveal a coin-sized tin. You examined it for a moment, taking too long as far as Sandor was concerned. For he snatched it back out of your hand and fumbled with the seal to pop it open. A jelly-like salve was smeared within, fragranced with honey and strong mint.

Not a week later, Arya had her beloved sword back in the palms of her hands, Sandor had a full stomach, and you had another fit of difficulty deciding whether you held a spot in his heart or not. The man who had taken Arya to Harrenhal, a Lannister man, had offered to take you in exchange for Arya’s sword and a hot meal. “You want ‘er?” Sandor shrugged in your direction while you sat at Arya’s side. “Take her. Doesn’t do much for me, maybe she’ll do more for you.”

When the men came forward to lay their claim, Sandor abruptly threw the table over and fought off the five of them. Arya sidestepped behind a beam, dragging you aside with her. The last of the men had tackled Sandor to the floor and held a blade to his neck. Before you could assist, he had killed the man with his own knife.

It was frightening. Arya’s haunting downward glare at the man named Polliver had imprinted into your mind as you replayed the scene in your head. She took pleasure in his death, ensuring it was felt and meticulous. Then, wiping her blade on a rag, she turned to you as if nothing had happened, walked past, and beckoned you to follow her out the door.

The amount of firsthand bloodshed you had seen in the past weeks could last you a lifetime as far as you were concerned. In fact, with each light extinguished, you could feel the effects of desynthesization resonating within your body. You cared less and less of the blood and gore, or even the smell that followed. Their coins were collected quickly, falling into a pouch you had taken from one of their bodies. “So sorry.” You apologized to the tavern maid who still pressed her back to the rear wall of the room. Then you left on the heels of the man you had entered with.

Arya had chosen the white horse, greatly enjoying the vanity of it opposed to the others. She was ecstatic to have her own space, and her contentment was growing with each passing hour. It would be easy for her to dash away, but she felt a strange fondness for the group she had to call her own. For the most part, Sandor had proven his intent to keep her safe.

You, on the other hand, were not blessed with a ride of your own. Instead, you rode with Sandor much like you had when your journey began. Sitting in front with your legs either straddling Stranger or to the side, your back rested against Sandor’s chest with his arms caging you inward. Three’s too many, he used as his excuse for not allowing you your own steed. While you wanted the freedom, you were content to be by his side.

As far as the eye could see, the land was flat. Rolling hills and mountains quickly turned into grassy plains of cold and yellowed vegetation. The wicked stiff air of settlements and cities dissipated, chased away by the crisp cleanliness of the open fields.Tracing along the flow of one of the Trident’s forks, the three of you continued toward the Eyrie where Sandor insisted he was going to sell Arya to her aunt.

Some days were pleasant with little conversations and small talk here and there. The sun would shine on those days. You could sit with your head resting on Sandor’s chest for hours, basking in the warm rays. Sandor, though he wouldn’t say it, liked those days too. When you would tilt your neck upward, he could watch the subtly of your beauty. The sun would peak over the top of his head, bathing you in its warm golden light. Closing your eyes, your lashes would flutter, and your lips would part into a carefree smile. It was an image he thought of often, quickly finding comfort in the release you gathered as life continued on.

Except, today wasn’t one of those days. Today was cloudy and full of gloom. The sky danced in a shade of gray, somewhere between lead and slate. Flattened and wispy clouds rolled downward, hanging low in the sky as they condensed the atmosphere and threatened to storm. Even the water was different. The trickle that was often whimsical and light sounded ominous and the rocks were cold and damp.

“How far is it to the Eyrie?” Arya asked whilst picking at the grime from under her fingernails.

Leather slapped against itself as he adjusted the saddle on Stranger. “Far.”

“And you’re sure were going the right way?”

The giant man scoffed, “believe me, girl. I want you there as soon as I can... get my gold and be on my way.”

“Where?”

“Why do you care? Might cross the narrow sea, fight as a sell sword. Second Sons, could be. Seems like a good fit for me.”

“I’d like to see Braavos one day.”

“Why Braavos?”

“I’ve got friends there.”

The exchange was comical from your viewpoint, perched on the wall of the bridge that arched over their heads. Your feet dangled off the side of the stone, ankles kicking lightly on the rigid rocks. It was amusing, the way they bickered to one another like family would. It was a nice group to spend your time with, even if it was going to be short-lived once Arya was in the safety of her family’s arms.

Creaking wheels caught you off guard, behind you before you knew it. It was a simple wagon, carrying a load of straw that was tied down by a thick rope, squeezing it out of the sides from the tension. At the front in the driver's seat, was an older man wearing a thick brown cloak. His hair was thinning on the top of his head and his beard was speckled with gray and white. His daughter, you assumed, sat at his side wearing a graying cloak of her own that engulfed her small frame. “Seven blessings to you.” He nodded his head in your direction.

“Seven blessings.” You repeated back to him with a polite bow of your head. Sandor’s hand motioned subtly at your side, signaling for you to come closer to the group. Swinging your feet from the bridge, you climbed off in front of their cart and rounded the corner down to the water’s bank.

As you approached Sandor, his hand snaked around your bicep. Whereas months ago his fingers barely touched, he was now able to have a full grip. It registered in his mind as quickly as it disappeared as he let it slide and tugged you flush against his body. “What do you want?” He ground out, voice gruff and foreboding as always.

“What do I want?” The man asked, “this is my land.”

You made eye contact with the little girl, her face was set stoically as her judgment for the two of you became unreadable. “If I’m standing on it, it’s my land.”

“We were just watering the horses.” Arya interjected, rising from her position on one of the many flattened rocks. “We’ll be on our way... forgive my father.” She threw a dismissive hand in your direction where Sandor fell silent. “He was wounded fighting in the war. Our cottage burnt down while he was gone,”she intertwined her fingers and picked at the dirt that had dug its way beneath her nails, “my mother nearly perished with it when she tried to save my brother.”

She feigned sadness with a sullen downcast gaze. “He's never been the same.”

Instinctively, you moved Sandor’s grip from your arm to his side with the gentle guidance of your hand. Your arm looped around his as you held him tightly. The solid palm of your hand found its way to his chest as he shook you from his arm and instead placed it around your shoulders.

The man contemplated for a moment, focusing on you and Sandor before he looked back to Arya. He assessed the three of you and after believing your story to be true he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Which house did he fight for?”

Without missing a beat, Arya responded. “The Tully’s of Riverrun.”

Arya’s fictitious story was easy to fall for, and the old man walked straight into her false words as he stretched his back and looked forward to his cottage. “There’s a storm coming. You’ll be wanting a roof tonight.” The sky acted as though it had heard his proclamation, growing darker with each passing second. “There’s fresh hay in the barn and Sally makes rabbit stew just like her mom used to do.” His shoulder nudged at his daughter, eliciting a small smile. “We don’t have much, but any man that bled for House Tully is welcome to it.”

The pasture was enclosed with a broken stone wall and patchings done with rotting wood. It would do. The horses were left to graze and run along with the farmer’s in the lush sea of green grass that flowed freely with the blowing wind. Sandor had instructed you to wait in the barn, as he didn’t fully trust the farmer. But when you grew tired of waiting, you utilized your own judgment and decided to head inside anyway.

It was a quaint cottage meant for a very simple life. There was one main room and one room that appeared to be for food storage to the side. A bed was placed into the corner, and two hearths were diagonal on the other walls. A large table crafted of local wood was positioned with two benches, both covered in a thin fabric. Charming, you thought, was the perfect word for it.

To your knowledge, there weren’t many homes like this in Antonia, at least not directly outside the capital of the Hill. Lorric was insistent, though, that he grew up in a one room cottage with twelve siblings. His honesty was questionable at times given the fact that at one point, he claimed to have hundreds of brothers and sisters.

“I didn’t catch your name.” The farmer sat on his bedside, fixing his shawl on his shoulders as he swiveled his heel in his boot.

“Meya.” You responded, having drawn a name from your family tree. “My husband is Lorric, and our daughter is called Arlenna.” He nodded and returned to his boots that had more laces than you had ever seen.

The farmer questioningly pointed a finger to his face, mirroring the cuts on your cheek and neck. His voice lowered to a deathly level, crouching well below the volume that anyone could hear outside the house. “Did he?”

Your hand shot to your neck where the once blackened bruises had now turned to yellowed skin. The cuts were healing nicely. Some had already made way for new pink skin, while others remained scabbed over. “Oh, gods no. He wouldn’t… he didn’t.”

“Fairmarket isn’t far. You and your daughter-”

“It was raiders… the ones who burnt down our cottage.” Ready to put distance between yourself and the farmer, you looked to his daughter who had been wordless since your arrival. “My husband would never hit me.”

He nodded, just as ready to end the conversation as you took interest in his daughter’s activities.

“Sally, right?” The young girl did not give a verbal reply, only nodded along like her father did and ventured about as she stacked an array of ingredients into her basket. The woven tray was filled with wilted aromatic herbs in shades of green and brown. A yellowed onion flaked its skin against the glass bottle filled to the brim with a frothy white milk. “Could I help you?”

Meekly, she put her basket down on the dining table and motioned for you to join her at her side. A sealed wooden bowl sat next to a sack of flour. Scooping a heaping pile of the starchy course powder into the bowl, she handed you the glass bottle of milk and another filled with water. Starting immediately on the item she had tasked you with, you hurriedly mixed the ingredients into a wet dough for the stew. She began chopping her onion and carrot, and her father retrieved a prepared rabbit from their underground cold storage.

The stewing process carried on in relative silence as Sally quietly directed you around the kitchen, mostly using you as her legs so she could stay near the fire and pot. You set the table with a stack of bowls and spoons, then sat on one of the benches with your leg propped in an unladylike way. Sally stirred the pot, the steam from the broth wasn’t bothering her in the slightest.

Eventually, Arya and Sandor came barreling into the room caught in the midst of some argument that they both fueled. Arya stumbled for a second, then looked directly at you and exclaimed, “mother! Father was worried,” she moved across the room and sat to your right. “He was very angry.”

“Still is.” Sandor grunted, searing himself beside you.

“There’s no need for a fuss.” Arya enjoyed the way Sandor cringed at your sudden matronly switch. “I was just helping Sally. You know, Arlenna,” you enunciated, widening your eyes to Arya as she caught on, “I’d appreciate your help in the kitchen every now and again.”

“She doesn’t help?” Farmer Hamlet piped up from his perch on the bed, groaning as he rose to his feet and joined the small party gathering at the table.

“I do!” Arya fussed. “It’s father who never helps.”

“Lorric,” you called to Sandor who rolled his eyes as the choice of names. “did all the field work.”

“Aye, I did.” He sighed.

Sally dished out a hearty helping of stew to everyone as she filled and placed a bowl in front of each person. The room was divided into two with Arya, you, then Sandor on one side and Sally and her father on the other. Crackling trigs and timber filled the room with a subtle ambiance, dis swaying the awkward way that Sandor and Arya drank from their bowls. You sifted through the stew with your wooden spoon. The mixture of hot and hearty filled your stomach quickly as it had shrunk over the passing months.

You offered your bowl to Arya who picked through the vegetables in favor of the meat. Then, you passed the rest off to Sandor who finished it gladly and luckily did not let out an audible belch as he finished.

“Got any ale?” Sandor looked to the farmer who simply shook his head and continued picking at his meal.

“Father.” Arya scolded in tune with your “Lorric.”

“Afraid not.”

“How can a man not keep ale in his home?”

“You look like you could really swing that sword.” The farmer nodded to his weapon attached at his hip. “ A real warrior with proper training. Those raiders wouldn't stand a chance against you.” His eyes flickered to Sally who was intently listening to the conversation. “How would it be if you stayed on till the new moon? I could use a man to help with the farmwork. Sally does what she can, but she can't lift a bale of hay. And if any thieves came looking for easy pickings, one look at you, I'd bet they'd run the other way. Meaning no offense.”

“What’ll you pay?”

“I don’t have much. But I’ve hidden a bit of silver from the bandits. Fair wages for fair work?”

“Fair wages for fair work.”

~~~*~~~

“Lorric, really?” Sandor had kept his voice low until the moment the three of you reached the barn. “Name me after a dead man.”

“We’re all named after the dead.” You retorted, watching as Arya made her way to the far corner of the room. “He asked our names, would you rather I have told him the truth?”

The night had grown in depth, all traces of sunlight had faded as the dark gray clouds rolled in from the distance. Arya played with the silver coin she protected with her life until its mesmerizing shine willed her into a deep slumber. The soft patter of rain began to click against the wooden roof, drips of the cold water pooled into puddles at the peak of the room where the wood was weathering.

Sandor had taken his armor off and piled it on the hay. An itching sound scratched its way around the room as he patted his hand against the surface, forcing it to lay flatter. His browned cloak was lying out, providing a soft protection from the edges of the straw. Giving it a final slap, he beckoned you over with the sweeping motion of his hand. “Here.”

“Such a gentleman.” You lowered yourself to his side, unaware of how truly close the two of you were until he turned onto his side to face you where you laid on your back. “A sellsword in Braavos.” You mused, listening as the rain came and went. The winds picked up outside, whistling a harmonic tune to the thundering beat of the rolling skies.

The barn was dark now with only the flashing of lightning keeping it lit. “What about it?” His eyes scanned the curves and peaks of your features that silhouetted eerily in the harsh lighting.

“I don’t know. Where am I to go?”

“Barrowton.” He answered, sounding resolute in his statement. “Plan hasn’t changed.”

“It feels like it has.” You defended, a lump forming in your throat at the idea that he still wanted to rid himself of you. To you, the journey you two traveled was not just of distance. You have come a long way from the girl who kissed him in the tavern bedroom, even further from the nervous princess who arrived in King’s Landing. You had killed, there was blood on your hands and scars on your body. Fragrant perfuming oils that had been accustomed to you your entire life turned to cold river water. Spiced meals made by the kitchen staff morphed into a poorly diet of dried meats, breads, and the occasional fruit or vegetable. The skin of your face had healed for the most part, but the tears on your throat still remained. Your hands had calloused, your resolve had hardened, and your heart had grown softer for the man you viewed as your home.

Sandor had changed too. The once frightening man had shown a more gentle side to his personality. He had a caring touch and thoughtful mind. Sandor was a blooming flower in the springtime air, opening and closing with the rising and setting of the sun. His eyes had opened slightly to the world of opportunities that laid before him. Yet, he continually pushed back.

“It hasn’t.”

Your shoulder bunched the fabric of his cloak as you turned to face him. Trepidation landed on your lips as you lost the words that had prepared to exit your mouth. As badly as you wished to keep your distance from the man, it was merely impossible. There was something absolutely enthralling about him. He was harsh and brutal, but with those attributes came a sincere honesty that you were not accustomed to. You had grown to crave his company.

“I want to go with you.”

He grunted in response, closing his eyes but not relaxing the muscles of his face.

“I fought the Brotherhood to let me stay by your side.”

“And then they kept you.”

Your breathing picked up. “And I ran from them to be by your side again. I stayed at the Twins waiting for you to return. I want to be with you. I don’t know how many ways I have to say it.”

Sandor’s cheek and brow had new scars that were not there when your journey together started. Burdensome gashes lasted as perpetual reminders of what he did to keep you safe. Antonian knights dawned scars of their own, too. Ser Lorric had permanent lines carved into his skin from his battles. Each served to prove his sincere loyalty to the royal family. But this was different, for Sandor had not vowed to protect you as a member of the royal order. He was not an Antonian knight, nor were you a Westerosi princess.

Everything he had done up to this point was for you as an individual, not as a duty.

“Sandor, I-”

He was watching you with a focused gaze, noses nearly touching. But when you broke the silence, he turned to face upward and then again to put his back to you. His walls reinforced themselves. He wouldn’t let anyone in.

It was like something burst inside of you. An explosion decimated the dam that held the rising waters of your composure. Yes, you had lost some of your poise in your travels, but you continually tried to reign in what little semblance you held of your past life. Yet, it was this simple movement that thrust you over whatever edge you dangled from. The cliff side of your mental barrier crumbled to the verge of death where you were suspended.

A searing white rage clawed its thorny festering tendrils up your back, leaving burning red marks across your skin. Your arms pushed your body up to position yourself above Sandor. Peering over his shrugged shoulder, your anger only grew as he mumbled, “strike a nerve?”

As if to answer his vain inquiry, you rose to your feet. “I’m sick of this, Sandor.”

The wind rushed outside, blowing so harshly that the trees seemed to do somersaults. The grasslands were swaying angrily, uprooting in the vicious assault of the storm’s fury. Wood boomed loudly as the door slammed against the barn, unsecured by the rope that laid loosely in the mud. Your hair whipped against your face, sticking to your clammy skin in the mist that spewed from the clouds.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Sandor belted over the chaotic sea that you walked fiercely into.

“I’m done!” You screamed back, throwing your hands up as you let the breeze carry you further away from the barn. “I’m tired of you, I’m tired of this,” you flung your hand between the two of you, “whatever this is. I don’t want it anymore. I’m tired.”

His voice got louder as his long legs carried him faster than yours. “You’re fucking insane, you know that?” Spitting fervor, he went to grab your hand but you recoiled at the heat of his touch. “Go back inside.”

“Go back inside.” You mocked. “I told you I’m leaving.”

“You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Good!”

Another bleat of drumming thunder marched forward loudly as the heaven’s band lost its conductor and let loose. Lightning struck in the distance, cracking and screaming as it connected with the ground. The skies opened, revealing a white haze of pouring rain all around you.

“I look forward to it!”

Sandor recalled the way you had said it in the past. Before, you had been playful, coquettish, and most certainly not mad. Back then, it came after a warning of what the king could command. There was a potent pain in your tone now. It was personified in the way your voice cracked in spite of your efforts to conceal it as anger. It appeared with how you balled your hands into fists to hide the fervent shaking of your fingers.

“Why are you doing this?”

You couldn’t meet his eye, not with the gusts of cold biting air or the frigid water that wetted your clothing and hair. Moreover, you didn’t want to. “I’m tired of this, Sandor.” The words came out quietly with the tempest that circled around the two of you. His feet stayed planted firmly where he landed in the mud. The loose-fitting shirt of olive and teal that hung from his shoulders now clung desperately to his figure.

“You confuse me.” Your explanation prickled at his ears as streams of water cascaded down his face. “You push me away just so you can pull me back. You’ve had so many chances to berid yourself of me and you’ve never taken them… not once. You keep me with you and-”

“You can go, you’ve been able to go anytime you wanted.”

“I can go?” The vitriol that subsided with the downpour returned as you looked into Sandor’s eyes. “I didn’t take you for a fool. You would have been put to better use entertaining the masses with your imbecilic performances. You’re not the Hound, you’re a fucking fool, Sandor Clegane.” You ground your heel into the mud, squishing it uncomfortably beneath your thinning boot as you turned and put your back to him. “You’re a fool… and I am too for letting you steal my heart.”

With each step that distanced you from Sandor, the cracks and crevices in your chest grew in depth. The pain that radiated from each bit of blackness that sept in it weighed on your shoulders. A magnetic aura begged you to go back and return to his side, but you couldn’t do it.

“I never thought-” his eyes were narrowed, teeth clenched in an internal battle with his head and his heart, “I never thought I could have anything like you.”

Your feet stopped like a seed sown into the tilled soil. Great roots sprouted from the bottoms of your boots, permanently holding your body there under the downpour.

The rain concealed the sounds of his steps as he hesitantly approached. Hesitantly - a word rarely used when speaking about any Clegane. Yet, his footsteps moved slowly. It was almost as if he feared you would disappear into thin air. “Something so… perfect. Ladies like you don’t belong with monsters like me.” Thick fingers reached out, grazing the bare skin of your wrist. When you did not move, he took another step forward and grasped it fully.

For the first time, you felt him shake. Whether it was fear or something else, you could not say. But the clear wavering in his body was transferred to you as he gave you a slight tug. “You shouldn’t be with me. I’m the Hound. I’m a murderer, a killer.”

The sprawling roots from the soles of your shoes twisted in the ground beneath you, oscillating your body to face his. He released you, only to take both your hands in his, but you were the first to speak. “I don’t care about the Hound. I care about you, Sandor Clegane.”

All the sounds of the world seemed to stop, drowned out by the way your ears only heard what spilled from his lips. His hair was drenched, small wavy strands stuck to his forehead. Beneath all that, his eyes were painted in sadness.

“You shouldn’t.”

“You deserve happiness.”

As an artist, he only had shades of blue and gray to work with. For a man so renowned, he lacked in love for himself. He hated who he was, even with a foreign beauty standing before him declaring that she loved it.

“I want to be your happiness. I want you, you - Sandor Clegane. Not the Hound, not the killer, not the murderer. Just you as you are. That would be enough.” You squeezed his hand. “You deserve to want just as much as anyone else. What do you want?”

His focus was entirely on your locked hands. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me, Sandor. What do you want?” The midnight blue in his eyes melted to make way for the slightest hint of brightness.

Bringing his lip between his teeth, he wet it, releasing it as he quietly uttered. “I want you.”

He waited, watching as a storm raged upon your face, severer than the one that threatened to blow down the barn. Though, this storm fermented in melancholy. A comment that could disassemble his suggestion played at the tip of his tongue, ready to deploy itself should your reaction be not in his favor. The walls he built around himself, brick by brick, wanted desperately to raise and protect himself from the passionate vulnerability he had just displayed to you. But instead, he remained awaiting your response.

With two exhales, your torment turned to a hopeful smile. His call was answered.

In that instant, he pressed himself forward. His ungloved hand caressed the softness of your cheek, tilting your head upward to face him as he pushed his roughened lips to yours. One of your hands grasped at his arm, the other against his barreled chest. The sparks that had exploded within you months before now danced in a beautiful glittering twirl around the two of you. This time, he allowed himself to feel them - to truly revel in the moment of passionate intimacy.

It was desperate, the way his mouth moved against yours, as if you would disappear the second the kiss stopped. But you didn’t. You pulled back, face flushed, eyes wide, chest rising and falling heavily as he did the same.

His artist painted in yellows and whites, brightening his often sullen face. His author wrote words of jubilation, full of an incandescent euphoria. Both of your walls crumbled to the ground, piling in mountains around your feet with the imaginary rubble and debris landing together.

“Come back inside.”

Arm in arm, he guided you back to the barn where Arya was fast asleep. She hadn’t noticed your brief absence.

As you drifted off to sleep, you laid a final kiss to his cheek and a pat to his chest. The rhythmic beating of his heart played like the sweetest song, drawing you to the darkness of rest. He, on the other hand, stayed awake. His arm draped over your shoulders, holding you in place. It was an odd feeling. For the first time, he feared tomorrow.

For now, he had something to lose. The thought thrashed within the confines of his mind, dampening the soaring cloud he had just been on. But when he felt himself slipping into the darkness of what was to come, he looked to you. Resting peacefully, soothed in the protection of his side, your breathing settled.

He could want.

He was allowed to want.

And for now, he was contented with the newfound love in his chest and woman at his side.

For he was a man, not the Hound, wanting and deserving of love.

Writer’s Note: ! This is not the end ! Our journey will continue from here. Where will the long road ahead take us?

Tag list (HMU to be added to the tag list!)

If your name is crossed out it wouldn’t let me tag you:

@madameasbjorn @yaskna @xakilicious @waifu4lifeu @peaked-in-third-grade @underatreedrinkingtea @bra1nr0t-for-lasquadra @dreamgirljere @fortunatelyfadingkingdom @bennysimps @supervalcsi @darylssluttt @grcnseer @strawberryoverkill @nothing2113 @art-flirt @broadsdrinkwhisky @usernameosv

[bighound-littlebird]

Do you think the Sansan ship is dying? Just seeing the reduced number of fics posted, and the new ones tend to be hyper violent or problematic.... It just feels like the fandom is petering out.

No, I don't think that it's dying as much as it's going into hibernation.

There are people on here who have shipped sansan long before the Game of Thrones adaptation on HBO. They've been waiting 20+ years for GRRM to finish asoiaf. Fans that started shipping during the show or with A Dance with Dragons have been waiting since 2011. So it's only natural that sansan ends up going on the back burner when new ships come along.

Sansan - like the rest of asoiaf ships - has always been a problematic ship. Sansa is surrounded by violence; Sandor Clegane is a deadly, dangerous, violent man prior to the Quiet Isle. So I believe violent content is appropriate and to be expected in canon compliant fics.

The latest trend of writing the pairing as non/con isn't new to the fandom, but it also isn't being counterbalanced with other types of fics, as it was in the past.

Non/con definitely can be off-putting for newer fans, as well as for book!Sandor fans who prefer canon-compliant characterizations. As for myself, I haven't been able to engage with newer fics. I recently suffered a setback of sexual assault related PTSD. While I support writer's rights to create whatever content they want, I'm being very selective for my own sake.

If/when GRRM releases TWOW, sansan fans will return to the ship.🥰

[seoness]

hey!! so i had a request: if the idea is interesting to you, how would the hound feel about falling for a powerful nobleman/monarch (maybe essosi?) who's chronically ill & has facial/body disfigurements from a birth defect?

sorry if this is too specific!! i've just been wondering how the hound would feel about essos & royalty and that big cultural gap, and i'm a self-indulgent (and disabled) hag who wants to hear about him having a disabled man as a partner, lol. whether you take this request or not, i love your writing, especially your characterization of sandor! keep up the good work!!

(Sandor Clegane x male!reader) Hi, if this was meant as a request for a fic then just holler at me again and I'll add you to the waiting list. Planning on plowing through them on my vacation. 🤗 Otherwise, here are my thoughts and rambles. Thank you for your kind words! Apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors, I'm trying to be less pedantic.

I just had to draw him acclimated to his new home. Relaxing and having a snack. I dunno what the dude's eating. A large plum? A red onion?

Let's begin with the setting:

We alter his canon. The Hound never became the Hound... well, not Joffrey's. Let the Lannisters have Gregor, there is gold to be had elsewhere. He's heard the tales. Listened as sailors regaled of spice merchants that could rival the riches within Casterly Rock, of princes, magistrates, and emperors worshiped as gods beyond the Jade Sea. One of them will have the need for good steel. As long as his master can point and his purse is full, they need not share the same tongue, Sandor's sword will speak for him. One of those many spice merchants, princes, magistrates, and emperors will be you.

How would it start?

Slowly. Regardless if he's aware and accepting of his bisexuality, he's not some fool desperate to lose his maidenhead. Especially if you're in control of the coin that pays for his wants and needs. His view of you will not be one that is kind. His world is a cruel one, and the life he's lived has been no different. In canon, Sandor tells Sansa (while joking about a traumatized and raped Lollys Stokeworth):

"...if you can't protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can..."

This is not a man that is considerate or empathetic by nature, which can be refreshing in its own right. He'll not eagerly bite the hands that feed him, but neither will he lie and say you didn't avoid his views on a technicality. It isn't your strong arms and steel that protect you. It is gold, and that gold has bought you his. This mindset applies to a wide spectrum of illnesses, ailments, disfigurement (that hinder physical performance), and disabilities. Sandor will wonder if you wanted his services because of his burn, that you see it like some sort of brotherhood. He'll not be completely open to the notion that you are clever enough to not pass on a good swordsman based on appearance. That you can see what more there is to Sandor Clegane than his scar and perhaps you hope he can show the same courtesy.

He won't.

Not at first. Your collaboration together will surround work and only work. You point, and the Hound goes. Sandor will start to pick up words here and there in your tongue. He knows and understands more than he lets on, but dislikes the chuckles whenever he speaks with a heavy Westerosi accent. The armor of dark plate will slowly switch to layered fabrics, chainmail, and pieces of plating (rather than a full set of plate). The once pale skin will darken under the Eastern sun. In Westeros, Sandor despised the showmanship of knights, but there is an honesty to how the Essosi deal with their gold and silk. It's not to boast of valor or honor, it is simple. Wealth. Gone are the comparing of lineages and legends of long-dead men, in Essos gold is everything.

As Sandor begins to adapt to his new surroundings, it won't be lost on the man that it's mostly due to you. You put down the time to explain your customs to him, you are the one ordering the many learned men to tutor your sellsword and you are the one that teaches the Hound what rules can be broken and which will cost him his head. Sandor isn't blind and he isn't ungrateful. His work is no longer a means to pay for his enjoyment, but something that brings him fulfillment in and of itself. He starts to devote time to learning more about you, your interests, and your past.

A good shield knows the one it guards.

That excuse will serve him well for a time. It's when his concern starts to shift that the man no longer can lie to himself. He can protect you from any danger heading your way. A madman with an axe, some assassins here and there, but the struggles that are your own? He knows shit about it. If the gods were true they sure as hells had no intention for him to be a maester.

Sod off

Sandor won't ask about it. He still doesn't want the reason for your friendship to be the brotherhood of the scarred and maimed. Your struggles are yours, his are his. There's no help in stealing the others. His growing care for you will show as the opposite, he'll ask less and seem more distant as you talk. The Hound will become more solitary overall, your servants tell you that he's stopped his usual route to the brothels. Sandor knows he should leave Essos. Gregor has lived for far too long. He'll pack once or twice, try and muster the will to tell you that he's leaving.

More excuses. The rest of your guard is too weak. Didn't that merchant give you an odd look at the last feast? Best stay a little longer, just until you're safe. If pressed too much during this period, the Hound might very well bite the hand that feeds him. He'd like the excuse of being sent away.

Sparks and relationship

When this strange friendship changes to romance is hard to say. He'll not be sober when he makes any deeper feelings known. A blunder. Something Sandor planned to keep his mouth shut about until he died. As a relationship begins to form between you, his support will grow into new areas. If someone rubs you the wrong way, he'll make a note and whisper an insult in your ear. He'll do that too many that trouble you. It's not a brotherhood, but he knows just how annoying it is to be surrounded by whispers and fleeting looks.

Sandor would have found joy in Essos, in your service, and unlike in his homeland, he would have been open that you were the man that he loved... you would have protected him from the hardships that await him.

[ladyinwriting18]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag @thegreatwicked !

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Currently 32! There will be more! Also some of the fics I've written are old. I'm talking 2013 old lol

2. What's your total A03 word count? .........237,027 Fuck that's a lot of words LOL

3. What fandoms do you write for? A LOT LOL Mainly Star Wars and other characters played by Adam Driver. But I've also written for Marvel, House of The Dragon, Game of Thrones and Once Upon A Time.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

A Place To Escape (NSFW Multi-Chapter Kylo x OC/Completed)

I Want Another (NSFW One Shot/ Aemond "One-Eye" TargaryenxYou

Missing The Taste Of You (NSFW One Shot/ Kylo x Reader)

The Gift (NSFW One Shot/ Sandor Clegane x Reader)

The Principal's Office (NSFW One Shot/ Modern Day Kylo x Reader) IDK WHY THIS HAS SO MANY KUDOS I DON"T THINK THIS ONE SHOT IS ANY GOOD LOL

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes! I love talking to my readers and honestly every comment that gets left on one of my stories touches my heart!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Uh.....I don't think I have any. Most of my fics are smutty one shots that end happy ;) lol

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I would say A Place To Escape because I worked the hardest writing that fic and Kylo and Evangeline go through A LOT before their happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really. I once had someone comment that I must be jealous of Rey cause I write KyloxReader fics but I'm also a Reylo sooooo. But I'm sure there are people out there that talk shit about me and my writing lol

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? YES. All of the smut all of the time.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Nope. Well.....once I wrote that Heath Ledger's Joker falls through a wormhole into the real world of NYC were me and my two best friends find him and taken him home......Don't ask....and no you can't find that fic anywhere LOL

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have! Not for awhile now but they're deff fun to do!

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Jesus idk...there's so many.... Prob Sandor x Sansa cause I've loved them the longest.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Most likely Darkness Into Light. It's never been released but it's a multi-chapter Kylo x reader fic where reader is also an apprentice of Snoke's and Rey tempting Kylo back to the light causes all these problems. I've had the story planned out and semi-written for years now. I love my ideas for it but I don't think I'll ever have the time or energy to finish it/put it out there to the world.

16. What are your writing strengths? I feel like I'm mostly known for my smut writing abilities because I not only write smutty fics but also write smutty audios. Most of my followers call me "smut goblin" lol But I have been told that I'm good at writing about powerful emotions connected with SA. And that I'm good at the characterization of various characters.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I'm too hard on myself and I think I suck. I also think I'm awful at writing descriptors. Like describing what clothing looks like or a place or things like that.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I've done it a little bit in A Place To Escape. I wanted Evangeline to have a native language that she used once or twice that Kylo wouldn't understand. But I ended up just using Italian words because.....reasons lol

19. First fandom you wrote for? Oh god....I'm not even sure now because I've been writing for so long. But when it comes to my Ao3 it would be Once Upon A Time (Rumbelle for life!)

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Gonna have to say A Place To Escape because I put my heart and soul into that fic. And it's also the first ever multi-chapter thing I EVER finished.

No pressure tags! @simpremerat @weareallstoriesintheend @just-some-random-blogger @late-to-the-party-81 I feel like I'm forgetting people.....I'm so sorry my brain is legit trash at remembering people's usernames!

But if I tagged you, then I've read your stuff and I adore it! -Lady In Writing

[hamliet]

Compared to his sisters Visenya and Rhaenys, why does Aegon I have a lack of personality? Despite being considered the "best" as the original Targ king, it feels like readers (and the people of Planetos) don't have as much characterization when compared to other individuals during his conquest and reign. Would you say that he was a private person who was an ace? Or did he just surround himself with people who fulfilled their roles so well, that he was just sort of kicked back somewhat?

I think it ties into the theme of seeing the idea over the person, actually! A person can become a symbol of something which may well be a part of them, but the actual person is far more complex than we think a symbol should be.

For example, Aegon is seen as a conquerer and a good ruler. How good a ruler could he have been if he left both of his sons inept to rule? I mean, there's an extent to which genetics may play a role but then there's also a massive extent to which Aegon acting coddling Aenys (while understandable given what happened to Rhaenys!) and neglecting Maegor (far less understandable) can be seen as him setting up his kingdom for failure.

It's a flaw. But history doesn't do well to remember the complications, so Aegon goes down as a good ruler and nothing more, when if you look at the facts we do have, it's clear there were a lot of complexities that might make us question just what a good ruler is. Is it someone who rules well while he lives? Or is it someone who rules well but also sets up his kingdom for future success?

We see this in the main story with a lot of characters. f!Aegon and Dany, for example--Tyrion warns Aegon that he should not expect Dany to merely fall in line with his claim and do what he wishes. Daenerys Targaryen is a far more complex person than Aegon comprehends. We see it with how the entire kingdom cast Tyrion as a malignant advisor to the king (based on his looks, a huge part of this stereotype) when he tried to save them. We see it with how people label Jon "bastard," Sam "fat," Brienne "ugly," Cersei "woman," etc.

We see the good in labels, too, in how Sansa uses her genuine belief in the goodness of knights to help Sandor rediscover his honor. Through Sansa, he's challenged to try to live up to an ideal and becomes a better person for it. And we also see the harm, in how someone like Stannis can utterly lose themselves in a label of "justice" and "chosen one," and will likely end up doing one of the most unjust acts in the entire series (burning his own daughter alive).

ASOIAF asks us to question these labels and archetypes, and it's honestly one of the most fun aspects of analyzing the series for me.

[cryptidwithacopiccollection]

Which characters from Star Blazers would have [tumblr] accounts, if any?

Hoooohboy. This one will be specific to their dub characterizations because that's the version I've seem most recently

Derek Wildstar: maybe? If he did he'd likely be a sparse lurker, only really following his friend/crewmate's blogs & almost exclusively hoarding posts in his likes. His biggest footprint would probably be asks, most of which would be sent Venture & Nova

Mark Venture: He feels like your standard tumblr user. May or may not have had a couple posts about the shenanigans he and Wildstar got up to while they were cadets get pretty popular. Said blog is not connected to his irl identity, so it's a little jarring for his followers to see him randomly go from reblogging memes to posting that a highly respected member of the space force routinely drinks soup out of a coffee thermos

Nova Forrester: if she did have one, she'd be an occasional poster, likely running a medical tip/doctorial blog with no personal footprint (i.e: what to do if you have a heart attack or stuff your nursing staff wants you to tell them before surgery) I could also see her possibly having a relatively low-key personal blog.

Sandor: yes. Considered a local tumblr cryptid, their blog is known by most for their A grade quips and comebacks, and, to a small subset of people, their disconcerting knowledge about what is definitely classified research, such as warp engines. They're mutuals with Nova's medical blog, often adding on to her posts with suspiciously specific anecdotes. There is no identifying info, though plenty of theories as to who they could be

Eager: yeah. Has a personal blog, often vaugeposting about their coworkers (read: crewmates) being dumbasses. Their recounting of the events of ep. 14's fight breatched containment and the phrase "didn't even get my waffle" is now common tumblr dialect.

Conroy: sadly not.

Homer: probably not, but if they did they'd only use it for a handful of very specific sub-communities

Dash: I honestly can't make heads or tails, but I'm leaning towards no

Doctor Sane: as unlikely as it would be, I find the concept of them running a blog for their cat, Mimi, adorable, so I'll say yes

Orion: Maybe. If Nova has one, he probably has one. His blog would likely run the same as her's, except swap medical advice for mechanical. Occasionally posts about how awesome his grandkids/family are

Captain Avatar: as funny as it would be to say yes, the concept of Wildstar trying to explain tumblr to him is even funnier, so I'm gonna say no.

Queen starsha: no, she's an alien form a separate galaxy cluster, plus tumblr doesn't really seem like her thing

General Lysis: see above

General Krypt: see above

Leader Desslok: realistically no, but I'm throwing all plausibility and canon out the window here, because the leader of the alien species actively trying to exterminate all life on earth inexplicably having a tumblr and knowing how to use it is hilarious

(once I re-watch the sub I'll be able to answer for Kodai & co)

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

I don’t understand WHY the HOTD fandom wants to see gratuitous and graphic violence against women. They praised the changes to Alicent’s storyline, and they borderline cheered when Daemon choked Rhaenyra because it proved that Daemon was awful (I don’t even ship them but I don’t want to see more violence against women). As bad as the GOT fandom was, EVERYONE hated what the show did to Sansa in season 5, and there was a MAJOR backlash. How did misogyny get so much worse over a few years ???

They praise Alicent for being “nuanced” and that “nuance” relies SOLELY on her being a victim of child marriage and marital rape (and let’s not forget that she’s also sexually assaulted by Larys in an incredibly degrading and ableist scene), there really is no way to praise Alicent’s show characterization without validating her being an abuse victim.

I really don't like when they change the source material of a series in order to portray more graphic violence against women on screen.

It was an issue I also had with got adaptation. They showed the violence against the women of the show in such a graphic way. A prime example was pregnant Talisa getting stabbed in her stomach on the Red Wedding (when in the books, Jeyne Westling wasn't even on that event) Also, on season 8 we saw Sansa telling to Sandor she was grateful to what she went through (which was far worse than her book counterpart had to face) because it made her stronger. Wtf was going on the writers' heads when they wrote that scene? It's like they say it's okay for women to be abused because then the victim will go through character development. This is gross and wrong on so many levels.

Similarly on HOTD, was it really necessary to see all these women giving difficult births in such graphic details? They make entertainment out of women's pain and then label it as "realistic" and "historical accurate". Historical accurate my ass, you write a series about a family of dragonriders who have incestous relationships. None of these things is historical accurate but when it comes to women suffering, you draw the line?

HOTD might have different show runners but unfortunately, the same sexist mentality remains.

[sansanwritersguild]

Five Word Prompt Exchange prompts are here!

Thank you to all who signed up! Can't wait to read the prompt fills!

Your prompt fill should be at least 500 words. Your fill can be a drabble, text message fic, one-shot, multi-chapter, whatever you choose.

Please tag "SanSan Five Word Prompt Exchange 2023" on AO3 and/or tumblr so we can track all the wonderful fics.

Post by 22 July. For multi-chapter fics, you'll only need to have posted the first chapter by 22 July. You can post sooner than this. If real life crops up and your fill will be delayed, just post as soon as you can. If you're unable to fill your prompt, please reach out to @sansanwritersguild and we can have someone else fill your prompt.

Prompt assignments are below the cut:

To: Cranberry_Wine/Sourpuss From: ReadyReaderOne (AO3)

Experiment gone wrong…but alright? (Smut is fine.)

2. To: ReadyReaderOne From: @starbird1 (AO3: Starbird1)

Fragility, Submission, Forgiveness, Acceptance, Balance (Smut is fine. No rape-y Sandor.)

3. To: @mtorolite From: @orangetabbywrites (AO3: OrangeTabby)

Forested, Turgid, Winsome, Infinitesimal, Pungent (Smut is fine.)

4. To: @fanofbooks49 From: Rayne11 (AO3)

Lonely, Caring, Jealous,  Auxesis, Untainted (No smut. No cheating or sexual assault.)

5. To: @liljenrocks From: mtorolite (AO3)

Anticipation, Torchlight, Shadows, Gothic romance (Smut is fine. No cheating, torture, or eye gore.)

6. To: @glamgrowl From: @TheImmaculateBastard (AO3: The_Immaculate_Bastard)

Summer, Heat, Sweat, Sticky, Want. (Smut is fine. No underage. Anything over age or 20 is fine. I prefer Sansa to be characterized as mature rather than youthful.)

7. To: @TheImmaculateBastard From: @littlewolfbird (AO3: LittleWolfBird)

Fight, Fleet, Fußball, Final, Fate (Smut is fine. No bdsm, underage, rape, dub-con.)

8. To: @littlewolfbird From: @corinalannister (AO3: Corina Lannister)

Kidnap, Sacrifice, Vampire, Virgin, Bite (Smut is fine. No male pregnancy, non-con but dubcon is fine.)

9. To: SaccharineCoffee From: @lil_jen_rocks (AO3: liljenrocks)

Small things with great love. (Smut is fine.)

10. To: Rayne11 From: @fanofbooks49 (No AO3)

Hope, Rebel, War, Anger, Joy (No smut. No references to rape.)

11. To: @corinalannister From: SaccharineCoffee (AO3)

My sun, moon, and stars. (Smut is fine. No love triangles, incest, abuse of power.)

12. To: @orangetabbywrites From: @glamgrowl (AO3: Glamgrowl)

Rescue, Moss, Fidget, Snatch, Beg. (Smut is fine.)

13. To: @starbird1 From: Cranberry_Wine (AO3)

Illuminate, Bestow, Caricature, Philistine, Ambergris. (Smut is fine. No fat shaming.)

[calamity-bean]

The Tourney of the Hand is truly such a treasure trove of interesting characterization work — the way Sansa's POV presents it versus the way Ned's POV presents it, the hints it gives us about the plots and biases and personalities of relatively newly introduced non-POV characters like Renly and Petyr and Loras, Sandor's backstory, the DRAMA of the Loras v. Gregor v. Sandor showdown, the HILARITY of Jaime getting stuck in a dented helmet, the PAGEANTRY of it all!!! All the ridiculously ornate helms and armor! Renly giving Sandor his golden antler, and Sandor tossing it! First sightings of later-to-be-significant characters like Beric Dondarrion and Lothor Brune!

I remember loving the Tourney chapters even on my first read because there is just SOOOO much going on: you're still pretty new to this world and these characters, and now you're awash in images of heraldry and pageantry, it feels like a fairy tale, like high fantasy, epic and chivalric. And then suddenly, just like Sansa when the feast ends, when her night of being fed sweet treats by her handsome prince ends abruptly and suddenly the party is over and everything's kind of dark and scary and strange — suddenly something will happen to remind you that there is conspiracy afoot, that danger and death and mundane ugliness lurk everywhere underneath the romantic, chivalric facade. And on rereads, after you've finished the series, it's even better because you can appreciate the deeper levels of foreshadowing and characterization revealed by the tournament setting, which is, after all, a highly artificial setting, a dramatized and (relatively) sanitized play-act that mirrors and yet distorts the reality of what the world of ASoIaF is actually like.

Truly it's one of my favorite parts not only of AGoT but of the series as a whole. I can come back to those chapters over and over again.

[laurellerual]

Hey!

As a person who only recently started a second reading of ASOIAF and is thus finally appreciating some characters I initially overlooked (like Arya), I would love to know what you think about her and Sandor. I’ve seen many people portray them as an almost father/daughter duo, but I think this was an idea which was partially amplified by the show. I hesitate at forming clearer thoughts because I think the Hound is very clearly Arya’s abuser, but I can also see some affection there.

Why do you think did she refuse to grant him the gift of mercy?

Please don’t feel obligated to elaborate if you don’t want to! I’m interested in what you think, but fully understand if you’d rather not bring up the topic.

Thanks for reading this anyway! And (also for today’s art! Brought a huge smile to my face.)

Thanks a lot for the compliments. I'ill try to answer you as best as I can.

The dynamic between Sandor and Arya is often twisted, softening it into a father-daughter one. We are human and we like to simplify and box concepts, even narrative ones. So after a while some time has passed from your last reading you start to forget how abusive and scary and violent the Hound really is towards this girl he kidnapped and with little effort you get them to fit into the hugely popular trope ' badass and child duo'.

The show also and above all contributed to this distortion. In general, Arya's journey has been tailored in a way that makes her experience more adventurous and less horrific. Then came someone who had the great idea of cutting short the time that she spends with the Brotherhood to give more space to the Hound.

I leave you the links of two examples of scenes that have changed the characterization of these two, from books to show: the coin and the crossroads inn.

Going back to the books I think it's important to remember how Arya thinks of Sandor first and foremost as the killer who slaughtered an innocent child who was her friend. She hates him. Her feelings become more complicated when Sandor begins to show her the most basic human decency by not selling her to the enemies of the Starks.

But let's not delude ourselves, it's not his good heart that pushes him. the Hound has committed treason against the crown, he's not stupid, he knows perfectly well that if he goes back to the Lannisters to sold Arya, they'll kill him.

In my opinion Arya doesn't kill Sandor to make him suffer, but not only that. She can't bring herself to kill him. I think she fails to recognize that at this moment in her life she sees herself in the Hound's dark worldview because she is at her lowest point: alone, orphaned, homeless, aimless.

I think it's normal to have mixed feelings about the Hound. We experience all of this from Arya's POV and she has the same mixed feelings. There is no simple answer. But one thing I can tell you: she is not "his stupid son!".

Final rant: I can't stand him. Oh wow a grown man who knows more than a 10 year old girl, do you want a prize? You don't even hand her over to the people who orphaned her! And every now and then you feed her! Pat pat Sandor, they should make you a saint! Fuck you.

I wish you a good reread!