*keeps falling in love with grumpy fictional men*

24. They/them. I follow from @psybrepunk. Here I am making another blog for my Sandor Clegane/GoT hyperfixation. AO3: psybrepunk.

[sandorcentral]

Welcome Home (Sandor x Reader, NSFW)

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x F!Reader

Summary:  It was requested I write a fic in an AU where Sandor survives Season 8 and is married to Sansa's seamstress, in which Sandor is reunited with his wife and things get..spicey. 

Wordcount:  2435

Rating:  Explicit

Warnings: canon divergence, swearing, explicit language, Sandor being mildly sexually aggressive, Sandor fucking BITES and I do not take criticism on this, me not writing dialogue for Sandor very well, size kink, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, unprotected sex. 

A/N:  I suck at writing for Sandor but this is only my first attempt.  Be kind, and comment if you feel so inclined. (:

Also I'll be reblogging this later with the AO3 link.

You'd tossed and turned all night.   Every night without Sandor by your side was fitful.  A generous quantity of wine before bed helped, just not enough. You had spent so many years comforted by your husband's warmth and sheer size that it just didn't feel right trying to find slumber without Sandor's arms wrapped around you, his warm breath and soft snores in your ear.  The burly mastiff that the Clegane house had provided as a wedding gift those years ago huffed and curled up behind your knees, attempting to provide you with the company you were so sorely lacking.  The pressure of the massive dog leaning into you was all that encouraged you to somnolence, as you imagined a much more substantial hound was providing you the warmth needed for rest.

***

The sharp clank of your door's lock shifting roused you instantly.  The mastiff sprang to its paws and a growl rose from deep in its chest, but a heavy gauntleted hand patted the creature's head and calmed it instantly.  "All right, you bloody mutt.  That's a good dog."  

It felt like a dream, hearing that deep rasp.  It had been a dream on so many occasions since Sandor left to accompany Queen Sansa on her visit to consult Bran in the Crownlands.  You'd slept so little the entire time he had been absent that it felt like a vision, suddenly seeing your husband's towering visage before you. 

After shoeing your mastiff into the hall, Sandor sat down heavily before you on the bed, and discarded his gauntlets upon the floor.  The moment you sat up he captured your face in large, calloused hands and kissed you with a ferocity that took your breath away.  His kisses could be harsh but his lips were soft, save for the fur around his mouth that tickled you.  For a lingering moment you wondered if this perfect moment was indeed just another dream.

With a low rumble under his breath Sandor pulled away, planting the softest kiss upon your forehead, before wrapping huge arms around you and folding you against his chest.  If there were seven heavens then this was indubitably one of them, surrounded by your husband's warmth, the light musk of his skin, and his fingers absent-mindedly stroking your bed-befuddled hair.  

  

"I was wondering if you were ever coming back," you jested quietly, turning your face up to meet Sandor's gaze.  Your chiding words were immediately punished by sharp teeth nipping at your lips, followed by a tender kiss where he'd now left a light red mark.  You clutched his thickly furred jaw in both hands, thumbs occasionally ghosting over his cheekbones, almost trying to convince yourself he was real.  

Sandor leaned back, suddenly looking lost.  He got like this sometimes, especially following any significant absence of you.  Originally you only saw this reaction out of him when you'd stroke or kiss the marred half of his face; you'd always loved pressing your lips to that downward-drooping brow.  It had bewildered Sandor for the longest, the fact that not only did you have no qualms about looking at him, you had no apprehensions about touching his melted skin.  An almost tranced expression overcame his face, his thumb stroking your cheek absent-mindedly as you moved closer to him.  

"I missed you," Sandor rumbled hoarsely, his wolfish gaze of his good eye dropping to your lips.  

"And I love you."

"Mm. Daft as always," Sandor grunted, with his tiny quirk of a smile, before kissing you once more with fervor.    

"I was going to offer you wine but you already taste like it," you chuckled against his mouth.  You had long since begun to associate the deep sugary flavor of red wine with Sandor's coarsely furred lips, and you were perfectly fine with that.  

"What the fuck else am I supposed to do on that ride back?  Besides.  The Broken King can afford Dornish red." 

"Don't call him that."  You gave Sandor the same puppy eyes you did when he casually insulted any of your acquaintances in the Stark family.  

Sandor snorted and suddenly you were being pushed back onto the bed.  "Quit your talking," he rasped.  "We've got lost time to make up for."   

You weren't about to argue with the huge man as his lips found your neck and he deftly undid the lacing of your dress until it loosened from your shoulders, revealing your chest and stomach to him.  Looking you up and down, Sandor absent-mindedly drew his lower lip between his teeth.  He looked hungry, not unlike the way he appeared when he was itching for a fight to start.  

More lacings came undone and more harsh kisses and bites ensued.  Sandor worked his way down your body, nipping at your collarbone then showing delicacy to your nipples - swirling his tongue around them until you shivered and tightened your fingers' grip in his hair.  You loved the fact that his hands were more than large enough to entirely encompass each of your breasts in his palms, and that his mouth was deft in his exploration of your body. 

It was not long before Sandor was wriggling your dress over your hips and discarding it upon the floor, before taking a moment to admire the form of his wife, drinking in your visage.  He had this way of smiling at you that didn't quite reach his mouth but the crinkles around his eyes betrayed that he was pleased.  He ran one large, rough hand down your side and over the sharp curve of your hip, before taking your knee and spreading you open before him.  

He kissed your inner thighs delicately, starting near your knees and moving closer and closer to your core.  His beard tickled you here and there but that was soon forgotten when his warm mouth reached your nub, his large tongue languidly lapping up and down your folds.  One calloused hand gripped the junction where your thigh met your hip, while the other tentatively stroked your entrance, gauging how ready you were.  

"Sandor, please," you breathed, and that was all he needed.  Two long, thick fingers slid into you, before curving upward in a come-hither motion, stroking the spot inside you that made your eyes roll back immediately.  His talented tongue swirling around your nub had you shuddering uncontrollably and tightening around his fingers, making Sandor sigh against you in satisfaction - a low noise that reverberated through your core and had your thighs quivering on either side of his head.  

Your fingers twisted in his hair, attempting to gather long locks away from his face the way he would for you when your mouth was full of his cock.  Gasps and mutters of his name fell from your lips as you felt shocks snaking up through your body.  His fingers quickened their pace, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, as he suckled at your nub like his life depended on it.  

For a moment you looked down at the tantalizing man between your legs, overcome with the fact that it was him you had managed to marry and that was pleasuring you, the Hound, that was exploring you so intimately.  Years of being together had never dulled this exhilaration; had never lessened the inherent excitement of being ravished by this notoriously huge, powerful man.  For a moment his "good" eye met your gaze; the other eye was too weighed down by his maimed, melted brow to see you at such an angle. 

"Sandor, I'm -"  Your voice cut off suddenly, unable to process the amount of sensation coursing through you. 

In response he slipped a third finger into you, at which point you were certain he was not simply enjoying playing with you, he was getting you ready.  "Go ahead."  His rasping voice rumbling against you, and the sudden crook of his fingers inside you against that special spot was all you needed.  You tightened your grip in Sandor's hair and cried out as stars burst behind your eyelids, your back arching up off the bed.  

A fewmioments and Sandor sat up as you lay quivering and spent, wiping your moisture from his lips and beard.  His eyes were dark with lust, and he was breathing nearly as hard as you were.  

As you slowly came down from the high that his ministrations provided, you had the pleasure of watching Sandor stand and shed his layers.  He was quite adept at undoing his own armor, the result of having never accepted a squire, swiftly leaving him in the loose small-clothes that were your honor to remove.  You sat up, still remarkably shaky in the legs, and took the hem of his tunic in your hands.  You laid a kiss upon each section of your husband's flesh that you revealed, savoring the soft tickle of the dark hair that covered the expanse of his broad chest and abdomen.  

Tunic removed, you graduated down to the buttons of his trousers, teasingly avoiding the swelling you encountered.  Your husband's arousal was no small thing to avoid - to your original intrigue and dismay, you had discovered Sandor was exactly as well-endowed as one would assume a man of his stature might be. You kissed the deep brown fur from his collarbone to his navel, while your hands worked on freeing him from the confines of his trousers.  

Cloth slipped over his hips and Sandor sighed in relief, his stiffened length no longer uncomfortably restrained.  You began laying adoring kisses on your husband's stomach, following the thick trail of brown curls from his navel to his root.  A low rumble worked its way out of the huge man as you placed more kisses on either side of his cock, his warm shaft just barely grazing your cheek.  

"Enough," Sandor growled, taking a handful of your hair, and once again you found yourself being gripped by the shoulder and pushed back onto the bed, though with more fervor this time.  He crawled onto the bed after you, a hungry, predatory gleam in his eyes as he moved atop you.  

Sandor clutched your face in both large hands, resting his forehead against yours.  His breath was hot on your face and his  warm member slid back and forth over your entrance, his leaking length heavy and rubbing against your nub.  You squirmed a little in anticipation beneath Sandor as his tip sought your entrance.

Sandor's lips found yours again before he leaned into you, the weight of his body driving his cock home.  You gasped sharply, all of you tensing as he filled you suddenly and nearly to the hilt, your fingers tangling frantically in your husband's llong hair. You couldn't blame him - he was desperate, he needed to be one with his wife after all this time, but that didn't change the fact that in his urgency Sandor was forgetting you might need some extra time to adjust to him after all these moons of his absence.  

Sandor drew back, his lips exploring from your jaw to your ear. Your nails dug into his shoulders and you yelped as he bottomed out in you with the next thrust; he still wasn't even buried to the hilt.  With a few insistent strokes the burn of him stretching you began to fade, or it became easier to ignore when Sandor filling you to the brim was sending shocks resonating through your core.  

If you really needed convincing to ignore the short-lived pain of his entrance, Sandor sank his teeth into the side of your neck, distracting you with a sensation he knew you responded well to.  The bite was sharp but sent a delicious, dull ache resonating through you as he held on, like a dog mounting its bitch.  You were fully aware that this would be a blue or purple bruise tomorrow, the way his teeth were baring into you, but you didn't care.  In fact the prospect excited you particularly.  Few things satisfied you as much as visible reminders that you belonged to the Hound - it was your honor to wear the marks of the Clegane dog claiming you, branded in your own misplaced blood.  Perhaps one day that honor would be worn as a swollen belly full of Sandor's pups.  

You wrapped your legs snugly around his midsection, allowing a less overwhelming angle as his pace began to pick up rapidly.  What had been relatively methodical strokes were now frantic and restless, eliciting gasps and shrill moans from you every time Sandor's cock came up against that wall deep inside you, sending tendrils of sharp pleasure up through you.  Your eyes rolled back in your head and the rest of the world began to drop away, nothing existing in that moment but your union with Sandor; the musk of his skin surrounding you, the tickle of his dark helical strands falling around your face, the breath-taking sensation of him filling you relentlessly.  He was absolutely intoxicating.  

The force of his rutting eventually sent you over the edge again, and you cried out frantically enough that you stuffed your own fist into your mouth with celerity.  Sandor immediately grasped your wrist, holding your hand captive above your head.  "No," he snarled, gripping the hair of the back of your head, "let them hear what I'm doing to you."  Undoubtedly referring to adjacent rooms in the castle.  You whimpered against Sandor's furred lips, unable to control your body tightening around him convulsively, drawing from him his own climax.  Sandor took your throat between his teeth with a low snarl as he suddenly spilled into you, his warm seed filling you to the point of overflowing.  

You kept your legs tightened around your husband's waist as he loosened his teeth on your flesh and rested his damp forehead against the swoop of your shoulder. You were unwilling to experience the absence of him within your body just yet.  Sandor's cock still pulsed and twitched, his breath ragged on your neck, as your insides milked the last few drops out of him. 

A small whine escaped you as Sandor withdrew slowly, settling beside you on the bed and collecting you to his chest.  You nuzzled against the soft curls of his collarbone and gently entwined your legs with his.  "I love you," Sandor rumbled sleepily, resting his chin atop your head.  

"Welcome home, love."  You laid a languid series of tender kisses beneath his jaw, though Sandor was already snoring softly, arms still clasped solidly around you.  You smiled against his chest, and it wasn't long until you fell into the only peaceful sleep you'd found in fortnights.  

[formedab]

imagine Sandor and his lady standing at court of King's Landing together, attending some formal event and him whispering all sorts of obsceneties to her ear. to anyone it'd just look like he's taking a protective stance, shielding, or simply occupying space but in reality... cw: utter filth

You stand near one of the massive marble columns, your posture a perfect example of a highborn lady—serene, untouchable, beautiful, and sweet. The Hound is a shadow behind your back, as he always is in public, the word spreading that the Lannisters have their attack dog guarding the pretty ones now.

The court drones on as some minor lord petitions the throne, and Joffrey waves his hand dismissively. You, of course, keep your eyes wide and forward, your face a mask of polite interest, tilting your head occasionally to imitate brain function. Then, just as you're about to doze off, you feel it—a gush of hot air licking the shell of your ear, the subtle shift of his weight as Sandor leans in. It's barely noticeable; he takes a small step, maybe half a step, but it's enough for you to feel his massive frame against your back.

"See that lord with the piggy eyes and the red doublet?" His voice is a gravel rasp against the tiny hairs on your nape.

"... What about him?" Your pulse quickens. What's he up to now, of all times?

"He's been looking at your tits for the past half-hour. The way he's sweating, he's probably thinking about putting his fat mouth on them."

The heat treacherously spreads all the way to your ears, hairline, and chest, and you pray for people to think it's the midday sun getting to you. Maybe if you faint, you'll be spared...

Your breath hitches audibly and your cheeks ignite. Another noble lady standing next to you gives you a questioning look while flapping her fan, and you shake your head with a tight smile. She turns away.

"He has no idea soft they are, does he? How they fit in one hand. How you gasp and moan when I suck on them instead."

Then again, lower, more insistent, "Aye, that's it. That pretty pink I love... Just like you go when I put my mouth on your sweet cunt."

You clench your jaw, willing the tremor that goes through you away, but it's no use. You're shivering, and he notices. He always does, like a dog that smells blood. You hear a silent groan of approval behind the droning buzz of the lordlings.

"Ah, yes, I'm sure that's very interesting, but the lord here is talking about—"

His gloved knuckle brushes over the small of your back and lower until it reaches the expanse of your rear under layers and layers of clothing. So fleeting that no one else can see, but it nearly makes you jump out of your lace slippers, his touch searing through your very bones.

You stomp on his foot. He doesn't even blink.

"What would they say if they knew? All those fine lords and ladies, if they knew how you scream up to the gods when I split your cunt open on my cock? Looking all prim and proper while my cum's still warm, trickling down your legs."

You notice Sansa Stark staring at you from across the hall, an unsure grin on her pale face. Her blue eyes shift elsewhere once they land on the Hound. You suck in a breath. Who else is looking?

"Sandor—" you let out a shaky breath, your voice a fine tremor now. Digging your manicured fingernails into the skin of your wet palms, you pray—you don't know for what.

"Shut up," he whispers into your ear, and his scarred lips nearly brush the side of your face as he shifts closer. "Last night you begged me not to stop, the little proper lady you are, bent over that oak table of yours. Bet you can still feel me inside. Bet you're wet just from that."

His words are filth, crude and obscene, and they send a bolt of pure, aching want straight to your core. You worry your lower lip between your teeth now as you feel his massive hand creep up your arse, right under the folds of your gown. He squeezes the sensitive flesh and tugs at the globe just like he does when he has you on hands and knees underneath him. Images of his calloused hands and mouth on you—grabbing your breasts, your belly, biting your bare thighs, licking your—they have your legs wobbling. Sandor grips your elbow as he continues.

"When this farce is done, you'll wait for me, door unlatched." He pauses, letting the instruction sink in. "Gonna fuck you every way I can think of. Hard and deep, the way you like it. On your feather bed. Against the window. On that soft fucking rug in front of the fire, from behind. Until you're crying on those furs and dripping with my—"

"My lady, are you unwell? You look flushed."

The voice is like a bucket of ice water over your head. Sandor's hand jerks back to his side, yanking your rumpled skirt over your behind. A young knight is looking at you with polite concern. You open your mouth, but only a dry whine comes out, so you nod vigorously like a fool. He mumbles an apology and retreats into the crowd.

"Fucking knights, always sniffing around."

When the king finally rises and the court begins to disperse, you simply walk away. You don't look back; your knees are shaking, madly so, your eyes don't leave your own feet on the stone floor. Sandor tracks the shape of your hips as you turn around the corner in the direction of the private chambers.

[bitchfitch]

with the tags and search officially being completely broken on all platforms (no new posts are showing up in them anymore), now feels like a good time to remind everyone that the only way to help creators is to reblog their stuff. even before the tags were busted most people found new creators through their content being rebloged onto their dash, and now, at least for the time being, that will be the Only way to find and spread things.

Fast reblog is a thing, you dont have to leave comments, you dont have to leave tags, just reblog stuff if you want to keep seeing new content being posted to this site.

and as a final note, with this change likes are officially completely pointless for content creators. up till now they served to boost a posts placement in the tag searches (a post tagged #girl with 40 likes would show up higher in the search than a post tagged #girl with only 10 likes,)

[levithestripper]

Christmas/Holiday Shopping with the Starks, Lannisters, Men of the Night’s Watch, Jory Cassel, Jorah Mormont, Bronn, + Sandor Clegane

✩ Masterlist! ✩

✩ Warnings: slight modern au, gender-neutral reader ✩

✩ Taglist: @aestosia, @sandorcentral, @aestheticallywinchester, @th3rah, @the-1-sin-bin, @broadsdrinkwhisky, @i-smoke-chapstick, @ban-canram ✩

✩ Included characters are: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Bran Stark, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Jon Snow, Eddison Tollett, Grenn, Jory Cassel, Jorah Mormont, Bronn + Sandor Clegane ✩

✩ A/N: since these hcs are about christmas/winter holidays, a holiday westeros doesn't have, it'll be more modern au than canon-compliant. but some parts will stay the same, like the lannisters being rich and powerful, the starks being a powerful family, that kinda stuff. no mentions of modern conveniences like cars, the internet, etc... ✩

Ned typically buys you one really expensive gift, then a bunch of smaller “stocking stuffer” type gifts to go along with the main one. He prefers to gift you the most expensive thing since usually, that’s the gift you want most. His present wrapping game is the best in Winterfell, hands down. It looks like a professional did it. No one knows how he manages to make it look that good. When it comes time to hide the present, he’ll stick it in the furthest back corner of his closet or a cabinet somewhere.

When he goes to do the shopping itself, he’ll go alone and turn the day into a “him day” where it’s just Ned and his thoughts. He even treats himself to lunch if he’s out long enough.

Robb is similar to his father when buying you presents, but he’ll buy two or three expensive gifts, rather than only one like Ned does. Clothes are by far Robb’s favorite thing to buy you for some reason. He just really enjoys browsing around stores and pop-up shops, trying to find something you’d look cute in. But let’s face it, Robb thinks everything looks cute on you, doesn't matter what it is.

He isn’t the best at wrapping gifts, but he’s passable. It’s easier when what he’s wrapping is a square, it gives him the least amount of issues. Robb likes to go shopping with Theon since they have to shop for essentially the same people. It just makes it easier on both of them really.

Now, hiding presents is what Robb truly excels at. You can search the entire house up, down, left, right, and sideways, and you still won’t find where that handsome fucker put it.

When it’s Bran’s turn to go holiday shopping, he’ll want to buy you everything on your list and then some. Cat takes him shopping and will point out different things she thinks you’ll like to him. She also gets some shopping done for her list too. Bran likes to pick out gifts for his brothers and sisters with her, and Cat is grateful for the help. Bran’ll buy you a variety of things; he doesn’t just stick with one like Robb does.

Bran is absolutely terrible at wrapping presents. He’ll ask Cat to wrap them for him so they’ll look pretty. But if it’s something he can put in a bag, he’ll do that instead. He loves to watch you open his gifts for you, seeing the excited smile on your face makes everything worth it <3

This is the one and only time where Tyrion blatantly flaunts his money around. Typically he doesn’t like to show it off around you ‘cause he thinks it’s shallow, but he will for this. Expect everything on your wishlist to be wrapped neatly underneath the tree. You mention seeing something in a store window that you liked? Tyrion went out and bought it the next day. He visits your favorite clothing stores too. If he can’t find anything he thinks you’ll like, he’ll make sure to get you a gift card for the store to make sure you get something from there.

Tyrion’s very, very good at wrapping presents. It’s like a hidden talent of his. Every corner is smoothly taped with that fancy clear gift wrapping tape; it looks like the box came out of an ad.

Instead of buying you something, Jaime will hand make you something. He’ll secretly take either needlepoint or knitting classes from someone in the city. If he learns needlepoint, Jaime’ll stitch you a landscape of your favorite place in Westeros. In his knitting classes, he’ll make you a plushie that somewhat resembles a dog. It’s adorable even if the ears are a little off-center and the nose is crooked. It makes it more special this way. Depending on the yarn he has, he’ll knit the plushie in fun colors. Jaime even makes you a card instead of buying one. He writes it out in colored pencil so it matches the plushie.

Most gifts from Jaime will come in a bag, so there’s no need for him to wrap any boxes or anything like that. He finds it easier and more convenient for both of you.

Jon will ask you what you want most then he’ll buy that for you. He prefers to buy you one thing and have the rest of his gift be an activity he’s planned. It makes more sense to him to give you a gift that you can experience, rather than something materialistic. Jon plans a hike followed by a picnic under some trees. Romantic, but still enough of a surprise to qualify as a gift.

When he goes to wrap what he bought you, it turns out better than he thought. Sure, it’s a little sloppy, but it ends up looking pretty good. The ends are a bit crooked, and some of the paper is ripped from pulling on it, but Jon’s proud of it.

Edd has the worst time trying to figure out what you want, even when you give him a list. He wants it to be perfect, causing him to fret over every little thing. To be honest, it’s kinda cute, just ‘cause it’s Edd. Eventually, when he finds the perfect gift, he’ll buy cute wrapping paper to go along with it. Every year he buys a different pattern, too. Last year it was dragons, and this year it was snowmen.

Edd hides your present in a scavenger hunt-type thingy. He leaves little handwritten clues all over Castle Black to help you find it. If you have a hard time, Edd will come and help guide you through it. When you find and unwrap your gift, he kisses you sweetly right afterward, smiling so hard he almost breaks the kiss.

Grenn wanted to do the scavenger hunt idea like Edd did, but Edd told him he couldn’t steal his idea, so he had to come up with something different. He finally decided on taking you out for a nice dinner to give you your present then. He decorates the table with a few scented candles and flowers, trying to make it look as fancy as he could. Fancy-looking stuff is hard to come by this far north!

Grenn buys you something capable of fitting in a bag since the poor man is incapable of wrapping a present at all. He stuffs the bag to the brim with tissue paper, hoping it’d make it look fuller.

When it’s Jory’s turn to shop, he knows exactly what he wants. He’s in and out in not more than twenty minutes. Jory isn’t the biggest fan of shopping in general, so he wants to get it over with as quickly as possible. He buys you most of the clothes that you had on your list, including a few pairs of cute socks. Regardless of your clothing style preference, Jory loves seeing you wear socks with fun patterns on them.

When he gets home, he wraps them up all nice ‘n pretty with a big red bow. He makes you a card to go along with it. He uses a fancy pen to write on the inside, his cursive perfect. He surrounds his writing with a bunch of little hearts, some filled in, some not. Jory signs his name with a heart at the end, too.

Jorah is super nervous when it comes to the holidays and buying you a present. He wants it to be perfect! He goes to what seems like ten different stores, trying to find something you’d like, before finally settling on a pair of boots he’d seen you eyeing. Boots are the perfect gift! They even come with a nice box!

Speaking of boxes, if it’s not a perfect square/rectangle, Jorah won’t be able to wrap it. Like not at all. The paper is confusing and he does not like it at all. He picks out the prettiest wrapping paper he could find and does the best he can with it. In an attempt to make the box look a bit better, he ties a bow around it.

Bronn thinks the whole thing is stupid at first, but when he sees how excited you are for the holidays, he quickly changes his mind. He looks over your entire list and buys you everything he could find. Bronn’s never done any holiday shopping like this before, so his wrapping game isn’t exactly the best. When he finds out he could put his presents in bags, he thought he saw heaven. So he bought a butt-ton of bags and patterned tissue paper and called it a day.

Actually giving you your present is where Bronn started to panic. He’s never been good with this kind of stuff! He’s lucky he was able to ask you on a date without passing out! Bronn may be an intimidating knight, but around you, he gets pretty nervous. You make Bronn weak in the knees <3 His plan is to catch you when you have a minute, hand you your gifts, and not make a big deal about it. So he snags you out of the hallway and pulls you into an empty room, thrusting the gifts into your hands.

Watching Sandor holiday shopping is very entertaining. Seeing this 6’4” man buying clothes that obviously won’t fit him, carrying pink and purple shopping bags that clash with his typical darker outfits. Literally, all you need is a bowl full of popcorn and a lawn chair. Sandor surprisingly loves holiday shopping and shopping in general. He really enjoys shopping for you, finding things he thinks you might like, imagining how you’d look in an outfit he saw in the window.

No matter what he buys you, Sandor will put it in a box and wrap it. Wrapping presents is his favorite part about the holidays for him. He loves making them look real nice, even if it’s just going to be torn up later. Sandor takes Arya shopping with him, which is probably against his better judgment. He either invites her to go with him, or she’ll show up with her own horse and ride next to him. It’s easier to just invite her, trust me. Sandor needs to go shopping, Arya needs to go shopping, a win-win in Arya’s book.

[ethuilgreen]

[mearchy]

i feel like now is the time to start passing around that post again about how ao3 does netflix levels of data serving and stores library-of-congress amounts of information on an absolutely insane shoestring budget and when people get pissed off about the otw raising more money than they need that they "couldn't use" it just shows they don't know shit about how unbelievably expensive it is to run something like the archive (+ all the legal advocacy/open doors projects/etc)...

[monfufu]

[forsakenoathkeeper]

if u dont acknowledge the fanfics u read, the writer won’t think anyone is actually taking the time to read their stuff, which makes our effort feel wasted and our passions feel worthless

[wintermoonqueen]

Tell. The. Fanfic. Writers. How. You. Feel.

[starscheme]

I will always reblog this. It’s important.

[monster-bait]

Don’t be a fandom vampire! Support the creators whose content you consume. Treat other people’s work the way you hope your own will be treated.

[slowdissolve]

Do it.

[aestheticallywinchester]

sandor clegane gifs I’m saving for later

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[furbearingbrick]

how i sleep knowing i piss off incest shippers:

[canongf-archive]

someone: this might be kinda weird but have you ever had a crush. on a fictional character?

me internally:

[sansasurvived]

1.01 | 8.01

[sandor-clegane-app-spot]

A contemplative moment is interrupted by a sense of danger.

Sandor Clegane GoT s6

[maidenoftheforestlight-blog]

Didn’t mention this before but… Doing it now 🙃… Is it just me or was Sandor’s hair when he returned way lighter than it used to be? Like in some scenes it looked almost dirty blonde. Why change the wig? It reminded me of Captain Jack’s blonde highlights in the last Pirates film, so weird.

[sandor-clegane-spot]

They gave him some outdoorsy, sun-drenched highlights. No more hiding those dark locks in a helmet. The scars aren’t portrayed as all red & aggravated either like in s1-2, I guess they wanted to symbolise some healing for him :P

[maidenoftheforestlight-blog]

I think darker hair would suit RMC better what with him naturally having dark brown hair and the fact that Sandor also has very dark hair. It’s interesting the show has given him this light brown colour instead when you consider those things.

[sandor-clegane-spot]

Book Sandor dark locks *swoons* but however they have him portrayed show! wise I still adore Rory as he (to me) has the Big man’s heart 🐾

*melts*

[sandorthehoundclegane]

I loved his new look last season, a softened appearance to go with a calmer Sandor :)

[sandor-clegane-app-spot]

A contemplative moment is interrupted by a sense of danger.

Sandor Clegane GoT s6

[maidenoftheforestlight-blog]

Didn’t mention this before but… Doing it now 🙃… Is it just me or was Sandor’s hair when he returned way lighter than it used to be? Like in some scenes it looked almost dirty blonde. Why change the wig? It reminded me of Captain Jack’s blonde highlights in the last Pirates film, so weird.

[kateofthecanals]

I think it’s just the angle & the lighting; there were certain scenes in previous seasons where his hair looked light brown/dark blond.

The wig in general is kind of a medium brown anyway… which is definitely weird because it doesn’t really match Rory’s facial hair LOL

[maidenoftheforestlight-blog]

Ahh ok… I remember when I first saw this episode, other than excitement that they actually brought Sandor back (I was worried they wouldn’t), I was thinking “why is his hair so light? Is it so sunny at this hippy sept site that his hair’s been bleached by the sun!” I must not have noticed the lightness of the wig in previous seasons because I got used to it or something but then, after Sandor being gone through S5, the image of dark haired book canon Sandor was probably further embedded in my mind and the light brown wig seemed really weird. But like, still, why not make the wig match RMC’s actual hair colour?

[iamrorymccann]

This one is for all the HellHounds… some chest hair and beard porn.

[thegenderal]

Someone break into hollywood hq and steal all their waxing supplies if men dont start having arm hair in movies again soon im going to start egging houses

[zeitprinz-deactivated20220906]

What about women 🤨

[thegenderal]

I’m a gay man and i’m horny. This aint about misogyny and racism and body policing thats for another post with important political points. this is about wanting to gnaw on mark ruffalo’s forearms like a rottweiler with some rawhide.

[vivian-is-writing-deactivated20]

Yeah, I write.

Waste

Really

Important

Time

Expecting words to magically appear on the page

[divine17]

Sandor Clegane as Your Lover (HCs)

Request: N/A

Count: 40

A/N: this is a repost from yesterday!! i included a link in the original post and it ended up not showing up in the tags or anything. so thus, i’m reposting without the link. sorry about that!!

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