#brother not by blood but by childhood

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The dog days are over.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[spiderthread]

why don't you let yourself be gently peeled off the ground and tossed across the back of a horse like a sack of potatoes by the most handsome man in china, then maybe you'll calm down

(+ bonus:)

[hajihiko]

[foursaints]

i just. cannot stop thinking about the twins. they are born together. they live together. they were supposed to die together, but then evan died first. pandora has the gift of seeing the future of everyone but her and evan. evan can only see the future if it concerns them. can we. can we please talk about evan dying alone, pandora being too late. pandora who refuses to let go of his corpse in her arms. (pandora, who realized that evan knew all along that he would die alone. that this was the only secret he ever hid from her.) the twins. the end and the beginning. not life nor death. they are on my mind 24/7.

I feel perfectly okay and well adjusted, even

[lupuslikethewolf]

something something daemon was sixteen when alyssane made him marry something something he was uprooted from his home and forced to live in an entirely new kingdom with someone he hated and who hated him back something something every time he did something that viserys didn't like he was kicked out of the only home he had and sent away something something daemon fought for viserys but viserys never fought for daemon something something daemon has targaryen daughter syndrome

[giggly-squiggily]

shark week is here and i'm so tired but i'm finally getting around to this, woohoo!

me and my sister are gonna see the haikyuu movie next week and i'm SO excited so i got a haikyuu hc (tho it includes neither nekoma nor karasuno lol)

suna struggles extremely hard with falling asleep and aran is a light sleeper, so whenever they're away for a training camp or smth he always wakes up to suna shuffling around, being frustrated and on the verge of tears because it's 3am and he's so exhausted but he just. won't. fall. asleep. but ofc aran is there to take care of it (platonically, in a big brother way, bromantically if you will)

as always, i totally get if you don't want to write this and i wish you the best of days and happiest of lives, stay hydrated ♡

Oh jeez- shark week! I'm sorry friend; I know that feeling all too well! AND THE HAIKYUU MOVIE YAS!!! It's so GOOD you're gonna love it! kjarkjekjrekjjkj the Suna headcanons YES! I love this so much Rey AHHH! Big brother Aran is so good! I've gotcha covered!

Aran was awakened by a low groan, so soft no one else seemed to hear it but him. He dared a peek at the futon next to him, finding Suna laying there with an arm tossed over his eyes. His jaw was set- and he looked rather distressed.

When he dared a peek at his phone- dear god why was it so bright?- it was 3 am. Shoot.

“Are you good?” He asked in a low voice, giving up on pretending he was still asleep. Suna seemed to stiffen at his words.

“I…no. I’m not good. I can’t sleep- I’m so tired and I just-” It was too dark to see, but Aran was sure he heard tears. “Fuck, I just want to to reach into my head and shake my brain until it turns off!”

“You’d be dead if you did that.” Aran gently pointed out, going for humor. Suna’s tch in response told him not to try again. “What do you need right now?”

“What-I don’t know! I c-can’t…” Aran shuffled closer, practically in the other boy’s futon now. He reached up and took the arm pressing into his friend’s face, catching his watery gaze.

“I’m here.” He spoke again, reassuring and soft. “What do you need?”

Suna took a few quick breaths, lips flattened to hide their tremble. “Talk to me. I don’t care what just- talk. Say anything.”

“Hm.” Okay- Aran could do that. “I’m from Hyogo. We’re close to the sea.”

Suna nodded, listening. Aran continued. He spoke of his family life growing up, how his dad would take him and his brother out to sea to catch shrimp and mussels. He spoke of their fishing trips, and the time his brother got two fishing hooks caught in his hand.

“He tried to get the first out with another one.” He grinned, earning a weak smile from Suna. The brunette was starting to calm down- Aran could feel his slowing pulse through the grip on his wrist. “It was worth it though. My grandmother- she loved seafood gumbo. She made it every Sunday without fail. If she was even late making it, everyone would be worried.”

“Sounds good. I….I’d like to try some.” Suna yawned, finally starting to drift away. Aran carried on with his childhood stories until Suna was properly out, lowering his wrist and scooting back towards his futon.

Only to realize in the middle blocker’s twists to get comfortable he was practically in Aran’s. Without meaning to, they were sharing the beds.

Giving up without much fight, Aran reached down and dragged the blanket up, whispering a few soft words as he started to fall asleep himself.

“Yeah..grandma would do this too…talk to me until I passed out..I miss her..” He let out a small sigh as he drifted, dreaming of sitting with her by the water and eating gumbo with ritz crackers.

“You’ve done good, Aran.” She told him with a smile.

“I hope so, Grandma.”

Send me a headcanon and I'll write a 300-500 word dabble for it!

[reallyhardy]

Sorry what’s up w the Ethan slater stuff? I know him only from your posts / SpongeBob stuff

HI HELLO please buckle in

yep -- the same guy from the spongebob musical, and my posts abut the spongebob musical.

he blew up completely and now the general public knows him as 'ariana grande's new boyfriend' - their relationship seems to have started off the back of co-starring in the upcoming wicked musical film adaptation.

it's just been like. a monkey's paw curling sort of a way for him to get catapulted to fame, as i had always really enjoyed him as a performer (as spongebob, yes, but also in the other roles i'd seen him in,) and my biggest hope back around 2017 was that he would continue in and be really successful in theatre, get a lot of broadway roles, maybe take on some existing parts i thought he'd really suit, like seymour in little shop or ogie in waitress.......... but instead he booked the role of boq from wicked in a massive hollywood film production instead, where he met ariana grande. THE ariana grande.

and then yeah. at some point, he and grande broke up with their respective partners, (slater leaving both his wife AND newborn son) jumped into a new relationship, and now the whole wider internet knows who he is but certainly not for the right reasons.

there's been speculation regarding whether or not grande and slater had cheated on their previous partners before their relationship began with various sources coming out of the woodwork saying "yes they did" and others saying "no they didn't" -- humans are all perfectly capable of making stuff up, the media especially, so i simply don't know who to trust and i admit it had completely shattered my whole good impression of him - PLUS it gave the wider internet an absolutely awful first impression of him, resulting in, yeah, the (frankly, unflattering, sometimes downright cruel) memes of him popping up on twitter and, as i discovered yesterday, in non-theatre youtubers' videos who would literally never have heard of him if not for the slater-grande romance 🥲

FULL COVERAGE of the situation as it was happening can all be found on the lovely @notasimpleslater's blog under the tag 'ozgate' if you want to delve deeper!

[vampireassistant]

just saw someone call cdf a book series for 8 year olds and thats wild considering theres graphic descriptions of children being eaten alive and people being murdered and the entire first 3 books being a metaphor for csa and grooming.

[boywifesammy]

trying to explain to people that it’s not even the incest that makes samdean so intriguing and captivating as a ship. like yes the incest is PART of it but it’s only One facet of their relationship. their psychotic codependency, shared trauma, para-psychic connection and unquestioning loyalty are all JUST as important as the incest.

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

the fact that as you're leaving the police station in ep 5 there's a radio broadcast referring to Daniel as a "teenager" is one of many, many reasons that nobody should feel a smidgen of guilt over the Blood Brothers ending.

[froggyfeetsies]

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

I’ve not read the books, so whatever I have is stuff I’ve been told or stuff I’ve read on the wiki but

wouldn't it be fun if they were childhood friends in the golden age?

friends since Pitch's homeworld ascended to a position within the Golden Constellations?

how fun would it be if he was aster's best man, helped with his kids, his wife and asters wife besties? Pitchbunny tribe? Our kids? Telling old war stories together by the fire? old war buddies? blood brothers?

[unjorts]

ambrose w. 💜

my barista oc that may or may not have made a pact with a demon (their youngest sibling) to avoid their oracle lineage

he's also the same guy from this post :)

i gave him a bit of a redesign (slightly more melanin for one lol)

[kakusu-shipping]

Here I was mentally steeling myself to be rabid over Mauga on main finally

[flugame-mp3]

it's wild to me that dean is always so shocked at children of monsters, especially relatively well-adjusted adjusted ones à la garth and the werewolf family in 9x12... like the concept of a second generation werewolf baffled him. but is he not a direct mirror of that?? are he and sam not the second generation of a way of life that ostracizes one from society and often results in premature death (dare i say... see: 15x20)? like hunters and monsters are at odds, sure, but in a way that just makes them interesting foils to each other, meaning that he's a mirror to the very thing he can hardly believe exists. very... dean.

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Damage Control - 1x18 Something Wicked

Dean’s a stubborn ass. He’s bleeding down the right side of his face, from a wound originating somewhere under his hair, but he refuses to let Sam look at it until Michael is settled for the rest of the night. Impatiently, he at least takes the towel Sam pushes at him and wipes at his forehead, but Sam knows it’s for Michael’s sake more than for him. The kid has been through enough for months of nightmares; he doesn’t need to keep looking at a bloody face to add to the horror. 

Sam sees Dean launch into full big brother mode when he tucks the kid in with a glass of warm milk, talks to him in soft, understanding tones and stays until Michael is asleep - with the promise that they’ll be right next door if he needs them. It’s peculiar, watching this behavior as a bystander, to see Dean’s familiar body language - the protective looming, his shoulders somehow broader than they really are, his 6’1 an impenetrable shield against the threats of the outside world. 

For so many years, it had been Sam at the focal center of Dean’s brotherly protection, and only now is he becoming fully aware of what it all meant. After what Dean told him about the Shtriga and that he still blames himself for what happened all those years ago; after learning how harshly Dad had treated Dean - a 9yo far too young to carry the weight of such responsibility - Sam feels like his eyes have been opened. So often, he had bitten Dean’s head off for his blind obedience to their father. He’d fought against Dean’s overpowering protectiveness, feeling patronized, not realizing it was born of a deep sense of duty and an ingrained fear - the fear of making a fatal mistake, of getting Sam killed, of failing at the one job Dean had been given by their father.

Sam’s only ever seen the oppressive side of Dean’s behavior. Now, seeing him tug Michael’s blanket up to his chin, turning on the nightlight before he leaves, casting one last watchful glance over the boy, he remembers similar moments from his childhood - moments of gentle care that belonged just as much to his big brother as his coarseness. Dean had looked after Sam his whole life. It may have felt stifling and diminishing to Sam. But at least some of Dean’s exaggerated protectiveness had been born of the need to make up for a mistake no one should ever have blamed him for, least of all their father.

With Michael asleep, they return to their own motel room. Dean still can’t quite shed his vigilance, although the Shtriga is dead. He keeps pacing, looking out the window every other loop, at the building opposite, where Mike’s room is softly illuminated by the night light. Only when Sam puts a glass of whiskey into his hand does he finally sit down. He sips, in quick succession, while his free hand unconsciously rubs at his head, where he’s injured.

“How’s your head?”

“Huh?” Dean looks at Sam, puzzled.

“Dude, your head wound? Your hair is caked with dried blood.”

“What?” As he seems to remember his injury, his frown turns into a scowl. “It’s fine, Sam. It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, you always say that, and then you end up cross-eyed and puking your guts out. Or we lose our deposit because you bleed on the sheets all night. We’ve been there.” 

Sam approaches his brother cautiously. Normally, he’d leave Dean alone. The wound has apparently stopped bleeding, and there’s none of Dean’s telltale concussed pallor or dizziness. But tonight’s revelations have shaken Sam, and he feels the need to do something for Dean, to make up for some of that messed-up self-blame his big brother has been carrying for all these years.

“Oh, come on, Sammy. This is ridiculous.” Annoyed, Dean slams his empty whiskey glass onto the table. 

Sam’s not giving up. He pulls out the puppy dog eyes. “Humor me?”

Dean’s eye roll is almost comical. He shakes his head, grunts, then sighs in resignation.

“Okay, fine. If it gets you off my ass, suit yourself.” He gestures at his head. 

Sam takes two steps and leans down to inspect the damage. Methodically parting Dean’s spiky hair with his fingers, he quickly finds the gash two inches above the hairline. 

“This could use a stitch or two,” he declares. “But I’ll have to shave-”

“Dude, you’re not shaving my head!”

“It’d just be a small spo-”

“No, uh-uh!” Dean swats Sam’s hand away. “Not a chance in hell!”

“If I don’t sew this, you’ll have a ugly scar.”

“... that nobody’s gonna see unless I go Vin Diesel any time soon. Just clean it and leave it, man. Stop being a drama queen!”

Sam raises his hands, then lets them sink. 

“Fine.”

With Dean being his usual annoying self, Sam’s Florence Nightingale urges are ebbing quickly. He still feels guilty about his ignorance, is still mad at Dad for screwing his brother up like that, so early in his life. Dad had not only treated Dean like a soldier under his command, he’d also expected him to act like a grown up when all he’d been was an overwhelmed, abandoned kid who’d done everything he could to keep his little brother safe. Even worse. When Dean had failed at the impossible task, John had withheld absolution and, instead, sent his oldest son to correct his “mistake” after letting him stew in his guilt for more than twenty years.

Anger twists in Sam’s chest. But he’s not going to let it out on his stupid, stubborn brother.

“Alright then.” 

While Dean refills his whiskey glass, Sam unzips the small first aid kit he keeps in his overnight bag. Armed with gauze, disinfectant wipes and a wet bath towel, he steps back in front of Dean, cleans the wound and does his best to get the blood out of his brother’s hair. Dean grumbles his irritation through all of it, not making Sam’s job easier by frequently tipping his head to throw back more whiskey. When Sam scrubs at his brother’s cheek to erase every last trace of blood, Dean draws a line.

“Alright, mom, that’s enough!” He pushes Sam aside. “Gimme that!” He takes the towel from Sam and roughly wipes it across his face, then tosses it aside. “There. You happy now?”

Sam sees him cast yet another look out the window. Even with several shots of whiskey inside him, Dean hasn’t lost any of his alert intensity. 

“You gonna keep that up all night?” Sam asks.

“What?”

“Standing guard.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes, you are. The shtriga is dead, Dean. You killed it. It’s not coming back. Michael is safe.”

“Yes, I know, but-” 

Dean breaks off, struggling to explain himself. Sam sees him sorting through emotions that took hold fifteen years ago. The look in his brother’s eyes is that of a haunted man, and Sam wonders if this is one particular ghost they will never be able to chase away entirely.

“I’m safe, Dean.” Sam says on instinct. “You’ve kept me safe, all those years.” 

Dean’s eyes flick over to him, suddenly big and wet. It’s just a moment, before the older Winchester blinks and turns away, reaching for the whiskey again. He uncaps it and drinks right from the bottle.

“You go to bed,” he says gruffly. Shoulders tense, he sits back in his chair, angled so he’s got a good view through the partially opened curtain. “I’m just gonna…”

“Yeah.” Sam nods and steps behind his brother to give his shoulder a quick, understanding squeeze. “I know. Good night.”

Sam falls asleep half an hour later, Dean’s silhouette solid and still on his watchpost.

The Damage Control Series - Masterlist

Read the entire series on AO3:

[riahlynn101]

"Lost and Found" (1).

Summary: Taking place during the dawn of the age of quirks, after the death of their family, Tenko and his younger brother, Izuku, are left to die on the streets. All for One-who has not yet claimed that title-likes to people watch. He’s always been especially observant of those in need.

These two things are related.

Based on chapter 20 of my Dad December story. Hope you all enjoy :D!!

Tw: child neglect, mention of torture, blood, off-screen/implied death, and whatever trauma comes with living during the dawn of the age of quirks.

--

Silence. 

He can’t breathe. 

He can’t move. 

“Momma!” Someone cries out. 

Tenko knows that voice. He knows that voice. How does he know that voice?

He forces himself to move towards the wreckage, skin sticky with blood and covered in dust. He can’t place the voice that’s crying out. It’s familiar. Really familiar, but their name feels just outside his reach. 

The house is less than ten feet away, but with how slow everything feels to him, it might as well be on a different planet. Tenko’s mouth is dry, and his body is shaking. The earlier adrenaline is gone. Replaced with a need to run. To escape. 

But there’s someone here that’s calling out for help that will never arrive. 

He can’t really remember why no one will help them. (He can’t really remember most things right now. Tenko feels like a zombie, pushing forward only on base instinct). 

“Momma!” The voice calls again. It motivates Tenko. He stumbles over the wreckage, following it. Glass crunches under his bare feet, digging into soft skin. Bloody footprints trail across cracked floors and fallen walls.

The pain doesn’t register to him. 

Eyes blank, Tenko starts to dig through piles of drywall. The voice grows louder, less muffled. Black hair pokes through the rubble. 

Summoning his last bit of strength, Tenko throws a large piece of drywall off whoever’s trapped underneath. His hands are dry, cracked, and bleeding (much like the rest of him). He scratches them. 

The pain doesn’t register to him. 

His eyes are blank, not unseeing, but they might as well be for all he’s actually processing. Tenko stares down into the hole. 

Big green eyes stare up at him, scared and confused. Tenko looks upon the tinier being curled up below him. He takes in their wild dark curls and freckles in the shape of twin constellations and all the different emotions that seem to pass through their eyes in the space of a single moment. 

“Tenchan!” The small being yells, somehow still recognizing him despite all the blood and gore covering Tenko.

And he breaks. Falling apart, as he pulls his only surviving family member out. Wave after wave of pain hits him, like a semi-truck. He holds Izuku close, sobbing into his hair (full of dust much like everything else). 

He wails, nails digging into the flesh on his brother’s arm. Izuku lets him, clinging just as tightly to Tenko. They’ll have to leave soon. One of their neighbors will have called the cops, if only to get them in trouble with the anti-meta ability group within the police force. And they’ll need to be long gone before they get here. 

But for now, the two boys take refuge in each other’s arms. 

-x-x-x-

It’s a little after midnight. The streets are empty, quiet, and dark. There’s the distant rumble of a train blaring its horn and dogs barking.

Tenko moves quietly, or at least tries to. The paper bag in his arms makes that a little difficult. It crinkles with every little movement, but it’s not like he can afford to toss it aside. It’s full of food he found in a dumpster behind the convenient store down the street. He could hardly believe his luck.

Izuku and him haven’t eaten in over a week, so finding this was akin to finding the holy grail. 

He slinks down a nearby alley. “Izuku,” he calls out, keeping his voice quiet. They spotted an anti-meta group stomping down the street, torches and pitchforks, just yesterday. And with his ability and both of their appearances, it would be wise to steer clear. 

“Tenchan!” His brother answers back. Tenko winces a little, looking over his shoulder. No one heard that….phew!

A little annoyed, he stomps over to the wall of metal trash cans he made to hide his baby brother from view. He moves them, angry words dying on his tongue as soon as Izuku smiles happily up at him.

(Always so happy, in spite of our circumstances). 

“Got us food,” he says. 

And that happy smile grows even brighter. 

They sit together, protected only by the darkness of the alley and a few rusted metal bins. Izuku rests his head on Tenko’s arm, listening as he recounts his journey to the convenient store. He opens the bag, rummaging around to find the dried ramen, sandwiches, and chips he found. He even remembered to find a bottle of water. 

It should be enough food to hold them over for the next month.

“Is that from Jeffersons down the street?” A disembodied voice asks.

Tenko freezes, dropping the bag of ramen. He grips Izuku’s arm, ready to bolt. There is no reason for someone to be here at this time of night. No good reason, at least. 

Before he can decide to run, an older boy lands in front of them.

They scream, hanging onto one another. The boy puts a hand over their mouths, fixing them with a stern expression. “Stop. I’m not here to hurt you.”

That….doesn’t make Tenko feel any better, but his brother seems to calm down a little. “Who…who are you?” He asks, on guard in case he has to activate his quirk. Using it makes him feel sick, but if doing so keeps Izuku safe, then so be it. 

“I don’t have a name,” the boy answers, seemingly annoyed. Even though it was him who interrupted their dinner. “But from what I heard, I know that you’re Tenchan,” he points at Tenko (who flushes at the childish nickname). “And you’re…” he trails off, tapping a finger to his chin. “Well, I don’t know your name.”

“Izuku,” his brother answers without thinking. Internally, Tenko facepalms. When they get out of this situation, he’s giving his brother the scoldings to end all scoldings. 

“Izuku,” the boy repeats slowly, as if tasting the name on his tongue. “Izuku….I like it.”

Tenko glares at him, taking in his raggedy appearance. His wild curls and dirty skin. His moth-eaten clothes and lack of shoes. 

And then, he looks down at his brother. His natural turquoise roots are finally showing, though it’s a little hard to tell through the grime. Izuku’s curls are weighed down, making his hair seem longer than it actually is. 

Neither of their clothes fit. Too large for their starving frames. And they haven’t had shoes since the incident four months prior. Tenko doesn’t even want to think about what they must smell like. 

But the older boy-a teenager judging by his height and (slightly) deeper voice-looks upon them with the same expression Tenko had discovering food in a dumpster. Hungry.

“Alone,” the boy says, and somehow Tenko knows it’s not a question. “No adults to take care of you. Either of you.”

Tenko shrugs his shoulders, suddenly feeling vulnerable. He’s gotten too used to sticking to the shadows. Of only having Izuku for company. (He can only imagine how much worse that loneliness must feel for his little brother). 

Izuku sniffles. It’s late, and he tends to get fussy the longer he’s forced to stay up. 

The boy’s expression softens. “I didn’t mean to startle you guys. I just noticed you had a bag of food with the Jeffersons’ convenience store logo on it.”

“What’s it to you?” 

“I dunno, just thought you would like to know that the Jeffersons like to poison the food they throw out, or sprinkle it with glass.” The boy shrugs. “But if you like that, then by all means….”

Tenko suddenly feels sick. “But it’s all unopened food.”

“Is it?”

Izuku cries out, exhaustion winning out. 

“Oh, ‘zuku,” Tenko murmurs. “It’s ok- hey!” He watches as the boy scoops his brother up. 

Izuku fits easily in the older boy’s arms. His head rests against his chest, and he pops a thumb in his mouth (a habit that they’ve been working on breaking). Tiny eyes flutter shut. 

The older boy turns away, walking away from Tenko. 

“Hey!” Tenko runs after him. 

The boy looks over his shoulder. “Come,” he says, continuing to walk away. 

Tenko follows him, too stunned to do much else. 

-x-x-x-

Big Brother (as Yoichi calls him. His other nicknames are less than…. savory. Paranormal Orphan being the nicest of them) carries the little boy close to his chest. He’s lighter than Yoichi, younger too. As is the other one, grumpily following behind him. 

“Where are we going?” Tenchan asks (an odd name for sure. Big Brother will have to give him another one). He can’t be any older than the kids that attend the elementary school down the street. Yoichi and he watch them leave the school every day and make up stories about what they do all day. 

“Shush,” he says. 

“Don’t tell me to-” Whatever Tenchan wanted to say, dies in his throat. A low rumbling, the sounds of heavy footfalls, and the telltale smell of smoke. 

He grabs Tenchan by the back of his shirt, clutching Izuku to his chest. His heart beats fast. “Alley, now,” he hisses, and there’s not a single complaint. Yoichi would be okay for now. Big Brother is really, really good at hiding him. Too good for the stupid anti-meta group that likes to prowl the streets. And he’s smart anyway - Yoichi knows how to stay out of sight. 

They huddle together. Izuku mumbles something but stays asleep. Tenchan trembles, curling into his side.

The group leaves, eventually, and they come out from behind the dumpster. 

Big Brother hurries faster down the street. Holding Tenchan’s wrist, and Izuku to his chest. They need to be hidden away before that group comes back. They tend to be thorough, and it’s only because Yoichi and him are masters at being invisible that they’ve survived this long. He has no idea how long Tenchan and Izuku have been on their own, but it can’t have been very long. 

He catches a glimpse of the trash dump. Hardly anyone comes here, and there’s plenty of places to hide. He helps Tenchan slip in between the broken railings in the wrought fence. Yoichi and him found this place years ago - back when they were a lot smaller, and nowadays it's a little harder for him to slip through without effort. Harder now that he has Izuku to also sneak through. 

He manages, though. 

Tenchan rubs his eyes. “Where are we?” He asks, grabbing onto Big Brother’s shirt. There’s no defiance in his tone, only the frightened voice of an overly-exhausted child.

“Shhh…almost there.” He tries his best to sound patient, like his mother sounds like in his dreams. Warm and inviting. 

He quickly finds the alcove, Yoichi and him made, hidden among piles of trash. No one has ever thought to look there, and if Big Brother has anything to say about it, they never will. It’s small but extremely cozy. Certainly big enough to fit two small children. 

Big Brother clicks his tongue. Here. 

And Yoichi answers almost immediately, sticking his head out. A garbled reply that sounds like he’s mimicking a trash compactor. Back? Took you long enough. 

His eyes land on the newcomers, brows furrowing. A furious click mixed with a garbled response. Who are they? 

Tenchan eyes Yoichi with an air of suspicion, little hand not so subtly holding onto Izuku’s shirt. Big Brother laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s harmless, Tenchan. This is my little brother. Yoichi.”

Yoichi scoffs, which doesn’t mean anything beyond signifying how annoyed he is. 

Both of them understand Japanese perfectly. It’s speaking it that’s difficult. So many different words to choose from, all meaning different things. Big Brother is a little better at that, while Yoichi is better at reading and writing. 

However, Yoichi is still learning to speak Japanese. 

“Yoichi,” he addresses his little brother in Japanese. “This is Tenchan,” he gestures to the little boy cowering in front of him. “And this is Izuchan.” Tenchan turns to look at him, mouth pursed into a thin line. 

“Izuku,” he mutters under his breath, too afraid to speak up. 

Big Brother ignores him. It’s something that Tenchan will have to get used to. 

Yoichi’s gaze softens a touch, looking at the two boys. He moves aside, allowing them entry into the alcove. Though, he hits Big Brother’s shoulder when he passes. An angry-sort of look on his delicate face. 

That look is nothing new. 

Another angry click. What did you do?

“I found them in an alley. Alone. Like us.”

He places Izuku on the pile of blankets. Tenchan instantly crawls over to him, curling around the younger boy. He trembles, obviously scared of the unfamiliarity of the situation. Yoichi and him watch the two boys until Tenchan’s breathing evens out. 

Only then does Yoichi look at him. A guttural groan. He points at them, hair falling in his face. Where are their adult people? 

They have no one. Alone. Really, actually alone. Promise. 

Yoichi shoots him a ‘you better not be lying’ look. Before climbing into the pile of blankets. He rests his body around the two boys. Long, thin arms shielding them from the slight chill. He lays down to sleep last. 

He positions his body around them. One arm pillowed under his head and the other stretching across to grip his brother’s shirt. 

Nothing will harm his little brothers while he’s here. They’re safe with him. His eyes slide closed, body relaxing. The distant sounds of sirens lull him to sleep.

-x-x-x

Tenko tries to scoot out, but the two older boys just seem to hang onto him and Izuku tighter. Big Brother (and he wants to punch someone every time he thinks of the older boy by that title) even shushes him at one point, and the other one goes as far as to stroke his hair. 

He almost escapes, but he’s immediately yanked back into the cuddle pile. Tenko is scolded in a language that he can’t understand, but he’s in no mood to argue (and it’s not like he can leave without Izuku anyway), so he just forces himself to sleep. 

They can slip away tomorrow. It’s not like they can watch Izuku and him forever. It’s impossible. And if push comes to shove, Tenko can just use his quirk (his stomach roils at the thought. Dust. Destruction. Gone. Everything Gone!) 

A hand finds his tangled hair again, brushing his bangs back. “Sleep,” a voice murmurs, groggy with sleep. And Tenko does, clutching Izuku closer. 

-x-x-x-

Unfortunately for Izuku and him, Yoichi is put in charge of watching them. Big Brother apparently has to go out to find food, which makes sense. But Tenko refuses to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

Worse yet, Yoichi can’t communicate the way they can. So, he’s stuck with having to follow directions either written haphazardly in dirt or trying to figure out what each distinct click and groan means. 

In spite of how skinny he is, Yoichi is quite strong. Stronger than Tenko that’s for sure. Faster, too. 

(When his back was turned, Tenko tried to make a run for it, grabbing Izuku by the hand. He barely made it to the fence before he was being dragged back.)

He thinks about using his quirk, but Yoichi is nice to them. He strokes their hair, during nap time, and taught them a couple of games that only require the use of their hands and intense concentration. 

It’s not long before Big Brother comes back, food in hand. He brings back sandwiches that are fresher than anything Tenko’s eaten in months. He eagerly scarfs it down, only remembering to chew when reprimanded by Big Brother. 

Izuku eats his half with just as much excitement. 

They each take turns drinking out of a water bottle. Something that would have grossed him out back then, but now he’s grateful for the tiniest sip of water. 

Once they’ve finished eating, Big Brother fixes them with an unreadable expression. “We,” he gestures to Yoichi and himself, “have some questions.”

Tenko suppresses a sigh. They gave them food and water, so they’re entitled to a few questions. He reasons to himself. “Okay.”

“Good,” Big Brother says, clasping his hands together. “To start, how long have you two been on your own?”

“Four months,” he answers. “At least I think it’s been that long. It’s kind of hard to keep track.” Izuku sits close to him, hand finding his knee. 

“Soooo….what happened?”

Tenko scoffs. “None of your-”

“Tenchan made everyone go poof!” Izuku giggles, bouncing up and down.

He blanches. 

“Go poof?” The words are even more ridiculous coming from someone older. Big Brother fixes him with an unreadable expression. All-knowing. It makes the hairs on the back of Tenko’s neck stand up. 

“My meta-ability,” he explains, hoping they’ll get the hint. He would rather avoid having to explain to Izuku that their family is never coming back. “It made them disappear.” Tenko stares at the two older boys, silently begging them to drop it. 

Yoichi nods. He sends them a sympathetic look. A click and a grunt that Big Brother is quick to verbalize. 

“He says he’s sorry for…” he looks over at Izuku, considering. “Your situation. It’s not easy being on your own. We know that better than anyone. It’s a good thing that I found you when I did. The anti-meta groups are growing bolder by the day.”

Yoichi makes a gesture towards Izuku. More clicks that Tenko can’t understand for the life of him. 

“What’s his ability?” Big Brother asks, translating.

“He…he doesn’t have one.” And thank god for that. Maybe his baby brother can one day have a normal life. He’ll have to dye his hair, but that’s easily done. Mom used to do it to his hair all the time. 

Big Brother narrows his eyes, as if he doesn’t believe him. “He doesn’t,” Tenko snaps, defensive. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I wasn’t trying to imply differently. Yoichi also doesn’t have a meta-ability. I was distracted by his hair color. I noticed it’s different from yours.”

Tenko’s heart drops into his stomach. Out of all questions….

He shrugs. “Genetics are weird,” he says. Tenko has no idea what that means. He heard father say that once to someone over the phone.

“Did your mom have green hair?”

“His hair is turquoise,” Tenko corrects. He would know. Hana and him searched online for hours to find the correct color shade to describe their baby brother’s undyed hair. It’s so pretty when it’s not covered in grime and dirt, or colored a boring black. “And no.”

“Did your father?”

“No, but-”

“Your other siblings?”

“No, but-”

Big Brother interrupts him again, a mischievous smile on his face. “So, he looks nothing like you, or your parents.”

Before Tenko can stop himself, he bursts out, “he looks like my aunt!” He covers his mouth. “I mean I think he does. From what I’ve seen of her in pictures.”

Izuku beams at him. “We have an aunt!?” 

“Had,” Tenko tells him, gloomily. They didn’t attend her funeral, no one did. 

“Oh,” Yoichi murmurs. His first coherent word to them. 

“Oh,” Big Brother repeats. 

Tenko feels a white-hot rage boil up inside him. It’s indescribable, so he just nods along. Thankfully they don’t ask anymore questions for the rest of the day. 

The sun goes down soon after that, and they all pile into the alcove. Bodies and limbs curled around Izuku and him. Protecting them in more ways than one. 

He waits until they fall asleep, and slips out of their grasp. Untangling Izuku from them is a little harder, but he manages. 

Izuku is sleepy, and unlike Big Brother, Tenko can’t carry him. He places a hand over his mouth, dragging him to the opening of the alcove. 

It’s dark. Really, really dark. Just one day off the streets and he’s already reverted to being afraid of the dark. Tenko would laugh if he wasn’t so damn scared. 

They make it to the fence without being stopped. His heart is beating fast, looking over his shoulder every couple steps. He helps Izuku squeeze through the fence, and then takes Izuku’s little hand in his, and runs as fast as his tired legs can carry him. 

Izuku stumbles behind him. He whines, half-asleep. Begging Tenko to go back. 

But they can’t. It’s too dangerous. There’s something off about those boys. Something that no amount of food and shelter can compensate for. 

They run until they can’t anymore. Izuku falls first, stumbling over his feet. He lands on his face and immediately starts to wail. 

Tenko stops short, feeling his brother’s hand slip from his. He gasps, turning back. “Izuku, no,” he says. But it’s too late. Heavy footfalls and smoke. They’re here! Self-preservation kicks in, and he turns to flee. But stops himself. 

He hears the very group that they’ve been successfully avoiding for the last few months marching closer to them. Their voices grow louder. They turn the corner, instantly spotting them. 

His blood turns to ice, and it’s all he can do to cling to his still-wailing brother. Tenko guesses that there’s thirty of them, perhaps even more. There’s no way he would be able to take them all down. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into Izuku’s hair. “I’m so sorry.” Tenko has no idea what he’s apologizing for. 

For killing their family?

For disrupting what little normalcy they had?

For thinking about running away, and leaving Izuku behind?

He doesn’t know. Izuku doesn’t either, burrowing into his shirt. 

Tenko closes his eyes. Maybe he can use his ability on Izuku, make whatever the group plans to do to them not hurt? But he finds himself not wanting to be alone, even while dying. Selfish! 

He braces for the blunt end of a shovel. Tenko’s seen them hit people over the head with one before dragging them off to kill them however they see fit. But it never comes. 

There’s a wet splat! Followed by strangled screams, and then the night falls quiet once more. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, nor does he let Izuku, too afraid of what they might see. 

“You can open your eyes now,” Big Brother says. “They can’t hurt you anymore.” 

And Tenko can’t find it within himself to be annoyed or upset that he found them. He throws himself at Big Brother, ignoring the bodies strewn about the alley. Izuku’s tiny frame is locked  between them, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes are firmly shut, which is a good thing, given the scene that awaits him. 

“Can we go home now?” Tenko asks, voice small. His entire body shakes, and his heart hammers in the confines of his chest. He wants nothing more than to lay his head down somewhere and sleep for a very long time. (Preferably snuggled up to Yoichi, Big Brother, and Izuku. The security of being tangled up in each other’s limbs). 

Big Brother doesn’t answer, just scoops Izuku up, and offers Tenko a hand. 

They walk back silently to the trash dump. Yoichi is waiting for them when they return. A disappointed look on his face. Tenko’s throat thickens, and he forces back tears. But a few still slip down his cheeks anyway. 

Yoichi clicks his tongue, pointing at the pile of blankets. 

Sniffling, Tenko nods. He waits for Izuku to be put down in the center, and then curls around him. He grips his little brother’s shirt, needing the reassurance that despite all they’ve gone through tonight, they’re both okay (because of Big Brother). 

“Sleep, Tenchan,” Big Brother mutters. “You’re safe now. Nothing will hurt you two while we’re here.” 

Tenko shuts his eyes and is lulled asleep by Yoichi stroking his hair.