#also posted on ao3 and wattpad

[author-morgan]

Title: A Dove and a Hound Rating: T Pairing: Sandor Clegane x fem!Reader Summary: A little dove with broken wings must save her wounded Hound. Or in which Sandor Clegane finds something sweeter than killing. Word count: ~3.7k Warnings: Injury/blood and typical Westerosi shenanigans.

ARYA STARK LOOKS at the bleak landscape around where they had made camp for the night in the northern Riverlands—almost in the Vale. It’s all craggy with sharp boulders and high patches of land, and hardly any trees. The names roll off her tongue as they do every night. The Mountain, The Hound, Cersei, Illyn Payne, Meryn Trant...she doesn’t make it to the next name after hearing the scraping of boots on rock nearby. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Syrio Forel’s words are burnt into her memory. 

"What’re you going on about now, girl?" The rasp of the Hound's voice makes her jump, and she curses him, looking up at the night sky, watching for shadows when she hears the soft noise again.

“We’re being watched,” she tells him, turning on her bedroll to face the Hound, her hand resting on the hilt of Needle.

His laugh cuts through the air—a rough sound that hurts her ears in a strange way. A man like the Hound should never laugh. "Here, in the middle of fucking nowhere?" His scarred face looks all the more hideous with the light of the fire licking at his skin. "Finish your little list, girl, then go the fuck to sleep." Arya frowns and looks around again at the land but sees nothing but boulders and empty plains, but she knows someone is out there. 

Sandor Clegane won’t admit it, but the Stark girl’s warning is the reason he stays up for over half the night. Then, when he’s certain Arya is asleep, he rises from his bedroll and unsheathes his sword, setting off to search between boulders and in the shadows cast by their dwindling campfire. But there’s nothing there. The Hound moves to return to his bedroll, but that’s when he hears quiet cursing and soft crying. And then he finds a woman huddled between two rocks, trying to nurse an injured leg. 

You see the hulking shadow approach too late to muffle your grunts and groans of pain. “Come any closer and I’ll put a fucking arrow through your eye!” You shout. But Sandor Clegane can see the bow in your hand is broken, even if you try to hold the two wooden pieces together to make it seem whole. Then he sees the broken arrow shaft sticking out of your swollen calf, too—the reason for your caterwauling. 

“With a broken bow and the only arrow you got stuck in your leg?” The Hound asks, laughing. “Pay a couple of hundred silver stags to see that done.” Sandor drives his sword into the dirt and awkwardly kneels near you, looking over the wound. He can feel your eyes on him, gaze nigh burning. But the soft white light of the moon softens the sight of his half-burned face. He looks familiar. Like you’ve seen him in passing somewhere—or maybe on the parchments nailed outside taverns noting bounties and the enemies of the Crown. 

You swallow the knot in your throat and look up at him—you might not be able to place who he is, but you know he’s dangerous, a killer. “Well, go on,” you snap, tears stinging in your eyes. “Kill me and get it over with.”

The Hound recoils as though stung by the words—he knows he’s put a lot of people in the ground, but for some damn reason, he can’t stomach the thought of landing the mercy blow now. You close your eyes and wait—no longer fearing death or pain. But the cold bite of steel never comes. Instead, Sandor Clegane lifts you into his burly arms and heads back toward the dying campfire.

Arya’s surprised when the Hound returns and lets you down to rest against the boulder nearest the fire. The girl’s quick on her feet, bringing a half-filled skin of water, and you greedily drink. "Think I'll end up losing it?" You ask the girl—wiping your mouth with a torn sleeve—a glint of humor shining through as you pat your thigh, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain that shoots down to your calf and makes your toes curl. 

“If you’ve gone this long” —Sandor crouches down and looks closer at your injury— “it’ll take more than an arrow to kill you,” he says. It earns him a dry and humorless laugh with a surprising grimness. Given enough time, he thinks he could come to enjoy the company, but right now, he and Arya Stark are already pressed for time, luck, and coin. Neither of them needs the liability of an injured woman—another mouth to feed—on the path to the Eyrie. Be best to leave her come the morning, he thinks, but now that he’s brought you back here, he knows the Stark girl won’t let that happen.

“May I have your name, good ser?” You finally ask—it only seemed proper to know the name of your white knight.  

Sandor Clegane looks at you, and the firelight paints the tangled and twisted mass of scars on his face red—pocking the flesh with craters and cracks. “Not a fucking knight,” he bites back.

And then you can piece everything together—his brute size, the burned half of his face, the posters scattered around the Riverlands. The rumors people whispered are true then, you think. Joffrey’s dog tucked tail and ran while the Blackwater burned. “You’re The Hound.” He grunts. You glance at the girl staring down at you with wide ice-grey eyes. If he’s the Hound then... “You’re Arya Stark.” The girl nods.

The silence that grows between the three of you is heavy and tense. You shift and grimace again. Then your gaze flits back over to the Hound. “Well, are you going to help me get this arrow out my fucking leg or not?” You ask, not understanding why he hauled you back here if he didn’t mean to do something about your current state. “'Cause if you aren’t, I’d sooner you cut the damn thing off or put me out of my misery.”

Sandor moves to you after that and cuts away the fabric of your britches from the arrow, then calls Arya over to set his dagger in the flames—unwilling to go closer. She does as he says, pushing the blade into the hot coals, but then Arya Stark leaps to her feet when she sees Sandor’s hand grip the shaft of the arrow—like he means to tear it from flesh. She knocks his hand away then pushes back on his shoulder, almost hard enough to knock him off balance from where he sits on his haunches. 

“We can’t just pull it out!” She tells the Hound like it should be obvious. But he’s not the one who grew up with a maester in Winterfell or spent time reading any books.  

“Then how you gone get it out, girl?” He asks, gruff and impatient. You glance between the odd pair, wondering how they haven’t killed one another by now. Arya crouches down and prods the swollen and bloody flesh, then without warning, she grips the arrow shaft and breaks off the fletching. Seven hells, you think, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep a wail of pain at bay, I am going to lose my leg. 

“Push it through,” Arya says, remembering the time she watched Maester Luwin remove an arrow from a hunter's shoulder. The Hound grunts and draws a second, smaller dagger, starting to whittle away at the splintered end of the broken arrow shaft. 

Arya goes to fetch more water and brings back a cloth with her before settling down to watch with wide, curious eyes. Blood starts to seep down your calf around the entry and exit of the arrow shaft from being handled so roughly. Satisfied with his woodwork, the Hound steadies your leg against his trunk and starts to pull on the iron-forged arrowhead. 

You grit your teeth together, fingers digging into the soft earth below, as he begins to ease the wooden shaft through gently and quickly as he can. Arya watches your face twist in pain, but somehow, you don’t cry out. It feels like an eternity. Sandor sets the arrow aside and takes the waterskin from the Stark girl, dumping the cool water over your leg to wash away the blood—there’s a cool but welcome sting.

Sandor tosses the empty skin back to Arya. "More water, girl,” he rasps. 

“Bring wine too,” you insist, and the Hound howls with laughter.

“Seven hells,” Arya remarks. You’re just like him. The girl heads off, then comes back with more water and looks at the open wound on your leg with a scrunched-up nose. 

“Needs to be sealed with fire,” Sandor says, sitting back on his haunches, that’s why he already had Arya put a dagger into the flames. They don’t have salves and ointments and teas and brews to keep infection at bay, and despite his fear and hatred of the fire, he knows it’s the best way to clean and seal a wound like this.

“I’ll do it,” Arya offers. Her hands are steady, and the fire and heat don’t bother her like it does the Hound. He nods, and the girl goes to fetch the hot knife. They give you a strip of leather to bite down on, and then the Hound looks away when the girl presses the flat of the blade against your flesh—you do scream then. He knows that pain—that scream—and the putrid scent of burning flesh that jumps into the air. Black dots and white stars dance around in your vision. It hurts worse the second time. But you fight through it. 

Your gaze settles on Arya after a while, struggling to stay awake. “Where are you taking her?” You ask, eyes flitting to Sandor Clegane. The two are an odd traveling party that much is certain—a Hound and a wolf—made even stranger by your sudden arrival. 

“The Vale,” he tells you, “she has an aunt there.” You hadn’t expected a man with his reputation to do something so kind, not even if heavy coin purses were offered as rewards. A hush falls over you, but then the Hound rises and picks up a threadbare blanket from his bedroll. He drapes it over your shoulders, not ungently. “Best get some rest,” he says. “It’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”

THE DAYS ARE both quick and slow to pass, and soon, you’ve lost track of the time since meeting Arya Stark and the Hound—it could have been a few weeks or maybe months. But since that fateful night, your wounds have healed cleanly, and the only reminders of them are a fading scar and the limp in your stride after long days or over strenuous terrain. You remember the first time you insisted on walking instead of riding Stranger—a great black, unruly destrier. When you slowed, Sandor Clegane slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour before depositing you back on the horse and complaining about the slow pace. Arya Stark was particularly amused by it all. 

Disappointment is all that awaits you all at the Bloody Gate of the Vale. Lysa Arryn is dead, and her young son and named protector, Petyr Baelish, will not accept visitors—not even one of Lysa’s own kin. So at the point of arrowheads and tips of steel blades, the Hound turns back, and you and Arya follow, trekking through the Vale and back to the Riverlands, unsure of what to do and where to go. Arya says they should go north, to the Wall—she has a brother in the Night’s Watch—or across the Narrow Sea.

There’s a small village not far, and you take a handful of silver stags and copper stars in hopes of replenishing your stock of ointments and bandages—especially with the now festering wound on Sandor’s neck, a nasty bite from a rogue—and maybe a decent bottle of wine or ale too. But by the time the sun is beginning to set and you return to Sandor and Arya, they’re not to be found. 

The campsite is empty. The fire still burning. The bedrolls laid out for the coming evening. You look around the craggy landscape, feeling panic seize your heart and stomach—mind racing. “Arya!” You shout, but there is no response from the girl. “Sandor!” And again, there is nothing but silence.

If not for the fading evening sun glinting off tarnished pieces of silver armor, you think you might not have found him. You stumble over to him, kneeling at his side, fearing the worst. But his chest still rises and falls, and he starts when you touch his cheek, hand wrapping around your wrist, leaving a thick smearing of blood. 

There’s something in your eyes, not pity, but he’s not seen that look before —almost doesn’t want to think of what it could be, could mean. Sandor’s grip goes slack, and he grimaces, each breath a ragged rasp. You look over his mangled shoulder, the bruises and scrapes on his face, the muscle-deep cuts on his palm, and his lame leg. These wounds are beyond your skills, and there are not like to be any travelers on this path for days.

The Hound tugs free a dagger from his belt and places it in your hand. "Go on,” he rasps, nodding toward the knife, resigned to his new fate. “Get on with it." The Stark girl wouldn’t put him out of his misery for the hatred she still bore toward him, but maybe you would. 

Your fingers curl around the hilt of the blade, grip tightening, but frozen in place—unwilling and unable to move. "I can't," you breathe, fervidly shaking your head. I won’t. He curses you when you drive the blade into the hard earth and not his heart. Sandor Clegane saved you from certain death, and now you’ve a chance to return the favor.

You wet a strip of cloth and dab it over his bloodied face until he turns his head to look at you. "If you think I'm some wounded pup you can redeem, you're stupider than I thought, woman,” he snarls like an aggrieved dog. 

But you don’t pay any mind to his hateful words. “Be still,” you chide, gently, going to collect the pack of supplies from Stranger’s saddle. The Dornish strongwine eases the pain, and he lets you clean the rest of the cuts and bruises to the best of your abilities —his broken leg, though. You aren’t sure what to do, but you know if something isn’t done soon, Sandor Clegane won’t be using that leg again in this lifetime. You lose track of how many times you have to wander down to the nearby stream. All you know is the limp in your step has come back. By nightfall, the wine and pain claim him, and you’ve said your prayers to the Seven, asking them to spare your poor wounded Hound.

There’s a dim lantern on the dark horizon, steadily drawing nearer and brighter, and then you can hear the rattling of a cart and the braying of a mule. You rise from your post and go to intercept the rickety cart thumping along the winding trail. The mule comes to a halt—the path forward blocked. 

The driver has a kind face, rounded from smiles and wrinkled with wisdom, and eyes that are deep and thoughtful but speak of the horrors of the world. “A lady and her knight,” he muses, sparing a glance at the makeshift medicinal supplies illuminated by faint firelight and the state of the brutish man sleeping—half-dead more like.

“Can you help us?” You ask. “Please.” And the broken plea strikes something deep down in the man’s heart.  

He thinks on it for a moment. “Aye,” the man says, “I can try.” If he couldn’t, the others on the Quiet Isle could—especially the Elder Brother. His dusty brown robes dust across the rocky ground as he goes to the Hound’s side. It takes all your strength combined to lift Sandor Clegane into the cart—even with the weight of his armor gone. Then you clamber to the front of the cart next to Sandor, letting his head rest in your lap, and with a snap of the reins, the mule walks on again, heading south along the bumpy road—it would be a long night.

Weary and exhausted, you look between the Hound and the driver. “Who are you?” 

“You can call me Ray,” the kindly man says. “I’ll take you both to the Quiet Isle. The Elder Brother can help.” You’ve heard tales of the isle—where men go to atone for their sins and take vows of silence. Some even say those who reside in the Bay of Crabs live in a world unlike the one ravished by war and pain. Brother Ray can see the growing trepidation on your expression. It’s nigh common knowledge women are not allowed to dwell on the Quiet Isle. “Won’t force you and your knight to be parted,” he tells you. 

“He’s not a knight,” you murmur, eyes trailing from the road ahead to Sandor, knowing he doesn’t like being called a knight—and for good reason. 

“No, but it seems he’s your knight,” Ray says with a chuckle, sparing a wayward glance back at you and the Hound. You flush at the thought and turn your gaze to Sandor, his head resting on your thigh.

A FEW MONTHS pass and Sandor is as well as he’ll ever be. The damage done to his leg makes him limp after long distances or strenuous tasks, but no one would be able to say such injuries made the Hound a feeble man. Even now, you’ve never seen a man split firewood with so much power and anger. Sometimes, you wonder if he hates you for not ending it when he pleaded for the blade’s mercy. But on the day when the brothers let you see him again, he wore a fleeting smile, soft and weak—the first time you’d seen such a sight. 

Storms roll in for the night, and lightning flashes through the window—thunder rattling your featherbed. You pull the covers tighter, squeezing your eyes shut, praying for sleep to come. It feels childish to be afeared of a storm, but it’s a reminder of the night the Lannister men destroyed your home and family and put an arrow in your leg. Rousing from the uneasy rest, you pull on your dressing robe and wrap the wool and linen blanket around your shoulders before setting off in search of company. 

His bed is empty, and you frown. Disheartened, you turn back only to bump into a solid wall of flesh and muscle. No man his size had a right to move around so quietly. “What are you doing awake, little dove?” Sandor asks, and you’re unable to meet his gaze with your flushed cheeks as you search for a valid answer. “Can’t sleep?” He surmises, and grateful he spake first, you nod sheepishly. The hand that wraps around your wrist is warm and calloused, yet his touch is light—as though you’re some bird with a broken wing. But wordless, you climb onto the bed next to Sandor, still huddled under your blanket, but not alone, and even with the storm raging outside, within these walls with him, you’re safe. 

The morning light breaks through the small window—only glowing embers remain in the hearth, not enough to chase away the chill in the air. You wake to find yourself alone, and it sends a strange pang of sadness through your heart. Making your way back to your chambers, you change into a plane shift and stride from the cottage to find him—the wet grass tickling the soles of your feet as you head down a winding path toward the water’s edge.

Sandor is sitting down on the rocky shore of the island, his dusty brown cloak fluttering in the wind. You go to him and sit on the weathered rock next to him. The morning is cool, and the spray of waves breaking against rocks in the bay kisses your cheeks. Wordlessly, the Hound pulls his cloak free and drapes it around your shoulders. In comfortable silence, you pull the coarse material tight and rest your head against his arm, looking out over the water and the clear blue sky—as though the Old Gods had not unleashed their wrath upon the land last night.

After a long while, Sandor rises, knowing it’ll be time to head to the Sept and see what tasks the Brothers need help with today. You’re quick to follow after him, but before he can start up the rocky path again, you brush your hand against his with all the timidness of a mouse, daring to have a lingering touch as you gather the nerve to ask something that’s been festering in the pit of your stomach, in the darkest parts of your mind and the deepest parts of your heart. You take both his hands—rough and twice the size of your own—and look up at the Hound. "Sandor,” you breathe, his name like a birdsong in your voice, “will you kiss me?"

He laughs—thinking you are playing him for a fool. No sane woman would ever wish to have his touch or his kiss. “With this ruined mouth?” He mocks. But the next jape dies on the tip of his tongue when you fist your hand into his woolen tunic, hauling him down with all your strength to just the right height where if you stand on the tips of your toes, you can kiss him. And you do. Sandor is surprised at first, but his hard exterior fades, and then a strong arm curls around your middle, hoisting you up and then off the ground entirely. You pull back for only a quick second and smile for him.

“Little dove,” he rasps when you move your hands to hold his face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks—one marred by the flame—and down into his thick, wiry beard. He half expects to find a shred of fear or disgust in your eyes, but there isn’t any. There never had been. You kiss him again, softer and sweeter this time, and he returns it in full. 

Reluctant to part, he places you back on the ground but is quick to pull you into his side and hold you close in the golden hour of the morning. And for the first time since he can remember, Sandor Clegane has a handful of happy memories, and perhaps, in the end, he's found something even sweeter than killing.

[Game of Thrones taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @hc-geralt-23 / @holysmokesblog / @Idkjj04 / @lady-stark-winter-rose / @mikariell95 / @misskatiewrites / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @nyotamalfoy / @rigshak / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Game of Thrones taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

"Sonic vs. Tails - The Ultimate April Fools Battle"

AO3 link if you'd rather read it there ;)

6:38 a.m.

Early on a Monday morning, Sonic awoke to a rocking sensation. For a moment it was nice, soothing even, and he thought perhaps he'd fallen asleep on a hammock or something.

Except, it was in fact not soft fabric beneath him, but wooden boards.

A faint smell of salt alerted him next. Then a strong gust of wind. Then the cry of a seagull.

A seagull?!

His eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, panic immediately flooding his chest upon seeing a huge mass of water all around him. He found himself sitting in a wooden fishing boat, smack dab in the middle of it.

He jumped up to his feet with a squeak of true fear, wobbling as the rocking of the boat nearly made him lose his balance.

He raced to the pole where the sails were attached and jumped onto it, full-body clinging to it with both arms and legs. "HOW IN MOBIUS DID I GET OUT HERE?!" he yelled indignantly, as loudly as he could for having just woken up.

A snicker sounded above him, and he jerked his head up so fast he nearly got whiplash.

And whom should he see perched atop the sails post but his little brother, Tails, his namesakes waving around and mischief practically written all over his face.

"Happy April Fools," the smug little fox greeted him, still giggling.

Sonic relaxed slightly, but shot Tails a feigned death glare. "It's on," he shot back, unable to hide a smirk.

-

8:23 a.m.

He had to be subtle about this. Tails was obviously very well aware what day it was. He had to be sly.

So, for his first prank of many, Sonic ran out to buy a cheap whoopie cushion, then slipped it in the Tornado's cockpit, at a perfect angle so Tails wouldn't see it until it was too late.

He was pretty proud of himself for keeping it cool, going on runs and swinging back by the workshop every few minutes to see when Tails needed to go out for a flight.

Except it was taking too long.

If he didn't get that over with, all his time to come up with more pranks for the day would be gone. And that simply wouldn't do.

"Hey, Tails!" he called from the roof, where he'd been leisurely lounging for the past five minutes. "Wanna go for a shopping run?"

After a pause of silence filled only with the sound of some metal clanging, Tails called back, "For what? I thought we were stocked."

"No, we need more— flour." He quickly improvised, having not actually checked the pantry beforehand.

"Why do we need more flour?" Tails sounded both distracted and confused as he continued whatever he was clanging around with.

"Because bread." Sonic flipped onto the ground and leaned his head through the window. "We should make bread."

Tails finally pulled back his goggles and shot him a look. "Why do you want to make bread?"

"Don't question it, Tails! Why can't I be allowed to wanna try new stuff?"

"Because it's April Fools, that's why." Tails smirked and pulled his goggles back down, studying the chunks of metal he was abusing. "There's probably a prank waiting for me at the store or something."

Sonic clasped a hand to his chest dramatically. "You seriously think I went and sabotaged public property just to pull a prank on you?!"

Without missing a beat, and without shifting his eyes from his work, Tails replied, "Yeah."

Sonic huffed and crossed his arms. "Well, I didn't. And the only way for you to see that is to come on shopping with me. I'll even let you pick the store so that you can be sure."

Tails looked at him, arching a brow and resting one hand on his hip. "You're so random," he said, shaking his head with a grin. "You realize you can go shopping by yourself, right?"

"Well, sue me for wanting to spend time with my darling little brother," Sonic pouted, trying his best to pull off a puppy-dog-eyes look.

"Since when did you become so clingy?" Tails laughed, finally setting aside his things and flying over to the window.

Finally!

"It was inevitable. You're too loveable." Sonic yanked him into a hug, right before letting him start flying towards the Tornado.

"I don't know whether to feel touched or suspici—" Tails abruptly broke off as he hopped into the cockpit, and the whoopie cushion immediately squeezed beneath him, filling the air with its awful sounds.

His face went beet red for a moment, then he closed his eyes and sighed. Sonic had already fallen over laughing, tears springing to his eyes at Tails's expression.

"Bread, huh?" Tails sounded way too calm as he turned to face his brother, but there was a terrifying glint in his eyes.

"You bet!" Sonic laughed. "Come on, what are you waiting for? Let's go get flour!"

Tails picked up the whoopie cushion and hurled it full force at the hedgehog's face.

-

8:52 a.m.

After the whoopie cushion incident, Tails forced Sonic to go out shopping anyway. He even managed to trick him into thinking he was doing it as an apology.

Oh, was that poor hedgehog mistaken. He was so in for it. Tails had sent him out shopping— alone— so he could set up his revenge prank.

He decided to go with a simple one. Perhaps he would save the more intricate and wild pranks for later in the day.

This one would still be personal, though.

Barely suppressing a little cackle of glee, Tails snatched a large bottle of clear super glue and generously poured it all over the welcome mat at his front door. This glue wouldn't fully dry for another twenty to thirty minutes, and since Sonic was only getting one thing from the store, he wouldn't take nearly that long.

Sure enough, five minutes after he'd laid the prank, he heard the distinct BOOM in the distance of his brother's impending arrival.

Tails already knew Sonic wasn't going to notice the glue. If it wasn't immediately obvious, and he wasn't in danger, he didn't pay attention to detail like that.

The door handle jiggled for a moment, then was followed by a banging on the door. His muffled voice called, "Tails, if you're gonna send me out to buy stuff we don't actually need, the least you could do is leave the door unlocked for me to actually give you the stuff we don't need."

"Oh, dear chaos!" Tails called back, deliberately sounding way too dramatically surprised. "How did the door lock itself?!"

It didn't matter if Sonic caught on. If he was banging on the door, it was too late for him.

"I don't like your tone, young man." Sonic definitely sounded suspicious, and Tails could barely suppress his triumphant laughter.

"Sorry, Dad." With a snicker, he unlocked the door and swept it open, where he found Sonic standing with a hefty bag of flour, shooting him a look.

He was standing right in the middle of the super glue puddle.

"Seriously, bro? Locking me outside? That's the best you g-GAAUHH!" Sonic broke off as he tried to take a step forward, only to pull the entire doormat up with his foot and lose his balance. He tried desperately to right himself, but only ended up pinwheeling his arms, losing his grip on the bag of flour, and falling square on his chest. A second later, the bag of flour came down on his head and immediately popped open upon pricking his quills.

After the flour dust settled, the two brothers looked at each other for a solid ten seconds, the younger standing tall with his arms crossed and a smug smile, the older slumped on the ground, covered in flour to the point of looking like a ghost, glaring daggers.

He sneezed. "That was low. I like my kicks."

"They'll be fine," Tails insisted, brushing off the flour that had drifted into his fur. "I've got a solution that'll cancel out the glue."

Sonic shook himself off, then stood up and sneezed again. "You owe me twenty rings for the waste of perfectly good flour that we didn't need."

Tails stuck his tongue out at him, then started blowing the spilled flour out the door with his tails.

-

9:35 a.m.

Sonic took a shower after the flour incident, and he made it quick enough so that Tails didn't have any time to try anything more on him, since he was still cleaning up said flour.

Once he'd gotten out and dried off, Tails brushed past him into the bathroom, and a few seconds later he heard the shower start up again.

No way there was this golden opportunity just dangling in front of him . . .

Grinning, Sonic first went to the kitchen and hit the switch for the power hose. Next time Tails went to wash the dishes, he was in for a little surprise.

Then, very quietly, he nudged the door open to the bathroom (where Tails was still in the shower), reached in, and flushed the toilet.

A second later, there was a high pitched "Yipe!" and one very startled, very wet fox kit scrambled out of the tub at the suddenly freezing water.

Sonic heard his name screeched furiously from over his shoulder as he laughed and booked it for the front door, only to catch on the doormat and faceplant the sidewalk, his socks now stuck in the super glue still coating the mat.

-

10:14 a.m.

He deserved this fate, Tails claimed.

"It's called revenge!" Sonic yelled through the door from where he lay on the ground outside in the yard. "Sweet, totally fair, revenge! Can I have the anti solution for the glue now?"

"Nope," Tails called back.

"C'moooon. These are my last clean socks, I can't just take them off and put on dirty ones. Do you want me to defile the house with smelly feet?"

"Ohh, manipulation. That's a new one!"

"Tails!"

"Just wear flipflops. Or go barefoot. I dunno."

"I don't like flip flops!" Sonic squirmed onto his side. "And I don't like being barefoot! Running barefoot is painful!"

"Ah, well. Guess you'd better apologize for ruining my lovely shower and forfeit all your desserts to me for the next three months, if you ever want to run again."

"Sorry, who was being manipulative?"

"You were!"

Sonic huffed. "You know, I could just do laundry. Yeah. Do laundry and be free."

"Wow!" Tails sounded way too amazed. "That's so genius!"

"I'll wash all my socks! I'll wash all the socks!" With caution, Sonic forced his way back onto his feet, then hopped inside the house, doormat still attached. "I'll be free in a matter of . . . hours." He frowned. "Hey Tails, can dish soap clean clothes? And how fast does a fur dryer dry clothes?"

Tails was standing in the kitchen, pouring the remains of the flour that hadn't touched the floor into a canister. He eyed his brother for a moment, then smiled sweetly. "There's one way to find out."

Without thinking, Sonic broke into a relieved grin and started hopping his way into the kitchen. "Good, because if I have to be stuck like this for one—"

He turned the faucet on, and immediately a powerful spray of cold water shot out at his face from the power hose. He yelped and sputtered, immediately switching it off as he suddenly realized he'd fallen for his own prank.

Or, more likely, Tails had seen right through his prank, and had made him fall for it.

Sonic looked down at him, water dripping down his face and off his quills. Tails had lost his cool composure and was doubled over, squeaking with laughter.

-

10:30 a.m.

"I deserved that one," Sonic grumbled, toweling off his face.

Tails sat beside him on the porch, eyes closed in smug contentment as he brushed out his tails. "Yes. You did."

Sonic turned and grinned devilishly. "You realize this isn't over, lil bro."

Tails turned a fanged smile right back on him. "Far from it."

-

11:04 a.m.

Sonic burst through Amy's door and immediately said, "Ames, I need a favor!"

Amy nearly jumped out of her skin, dropping her paintbrush onto the carpet. She sighed, but picked it up without complaining, set it on the ledge of her painter's stand, and gave him her attention. "What's up?"

"Sorry for that," he said quickly, then added, "Could you make a batch of chocolate chip cookies, but like, make three of them with raisins instead?"

Amy wrinkled her forehead even as she smiled. "Wait, what? Why?"

"It's April Fools. I need to get back at Tails."

"Oh, no." Amy laughed as she stood up and started heading for her kitchen. "What'd he do?"

"Oh, many things." As Amy set to making the cookies, he told her all about the events of the day so far. He told her about the pranks on both sides, just to keep it fair.

Amy was aware of their April Fools traditions. The same basic thing had happened the past two years as well.

It had been last year that they learned the hard way not to prank Knuckles. Or Shadow.

"You should really learn to bake," Amy commented as she eventually pulled the batch out of the oven. "It's really very fun! And satisfying."

"You know what'll be satisfying?" He snickered. "The look on Tails's face when he thinks he's gonna taste chocolate and tastes raisins instead!"

Amy shook her head with an amused sigh. "That too, I guess."

They hung out together for another twenty minutes or so, then Sonic bid her farewell and took off back to the workshop.

-

12:22 p.m.

Tails had resumed working on whatever project he'd been doing earlier that morning.

"Yo, Tails!" Sonic raced into the room, holding the container of cookies. "Amy made us cookies!"

"Ooh, she did?" Tails immediately paused what he was doing and lit up, but then suspicion clouded his face. "Wait . . . what's going on?"

"Bro, it's just cookies," Sonic laughed. "What, do you think they're poisoned?"

Tails kept hesitating, but Sonic could see him scenting the air. Since the majority of them were chocolate chip, he was detecting that— not the few raisins.

"Okay. I'll take one," he finally relented, and Sonic handed him one with raisins.

He started heading back to his project as he took a bite, but immediately stopped in his tracks. Sonic watched him stop chewing and look at the cookie for a long moment, then turn and shoot him a deadpan look.

"You're so mean," he complained, mouth still full with the bite he refused to swallow (he hated raisins). Then he tried to spit it out onto Sonic, who yelped and raced away, dropping the container of cookies on the floor.

Tails picked it up, having already figured out that most of the others were actually chocolate chip. Jokes on Sonic, now he had all the good cookies to himself.

-

1:01 p.m.

Their prank fest had delayed lunch a bit, so Sonic (after eventually returning) told Tails to kick back and relax while he made chili.

Tails seemed a little too pleased with the idea, but Sonic barely noticed, too hungry to care.

As he stirred through the pot, Tails watched him, grinning in anticipation for the meal. Earlier, while Sonic had been lying around the front yard with the doormat glued to his socks and complaining, Tails had switched out the salt and sugar.

Half an hour later or so, they sat down together to eat. It seemed Sonic thought they had reached a temporary truce, but oh, little did he know.

Tails deliberately took his sweet time in spooning the chili onto his hot dog, eyeing his brother in his corner vision. Sonic had made his in no time, digging in with two big bites before Tails had even finished dressing his.

Almost immediately Sonic paused, blinked a couple times, then kept chewing. Then paused again, frowning.

His eyes flicked to Tails, who quickly resumed dressing his chili dog.

Sonic finally swallowed. "That's weird."

"What's weird?" Tails asked innocently, actually being subtle this time.

"Chili tastes more like dessert." The hedgehog squinted at him. "Did you sabotage the chili cans?"

Tails sniffed. "How dare you accuse me."

"Did you?"

"No, I didn't. The cans were sealed, weren't they?"

"Hm." Sonic took another hesitant bite, but stopped again, shaking his head. "This tastes so weird. Have you tried yours?"

Tails shrugged. "Try salting it," he suggested, avoiding the question.

Sonic grabbed the salt shaker and generously covered his chili dog with its contents, then took another bite, only to actually choke over it this time.

"Okay, did you—?!" He snatched the shaker again, shook a little onto his finger, tasted it, then chucked it at Tails, who laughed and dove out of the way. "You switched the salt and sugar?!"

"Well, duh!" Tails switched to hovering over the table, snickering. "There are no truces today, dearest brother!"

Sonic threw the too-sweet chili dog at him next, inevitably splattering chili over the table.

"You're cleaning that up!" Tails called in a singsong voice. "I'm going out to Josef's Pasta Alla Paccico!"

"OH, NO YOU DON'T!"

-

2:10 p.m.

They both ended up eating out at Josef's, and even though they did truly call a ceasefire for a grand total of twenty-five minutes, they split the time between actually eating and blowing their straw wrappers at people, having mini sword fights with the butter knives, and constructing architecture with the plates and takeout boxes.

Needless to say, the only reason they didn't get kicked out was probably because both Sonic and Tails were practically world-renowned.

Not long after they returned to the workshop, Sonic inevitably crashed for a nap. He usually couldn't make it through a day without a nap at some point, which was always unfortunate for him on this particular day of the year.

Tails studied him where he slept, on a branch of the tree in his front yard. He knew he'd been the last one to pull something, but hey, who said they were taking turns?

There was simply no way he was passing this up.

First, he grabbed a sharpie and very carefully drew an elaborate mustache worthy of Eggman across his brother's face. He added a few random smiley faces on his cheek and arms, as well as the phrase "SLO-MO" on one shoulder.

Then he grabbed an assortment of potato chips and began carefully stacking them on his head, in his hands, on his stomach, in an entire tower.

He made sure to take pictures through the whole process, then— leaving him there to sleep, still covered in sharpie and potato chips— flew off to print the photos.

Going above and beyond, he put the printed photos in a fancy envelope, marked them as "priority mail," addressed them to Sonic's post office box, disguised himself, then dropped them off at the post office.

An hour passed after he had done all that, and Sonic finally stirred awake.

Upon seeing the stack of chips in front of him, he promptly fell out of the tree with a yelp, and Tails started giggling.

"What did you do to me?" Sonic whined, brushing all the crumbs off his head and chest as he stood up, still groggy.

"You think that's bad?" Tails teased. "Go check the mirror."

A look of horror filled his brother's eyes, then he was gone in a flash. Tails kept giggling, and laughed harder when he heard the yell from inside: "WHY DID YOU MAKE ME LOOK LIKE EGGFACE?!"

"It's called revenge!" Tails called back gleefully. "Sweet, totally fair, revenge!"

Sonic came storming back outside. "How dare you use my own words against me."

"Sorry," Tails told him insincerely.

His brother scrubbed at his cheek. "How long will it take for this to wash off?"

Tails shrugged. "A couple days, probably."

Sonic's resulting screech was loud enough to startle away all the nearby flickies.

-

4:32 p.m.

Sonic spent at least half an hour in the bathroom desperately trying to scrub the marker out of his fur, but only succeeded in making it fade a little.

"Taking advantage of my sleep cycle," he huffed, reaching out to mess up Tails's bangs from where the fox kit sat on the couch. "So rude."

Tails tried to fix his bangs, while Sonic flopped onto the other end of the couch. "Consider it payback for you dyeing my fur green last year."

"You still looked cool, at least!" Sonic protested. "If Egghead sees me like this, I'm never going to hear the end of it."

"I looked like a lime!" Tails shot back. "I had to hide from society for an entire month!"

"It wasn't a month."

"Three and a half weeks. Close enough."

"Mm."

Tails shot him a look, and Sonic reached over to mess up his bangs again. He was rewarded with a throw pillow to the face.

Sonic threw it back, and it was just about to escalate into a fully fledged pillow fight when the doorbell rang.

Both of them froze, and Sonic zipped away in a flash. "I'm not here! You don't know me! If anyone asks, I'm in Holoska on a nice, arctic vacation!"

"Chicken!" Tails taunted after him, then flew over to the door and pulled it open to find Amy and Knuckles standing on the other side.

(Thankfully, the super glue had dried hours before.)

"Hey, guys!" he greeted them, stepping back to let them in. "What's the occasion?"

Amy said sweetly, "We just wanted to make sure you and Sonic were doing okay!" at the same time Knuckles said, "We came to supervise."

Tails rolled his eyes. "We don't need babysitters."

Amy glanced around. "Did Sonic leave?"

Knuckles frowned as Tails snickered. "I guess he did. He's telling everyone he's going to Holoska."

"You can't stop me!" Sonic's muffled voice shouted from somewhere towards the back of the workshop.

"Nobody's trying!" Tails called back, his voice catching on a laugh. "Just be sure to warn Jari-Pekka about your new look!"

"New look?" Knuckles echoed.

Amy facepalmed. "What did you do to him?"

Tails waved a hand flippantly. "It'll come off in a few days."

"And this is why we thought you two needed supervision," Knuckles groaned. "Today always gets out of hand."

"Do we need to separate you two?" Amy asked, although she was grinning.

Sonic chose that moment to burst explosively out of the closet, zip to his brother's side, and pull him close in a protective hug. "No, don't separate us!" he insisted, forcing a huge smile. "Everything's going just fine!"

Knuckles and Amy took a solid ten seconds to stare at Tails's artwork all over Sonic's face, then started laughing, albeit good-naturedly.

Tails grinned at where he was still trapped in his brother's hold, only to start violently trying to squirm away when said brother slipped a sharpie out of hiding and started drawing his revenge on the fox's face.

-

6:00 p.m.

Knuckles and Amy chose to spend the rest of the day at the workshop with them, just to make sure things didn't get any crazier than they already had. By the time dinnertime arrived, both Sonic and Tails had sharpie all over their faces, although the "art" on Tails's face could hardly be called as such. Because of his squirming during the whole process, it was nothing more than random scribbles of blue in random places on his face.

"Next year I'll dye you blue," Sonic promised him as the four of them had dinner together (after Amy switched back the salt and sugar). "We can match!"

"Pass." Tails swallowed his bite. "I'll just look like some kind of mutant smurf."

Sonic snickered. "All the more reason to do it, then!"

Amy groaned. "Boys . . ."

"Hey, we should rope you into this!" Sonic exclaimed suddenly, staring straight at Amy.

"If you want a hammer to the face next, feel free!" Amy stuck her tongue out at him, although she had to hide a giggle.

"As long as you leave me out of it, do whatever you want," Knuckles put in wearily, sounding much like a parent tired of trying to control his children.

Tails smiled at all of them. Knuckles was right; this day was always crazy, and sure, things got out of hand sometimes. But he had no regrets. It was fun. It was a stupid way of bonding with his brother, and that was something he would never regret.

A Happy April Fools Day, indeed.

[imviotrash]

Very very excited to finally share my mock cover for my Elizanne fic titled "Dutiful Swords and Doleful Poetry"

It will be a Novella sized fic of around 7 chapters (+some neat bonus material) and I'm really excited (but also nervous) to release it soon.

The fic is far from finished, but here's a short synopsis to give you a glimpse of what you may expect:

"After the horrifying events of the Midnight Tea Party, Joanne seeks out Edwards help to build his strength. He resides in the Midford manor during the 1889 summer break to miserably refresh his fencing skills and unexpectedly finds solace and kinship in the young Lady of the house. Despite their differences, they soon come to realise that they have many similarities. Throughout the week, the two teens start to bond and support eachother in their journey of personal growth, learning more about themselves and eachother daily by practicing the blade."

Once it comes out, I will certainly let you know and will also make a post which links you to every chapter ^^

For now, please enjoy this mock cover!

[thelocal-shifter-kai]

Sebastian crack fic

Heya! Really hope you enjoy this fic. I'd say it's pretty funny, have fun reading!

You've started to forget when the first time you explored the blacksite was, or when you even started working for UrbanShade.. or why you started working for them.. When was the last time you died? You seemed to lose track, the memories just keep blurring together.

But there are some pros, on most of your runs and all of your returns you would see and talk to sebastian!

You and him were somewhat friends? At least that's what you thought. With the amount of times you died he would chat with you a bit, you and him could hold up a good conversation for awhile. He'd laugh at you. You'd laugh at him, you guys would banter and just have fun.

Though during one of your runs you found.. something very interesting and odd, no matter what happened, what routes you took, how fast or slow…. You had never seen something like this from the outside world. A fucking air fryer, where on earth did this come from? How did it get here? So many questions were going through your head. Your main question was how did this get here, God probably doesn't know where.

And neither do you.

Next to it you found some gold. A mini-fridge next to the air fryer. You might've found food in the blacksite! You eagerly open the mini-fridge as you seem to find diamonds. Food. You actually found a normal frozen package of food in the blacksite! You pick it up and look at what glorious type of food it might be… and its fish sticks.

The irony is almost painful. Emphasis on almost. The fact you're friends with Sebastian doesn't matter right now when you cook them in the air fryer. This is food, he out of all people would take this chance just as you are.

It felt like forever for them to cook but when it was done and you opened the air fryer it smelled like heaven, even if you didn't like fish before. You burn yourself getting some normal food out of the airfryer and trying to eat them, this was heaven, you were at the pearly gates of heaven eating these.

At least it was heaven compared to this hellish place you've been in for god knows how long. You've died so many times, but.. with this. You feel like you're not stuck here, like you're still in the outside world. Like before you were trapped in this hell.

You do eat most of the fish sticks but this heaven pack had a lot of them, you did cook them all. While putting the rest of them back in the bag you get a terrible great idea! Why not trade these to sebastian for an item? You didn't actually plan on doing that but you thought it would be a funny idea!

Going through the rooms you see that familiar vent break open as sebastian calls you in.

He greets you as normal, seemingly not noticing the heavenly smell of the food. He turns on his light for the shop, smiling at you. “Hello.. good to see you’re back, in need any items?” His tone is neutral but you can tell he's genuinely happy to see you. Sadly, what you're planning on doing to him might ruin that happiness.

You have a lot of research but you're gonna see what happens if you try to bribe him with food. You may not have his file but you know he's been here for a long time, who knows when he's last eaten?

“Why.. why would I want fish sticks instead of research???” His confusion just keeps growing, with a hint of sarcasm slowly building up.

You start to ask as confusion etches itself on Sebastian's face. “Could I buy something with fish sticks?” the confusion just sets in more as the silence is loud, after what feels like hours he just stares at you with utter confusion in his voice. “I'm sorry, what did you just say?” Poor sebastian is just completely confused. He doesn't know what to say. You hand him the bag, he opens it, looks inside for a minute, he just stares at you again, possibly even more confused. Somehow.

Unfortunately he steals the rest of your fish sticks and asks you “How on earth did you find and cook fish sticks!? How did you find normal food in the blacksite??” You start to explain and his confusion just seems to grow, in fact.. You've never seen... So much confusion on anything, ever.

“So.. let me get this straight. You some random expendable somehow found an air fryer and a mini-fridge, just to open the mini-fridge and find fish sticks. You somehow cooked them, you came here and tried to bribe me with fish sticks?? And you thought that would work??” He stares at you desperately waiting for an answer

“kinda??” as you say that he face-palms “Why would you do that when we've already established that RESEARCH is what you buy my items with.” his voice tells you that he thinks you're an absolute idiot.

“Not really, I thought it would be funny, to be honest it kinda was” you just caused him to have another face-palm. This annoyed you, because he refuses to give you back your fish sticks.

Sebastian picks you up like a mother cat would their kitten, but with his hand and it's the back of your uniform. “You'll what. I am a giant mutant fish with a shotgun. What are you going to do to me? There is quite literally nothing you can do.”

You manage to get yourself out of his grasp and while he realizes that you aren't in his hand anymore you have to be fast, so you quickly get up to grab a flash beacon from his tail and shoot him to make sebastian let go of his food.. you then shoot him with the flash beacon “GUAGH” he pulls out his shotgun and shoots you.

You don't get a file document from sebastian, although it wouldn't take a genius to know who killed you. All sebastian tells you is.. “I warned you..”

Next thing you remember is waking up back in your bed, of the UrbanShade prison. You get up knowing you'll have to get ready for your next run. Memories coming back about how you were killed by sebastian over fish sticks.

You really can't tell if it was a stupid dream or sebastian really killed you over fish sticks.

At least you'll be able to go back to the blacksite and get your answers. Let's hope sebastian will talk to you and answer your question.

[11queensupreme11]

Reading the Wattpad comments for the latest chapter vs the AO3 and Quotev is………. Certainly a trip!

I think I’ll be switching to Quotev now! I’d say AO3, but there’s no pictures there 😓

literally every time i post a chapter about the pjo!universe, i always gotta brace myself for the wattpad comments cuz some of the ppl there are completely misinterpreting things and sometimes it's because of their own bias getting in the way or because my writing makes them think that and i do NOT want it to be the second 😭😭😭😭😭😭

let me just make this clear right now because some of my wattpad readers seem to have a very negative view of the pjo characters in my fic and i don't want my other readers thinking that's what i'm going for:

pjo!poseidon loves his daughter and percy loves him too (familial ofc)

sally jackson IS a good mom and percy loves her

anthonius loves and cares for percy and vice versa

chiron loves and cares for percy, like he does with all the other campers

the pjo!gods are not black and white. there is no "the pjo!gods are all terrible parents blah blah blah!". it is a lot more nuanced than that; this has literally been shown and discussed many times in the books AND the tv show has written this out beautifully

hades is not a terrible father and nico doesn't hate him. pls read the books, hades and nico's bond gets better and nico is illegally living with him in the underworld, which no demigod, NOT EVEN PERCY, has done with their own godly parent

triton's hatred and jealousy towards percy is valid. imagine watching your father claim to love and care for your mother while having 100s of side pieces and then imagine realizing that he actually LOVES one of the side pieces and LOVES a random demigod child that popped up while you've been loyal to him for thousands of years. imagine him leaving behind his own kingdom and family (leaving YOU) to face oceanus' army because said child asked for his help.

amphitrite does not hate percy. her feelings towards the issue is more bitter, but understanding. that portion of her in the chapter was her realizing just how deep poseidon's love for percy goes and being awed and sad at the same time because she knows poseidon will never love her or their children the same way he loves sally and percy

the latest chapter was never meant to be implied as "amphitrite and triton don't like percy! they bad >:(" pls, like i said before, this is not a black and white fic.

(forgot to add this but: i am perfectly fine if you have your own negative opinions about the pjo characters, but i just want you to know that they are not what i'm going for in my fics. some readers genuinely believe that the pjo!poseidon, anthonius, chiron, sally, grover, hades, etc. in my fic are mean, bad, manipulative, and all kinds of negative things when i've tried to show that they are NOT. arsenic blues is not a pjo bashing fic)

[neomel]

:) surprise

HEX VALUE, my piece for the 2024 Sonic the Hedgehog Big Bang, is out!!!

I've kept it a secret until now, and it's all new territory for me - but this is a huge fic putting a bunch of ideas about Sonic lore I've had swirling in my head to paper at last. Sonic Forces, IDW, Shadow, and most importantly - Omega!!

A huge thanks to the artists that I collaborated with for this, @elsannej and @premeditatedshitbag , as well as to @sthbigbang for putting this whole thing together!!

[optiwashere]

I have a lot of (mostly negative) thoughts about Wattpad, but everything that's happening over there w/r/t another fandom purge is why AO3 exists in the first place. It's sad to watch another cycle of queer and sexual art get removed because of Corporate Values, regardless of my personal opinions.

Everyone unfamiliar should do their Fanlore homework on Purges, starting with the infamous FFN purges.

[straw-of-the-hat]

The Method (BNHA)

Summary: Izuku requests to see All For One after he's arrested. He'd never said why, but All Might never, ever would've assumed it was for this.

Or: All For One is Hisashi Midoriya. Izuku has a few things to say to him.

Tags: Dad For One, Izuku Midoriya, BNHA

Word count: 3,802

Third person pov

"Are you sure you want to do this, my boy?" Toshinori Yagi wasn't the best teacher in the world, he knew. He'd made for a decent Symbol of Peace, and had done his best to uphold the people's spirits. He just… couldn't help but feel he'd failed his charge.

He'd defeated All For One, but at the price of his strength. He was now nothing more than a gangly shadow of the hero he once was, emancipated and weak. Izuku was on the fast track to filling the gargantuan shoes he'd left behind. While he didn't doubt the freckled boy could do it, it was a lot of pressure to put on a teenage boy.

Izuku gave a smile. It was small, and bordering on sad. There was something he wasn't saying. Toshinori didn't want to push. He knew this was a trying time for Izuku. It was a trying time for most of Japan, but especially for the curly-haired boy. Now that All Might was retired and out of the picture, eyes were falling upon the next generation of heroes. 

With Izuku wielding One For All and taking on the challenge of becoming the Number One Hero, the entire world was watching and waiting for him to slip up. To show some sign of weakness. It was a terrible weight for a child to bear.

"I'm sure." Izuku said firmly, looking Toshinori in the eyes, and then Tsukauchi.

You see, while All For One had been defeated, he was far from dead. He was being kept in a high security facility free of any other criminals. It was a place built just for him, filled to the brim with trained guards and pro heroes, ready to strike when needed. Kept in a straight jacket at all times, locked in a windowless room with automated machine guns pointed at him that would fire off and take his life at the slightest hint of movement, it was safe to say All For One wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

Why Izuku was so intent on visiting him, nobody knew. That’s not to say they hadn’t asked, of course.

When he'd first approached Toshinori about it, timid, unsure, and very clearly nervous, it had been a hard no. All For One was the height of all evil. There was no way on God's green earth Toshinori was letting his precious successor anywhere near such a monster. All For One had lived longer than any man should, and had accumulated vast amounts of knowledge and refined his ability to manipulate just about anyone who dared show the slightest bit of weakness in his presence.

That should have been the end of it, but Izuku had come back just a day later with the same request. This time he'd seemed more intent on it, more sure of himself. Toshinori had still given him the same answer. An uneasy yet firm 'no' that was full of questions that he received no answers to. 

He'd dwelt and dwelt on why Izuku may want to visit a mass-murdering immortal without a moral compass or any value for human life. He'd come up dry. There was simply no plausible explanation. Why would Izuku want anything to do with that man, knowing what he was and all he’d done?

The third time Izuku asked, he reluctantly agreed to talk to Tsukauchi. He was the most trusted detective on the police force and had never failed to rally with Toshinori and UA High. He was on their side, and working closely in the All For One case. He was one of the few they could count on. The man was earnest, and someone Toshinori considered a close friend. 

Going to the man for advice was a no-brainer. Toshinori felt out of his depth, torn between possibly alienating his successor by denying his request versus letting Izuku be exposed to one of the world’s most vile evils. 

Tsukauchi had admitted that a meeting between All For One and Izuku would be possible. Tsukauchi and All Might had pretty much full control of what happened to the man and where he went. Japan's Hero association had no idea what to do with the old cryptid. Toshinori was the one who knew his abilities and history the best, so they hadn't hesitated to throw the issue at him. 

So long as All For One didn't kill anyone else, they were willing to let All Might do just about anything with the old fart, barring releasing him and unruly things of that sort. Though they probably hadn’t assumed All Might would ever be considering taking an up and coming hero, a child, to see him.

Izuku had asked a fourth time, and Toshinori had finally point-blank asked why. Izuku's response was nothing short of evasive. He'd simply insisted that it was something he had to do without giving any reasons as to why. Toshinori had wanted to say no again, but the look in the young boy's eyes...

He was all but begging for trust, his eyes alight with hope and determination. He wasn't lying when he said this was something he needed to do. You could tell that just by looking at him. Why it was something he needed to do was what had Toshinori stumped.

So here they were, at a building in the middle of nowhere that looked more like a block of concrete than a regular structure. It was surrounded by tall walls that arched overhead, nearly forming a dome, but stopping just short of doing so. Cementoss and several other pros had worked together to make this place as secure as possible. 

Now, it crawled with trustworthy men and women who wouldn't hesitate to do what was needed were All For One try to stage a breakout. The man was too weak right now to do anything, but… well, being overly cautious never hurt anyone. Who knew what he was capable of.

"We'll just be in the next room over observing on the monitors, Midoriya. Shout if you need something. We'll get you out of there pronto." Tsukauchi gave a reassuring grin that made Izuku look a little less like he was marching off to his death. The boy looked like he was dreading this, and yet he was doing it anyway. 

Toshinori didn't get it. There was something he didn't understand. Izuku had pushed for this, but he knew his successor. He looked absolutely terrified.

"He's right. We'll be right in here." Toshinori also smiled. Izuku nodded firmly back, face set into an expression that was grim yet sure. Tsukauchi sipped at his coffee as he watched the curly-haired boy march out of the room and to the heavily guarded door to be let in. The ID card he was holding as well as the fact that everyone had been told in advance that they'd be coming allowed him instant access.

Toshinori steeled himself, settling down in one of the rolling chairs tensely. Tsukauchi took the one next to him, grimacing at the screen as the electronic door opened. Toshinori didn’t think All For One would try anything-- he never would’ve let Izuku come within ten miles of this place if he thought the man might. He was still just… uneasy.

All For One was a stubborn man. He'd been grinning since he got here, for one thing. The coy smile hadn't faltered even once. Toshinori had gone in to talk to him, along with Tsukauchi and a few others, but it was to no avail. He'd said a total of two things since he got here. Two things, and no more than that.

A part of Toshinori was glad, and hoping maybe that meant he wouldn't talk to Izuku. He knew that was just wishful thinking. All For One knew exactly who Izuku Midoriya was. Toshinori didn't doubt the man had some form of sight that allowed him to identify people. Even with the copious amount of quirk restraints on his person, he'd immediately coined Toshinori when he came in, as well as Tsukauchi. Those had been the two times he spoke.

He wouldn’t miss a chance to mess with Young Midoriya. Toshinori anxiously tapped his foot, throat feeling uncharacteristically tight and heart thumping hard in his chest. It would be fine. Young Midoriya was strong-- far stronger than Toshinori was at his age. All For One was just… a different sort of beast, that’s all. 

Sitting next to him, Tsukauchi could tell his blonde friend was nervous. His shoulders were stiff and hunched, and the tension hanging around him was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The detective couldn't blame him. He too had tried asking Izuku why he wanted to see All For One, and Izuku had responded with a very intent, "It's just something I need to do." 

Tsukauchi's quirk, Human Lie Detector, had registered that firm statement as the truth. Which was perhaps the most jarring part of this all. Whatever this was, Izuku well and truly believed he had to go through with it. 

They watched Izuku hesitantly step into the room. A pane of bullet proof glass was the only thing separating him from the world's greatest villain. The door shut and locked behind him with a loud bang and click that caused him to jolt forward. Toshinori could see his student's adam's apple bobbing precariously as he shuffled to the single chair bolted to the floor, frowning deeply and fiddling his thumbs. 

He reluctantly sat down, and that's when it happened.

All For One's grin absolutely dropped . For the first time since becoming imprisoned here, his expression melted into something else entirely. Tsukauchi and Toshinori had both leaned closer to the monitor, expecting his new expression to be one of malice or hate. Perhaps annoyance, or some sort of twisted amusement.

But no… no, it was the opposite . It caused both men to pause and stare dumbly as All For One's mangled face morphed into one full of disbelief and apparent horror, maybe even fear. The look was out of place on a man like him.

His already pale skin got paler, and he tensed, leaning back as far as he could. Izuku simply stared at him with wobbling lips and teary eyes, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles were white. You could see the raw disapproval on Izuku's face. 

Not fear, not anger, but disappointment instead. Toshinori and Naomasa both shared a look, the detective bringing his drink to his lips and taking a long gulp. He was going to need something a little stronger depending on how this meeting went.

"...What are you doing here?" All For One breathed out the third ever thing he'd ever said in this accursed place, so quietly the cameras almost didn’t pick it up. The skin around his scarred over eye sockets stretched, and if he had eyes still, Toshinori was sure they'd be wide as saucers. 

His voice sounded so distant, so shocked and disbelieving. It caused Toshinori's teeth to clench and his eyes to narrow. Tsukauchi checked for a third time to make sure this was all being recorded, bringing up his coffee for another swig.

The smile Izuku gave was watery and nothing short of absolutely heartbreaking. 

"Hey, dad." The freckled boy choked out. The reaction was instantaneous. 

Blood sprayed from Toshinori's mouth like water from a broken faucet, sunken eyes wide and jaw dropped as the scarlet liquid began to drip down his jaw. Tsukauchi had been mid swallow as Izuku dropped that cataclysmic statement, resulting in his drink going down the wrong pipe. He began to choke, his eyes just as wide as his friend's as he wheezed and thumped his fist against his chest. 

"Izuku..." All For One trailed off, voice broken and sounding horrifyingly human.

"When I first heard your voice at Kamino, I thought I was hallucinating." Izuku's voice was quiet but level. "It was a voice I heard every Friday for years upon years. You never failed to call, dad. And I never failed to pick up. I haven't seen you in so long, and it makes sense now, I guess." 

The nerves from before were gone. Izuku spoke with certainty that showed he’d thought long and hard about exactly what he wanted to say, and exactly how he wanted to say it. There was a steel resolve in the clench of his jaw and the draw of his brows.

"Izuku, I-" All For One was cut off before he got the chance to continue. The taste of blood stayed strong in Toshinori’s mouth.

"You weren't on a business trip in America." Izuku grit his teeth, his tears falling. These were not the type he tended to burst out with, where he practically dehydrated himself with the force of his wailing. These were silent and far, far more tragic, dripping slow and salty down his face.

All For One flinched as though he'd been struck. Toshinori, with his mouth still agape, realized he'd never seen the man look so vulnerable. He wouldn't have thought it possible if he weren't here witnessing it at this very moment. Next to him, Tsukauchi sucked in a few breaths of deep air, still hacking so hard he was surprised a lung didn't come up.

"...No, no I wasn't." All For One whispered. Izuku bowed his head.

"You got hurt. By All Might." Izuku clenched his fists. His voice waned with the force of his emotion. "A-And... you knew I was his successor. And that night, at Kamino, you-"

"I would never hurt you, Izuku." All For One's voice was steadier now, but only slightly. "I would never hurt you."

It was a sour promise. Izuku seemed to think so too, if the way his breath and shoulders hitched was anything to go off of.

"But you have!" Izuku protested wildly, eyes wide and flashing with warning. "Don't you get it?! You left mom and I! I was bullied my whole life, quirkless, beat down! And then, you tried to take away the one person who came along and told me I could do it?! You tried to take away the person who's been taking more care of me over the past year than you ever have?!"

All For One's face was riddled heavy with guilt, and with bits of anger. Not at Izuku, no, he could never be mad at his son. Maybe the rage was for himself, or perhaps it was better aimed at those bullies Izuku spoke of. Maybe at Toshinori for swooping in and being Izuku's saving grace. 

That damned man didn't know when to quit, and... All For One was almost glad for that, because his son was here, strong-willed, ready to fight, not afraid to confront him. And it sure wasn’t All For One who’d helped him grow to be that way.

All For One had made a great many mistakes in his long lifetime, but falling in love was not one of them. Some might argue that a man like him wasn't capable of such a thing, and he never would have begged to differ. Not until he ran into Inko Sakiaki, that is. 

She was witty and clever, with the biggest green doe-eyes and the most beautiful, earthen hair. She'd looked him right in the eyes and seen right past that polite and unassuming facade he presented carefully to the world. And she’d smiled at him anyway.

Inko was... enrapturing. She was sweet, kind, and caring in ways he never would be. Everything heroes were meant to be, but weren't in his eyes. So he'd fallen in love, and he'd asked her to marry him, and... that's what happened. Simple as that.

For the first time in a long time, he was once again Hiashi Midoriya instead of All For One. A man capable of loving and caring, of making jokes and ruining the kitchen, of breaking a vacuum cleaner and rolling his eyes at mundane TV shows. For a while, he was simply human. It was possibly the best, brightest time of his life, and he’s not afraid to admit such. 

Izuku was born shortly after they were wed. He was the most perfect thing Hiashi had ever seen. He'd inherited Hiashi's wild, curly hair. Fondly, even now that he was blind, he could recall Izuku's freckles, so similar to those of his uncle's. He was such a brilliant little boy, so smart and ready to help. 

He had the heart of a hero, just as his uncle had held all those years ago. Izuku was something to be cherished. He was something to be loved. He was someone that All For One had wanted to give the world. 

But it was all ripped away when All Might and him fought. Perhaps anger had driven him to this point. He'd been sour, wanting desperately for his son and wife, but knowing he'd only scare them with his deformed face and growing bitterness. 

Hiashi once again became All For One, burying himself in his work. It was the easiest thing in the world to slip back into the role. He was going to kill All Might if it was the last thing he did, he’d decided. He created Nomu's, got a hold of Nana Shimura's grandson and begun to groom him. He put together a league that would be the Symbol of Peace's end.

He was All For One, the greatest villain in the world. 

Except on Friday's, between the hours of five to eight PM. 

During that time, he was Hiashi Midoriya again. His phone calls with his son and wife were a great escape. He'd pretend he was just fine, not at all injured or damaged or evil down to his bones. He'd talk about the weather in America and tell them how much he missed them and wished they were there. 

He'd cheer Izuku on, because if his son wanted to become a hero, then Hiashi was sure he'd be the best one to ever walk the planet. While him inheriting Toshinori's power was a cruel twist of fate, there was no better person to wield a power once belonging to his younger brother. If anyone deserved it, it was Izuku.

How it had all gone so wrong, he wasn’t sure. He just knew it was his fault. He’d always tried to be a good father, but men like All For One weren’t made for it. He wasn’t built to care for others. Something in him was broken, and try as he might, he knew… he knew hurting those he dared to love was a horrific inevitability. 

"I'm... I'm sorry, Izuku." All For One murmured. Izuku bit the inside of his cheek. Anger pierced its way up through him, intermingling with his sorrow starkly.

All For One was a horrible person, he’d thought. Someone Izuku had grown to loathe during his time as All Might's apprentice. Tales of all the vile things he'd done and all the suffering he'd caused were sparse, but always gruesome when All Might did dare to murmur them. They painted a horrifying picture of a ruthless man incapable of love.

It was easy to hate All For One when he wasn’t a person. When he was just a story, just a faceless figure that Izuku had never seen, had never met. It was easier to hate someone you didn’t know, and All For One was the worst of the worst. He had hurt thousands, would continue to hurt them, and Izuku… Izuku had thought him the most monstrous being in the world for all he’d done.

The moment Izuku heard his voice, that image fell to pieces and crumbled on the ground.

It didn't take him long to connect the dots, and he was devastated once he did. He'd been so lost and conflicted in the aftermath. All For One and Hiashi Midoriya were the same person . It just barely managed to click in his mind, and when it did, Izuku had been left clueless as to what to do.

How could someone who cheered him on as a hero, told him how much he loved him, and teased him mercilessly about things that had little to no significance in the grand scheme of things-- playfully, for the fun of it-- also be the world's greatest villain?

He could still recall his father's warm eyes alight with fondness as he told Izuku a bedtime story. The way he'd feel so, so tall when his dad put him on his shoulders. The man's reassurances over the phone that even without a quirk, he could be an amazing hero. That he’d be proud of him no matter what.

He'd been near tears when Izuku announced he was into UA, and a mixture of worried and angry when he found out the USJ had been attacked. There was no way that was all a lie, right? It couldn't be. Was his father nothing more than a fake construct meant to mess with him? Was he... Was Izuku a puppet?

"You took away my hero." Izuku grit out, wiping furiously at his eyes. His father's face hardened.

"All Might is still alive. You're... carrying on his will, I believe. As much as it pains me." All For One sighed. "But I will always love you and cheer you on, Izuku. You're my son. Nothing will ever change that."

Izuku felt sick. He felt relieved. He felt angry and upset and he felt yearning. He felt devastation and a pervading coldness that had been crawling up his spine ever since he finally learned just who his father was. He felt too many things at once to possibly name. 

"Not him." Izuku whispered. "Not All Might. He’s my favorite hero, but he wasn't my hero, dad. You were."

Toshinori was frozen. Tsukauchi held his breath, trying to get over his shock.

All For One seemed to dissolve at those words, what was left of his face twisting with horror as Izuku stood up. He lurched forward in his restraints, earning a warning beep in response as his son gathered himself. Izuku gathered the scraps of his composure with shaking hands and tear-stained cheeks.

Everything All For One was as a villain melted away at those two, simple words. Ones All Might and Tsukauchi never would have guessed would affect him so drastically. But he looked horrified. Guilty. Like he couldn't believe what he'd done. There was... regret .

It didn't make up for anything.

All For One felt his chest ache, and suddenly, he realized just what this was. Because he wasn't All For One right now. He had never been, in Izuku’s eyes. 

Right now, he was Hiashi Midoriya, and he'd hurt his son.

[phuljari]

Edit: Keep Reading

[desired-fantasy-writings]

Maxime Le Mal Masterlist

Please read the rules before requesting!

Headcanons

[Mix of sfw and nsfw rambling] Maxime Le Mal - Mixture Of Headcanons

Fanfics

(Working on it!) [Fluff. Chaos happens] Maxime Le Mal X Female Reader - It's... You • Pt. 1, Pt 2 (Working on it!) [Fluff] Maxime Le Mal X Female Reader - I Miss You

(Working on it!) Maxime Le Mal X Reader - The Funner Side Of Things [Fluff and cartoon violence(?)] (Working on it!) [Comfort/Angst] Maxime Le Mal X Reader - Let It Go (Working on it!) [Angst] Maxime Le Mal X Reader - Old Times (Working on it!) [Angst] Maxime Le Mal X Reader - What They've Done For Power

(Working on it!) [Smut] Maxime Le Mal X Female Reader - Needing You

[draculalunch]

the tlou fandom makes me so fucking mad. i really would like to engage in it but everyone is fucking horny in such an uncool way. there are indeed times you have to stay away from the fandom

[reinanova]

so you're new to ao3

and want to learn how to find and filter fics. then boy oh boy is this post for you

(this is going to be a Long post so I'm adding a read more break now)

but where to begin? i personally like to search by fandom or by ship. there are two ways to go about this:

search the fandom, then click on the first link for the fandom you find:

2. click on fandoms in the upper left corner and find your fandom in the giant list of fandoms

(Same concept applies for searching for a specific ship)

Great! now you're in the search results of all the works in that fandom! I'm now going to introduce you to your new favorite button: Filters

When you click on the filters button, the filters menu pops up. There are two main ways to filter works: including tags and excluding tags.

the Include Filter

before we begin: keep in mind that ao3 shows you the most popular tags under each filter. if what you're looking for isn't listed, you can use the search boxes under each filter category to find what you want

Ratings and Warnings

If you want to read a fic with a specific rating or a specific warning, this is where you select that. I personally prefer to use the exclude filter to filter out the ratings/warnings I don't want, but that's up to you. (Notice how you can only pick one rating: if you want to only read one rating, this is great for you. if you want to read anything except a certain rating, that's when exclude is your friend)

Categories and Fandoms

This is great if you want to read a specific slash or a crossover with a specific fandom. (I personally don't use these filters)

Characters and Relationships

this is the good stuff. here is where you can pick the relationship(s) you want to see. If you select more than one, you will only see results that include all of the selected options. The relationships filter is my favorite include filter--utilize it!!

Additional Tags and Other tags to include

want to read fluff? hurt/comfort? this is where you go. If the tag you're looking for isn't on the list under Additional Tags, you can search for the tag you want. ao3 will start to suggest tags, so you can select what you want from that list.

we have now reached my favorite part of the ao3 filtering system:

the Exclude Filter

ao3 operates on a don't like, don't read principle. the exclude filters exist for a reason: USE THEM!!!! i love the exclude filters and use them for every single search

Ratings, Warnings, Categories, and Fandoms

This seems pretty self-explanatory. Let's say you don't want to read fics that are not rated and fics that are tagged as major character death, but every other rating or warning is fair game. Boom, you've excluded them from the search results.

Characters and Relationships

Don't want to read a fic with a certain character or ship? You can get rid of all of them from the search results. For example, if you don't want to read any /Reader fics, you can filter those out here

Additional Tags and Other tags to exclude

Anything else you don't want to read about? maybe it's something that is a trigger for you, or something you just aren't into. Maybe there are specific relationships not listed under the relationship filter that you want to exclude. you can exclude those tags here. The exclude tag search feature is great for this.

More Options

there are some more ways to filter fics, including crossover status, completion status, word count, date updated, and language. Let's say you don't want any crossovers and you want to read a work in progress. you would select Exclude crossovers and Works in progress only here.

One last thing before you hit sort and filter!

You can sort the results by a variety of different features, like date updated, hits, and kudos. Be careful tho--sometimes some of the best fics you'll read will be the ones that don't have the same number of hits and kudos as the "popular fics" so don't judge a fic by it's numbers

That's it!! Now you're ready to sort and filter the results to your heart's content! This button is at the top and bottom of the filter tab for your convenience :)

Based on the filtering, your new search results will appear. Now you can read what you want and ignore the rest!

In summary:

Including: will show you only the results that have ALL of the included tags

Excluding: will show you results that have NONE of the excluded tags

Don't like, don't read! ao3 is an archive, not an algorithm--you have to search out the content you want yourself. hit the back tab if you don't like the fic you're reading

Remember to leave comments and kudos to make an author's day!!

[valewritessss]

When I was on a plane for 10 hours a few days ago I had to survive without fanfiction and 6 hours in I started experiencing symptoms of withdrawal

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

I was going to post a snippet for WIP Wednesday but I actually finished the chapter!

Things which happen in this chapter:

Baby Charmy

Espio suggests cannibalism

Vector makes his first dad joke

Espio discovers blogs

Baby Charmy

Vector is too tall

Vector complains about the cost of honey

Espio doesn't understand how babies work

Vector nearly decides to kill Espio

Espio and Vector argue about the five-second-rule

BABY CHARMY

[journey-to-the-attic]

patch notes 1-4

( '!' and '!!' indicate larger changes that you might be more inclined to go back to read - '!' is more little additions, '!!'' is more substantial changes to existing content/larger additions)

(chapters are also linked for ease of access)

overall: -dialogue edited to be more natural/in-character - long paragraphs broken up so they're easier to read - ik's internal monologue made more consistent with her characterisation - several chapters titles changed to either be funnier, more concise, better in general, or some combination of the three

ch one: - removed/changed some of the more dated references/jokes (left in the 'who the fuck are you' joke though) - cut some of ik's conversation with mammon about religion towards the end of the chapter

ch two: - made asmo helping ik with her uniform a bit more concise of a scene (also added a little exchange towards the end of the scene that i think is cute :) )

ch three: - !! a lot of levi's tsl info-dump has been changed, and he and ik have some more dialogue with each other separate from just the info-dumping - ! lucifer and ik have a new little interaction when he wakes her from a nap in the latter half of the chapter

ch four: - satan calls ik 'imp-sized' instead of just 'tiny' in their conversation in the first half - corrected solomon and a demon in the class accidentally misgendering professor elderflower - ik does some more thinking before texting solomon to ask about the apparent tax evasion

[send-up-my-heart-to-you]

am i rlly speedrun-posting all of my ao3 fics onto wattpad?

why yes. yes i am.