#I just need a quick and quaint way to imply volume

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Anybody else ever add fake construction-lines over a sketch just for show when it’s done? I’m a fraud. An impostor. My real construction lines look like dog ass.

[i-write-boop-spoops]

A (not so) quiet day in the countryside - Leon x reader

A requested one-shot where Leon decides to bug the reader with, well, a bug. Chaos ensues.

Enjoy!

It’s very rare that Leon returns to Postwick.

So you’re unbelievably flattered that he invited you to come along.

It marks an important milestone in your relationship, meeting the rest of his family beyond Hop, visiting the town he grew up in, staying in his childhood home. It makes you feel like you’re more than just someone he’s dating, like you’re an important, irreplaceable part of his life.

Your trip is nearly over, just a few days left before you return to Wyndon. You both intend to spend the most of it relishing in the quaint, quiet countryside, far away from all that hustle and bustle you’re so familiar with.

Postwick is so different from the city, it’s so peaceful, so calm, it moves at a dawdling pace, like a merry but lazy stream. Some would argue it’s boring, but you wholeheartedly disagree. You have space to breathe here, to relax, and every inhale is full of effervescence and life that the urban streets just can’t offer.

It gives you a glimpse into a more substantial life, it would be the perfect place to raise a family with him.

The warm sunlight dances upon your eyelids as you rest on the lush, verdant grass, its blades tickle the exposed areas of skin that your t-shirt and shorts don’t cover. The taste of sour-sweet lemonade sticks to your lips, the breeze is cooling and bright as it strolls through the air. Wooloo bleat cheerfully in the distance, you can hear some local children giggling as they play a few fields over. It’s mid-afternoon, not long after lunch, you spent the morning helping out in the garden, and now you’re content to loaf there with him until dinnertime.

 “Love,” you hear him say, you crack one eye open and languidly glance at him. His smile is inviting and full of his boyish charm, but there’s mischief in those gorgeous golden eyes. His hands are held in such a way that implies he has something hidden between them, you wonder if t’s a flower or stone. “I have something to show you”

You nod and hum a “Yeah?” as you bring yourself to sit up, torso twisting towards him. He comes to kneel beside you, and he gently opens his hands as if he were opening a ring box. A small ball of shuddering yellow fluff is revealed to you, you lean closer to examine it further.

Four cerulean blue eyes look at you inquisitively.

That’s two too many eyes.

“Lee!” You shriek, your body jerking away from him. “You know I hate bug types!”

 He laughs and shakes his head, leaning in closer with the little Joltik, his finger tenderly stroking its back. “How can you hate this little chap? He’s so adorable!”

“Nope, nope, nope” you repeat as you squirm and shimmy away. He comes nearer, the pokemon still presented to you, an impish grin spread across his face.

“Ah, c’mon love,” he teases with a chuckle. “Don’t you wanna pet his fuzzy little head?”

He shoves the bug into your face, you make brief eye contact with it before shrieking like a Misdreavus. You spring to your feet so fast it feels like you were struck by lightning. He’s laughing madly as he lunges at you, you break into a sprint, shooting across the garden. He begins to chase you, Joltik held securely in one hand, while the other is reached out to grab at you.

His fingers brush against your t-shirt hem, you leap away and spin to run in another direction, he narrowly misses you.  Your footsteps press shapes into the grass as you skip across it, your heart is racing, your skin lacquered in sweat.

“C’mere you minx!” he yells, pouncing at you again, you hop back, and find yourself caged between him, the house, and a fence. Your chest rises and falls rapidly and you close your eyes, ready to accept your fate.

“Leon!!!” His mum calls from the kitchen window. “Play nice!”

Leon pauses and turns to her, huffing like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Mum!” he exclaims, almost like a whine, slightly flustered by the scolding.

“Seriously? Haven’t you grown out of showing bugs to people you fancy?! You’ve been doing that since you were six!”

Now that he’s distracted, your eyes dart around looking for an escape. You probably can’t slip past him, he is far too quick for that. You curse under your breath, wondering if he’ll still make you touch that horrifying bug once he’s done talking with his mum.

Something bright purple catches your gaze, a rubber hose coiled up on the ground like a sleeping ekans. You used it earlier to water some of the plants. A brilliant idea comes to mind, you glance at Leon, who is still grumbling at his mother. It’s actually kind of adorable, witnessing the unbeatable champion taken down a peg by the only person who can, his mum.

You slowly, silently sink into a crouch, praying to Arceus you wouldn’t draw his attention. You take hold of the hose’s nozzle and stand back up. Leon finally notices that you’re doing something as he turns to face you.

“Stay back! I’m armed!” you exclaim amidst heavy breaths, brandishing the hose’s nozzle like a pistol, pointing right at his chest, with your other hand primed to turn the tap on. “Ah, love, there’s no need for that…” he says softly as he steps forward, Joltik still in hand. You’re unsure whether to trust him, he still might try spook you again. “I’m serious!” you insist frantically, aim a little shaky.

“Okay, okay. I’ll put him down” he concedes, somewhat gently, slinking down to one knee. He opens his palm and the yellow fluff-ball jumps from his hands. The little thing scuttles away through the grass and leaps over the fence into the neighbouring wheat field.

Leon looks at you with a charming smile as he gets up, perhaps hoping to use your love for him to his advantage.

You deny him that, he deserves no mercy for the hell he put you through.

With a quick twist, you turn the tap, the hose starts to pulse as it fills with water. He recognizes what you’re up to but it’s too late. He raises his hands to protest, a futile action, he soon comes to realise.

Now it’s your turn to laugh like maniac.

His arms flail as they try shield his face from the high-pressure spray, his red shirt darkens in shade as it is soaked. He yelps from the cold, the volume of his hair lessening under the onslaught of water. A rainbow shimmers in the droplets as they rain down on him, you continue even after he’s drenched.

It appears you were too bold with your strategy, he seems to have become accustomed to the spray. He moves, swifter than you can account for, and snatches the nozzle from your grasp with his superior strength. You instinctively close your eyes and cover your face, bracing yourself for the rush of ice-cold water.

The tap squeaks as it is turned off, the hose falls unceremoniously to the ground. You open your eyes, befuddled, and lower your guard. You meet his giddy golden gaze, and he starts to splutter with laughter.

“Well that went a bit overboard” he says with a chuckle, bringing you close to him. He’s so warm, despite being absolutely soaked, your arms wrap around his waist as he embraces you. You giggle and agree, smiling up at him as your hand gingerly brushes some of the hair away from his face. He kisses you sweetly, it’s in your second nature to reciprocate.

As you pull away, he smiles and laughs. “I guess I deserved that for being such a rascal”

“That you do” you muse, pecking his lips. He kisses your forehead, you subsequently lay your head against his chest as you hug. You’re both quiet for a bit, it is only when you part from his hold that he opens his mouth to speak.

“Hey, it’s that Joltik again!”

You shriek and jump into his arms, he catches you easily as you cling to his neck. You can hear a laugh rumble in his chest, you look back and find nothing even resembling the small yellow thing. “Gotcha!” he exclaims proudly with a grin.

“Lee!” you squeal as you scold him, bumping your fist against his left pectoral. “That’s not funny!”

“Ah, sorry love, your reactions are just so cute. I couldn’t help myself”

Your heart abruptly melts, how can you be mad at him when he’s so sweet and genuine?

“Oh come here you son of a bitch!” you say as you lean in to kiss him. He grins at you, his lips feel so soft as they meet yours.

You’re immediately interrupted by his mum as she pops her head out the kitchen window, her face etched in a scowl.

“Did you just call me a bitch?!”

[twiistedgalaxies]

Genesis: Chapter 3: Where it all Goes Sideways

How two brothers can take two opposite paths. How a man can be made into a monster and how the other must pay the ultimate price to save everything he knows and loves. Or, alternatively: The origins of All for One and One for All.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

A/N: Rape TW for the first half of the chapter, though it isn't necessarily explicit, only implied.

The night was cold, quiet, and dark. The Shigaraki household’s quaint apartment was still, all of its residents long asleep in their beds, anxieties of the waking world forgotten. It is because of this that Tomura woke with a start when he heard a loud crash in their living room. Slowly, he opened his eyes, bleary and sticky with sleep. Was Hisashi back from wherever he seemed to have run off to after dinner? He sat up, feet dangling over the edge of his bed. He was rubbing his eyes when he heard a voice from the other room. Tomura felt his blood freeze. That wasn’t his brother. 

He stood up, letting out a small hiss through his teeth as pain shot through his legs. Slowly and quietly, he made his way across the cramped room and opened the door, the knob cool and harsh against his warm skin. He poked his head out and saw several silhouettes standing in the living room and kitchen, carrying things out of the front door. He swallowed nervously. Tomura stepped backwards into his room, too afraid to shut his door and reveal that he was awake. 

He checked the top bunk. His brother was fast asleep. Hands shaking, he retrieved his cell phone and called 911 as he wedged himself under his bed.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” A female voice rang out, Tomura hurriedly lowered the volume.

“There - there’s strange men in my house,” he whimpered, trying to keep his voice quiet.

“Where are you, what’s your name?” The woman asked, her words a calm anchor amid the sea of panic Tomura was drowning in. He gave his name and address, having to pause as intruders walked by his door. They spoke for longer, him telling the operator what he could, and her giving him empty placations. She told him to stay on the phone, he nodded though she couldn’t see him, and pressed his back further into the wall.

A man stepped into his bedroom. Tomura had to cover his mouth with his palm to quiet his breathing, eyes wide. The stranger stood there in silence for what felt like eternity before meticulously going through their belongings, ripping drawers from dressers and throwing books from their shelves. Tomura couldn’t help but wince as his precious comic collection flew through the air, their colorful pages splayed open like butterfly wings. The stranger approached the door to their cramped, overstuffed closet when Tomura heard a shrill scream. Mom.

“I’ll give you what you want, just don’t hurt them, please!” She cried from down the hall. A loud click. 

“Get your filthy hands off my wife!” Pops, like firecrackers.

Another scream, “No, Tetsuya, not my husband!” Hana’s voice broke, descending into sobs. The man left their room.

“Tomura?” Hisashi called from his place on the top bunk. His voice shook.

“I’m here, I’m under here,” he whispered, still as stone.

Slowly and quietly, Hisashi crept down their ladder and slid under the bed next to his brother, “What’s happening?”

The 911 operator parroted his question, and Tomura explained as quickly as he could. More loud sounds came from his parents’ bedroom. A sob. Hisashi’s frigid hands rubbed gentle circles into his back. The world was intense in color, yet muted. His brother’s hands were trembling. Tomura swallowed.

“It’s not here!” a gruff voice called. The living room.

“You bitch!” A man crowed, shouting all manners of unpleasant things he’d like to do to her. Shapes in the hallway, heading towards his parents’ bedroom door. Eager. Tomura clung to his brother like a lifeline, burying his face in his shirt in a vain effort to block out the rest of the world. The pitter-patter of a racing heart and adrenaline induced breathlessness. Repeated thuds. Hisashi tensed, his rage practically seeping into the air around him. (“No, no no nonononononono-” his mother cried, the word said like a mantra, a broken prayer to an uncaring world.) The harsh smell of copper. Laughter not born of kindness. Tomura curled further into his brother’s chest. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. In a few seconds he’d wake up to the smell of waffles and green tea. 

Red, white, and blue shone through the windows. “Fuck!” one of the men yelled. Another loud pop, his mother’s screams now silenced. The deafening crash of glass and the creaking floors accompanying hurried footsteps. 

The sirens were like music, choirs of angels. The floodgates the preteen had built broke, and his eyes began to stream with tears, his throat ached with the sheer effort it took to not cry out. He felt a myriad of emotions, all intertwined like a ball of thread, too messy to pick out and understand.

-@~*^*~@-

The police precinct was sterile and cold. The plush plastic chairs in the reception hall were stiff and uncomfortable. Tomura was curled up under the soft yellow shock blanket, clutching his brother’s hand like a vice, his brother who was staring into the distance, gaze unfocused. It didn’t feel real. Nothing did. What they don’t tell you about terrible things, at least on the person level, is that they happen so fast. In blink-or-you’ll miss it speeds. There was nothing elegant or poetic about death, about the brief glance he’d had of his parent’s room, as he was carried out of the apartment by EMTs to check him for injuries. There was blood. So much blood. It was such a grizzly thing. Tomura’s eyes stung with unshed tears. Around them people hurried about the busy precinct. It was as if they moved in slow motion, underwater, in another time and place.

He wanted to cry, to scream, to do something. But he just hugged his knees to his chest and examined the grains in the wooden floor. 

“What’s going to happen to us?” he asked his brother, voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” a crack in his brother’s composure, “I don’t know.”

The reception area’s fluorescent lighting was so, so bright, casting everything in a harsh glow. Tomura wanted nothing more than to pull the shock blanket over his head and hide from the world. From what happened.

“Mom’s in the ICU,” his brother said, looking everywhere but his little sibling’s face, “Dad’s - he’s - Dad’s dead.”

Even though Tomura already knew this, hearing it out loud made it more real. Made it feel as if he jumped headfirst into icy water. Distantly, he heard crying. His face was wet. Who was going to cook them dinners? Who was going to burn their dinner and have to order takeout again? Something burbled and cracked in his throat when he realized that he’d never see his father walk through the door after work ever again. He would kill for that to happen one more time.

A police officer approached them, a young woman with blonde hair pulled into a hastily made bun and pale hands clutching a clipboard, “I need to get both of your statements.” She looked at Tomura expectantly. 

Hisashi blocked his body with his arm, face cool but eyes alight, “He’s just a kid, can’t you give him a moment, especially after what we just went through?”

The woman held her hands out in a placating manner, “I understand your anger, but if it makes you feel better we can interview you first.”

He looked between the woman and Tomura, visibly torn, “Fine,” he eventually spat out.

The two departed, but he didn’t miss the way Hisashi clenched his fists hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. Tomura borrowed deeper into the mustard colored shock blanket. Once their retreating figures disappeared down a hallway, he felt a calloused hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see a bald black gentleman, another police officer. His smile was kind. 

The man must have seen the unspoken question on Tomura’s face because he said, “My name is Detective Shepherd, can I get you anything?” 

He shook his head, dishevelled hair getting in his face.

“You sure? I know all the secrets to getting the vending machine to work.”

Tomura perked up at this, but hesitated. Did he really want to rely on some stranger? His stomach growled, he nodded.

A chuckle, “Alright, I’ll be back.” Tomura flinched as the man ruffled his hair. 

The detective’s trip to the vending machine and back felt almost instantaneous, as Tomura had spent the entire time gazing into the distance, mind unable to process what had happened. Everything had seen so normal that morning, how could it have gone so wrong?

He felt a bag of chips and a cold can of pop get shoved into his hands. Shepherd sat in the seat across from him.

“What do you want from me?” he asked, drawing his knees to his chest.

The man heaved out a sigh, “I’m working on your case, there’s not much we can do right now, but I can at least help you feel better.”

Tomura dug into the chips, wincing at the loud crackle of the plastic bag, “Is my brother going to be okay?”

Shepherd hummed, “We just have some questions for him, if you want, he can be in the room with you when you give your statement.”

“I - I don’t want to talk about it. That. What happened,” he bit out in between sips of his sprite. 

“I know, but the more you tell us the easier it will be to find the people who hurt your parents, okay?” Shepherd replied, and took a swig of his coffee. It seemed like it wasn’t a long night for just the Shigaraki household. Tomura nodded. The detective glanced over his shoulder, a small smile on his face, “Ah, and it looks like your brother is done already! Hey Bullens, that was pretty quick.”

The woman from before approached. Hisashi tailed behind her, face guarded. “Well,” she said, “That’s because he was asleep for most of it, it seems.” Shepherd and Bullens exchanged a series of facial expressions, holding an entire conversation without speaking. If it weren’t for the events of that night, Tomura would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at his brother, who shook his head.

“Ah,” the detective said, “Well, I was just chatting with little Tomura here, he should be good to give his statement.”

He bristled at being referred to so condescendingly, but swallowed his indignation, “Fine.”

“Do you want your brother to go in with you?”

Tomura thought of Hisashi’s white knuckled grip and tense shoulders, “No, I think I’ll be okay on my own.”

His brother opened his mouth to protest but Tomura shot him a look. Bullens took his hand and led him to a small, cramped metal room. He swallowed nervously upon seeing handcuffs on a metal table. Bullens gestured for him to sit, then slid into the chair on the other side. A camera sat at one end of the table, pointing towards them.

She must have noticed him staring at the handcuffs, because she said, “Don’t worry, those aren’t for you, this is just our interrogation room, but you aren’t a suspect.”

Tomura nodded, but her words did nothing to abate the anxiety swelling in his gut. He missed the comforting weight of the shock blanket.

“Now normally, we’d have you both give written statements, but seeing as how you two are minors, we decided to conduct taped interviews, is that alright?”

“Sure,” He wrung his hands together under the cold table.

“I need you to tell us everything you can about the people who broke into your house.”

Tomura swallowed, “They were male, tall. I think there were three, maybe four of them? I think they were looking for something.” Gazing out from under the bed dust in my eyes trying not to breathe too loud oh god oh god- “One of them wore a pair of brown work boots.” His throat felt tight.

“Anything else?” Bullens asked, face pinched with concern.

Tomura shook his head, “It - It was dark. I couldn’t make out much.”

“Did your parents have any enemies? Anyone who’d want to hurt them?”

“No I-'' he broke down in sobs, the reality of that night hitting him like a wave. The pandemic. The eviction. The terrifying nights they spent bouncing from shelter to shelter. “We never should have come here,” whispered beneath thin blankets in socially distanced spaces. His brother, shoving a wad of bills in his father’s hands, face set like stone and eyes determined. No one could afford to question where it came from. They didn’t want to. It was enough to land an interview, or two, or three. How he bounced around their new apartment with joy. His first night in ages with a secure roof over his head. His father would come home complaining about annoying customers, his hands smelling like potting soil and pants smelling of paint. His mother smiled more on the few days she didn’t have work, glowing and beaming like the sun itself. Gone, gone, gone, gonegonegone-

Tomura buried his head in his arms, shoulders shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Bullens said, voice soft, “I’m sorry.”

“What next?” he finally said, voice cracking, “What happens to us?”

The officer’s face fell, “It depends on what happens to your mother.”

He picked his head up, looking at the woman through dark, tear-filled eyes. His chest ached.

“She was shot in the head, she’s in emergency surgery right now, but with how much brain damage there is,” a grimace, “We don’t know if she’ll ever wake up, or how functional she’ll be if she does.” There was a moment of tense silence, and then, “Do you have any other relatives?”

Tomura shook his head, “Not that I know of. We left Japan when I was a baby.”

“Well, in that case it’s up to Social Services, you’ll probably be put with a foster family or in an orphanage for the time being.”

“Okay,” he sighed, trying to wipe the tears from his face, “Okay.”

A/N: I can break grammatical tense rules a little bit, as a treat. As always comments are appreciated, feedback helps the world go round after all. We're heading into our first arc!  I don't have any additional fanfiction uploads planned out for this week because the holidays were pretty busy, but the next chapter should be uploaded on Monday like usual.

AO3

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