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#cw: child abuse and neglect
a-little-unsteddie · 3 months
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cw: child abuse mentioned, child neglect
Steve, who was never allowed to play in the snow as a child because it was ‘too messy’. Steve, who stared longingly outside as he watched other kids play in the snow. Steve, wanting to build a snowman, or an igloo, or have a snowball fight, but was denied each and every time by his parents. “It’s uncouth, Steven.” “It’s dirty, Steven.” “You’ll just whine that you’re cold, Steven.” “No.” “No.” “No.” Until he stopped asking altogether, even as he stared out his bedroom window at the other kids playing. Steve who loves the snow but was never allowed to play. The one time he snuck out, he was brought inside being dragged by his ear and spanked until he cried.
And then some for crying at all.
Steve goes shopping with his mom and sees a snow globe and all but cries for her to get it for him. If he can’t have the snow outside, he wants to have a snow globe to have it inside. She lets him get it, but not without commenting ‘at least it’s not going outside’.
Thus starts a collection, of sorts. Whenever he sees a new snow globe, he makes his mom buy him it and because he never asks to go outside to play in the snow if she buys one, she keeps buying them for him.
He has around 10 or 15 snow globes by the time he’s a teenager and left alone more than he isn’t. He still doesn’t go out to play in the snow, even if he silently yearns to, because now he’s ‘too old’ to play out in the snow. Tommy doesn’t like being cold, so he never goes out, and Carol won’t do something if Tommy’s not there, so Steve doesn’t bother asking her to go outside.
Steve becomes friends with Dustin and the rest of the party, and he still doesn’t let himself play with them, even when Dustin begs him to. He passes on the same excuses to him as his mom told him, and the words feel like ash in his mouth, but he doesn’t just play in the snow like he’s aching to. It’s too cold, he’ll be wet and miserable later, he doesn’t want to get water all over the house.
Mostly, they’re excuses because he’s kind of worried he doesn’t know how to play in the snow. That somehow he’ll be bad at it.
Eventually, when he and Robin become friends and their first winter together happens, he tells her this secret fear. It’s right after the kids go out to play, and it’s just them, and he whispers to her.
“I don’t think I’ll be any good at it.”
Robin is confused, of course, because how can you be ‘bad’ at playing in the snow? He elaborates to her that he’s never played and she’s less confused but more angry at his parents, which he thinks is an over reaction and she insists he’s having an under reaction, whatever that means, and the moment passes. Steve is relieved to have revealed that much to her. He still doesn’t go outside, and Robin gets cold easily, so she doesn’t want to go outside, so they stay inside together.
He still collects snow globes, when he sees them. He buys one in front of the kids and brushes it off as a white elephant gift for a family thing, but displays it in the unused guest bedroom with the rest of the snow globes. It’s on the other side of the house from where every other guest bed is, so usually no one takes it, and so he knows his collection is safe.
Even if he keeps it secret, and plans to keep it secret forever, until the following winter, after the spring break from hell and after the grueling summer and cool fall brings the snow again and Eddie Munson is a menace in his life. He’s by far the most energetic person that he’s ever been friends with, all touches and open affection, it’s almost too easy to fall for him.
Eddie is nosy as hell and of course it’s him that finds the collection of snow globes.
“What’s this?” Eddie’s voice echoes from down the hall and it takes Steve a few seconds to process where his voice is coming from before he’s rushing down the hall and into the unused guest room.
Along the left wall, there’s a shelf that stretches from wall-to-wall filled with snow globes.
Embarrassment shoots through him, and he shrugs. “…snow globes.” he explains badly, wincing when Eddie turns towards him with an unimpressed look. It quickly morphs into concern because for some reason, Steve’s started tearing up and once the tears start they don’t stop.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” Eddie soothes, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, sweet thing.”
And the thing is, Steve does want to explain. Suddenly overcome with the urge to spill everything, in fact. So he does. He tells Eddie about his mom and dad refusing to let him play in the snow, the one time he got caught and got spanked for it, the snow globes, the fear of being bad at playing in the snow, still desperately wanting to despite it.
Through it all, Eddie holds him and listens. He hums occasionally to acknowledge what Steve is saying, but never interrupts him, for which Steve is glad because he doesn’t know if he’d be able to continue if he was stopped for any reason.
At the end of it, when Steve’s tears have dried, and they’re curled up in a pile of blankets on the couch, Eddie vows to teach him out to play in the snow. How to make a snow angel, a snowman, an igloo, a snowball — everything. He whispers these promises and plans into his ear, their hands intertwined where they lay on Steve’s lap.
And he follows through. With everything.
And the next time the kids beg him to play, he plays his part and says no, because he’s still anxious he’s going to do it wrong, Eddie throws a snowball at his back while he’s busy arguing with Dustin. And silence falls over everyone, waiting for Steve’s next move. Because he’s never given in, and no one’s ever pushed their luck like that.
Steve turns towards Eddie, narrowing his eyes at him.
“Oh, it’s on, Munson.”
The kids cheer and then it’s chaos of snowballs being lobbed at one another.
Later, when everyone is warming up with hot cocoa, and Steve is curled into Eddie’s side with a blanket tossed over their laps, Steve knows he’s never been happier to have met Eddie, who taught him how to play in the snow.
“Thank you,” Steve whispers to Eddie, who hums curiously, lazily looking at him from the corner of his eye. “For teaching me how to play in the snow.”
“Always, Stevie. I’ll always help you.”
And it sounds like a promise.
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lovelyasteraceae · 1 year
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i would like to stop making realizations about my childhood now. i think i've learned enough, thanks.
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imfinereallyy · 1 year
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Father Figures
pt. 2 here, and full version on ao3 here
The first time James Edward Hopper meets Steve Harrington is when Steve is thirteen years old. It is back when he is still pushing everyone to call him Chief Hopper, or at the very least James to sound more professional. It is mostly a lost cause, as he has just returned to Hawkins after his daughter Sarah's death and most people can't help but call him Jim and Hop in familiarity, in sympathy.
It didn't mean they didn't take him any less seriously though. In fact, his cold, grieving demeanor gave him quite the reputation around town. Made assholes like Lenny Byers and troublemakers like the little twerp Munson turn in the other direction when they see him. So Jim doesn't try to push the professional name too much. He knows people around here respect him.
They respect him enough to follow his word, they respect him enough to turn a blind eye when he takes an extra pill or two.
Jim doesn't think too deeply about his reputation until he meets Steve Harrington for the first time.
He gets a call from Benny. It's directly to his line at the station, instead of a general 911 call. He doesn't think much of it when he answers, most likely it was a non emergency from an old friend from high school. That's the only reason people call him most days.
"Chief Hopper. Make it quick."
"Jimmy." A deep, worried breath comes from the phone.
Jim immediately straightens. "Benny, what's wrong?"
Benny usually only calls for a laugh, or to invite him out for a drink. The guy doesn't care about too much, or ask too many questions. Hearing concern in his voice was alarming, to say the least. "Listen, Hop, there is a kid here. And normally I don't care, cause business is business, but it's two in the morning, Jimmy. And despite the kid wearing the most expensive pair of sneakers I have ever seen, he only has two dollars on him for a meal. He got all skittish when the plate landed too loudly. And I don't know..." Benny takes a deep breath before he continues. "...I just don't want to be at fault if this kid's trouble and some fancy parents come looking for him."
Jim can tell Benny wants to say something else, he doesn't push though. Jim Hopper tries to never ask too many questions.
"Alright Ben, I'll be there in ten."
———
When Jim arrives at the diner, Benny notices him and nods in the direction of the corner booth. And there, sitting with his head low and scarfing down a plate of fries is Steve Harrington.
Jim has never met the kid personally, but he knows his parents. Cold, calculating, and pretty much owns half of Hawkins. Jim is starting to understand why Benny has called him.
Jim slides into the booth across from the young boy. He's prepared to take the kid by the back of his shirt and drag him out of there. He doesn't need these kids to be causing hard-working people any trouble. But when Jim makes a thump in the booth, the Harrington kid's face snaps up in fear, and Jim's plan for an angry monologue just drops.
Because there, on Steve Harrington's jaw, is a bruise the size of Indiana itself. Jim's face remains gruff, but his body language softens. "Hey, kid. What are you doing here so late?"
Steve's posture remains stiff and small. "Sorry sir, I was just hungry and it was the only place open. I wasn't—I wasn't trying to cause trouble."
It's then, for the first time, Jim thinks that his reputation isn't one of respect. Instead, his reputation might something worse. Fear.
"Didn't think you were. Just wondering what a rich kid like you, is doing on this side of town, at this time of night." Jim doesn't say it like a question, just fact. He tries not to take it too personally when Harrington turns his bruised side in on himself.
"Would have uh—gotten something from home but we—I didn't have any food left. And by the time I was able to eat, everything else was closed."
"Able to eat—kid what are you rambling about. Let me call your parents to pick you up." Jim makes his way to stand but Steve grabs his wrist to pull him back.
"No! I mean—" he clears his throat "—not necessary sir. My parents left for a work trip tonight. I uh—don't have a number for you to call them anyway. They call me instead, they never have a solid line to contact. Nothing bad happens in Hawkins anyway, so it isn't something to worry about." The last line sounds practiced, like it is something repeated to Steve religiously enough it's become his own mantra.
Jim is starting to put it together. The waiting all day to eat. The bruise on his jaw. The lack of money for food. God, the kid probably walked six miles to get here.
Jim isn't stupid, he can connect the dots. But Jim also knows when not to push things. When not to rock the boat. When sometimes, even if it pains him, helping someone would be a lost cause. He thinks of Sarah briefly.
It's even worse when that lost cause is just a kid.
Jim decides maybe the best thing he can do for Steve at that moment is to ignore the obvious problem and offer him a bit of kindness. "Well, I can't have ya here this late. Could look bad for Benny. And we don't want to get Benny in trouble do we?"
Steve shakes his head immediately. "No Sir."
"Didn't think so. Why don't I drive you to the station? Don't worry I'm not arresting you. But we got a nice cot there, and you can get some rest. Then I'll drive you back in the morning when I clock out. Cause I'm still on duty and all. Can't be driving you back Loch Nora quite yet." Jim doesn't mention how he can see bags under Steve's eyes. He doesn't mention how it would be quicker to his house than to the station either. Jim maybe, just a little bit, wants to keep an eye on him. Even if it's only for a short time.
"It's okay I can walk—" Jim levels Steve with a look "—actually that sounds great. Thank you, Sir."
Jim nods with finality and starts to stand. "Oh and kid? Enough with that sir crap. I ain't Mr. Harrington." He almost says I'm not your dad. But that felt wrong somehow, giving Harrington senior that title.
"Okay, sir—I mean Hopper. Okay, Hopper."
---
As the years go by, James Edward Hopper keeps an eye out for Steven James Harrington (Yes he looks at his file for his full name. Yes, it makes him feel some sort of way he has his name as his middle name and not his father's. Richard would make a horrible middle name anyway). At first, it's drive-bys to see if anyone's home. Giving the kid a ride if he sees him walking. Swinging by a basketball game or two, to see how he's playing.
Then it turns into busting his ragers. Hauling him in for the night not to arrest him but to sober the kid up. Pulling him over for driving while intoxicated with that dumb Hagan boy.
Jim wants to be mad, he does. He even yells at Steve sometimes. But he can't find in him to be mean to him, not really. Not when he's pretty sure the only thing Steve has consumed in days is alcohol. Not when even though he has gotten much bigger, and the bruises are less visible, Steve never ceases to flinch when Jim grabs him.
So mostly, Jim either just drives him home or brings him in, giving him a sandwich and bed for the night.
Around when Steve is sixteen though, things get worse for Jim. He becomes more frustrated, with Steve, with his job, and with this town. He takes more pills. He neglects his job. He forgets Steve.
Then the Upside Down happens for the first time. Jim tries to better himself for Joyce and the kids. He mainly though does it for El. His second chance, his new reason for trying, his daughter.
Jim knows it's okay to get a little lost in taking care of her. That it's a good thing, and she deserves his full attention.
He does feel a bit of guilt though, after round two of the Upside Down. When Steve Harrington sits in Joyce Byer's living room, looking like he went ten rounds with a semi.
The kids are all over him (including Mike which shocks the hell out of him). Dustin is trying to stop the bleeding on his face, Lucas is holding ice against his head and even El, who Steve met for all of five minutes, is sitting beside him on the couch, holding his shoulder up. There is a look in El's eyes as she stares up at Steve. Like she can see through him, like she knows him. Like she understands him.
Jim feels his heart break a little.
He approaches Steve in a crouched position. "Hey kid, I think we better take you to a hospital. You look like shit." He is sure there is a better way to say it, but Jim Hopper is a blunt man and that was never going to change.
The redhead, Max, snorts. "That's honestly the nicest way to put it."
Steve glares, Jim can't decide if it's at him or the kids. "No. I'm okay."
Dustin shouts, "Steve you are most definitely not okay. Hop's right you look like shit—"
"Language."
Dustin ignores Steve, "—and that's just externally. Who knows what's going on internally."
"C'mon kid, I can drive ya." Jim moves to help him stand.
Steve bursts with anger and pushes Jim away. "I said no. And you're not my dad."
Jim's jaw tightens and he resists the urge to scream back: and thank god for that.
El speaks before he can yell back. "You're hurt." It's soft, it's demanding and it's so very El. Jim watches Steve crumble back into the couch.
His voice is rougher than before, but much more gentle, "No hospitals."
"Okay. At least let Joyce look at ya. She used to be a nurse." Jim puts a hand on his shoulder, careful not to jostle him.
"Okay, Hopper. Okay, Hop."
———
After that, for a little while, Jim tries to look out for Steve again. It's harder this time though. He's more independent and harder to catch sight of. When he does see him, one of the gremlins is around him, and he can't check-in. And Hop has El, and he can't neglect her in favor of Steve. He tries to balance it out, but in the end, Steve isn't his kid.
Jim finds a small loophole though, which is El herself.
He worries about her every she since she ran away and he didn't even notice. And he knows Steve, like him, has a soft spot for the kids. So under the guise of babysitting, Jim gets Steve in his cabin once a week. So someone other than Joyce or Jonathan (or horribly, mike) is spending time with her. Sure, he's not there to keep an eye out for Steve himself, but it's the closest he's going to get.
Besides, biological daughter or not, El is just like Jim. She has a habit of collecting strays. If it's not going to be him looking out for Steve, he can't think of anyone better for the job than his little girl.
———
After Starcourt, somewhere in a Russian prison, Jim thinks of Steve.
Every day, Jim thinks of El. Misses her. Longs to hear her laugh even longs to hear her yell back at him. Every day, Jim thinks of his daughter and mourns what could have been. But Jim knows she's being taken care of. Knows Joyce and the boys will love her, and take care of her. Make sure she knows nothing else but kindness.
He worries though, between those moments, about how there is no one there for Steve.
———
Months later, in Hawkins Memorial, Jim Hopper finds Steve Harrington in a hospital chair next to Eddie Munson's comatose body.
Jim has a lot of questions but doesn't get any of them out because suddenly Steve Harrington is right in front of him, sucking in a harsh "Hop," and then collapsing in Jim’s arms.
Jim holds him close, says nothing, and cries silently with him.
———
During the summer that follows, James Edward Hopper notices a change within Steven James Harrington. Despite the obvious PTSD the boy suffers, and the scars that litter his body, Steve is visibly happier than Jim has ever seen him. He laughs more, he openly cries more, and he loves more.
Steve's now living with Robin in a tiny two-bedroom downtown. He comes to family dinner with the entire party every Sunday. He shares a cup of tea (no more beer for either of them) and a cigarette every Thursday evening on the Byers-Hoppers front porch.
Most noticeably, the biggest difference Jim sees in Steve is Eddie Munson.
Jim once again isn't stupid. And despite being an ex-cop isn't a bigot (he couldn't find himself back at the force, the corruption is too much for him. And he himself, was never very good at his job). So he can easily come to the conclusion that Steve has a massive crush on Eddie Munson.
Dear. God.
It's not that he has a problem with Eddie being a boy, but it's the fact that out of all people he can choose from, Steve had to go and fall for the twerp who used to trip over his laces when running away from Jim for the third time.
Jim feels, after all the years of neglect that Steve faced, he could do so much better.
Steve is happy though for once, and Jim doesn't say anything at first. But it becomes so painful to watch. The lingering touches. The longing gazes. The nicknames (sweetheart, honey, dear god did he just say big boy—).
Nothing ever comes of it though, it's August and neither of them has done anything but pine. And Jim seems to be the only one who notices.
At first, he thinks it's cause everyone is being kind, and giving them room to explore themselves. But with everyone making jokes about Robin and Steve (from the kids) or Steve and Nancy (from Eddie), it seems like no one notices the excruciating flirting between the two.
(Except for maybe Robin, but Jim isn't quite sure Steve and she aren't one organism. He doesn't count her)
Still, Jim ignores it though. He has learned his listen from Mike and El. Getting involved makes everything worse.
That is until, the second week in August right before family dinner, when he finds Steve and Eddie early, sitting on the couch, with Eddie dabbing the blood off of Steve's face.
"What happened?" Jim is over on Steve's other side in an instant.
"Nothing Hop, it's stupid." Steve tries to shrug off, and he looks towards Eddie briefly.
Jim's vision, for a brief brief moment, is filled with unclear rage. It's enough to consume him and makes him impulsive. Jim can't help but think he got it wrong. Maybe the two are together, and Steve had fallen into a bad relationship. He knew that Eddie was trouble, but he didn't think about it being that kind.
And though he is being irrational, and being for once a little stupid, no one can really blame him when he hauls Eddie up by the collar and into his line of vision.
"Munson, did you put your goddamn hands on my kid?"
Jim can hear Joyce, El, and Will (the only other people in the house) all run out into the living room at the sheer volume of Jim's voice.
Steve sits frozen, Joyce and El yell at him to "put him down, oh my god."
And Munson? He starts to ramble.
"No. No! I would never, ever hurt anyone. Haven't we learned this by now? I can barely kill a spider. I have to put them in a cup and put them outside." Eddie chuckles nervously, waving his hands around frantically.
Jim's grip tightens and pulls him closer. He's pretty sure his vibrating at this point.
Suddenly though, Eddie becomes deathly serious. As if he just realizes what Hopper has said.
"Hop, I would lay down my life before I ever hurt Steve. There is no one in this world that deserves kindness more than him. And if I ever do hurt him, whether it be emotionally or physically, I give you full permission to beat me up. Hell, I'll probably throw myself at your fist."
Jim doesn't let go but stays silent as he listens.
"You see, Steve here decided to pull a you when some jerks wouldn't leave me alone at Family Video today. They were throwing around a bunch of slurs. Nothing I haven't heard before. And even though I could handle myself—“ Eddie gives Steve a look “Steve here always has to be the hero and decided to defend my honor. And of course, it just had to turn physical. And Steve decided to take on three guys on his own. Got to say though, he held his own. It was kinda hot honestly—"
Jim hears Steve choke a little beside them, startling him out of his frozen state.
"—And he only got a cut on his forehead from one of the dickwads class rings. I'm a little worried he has another concussion though. Believe me, Hop when I say, I am just as pissed at those guys as you."
At the end of his speech, Eddie calms down and even holds eye contact with Jim. He still doesn't let go of the twerp, despite being considerably less angry. Well, at least at Eddie.
It's Steve though that finally gets him to let go. "Dad, please put Eddie down."
Steve says it like it's nothing. Steve says it likes its the easiest thing in the world. But to Jim, to Jim it's the best thing he's gotten since El.
Instantaneously, Jim drops Eddie back on the ground and scoops Steve into a bone-crushing hug. "You got to stop scaring me like this kid. Can't lose you again."
Steve's almost his height now, so he tucks Steve's head into his shoulder and lays his head on top of his hair. He hears a muffled, wet "I'm sorry" against him.
Jim chokes back tears as he says, "No, no you got nothing to apologize for. Just be more careful. Okay?"
Steve releases himself from his hold and looks at him. "Okay, Hop. Okay, Dad."
Jim ruffles his hair without jostling his head too much. He thinks he would do anything for his kids. Including pushing along this nightmare of a pining contest.
"And if you like him I like him too."
"Huh?" Steve says confused.
"Eddie here. If you like him, then he's okay by me."
Steve goes to stop Jim, but he's already one step ahead. "But if he hurts you even in the slightest, you're watching me dig the grave I'm going to bury him in. Understand?"
Steve blushes from head to toe and nods frantically, knowing if he protests it will only make the conversation longer. The room is silent until Eddie speaks.
"Don't worry Hop, I'll dig the grave for you." Eddie's voice, despite the threat, is filled with delight, wonder, and hope.
My work here is done Jim thinks as he gives the boys one last nod and leaves the room.
And if later, if Jim sees Steve and Eddie holding hands at the dinner table he doesn't comment on it. And if he sees Eddie give Steve's knuckles a light kiss, and whisper something that almost looks like "I love you", he only smiles at the two boys. Because if one more person loves his boy, it's a win for him.
Because James Edward Hopper, thinks his son Steve deserves that and so much more.
———
okay I spent waaaay too much time on this (as per usual) but I wanted to dive in a little more on Steve and Hoppers relationship (and how it impacts Steve and Eddie). I feel like a lot of fics makes them distant friends (which is canonically correct I guess) or surrogate family with no explanation. And I like the idea of them slowing building a father son relationship. Really leaning into you choose your family. I know people have mixed feelings about Steve calling him Dad (honestly sometimes I too think it’s cringey) but sometimes I love it and that boy deserves a good father figure. Even though steddie doesn’t come in until the end, I think it all really blends together nicely. Also in my head either the boys are both out to each other, is at least it’s heavily implied or is a known safe space they are in. We do not support outing people in the house. It’s probably a one-shot, but maybe I’ll add more snippets later on. For now it felt like a good place to stop.
As always I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I just zoned out for like two hours as I wrote it. It kinda made me emotional I’m not going to lie.
part 2 here and the full version on ao3 here
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14dayswithyou · 5 months
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I don't understand why didn't Rendacted approach our MC sooner? Like if he'd been obsessed with them for MORE THAN A DECADE(?like since the ring incident?) he could as well just try to befriend them or ask them out many many times earlier.... What made him go "THATS IT! I'LL FINALLY ASK THEM OUT!! TODAY!!!"?
✦゜ANSWERED: I've explained this before, but Ren had an extremely horrible childhood growing up, and formed an inferiority complex because of his father >.< After the ring incident, he didn't feel adequate enough to approach Angel again for a long while.
I've also mentioned before that Ren has tried multiple times to talk to Angel throughout his life, but none of his personas were perfect enough to really stand out to them. His Haruko persona was the first time Angel actually noticed him and paid full attention.
Also! It's just a silly lil fantasy game, so sometimes you don't need logic lmao
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genericpuff · 7 months
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yeah so let's talk about the scenes between hades and thanatos that went from being goofy "haha a boss being hard on an employee" 'jokes' to child abuse as soon as it was revealed that hades was thanatos' adoptive father
and yes i'm putting a content warning jump for ❗❗❗ child abuse and neglect ❗❗❗
so first off, before we even get into the Thanatos / Hades father son relationship thing, I wanna mention a sequence in Episode 39 and why I think Rachel included the scene of Hades reaming Thanatos for being bad at his job.
And it's simply because of what happens the episode before.
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Persephone's ableism aside (seriously, I have legs, that doesn't mean I want to walk everywhere, I also own a car, that doesn't mean I have to drive everywhere, maybe flying is tiring? Maybe he's injured and shouldn't be flying? Maybe he has a disability that results in him having wings that can't fly? Check yourself Persephone 😒) this is one of the earliest signs of LO's "Revenge for Persephone" problem which is CONSTANT throughout the narrative - that anytime Persephone is slighted or inconvenienced in the slightest, then the narrative needs to ensure there's some kind of revenge, either directly for her sake or indirectly for the audience's, and it's often always facilitated through or by Hades.
And that leads us to Episode 39, which is when we get exactly that.
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Moving onto the scene itself, this is what we call in the work environment a "dressing down". This is not how legitimate employee reviews are given. Hades is not planning on giving him any sort of formal review or constructive criticism. He's planning on tearing him a new asshole just for the fun of doing so. You can even see it written on his face. He's doing this just for the joy of tearing him down. As someone who's been subject to this kind of behavior in previous work environments, I can assure you that this is not normal behavior that's indicative of a functioning workplace, this is abuse.
Taking that train scene into account, it's a way to indirectly "avenge" Persephone. She was slighted by Thanatos, so now Hades is going to make his life hell. But here's the thing - this not revenge for Persephone's sake. Hades doesn't even know Persephone's in the building, and Persephone doesn't know that Thanatos is being berated by Hades. But the scene is here anyways because of course the audience needs to feel "better" about Persephone getting pushed by a stranger at the train stop.
Now, scenes like this have been done in other stories, often times to explain the behavior of bullies/aggressors/etc. because in many cases, textbook bullies, whether children or adults, are abusing others because they're being abused by a higher authority so they take it out on those "weaker" than them.
But this doesn't work in LO, for several reasons.
First off, it pretty much plays it off like a joke, especially when the scene continues after Persephone has walked into Tower 4.
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But beyond that, the higher authority abusing Thanatos is someone we're expected to root for. He's the main love interest. While this could be written as a legitimate character flaw, we all know now, in the year 2023, that Rachel sees Hades' behavior as a feature, not a bug. While most scenes written like this would cast a new perspective on a bully and allow some room for understanding and empathy from the audience, in LO's case, we're still not expected to empathize with Thanatos here, they want us insulting him right alongside Hades.
And of course, that brings us to the big blue elephant in the room - the knowledge of Hades and Thanatos' relationship completely re-contextualizes these scenes in a way that's far too depressing and horrifying for a writer like Rachel to be able to wrap up confidently.
Of course, she tried, but her efforts... can't even really be called efforts. For starters, because a lot of it is played off as a joke, as if Rachel can't handle even a single moment of legitimate emotion, she has to "write off the awkward" by making things "funny".
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But when she does try to seriously write these scenes of introspection, reflection, and communication, it just winds up turning into the main protagonists going "woe is me, I was the real victim!" and never actually suffering consequences for their actions as a result as they Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss their victims into apologizing to them. It still isn't asking us to empathize with or side with Thanatos, it wants us to end up right back at square one supporting Hades' side of the story.
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Literally "well you weren't that bad, at least you were there!" bare minimum accountability, followed by "well I didn't make your life easy so I get it" from someone who was literally a child who was abandoned and left to live with an abusive asshole. It wasn't his fault that he was in the situation he was in, it wasn't his fault that he was a "handful" for Hades because he was a CHILD and Hades was the ADULT, but the comic paints it as Thanatos being at fault anyways for being "ungrateful".
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But there are even more subtle signs that point to Thanatos' childhood with Hades that, while not specifically mentioning it, do paint a pretty nasty picture of how Thanatos views Hades and the people around him as a result of his childhood, in a very fridge horror "stop and think about it" kind of way.
First of all, the fact that Thanatos hasn't even been allowed to touch Hades' car. Obviously he's referring to specifically driving it but it makes me wonder what kind of bare minimum accommodations Hades made for his own adopted son. Again, played off for a joke.
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And of course we have this one piece of concept art-
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Now to be fair, this is concept art from before it was retconned that Thanatos was Hades' son, but it still casts an icky implication in hindsight both because of Hades' treatment towards Thanatos as well as the implication that Thanatos was getting "too close" to Persephone for Hades' liking. This sort of weird dynamic can be found in the actual comic when Hades admits he knows Thanatos was sleeping with Minthe.
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And then there was this one scene, which prompted me to write this post in the first place, shared in the ULO Discord.
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Thanatos has just met Daphne, so it's not necessarily weird for him to be suspicious of her asking for his phone, but the actual dialogue... doesn't line up with what you'd assume he would be suspicious of.
He doesn't say "you're not going to peek through it, are you?"
He specifically says "You're not going to smash it, are you?"
Now, if this line were intended to be anything more than some throwaway "haha funny" line (which, again, where's the punchline here) then maybe it could point more to something that happened between him and Minthe. But there's nothing that implies she was ever violent towards him, and the one time she IS violent towards anyone, it's implied that's the first and only time she's ever escalated things to that point and that even she's shocked and disgusted at her own behavior.
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There is plenty to imply that Thanatos was abused by Hades, though.
So reading this line in hindsight... really just feels like further proof on a growing pile of evidence that Thanatos was constantly being berated, controlled, and abused by Hades, a guy who he never asked for as a father figure, but was still expected to apologize to anyways.
But there is one last thing I wanna mention before I wrap up. One thing that was mentioned by yet another user in the ULO community that really stood out to me because it just goes to show how horrible Hades has been towards Thanatos, both in the past pre-retcon and in the present well after it was established that they were father and (adopted) son.
And that's Hades' two dream sequences that involve him having children with Persephone.
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One of these scenes is from before the retcon. The other is from after.
Neither one features Thanatos as a part of Hades' visions for the future.
Hades has been Thanatos' entire life. But Hades doesn't see Thanatos as even a part of his.
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nmolesofadrenaline · 7 months
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idiot-mushroom · 1 year
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To Be Quiet
pick wisely
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Round 3: Maria Ushiromiya (Umineko: When They Cry) vs. Amane Momose (MILGRAM)
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Propaganda below the cut
Maria Ushiromiya (9)
She's really obsessed with occult and witch stuff and acts inappropriately when her family gets murdered because she was told by the culprit that everyone was going to the Golden Land (a super special witch afterlife where you get whatever you want). She also has meltdowns like any autistic child. Because of this, some Umineko fans say that she deserves to get abused by her mother.
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People really do be saying that this literal nine year old who's been abused and neglected by her mom for her whole life is evil
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Some people in the Umineko fandom have decided that she's annoying because she's a 9 year old with autism. Personally I think she's based. She has a hard life but still tries her hardest to see the goodness in everything. She's kind, even feeling sorry for a wilting flower and hoping it'll get better. She's a very smart young girl who just isn't given the proper love a child needs from their parents to thrive. She deserved SO, SO much better than the cards life dealt her. I mustn't talk too much else I'll get emotional but Maria is peak.Best autistic witch girl.
Amane Momose (12):
Amane was voted guilty in the first trial so that she would acknowledge her guilt. It backfired, and now she’s considered a threat. Well, everyone is a threat, but nobody’s threat level has been as heavily discussed and debated as hers. Consider the next prisoner in line, Mikoto. He’s objectively more dangerous and cannot be restrained. He beat up the guard in trial 1, and he was able to hold his own when the other guilty prisoners were attacked. But a good incentive to forgive him is so that he will calm down. You know what? That’s a good incentive to forgive Amane too! But she *can* be restrained, so a good portion of the discussion went into how she should be voted guilty so she *will* be restrained and not a threat. Since her vote was a near 50/50, of course a good chunk of the voters expressed dissatisfaction with her forgiven verdict. Some are already planning to vote her guilty for trial 3, calling her a “lost cause”. She hasn’t even done any concrete harm yet. Hold the pitchforks until she actually causes harm, please? And what if she *was* voted guilty in trial 2? We’ve been warned that she will continue to deny our judgement. A second guilty verdict won’t make her better either, and then what? She’d be called a “lost cause” as well. There is no winning with her.
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Where do I even start? So first of all she’s an cult child who was physically and mentally abused and tortured by her parents and then (presumably) murdered her mother after her mother killed a cat that she took care of.
Now everyone in Milgram is a murderer but when Amane came and her MV showed her murder and circumstance in an admittedly highly fictionalized depiction of it the audience decided to…repeat the cycle of abuse!
She was voted guilty for the main reason of “teaching her” and helping her “realize that she was abused.” I would like to note that this tough love approach is something her parents utilized against her. “We are only doing this to help you.”
So the audience replicates Amane’s abusers and repeats the cycle of abuse and that’s pretty shitty but it isn’t exactly “Fuck Em Kids” level.
And then Trial 2 happened. Cause Amane is bitter and angry and horrifically traumatized so she acts aggressive and hostile. Especially towards another prisoner.
Now, again, everyone here is a fucking murderer (of atleast could be constructed as one) These people being able to Harm is a core concept of this series.
Yet for some reason it feels like people treat Amane as a “delusional creepy kid who wants to kill people” which completly takes away the nuance of her character. She does have the capacity to harm! Everyone here does! She’s not Uniquly Dangerous! She just has a Reason to be Dangerous. A Reason we GAVE HER by REPEATING THE CYCLE OF ABUSE.
In short: In a series full of Murderers I’m honestly a bit pissed that the 12 year old abuse victim is the one who’s treated like the guy from American Pyscho.
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TL;DR: "We metavoted this abused, indoctrinated child guilty in trial 1, but it didn't work. Now she is a threat to three grown adults: one who is fully free and two whom she has been shown to get along with. Please metavote her guilty again so she will be restrained and unable to attack them, even though that means subjecting her to further psychological torture." Amane Momose is the youngest of ten murderers, prisoners of Milgram who are to be judged innocent (forgiven) or guilty (unforgiven). In the first interrogation (voice drama), she said that what she did was in line with her religion's doctrines. If we judged her the "wrong way", she said she will just deny the verdict. Combining the voice drama and music video, you could piece together that she was raised in a cult and abused, even though she is cheerful and downplays her pain. She never shows *who* she killed, only *why* she did. After the first day of her vote, she was 81% innocent, but this wouldn't last the whole three months. Many people voted her guilty so she would "see her sins", part of the practice commonly known as "metavoting". Her innocent percentage rapidly decreased, and she hit guilty in the last 15 days, finishing at 51% guilty. At the end of the first trial, Jackalope (who is something like a host) went over all the prisoners' verdicts and commented on the general reasoning. When he got to Amane, he *laughed* at the audience for voting that way to make her realize her sins. Trial 2 rolled around, and it was revealed that Amane's victim was her abuser. On day one, she was at 74% innocent. Seems like a cut-and-dry case now, right? Well... in the intermission, two of the prisoners (Fuuta and Mahiru) were badly beaten up and became reliant on the care of Shidou, a doctor. Amane became hostile to Shidou because what he was doing was against her beliefs. She visited all three of them on their birthdays to convince them to change their ways. She seems to be especially close to Fuuta, who is now murmuring about salvation. Guilty prisoners are psychologically tortured, forced to listen to voices that reject their beliefs. Fuuta and Mahiru both say that the mental strain is worse than their physical injuries. But Amane, who also looks worse for wear, was thrown under the bus because she isn't injured and is considered a physical threat to them (never mind that she gets along with them). She's considered a threat to Shidou, a grown man who is twice her size and fully free, while she is partially restricted by the long sleeves in her trial 2 uniform. She might indoctrinate Fuuta even though, in a prison of ten people and one guard, she's the only voice of her cult. Fortunately, she got a break. Her vote was falling at a similar rate to the first trial. But this time, it stabilized at 51% innocent, 12 days before the end of her vote. But there's no way this is over.
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amphibiousflorence · 2 months
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Thalia: So our dad put you through so much, how often do you see him?
Jason: oh yeah, we have a system. I have to inform him that I would wish to meet with him, 3 months in advance, then I have to write a letter explaining why I am worthy of being in his presence then if the message is a failure then I could get struck with lightning or ignored. But if it isn’t I could still get ignored. But like every once in a while I do get a letter from my father. Sometimes they don’t even have words, but it’s the thought that counts right?
Thalia: what.
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tangledinink · 10 months
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Chapter Fourteen of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up! Everyone has a great time and continues to experience emotions and situations. Raphael has an anxiety attack in a Chuck E. Cheese. Read it on ao3 or below the cut!
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When Donnie next woke up, they realized quickly that they were somewhere cold and dark, and, upon shifting slightly, also realized that they were incredibly sore.
“Ow,” he muttered dryly, and immediately, four (almost, mostly, kind of) familiar faces were moving into his field of vision.
“Guys, he’s awake!” Mikey gasped.
“Oh, thank god,” Raph sighed.
“How you feeling, Dee?” April prodded gently, her brows pinched together with worry.
“Nasty,” he mumbled, beginning to sit up. “But it’s not that bad. Just sore.” It was worse with the movement, however, and he winced slightly. Ugh, whatever position he had been sleeping in had not helped. He realized vaguely that he was no longer wearing his hoodie or his backpack, and he wondered if his family had removed it or if it had been taken from him. 
“Whoa, hey, slow down, dude,” Leo scolded. “I’m, like, 80% sure you’ve got a concussion or something, and your back looks gross, so chill.”
“Oh, good, Leo isn’t falling anymore,” Donnie deadpanned, leaning back slightly and rolling his shoulders a bit. Ow. He kept doing it anyway. “How long was I out? What the hell happened? And where are we?”
“Not that long. You’ve kinda been in-and-out for the past, like… I dunno. Half hour,” Leo explained.
“Please don’t pass out again!” Mikey added.
“But, uhhh, I think we’re in a literal dungeon?” Leo added, looking around thoughtfully.
“We’ve been jailed? Oh joy,” Donnie sighed. “This is no fair. If I’m going to be thrown in prison, it should be for my scientific advancements…”
“Donnie, that’s not something you’re supposed to hope for--” Raph hissed.
“Did we get our asses kicked?”
“Okay, well, look at the bright side,” Leo said instead of answering. “You gave, like, at least three of the guys on the other side concussions, too! And they probably look just as fucked up as you do right now!”
A loss, then.
“Let me see.”
“See what? Your back?” April raised a brow. “I dunno if that’s a good--”
“It’s my back,” Donnie defended. “Let me see.”
April sighed deeply, rolling her eyes. “Okay, fine. Hang on, I’ll take a picture…”
Donnie shifted a bit to allow room for her to photograph, frowning to himself. He was quietly surprised that their phones hadn’t been confiscated when they got thrown in here, but he was sort of willing to bet that they wouldn’t have any service down here, wherever they were. He’d have to check later.
“Okay, here. See?”
He did see.
He did not like it. 
There were no lacerations or mangled bones or anything-- the injury really wasn’t that bad, all things considered, just horrendously bruised. That wasn’t really what bothered him. If someone showed him a picture of his own shoulders looking like that, all discolored and black and blue, it really wouldn’t be an issue. But they weren’t shoulders. Instead there was this plane of a vaguely leathery, flesh-like surface, gently bumped and freckled olive green-- not quite skin, but not exactly carapace like his brothers now had, either, just something in between, all dotted with little markings. His spine was clearly outlined, and, in this moment, darkened and mottled with bruising.
“Right. Thank you,” he said quickly, looking to the side and scowling. April sighed a bit, almost visibly resisted the urge to say ‘I told you so,’ and pocketed her phone again, settling back down beside him.
“You gotta be more careful, Don! You coulda been seriously hurt!” Raph pressed.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Donnie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “In the future, I’ll simply allow enemies to curbstomp our little brother! Silly me!”
“I would have been fine! You don’t have to protect me!” Mikey immediately protested.
“Look, hermano, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but apparently, literally all the rest of us have straight-up built-in body armor,” Leonardo said with an accusing gesture. “You don’t!”
Donnie bristled a bit, hunching his shoulders. Right. Of course.
Of course it would work this way.
Turtles. They were, apparently, literal fucking turtles, of all goddamn things, and so of course he would be the only one who didn’t have the signature feature that turtles usually had in the form of a hard shell. Of course he would be different and vulnerable. Why was he surprised? When didn’t things work out this way? Story of his goddamn life!
And it made sense, too! Wasn’t he the only one out of all of them who had ever been, like, actually injured? He had watched Mikey fall down three flights of cement stairs one time and pop up at the bottom with a thumbs up. Raph was basically an immovable object. And how many times had Leo wiped out on his skateboard with no consequences? Or, perhaps more pointedly-- how many times had Leo literally kicked his ass in martial arts tournaments? Admittedly, Donnie was still, generally speaking, hardier than the average high-schooler, but…
He was still the only one in the family to have ever broken a bone. The one who fell ill the most frequently. He was the only one who had ever cried and thrown up because the hems of his pants got wet and nasty, for god’s sake--
He vaguely remembered that Draxum guy from earlier, their so-called creator, claiming that they were experiments. He wondered what exactly his intention was, and if he would meet expectations if evaluated or if he would objectively be classed as a failure. Clearly there was a gap between himself and his siblings.
“Look, it’s fine, Don. We just don’t want you to get hurt,” Raph said, resting a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Just… let us take the heavy hits, okay? That’s all.” 
“Fine,” Donnie muttered.
---
Donatello whined softly, burrowing his way further into his Dad’s arms, hanging onto fistfuls of his shirt. Yoshi sighed, idly running his hand up and down the child’s spine. 
“I know, Purple,” he hummed, adjusting his grip on the other slightly, rearranging the blankets they were all but nested in. “The medicine will start working soon.”
The child sniffled miserably, peeking up just enough to give their father a rueful look. “You lied,” he accused, and Yoshi couldn’t resist a tiny laugh at the amount of rage his six-year-old could manage to put into his eyes. 
“When did I lie?”
“You said that if I took the medicine I would feel better. And it was disgusting. And I still feel bad,” he whimpered petulantly, burying his face into his dad’s shirt once more, and Yoshi chuckled softly, stroking his shoulders.
“That was ten minutes ago, Purple. It takes a little bit longer than that.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Maybe a little.”
“I’m gonna invent better medicine that works right away.”
“I’m sure you could.”
Purple always got this way whenever he managed to pick up any sort of bug from their various classes or after-school activities. Given how many children he had, how busy they were, and the fact that he, too, worked with a bunch of germy kids, they were, quite frankly, blessed with how rarely they were brought to their knees by some virus or another. Yoshi had always attributed this to the whole ‘mutant super soldier’ thing, and considered himself lucky that he hardly ever had to deal with nastier things like strep throat or bronchitis. Thank god. He didn’t think his heart could take it, quite frankly. But there was still the occasional cold, flu, or stomach bug, and almost invariably, it was either himself or Donatello who ended up bringing it home when they did.
And every time, Purple would be so damn pathetic about it.
Yoshi did feel bad for him, really, each and every time, because he knew that his kid didn’t feel well and wasn’t able to do all the things he usually did, and that was distressing to him, but oh my lord, was he dramatic. He’d always whimper and whine and carry on like he was dying, even if he just had a cough and a small fever, clinging to his dad and refusing to walk anywhere. Now, snotty, hacking children were not exactly Yoshi’s favorite things to snuggle up with, but he would admit that, as he so rarely received any physical affection from his purplest child on a day-to-day basis, it was a little nice to have him so clingy now. Especially given that when he was ill, Donnie was much more inclined to lay around and watch Lou Jitsu movies rather than science and math documentaries, or, even worse, partake in activities such as attempting to rewire the house, as he was apt to do. This was by far Yoshi’s preference. And though he did wish Donnie could enjoy it properly, he wouldn’t sit here and pretend like he didn’t enjoy spending the day curled up in his bed with his child in his lap watching movies together (now that he had been assured by their pediatrician that it was just a bug…) Even if he was sure he was going to get sick, too. 
It should be noted however, that even in his feverish, clingy state, Donnie was still quite particular about exactly what touch was and was not okay, which was evidenced by him literally hissing at his twin brother when he snuck into the room and attempted to join the pair on the bed.
“Use your words, Purple One,” Yoshi hummed, even as he redirected Leonardo to the foot of his bed, giving the two children a wide berth. Donnie only grumbled in response, but given the fact that he was sick, Yoshi let it slide this time. He couldn’t help but always feeling so… sorry for Donnie like this. It always scared him a bit when he got sick, even once he was sure it was only something minor. Just another reason he relished being able to bundle him up and hold him close. “I don’t think Purple wants to be touched by anyone else right now, Blue.”
“When’s he gonna be done being sick?” Leo sighed loudly, flopping down over his father’s legs. “I’m bored. Mikey and Raph don’t play right.” 
“Since when? You love playing with Mikey and Raph.”
“Yeah, but I wanna play Hot Wheelz and Donnie is the best at that game!” He complained. “Mikey and Raph are playing ‘Ninja Horse Tea Party Orphanage’ and I don’t wanna play that!”
That did sound like the type of game those two would play.
“If you give him a day or two, I’m sure he will be ready to play Hot Wheelz then.” 
“But that’s so LONNGGG!” Leo groaned loudly, sulking. “Can’t you make him better faster?”
“No, Donatello has not invented the medicine that works right away yet. It’s on his to-do list,” Yoshi explained calmly, squeezing the purple child just the tiniest bit. 
“Can I invent it, then?”
“I’m sure you could try,” Yoshi said with a shrug. 
“I want him to get better. And not be sick,” Leo explained, just in case it wasn’t clear.
“That’s very nice, Blue.”
“I bet I could find out a way to fix him.”
“Oh? Are you going to be a doctor, then?”
Leo wrinkled his brow, scrunching up his mouth and considering this for a moment before he shook his head. “No. I’m gonna be an actor. Or a ninja. Or a magician. One of those.”
“Ah. Well, you know what would probably be helpful right now?”
“What?” Leo immediately questioned, his eyes lighting up slightly.
“If you got your brothers to help you draw some get-well cards for Purple. I bet Mikey would be excited to help you if you asked.”
Leo latched onto the new ‘task’ right away, over the moon to do something to be helpful for his brothers, like he always was. It was one of the easiest ways to distract him. “Okay!” He replied, jumping back down off the bed, scampering off to go and find his remaining siblings.
He was almost gone, in fact, when Yoshi sneezed.
Leo stopped short, whipping back around and gasping loudly, pointing an accusing finger.
“YOU SNEEZED!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“YOU DID! I HEARD YOU!” He shrieked, taking off down the hall. “Guys! GUYS! Dad sneezed! I heard him!”
“Dad sneezed!?”
“Code Green! This is a CODE GREEN!”
Yoshi sighed softly, his head flopping back down against the pillow. Leo came skidding back into the room a moment later, his eyes wide.
“DAD! Can we go to April’s house!?”
“What?” He scoffed. “No! April and her parents are not even home!”
“Yeah but we gotta QUARANTINE!”
“It was just one sneeze--”
“LEO! Leo, you gotta disinfect! I found Donnie’s hand sanitizer!”
“Hey,” Donnie picked up his head to whine.
This always happened.
“Donnie, you have to get better quick so you can take field notes! We need your research, okay!? You’re the only one who can spell ‘pathology!!!’”
Donnie mumbled in reply, laying his head back down, but gave a tiny thumb’s up before Leo went sprinting back out the room to re-join his healthy (for now) brothers. His other three boys never brought home sickness. But they always caught it when it came from him.
Well, at least they were not bored anymore.
---
April was having a bit of trouble keeping track of time now that they were in prison. 
She didn’t think they had actually been here that long, though she wasn’t exactly sure. She had long ago shut off her phone to conserve battery once they realized that they may be a while. Maybe 24 hours?... It was just that at first, when they still weren’t sure if Donnie was going to be okay or not, everything seemed to happen so fast. And now that they were all just cooped up here with nothing to do… everything happened so slow.
They had already formulated and executed multiple escape plans now, to no avail. They had attempted to teleport to freedom with the help of the yellow yokai, who April had recently begun referring to as “Mayhem,” but were sorely disappointed to find that the prison was teleport-proof. Leo had tried unsuccessfully to talk their way out. Raph made an effort to physically break them out, attempting to smash the bars that held them, but this too resulted in failure.
The only thing that really clued her into the passage of time was her and her brothers’ internal clocks. Donnie had gone down first, though his head injury may have had something to do with that. Mikey had followed shortly after, curling up with Raph’s flannel tucked under his head as a makeshift pillow, and then the oldest brother, too, eventually succumbed to sleep, until she and Leo were all that remained.
“Okay,” she whispered, keeping her voice low, careful not to wake anyone else up. “I’ll admit it. You were right.”
Leo hummed softly in response, and neither of them took their eyes off of Mikey, suspended peacefully in the air, just a few inches off the ground, a soft orange glow coming off of him in waves as he slumbered.
“It’s a little weird to watch,” she sighed, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Sort of spooky.”
“At least he’s getting some rest,” Leo mumbled, resting his head in a cradle of his arms and knees, all curled in on himself.
“Yeah,” April agreed, smiling a tiny bit. “We should probably try that too, huh?” She leaned over, just barely nudging Leo’s shoulder with her own.
He flinched, a visible shiver running up his spine as he immediately stiffened, pulling sharply away from the other. April frowned.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Leo muttered, drawing his arms even tighter around himself.
“You’re not hurt, are you? Because I swear to god, if you got hurt and didn’t tell anyone--”
“April, I’m fine!” He bit out, a bit sharper this time, hunching his shoulders. “I’m not hurt, okay? I just… I’m not in the mood to be touched right now.”
April’s brows pinched together.
“Leo…”
“Don’t ask me if I’m okay again,” he hissed.
“Alright.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay.”
“Obviously, I’m not!”
“That’s okay.”
“Everything is so fucked up,” he hissed, digging his nails into his arms, drawing his head down to his chest. “Jesus christ. This-- fuck. And I got us all stuck in here!”
“Leo, you didn’t get us stuck in here. It’s not your fault.”
“I did!” He insisted, and April could see a few tears lining his eyes before he squeezed them shut. “This was my stupid plan. And Donnie-- Donnie almost got really hurt, and Mikey could’ve gotten hurt, and-- and I couldn’t help at all. I couldn’t help him at all when he was panicking. I can always help! I’m supposed to be able to help him when he’s like that! And I-- I can’t even help my own brother because I look like a fucking freak now!”
“Leo, you’re not a freak. It’s gonna be okay.”
“It’s not!” He snapped, bristling. “It’s not going to be okay. Stop saying it’ll be okay. How is any of this okay!?”
April bit the insides of her cheek. She didn’t have a good answer.
“I hate this,” he hissed. “Everything feels fucking awful. I can’t walk right, I keep falling, everything feels swollen and clunky and I-- I miss my face. I miss my body. And it’s just gone. I didn’t even like my body to begin with!” He laughed ruefully, struggling to keep his voice quiet. “I didn’t even like what I had, and-- fuck, April, I was so fucking excited. I was so fucking excited to change it. I’ve been waiting since I was fucking five to change it. I didn’t even know what I wanted to change then! I just-- fuck. Dammit. We had-- we had an appointment--”
He paused just long enough to draw in a heaving, shuddering breath that shook his entire frame.
“God. I just. I thought-- I thought I was used to this. I thought! I thought that I knew what it was like, to be quote-unquote trapped in the wrong body or whatever the hell, and I thought-- and it sucked and now this is just. This is just a million times worse, April. And it’s still wrong. Now it’s just more wrong!” He hiccuped weakly. “We were gonna fix it. We were finally gonna start fixing it, like, for real fixing it. We had an appointment. And. And Dad was g-gonna take me, and now it’s-- it’s just so much worse. Everything is so fucking bad now.”
“I know,” she whispered. “... Maybe you still can. You guys could still change back! I mean,” she glanced down at the silver bracelet still circling Leo’s wrist. “... We don’t know for sure that they’re broken. Maybe you just have to… to turn them back on…”
Leo bit back a sob.
“But now I know it’s not real.”
April was almost relieved when Leo fell into her side, hiding his face against her to cry, because she wanted so, so desperately to grab him and hug him and hold him tight, but he had said he didn’t want to be touched. But now that he was curled up against her, she wrapped her arms around him, and they sat quietly for a while like that. 
It took a while, but eventually the sobs died out, and Leo just laid with his head in her lap, all wrung-out and tired. 
“I meant it, you know,” she whispered. Leo didn’t reply, but he glanced up at her.
“I don’t care if you guys are freaks or mutants or whatever,” she continued. “That doesn’t matter to me. You were already sort of freaks when I met you, anyway. You’re my brothers, alright? No matter what. Even if things change. I’m not going anywhere.”
Leo sniffled a bit, staring at her for a bit longer before his gaze fell back down, staring off into the middle distance, looking at nothing in particular except for the pale orange light that lit up the room.
“Do you think he’s dreaming?” Leo finally spoke again, his voice scratchy and raw as he watched his baby brother sleep.
“Probably,” April said, leaning her head back to rest against the wall. 
---
“Daddy! Daddy!”
His father looked up from the dishes he had been washing, turning off the faucet to instead greet his youngest as he came excitedly racing into the house.
“Ah! Hello, my son. How is skateboard practice going?”
“Good!” Mikey chirped, excitedly holding up one leg so that he could proudly show his father his bloody, scraped knees. “Look! I did a kickflip.”
Mikey watched as bright red blood dripped down his younger self’s leg, and he thought to himself,
“So you did,” Dad said, sighing softly. “Go sit at the table. I will get the first aid kit.”
How strange.
“I want the orange band-aids! With the stars!” He yelled from his seat in a pulled-out kitchen chair, leaning over to call out his demands down the hall.
This was one of his dreams. Mikey was sure of it. Well, not a dream, exactly. A memory. Both. A memory inside of a dream. 
“Ah, yes, of course. Orange for Orange,” Dad assured, returning to the kitchen with first-aid kit in tow.
But this one was different from the rest.
“That’s my life color!” Mikey said happily, settling in the chair, sitting properly so his dad could clean and bandage his wounds.
The perspective had changed.
He wasn’t up above anymore, watching his father and his memory down below.
He was right here. He was standing right here on the same level-- right next to his dad, watching him tend to his younger self. No more than a few inches away from him.
He could almost touch him.
He reached out to try.
“Dad…?”
Mikey woke up with a gasp, falling heavily onto the floor and immediately sitting stark upright, scrambling a bit and looking around wildly. Donnie and Raph were asleep, but he quickly spotted April and Leo huddled together in the corner, both seeming slightly startled by his sudden trip back to the waking world.
Thank god someone else was still up.
“Guys!” He bit out, near breathless. “Dad is here! I can feel it! He’s really close by and-- and I think he might be hurt.”
---
Yoshi was getting very tired of the taste of blood.
There was a time, back when he was young, within his first year in the Nexus, when he could actually find joy in it. There was a time when he would face down unbeatable odds and come out the other side victorious, and would feel pride at what he accomplished, and not worry about those on the other end of the equation. There were times, in fact, when he would beat other competitors to unconsciousness just so that he could turn around and lounge in the luxury box, above it all, with his girlfriend-not-girlfriend in his lap. Just so that she would be pleased with him. Just because he wanted her to be happy. More specifically, happy with him.
He was still tempted, even now, now that he had gotten tired of the taste. Tempted to want her to be happy. It was so much easier when she was happy. When she was upset, he would always be miserable, but when she was happy things had always been so good.
It would be so easy to sit here and pretend like he didn’t feel that way anymore; to simply wave a hand and call his younger self a fool and distance himself from him, as if he were someone else entirely. But it wouldn’t be true. No matter how much he was loath to admit it at times, that young man was still him, and every action and stupid decision he had ever made was his to hold and wear on his chest.
He didn’t like the way blood tasted anymore. He had gotten tired of the taste years and years ago, way before he had returned to the Battle Nexus, before he had even become a father, back when he couldn’t even begin to imagine his path leading in the direction it had, before he could even picture himself raising children--
(Though, god, hadn’t there been a time where he thought, ‘but if she really wanted them, if it was with her…?’)
But he still couldn’t so definitively say that he didn’t like her, and that was what really upset him. Here he was, slumped against a wall in an empty locker room, not completely convinced that he wasn’t bleeding out given the increasingly unsettling blotch of color beneath his skin climbing steadily up his abdomen and the tell-tale lightheadedness, and he still wasn’t sure. He would kill to be sure either way, which was almost funny, given how many times he had killed for her. But to this day he didn’t think he’d actually be able to decide when it came down to it.
He didn’t want to be here. He wanted, desperately, to leave. He had wanted so desperately to leave for years the last time he had been stuck here. He had tried to escape so many times-- but then again, there had been so many opportunities to run that he hadn’t taken… 
He missed his children. It wasn’t a matter of choosing between them. If it were a contest, he would choose his kids every single time, and this he knew for certain. That was the only reason he was here to begin with, after all.
But god. The emotions were all so much easier when they were apart. When he wasn’t around her, it was easy to remember all the reasons why they didn’t work, to remember all the ways she had hurt him and how awful things had been-- to pretend that nothing lingered between them, that he didn’t care about her anymore despite all his best efforts. But when they were face-to-face again?...
He hissed softly, letting his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk. Everything felt fuzzier than he would like it to. Colder, too.
Jesus.
He had really been in love with her.
“To the left a little.”
“Like this?”
“Mmmm… no. Now that’s too far. Move it just a smidge back?… No, that’s a skoosh, I said a smidge-- ooh! Ooh, yes, perfect! Just like that, Muffin!”
“Okay, alright. Just like this. Can you pass me the nails, Bug?”
It had taken them hours to get all their things moved in, even with the movers, and to re-arrange everything that allowed space for both of their extensive wardrobes and shoe collections. Divvying up space in the bathroom alone had been a nightmare, despite the sheer size of it, and they had had to make a detour to drive to the nearest department store and invest in a storage cabinet that could house all their hair care products. And Yoshi had been so confident that he was completely capable of putting together their new bed frame by himself…
“Okay. It says we need part 3-E… It has… The little spinny part at the top, and, ah, the spiral bit…”
“I don’t see it.”
“Well, it has to be somewhere.”
“Cuddlekins, hon, didn’t we use that part earlier? To screw the two corners together?”
“What? No, that was part M. With the cross-y bit at the top.”
“But isn’t this one part M? See. Look. It’s the same as the picture here, isn’t it?”
“Shit…”
It had taken a bit longer than he had originally anticipated. But it had, eventually, gotten done, despite the blood, sweat, and tears that it had cost them, and was now hosting their new, California king-size mattress, an absurd number of blankets and sheets, and many, many throw pillows. The kitchen had been unpacked already, (the easiest job of the entire move, given that neither of them cooked,) the TV hooked up in the living room, and all the furniture arranged just so…
And thus they had embarked on the last leg of their journey. And the one, Yoshi was well aware, that his girlfriend was the most particular about.
Decorating. Or, as she might say, interior design.
All he had needed to be happy was a few of his favorite movie posters framed and mounted on the wall, and she was perfectly willing to comply, even adding a few of her own selections to the collection in the living room they now shared. After that, she had free reign-- and reign she did indeed do. Of course, they could have easily hired people to do all this for them, but it just wasn’t quite the same as handling it on their own like this. Maybe she wanted the control. Maybe he wanted the experience. But either way, here they were… and they had been at this for a while now.
“Alright,” Yoshi sighed, taking a step back into her waiting arms so that they could examine his handiwork together. “What do you think? Good?”
She hummed happily, leaning over to press a kiss against the side of his jaw. “You didn’t even do it crooked this time!” She teased. He snorted softly in response.
“Sassy,” he mumbled, even though he kissed her forehead in return.
“It’s perfect, Noodles. Doesn’t it just ribbon up the whole room together so handily?”
He laughed, giving a shrug. “Something like that.”
“It matches the couch throw!” She insisted.
“I still cannot believe you insist on keeping that thing.”
“I adore it! It was a gift from you!” She protested.
“It is ugly!” He laughed. “I don’t know why I thought it would be a good gift. I just wanted to get you something and it was the best thing I could find.”
“It’s not ugly! It’s precious,” she insisted, as if lovingly defending a child, slipping out from his arm so she could stroke it affectionately, smoothing it out over the couch and straightening its corners. “I love it, cuddlekins, really, it just has this certain… crinkum-crankum to it, you know?” She said with a fond sigh, glancing back over at the other. “Besides, you got it for me. It always reminds me of my handsome cuddlemuffin whenever I see it.” 
He chuckled, holding out an arm with an inviting gesture. She agreeably returned to his side, fitting easily under his arm, looping her own around his waist in turn and resting a hand on his hip. “If you say so,” he hummed, leaning his head against hers. “I do enjoy the painting. I like surrealism… It’s a bit like, uh, René Magritte, don’t you think?”
“If you say so,” she echoed, shooting him an almost mischievous grin, and he scoffed in response, still smiling.
“Okay. What is next? Anything you need, my darling lovebug, and I will handle it for you!” He declared boldly, pulling away in order to strike a dramatic pose, knowing it would elicit a snort of laughter in response. “I have at long last mastered the ancient art of hanging pictures on walls! Just say the word!”
She snorted softly, plucking the hammer from his hands, placing it to the side.
“Noodles, that was the last one.”
He blinked in surprise.
“The last one?”
“Yes. That was all.’
“Then… we are all done moving?”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“We are moved in?”
“We are,” she confirmed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, letting her body relax as she leaned into him-- trusting him to keep her steady and hold her up against him. He did.
“Then…” He paused a moment before a wide smile slowly, surely stretched itself across his face, his hands moving to rest on her waist. “This is officially our apartment.”
“Officially.” 
He grinned, the two of them swaying back and forth in the middle of the living room of their new penthouse apartment, rocking to the rhythm of nothing but the distant sound of the city as a backdrop. Their feet shuffled against the carpeted floor, echoing the motion of each other. He spent a bit of time just looking at her, memorizing how she looked in this moment and what joy looked like on her face and reminding himself that this person belonged to him, and he belonged to her, and now both of them belonged to this apartment, together, before he leaned in to close the close the gap between them. He could feel her smile against his lips.
Right now, Yoshi could not think of a single thing that he would want to change about his life. If things could stay exactly like this forever, then he would surely have everything he could ever need. For the first time ever, he thought, this is something I built for myself. He thought, this is something I choose. He thought that, for the first time ever, that he had finally found his person and his place in the universe. What more could he ask for than this, really? What more could he ask for than to be loved with no strings attached, with no expectations or traditions or sacrifice or ‘destiny’ tied to it?
This was perfect. Just the way it was. 
The moths in the painting he had hung for her stood a silent vigil over their celebration from their new perch.
---
Yoshi’s vision was fuzzy when he opened his eyes, so he closed them and tried again, repeating the process until the world came into shape around him. His body was sore, but, surprisingly, less sore than it had been lately. A quick glance around told him that he was in the Battle Nexus’s medical ward. He had been here many times in the past, though this was his first visit on his most recent tour. It was an odd place, equal parts necessary and ironically useless given the line of work of its clientele. Sparsely stocked and staffed, yet equipped for the most dire of emergencies all at once. 
He supposed he must have passed out, then. 
He winced a bit, looking to the left, catching sight of a Nexus Nurse, already busy with some other poor soul who had found themselves down here. A glance to the right, however, surprised him, and Big Mama looked up at the movement, immediately catching his eye and making her way to his bedside.
“Oh, Muffin!” She tsked sympathetically, a hand reaching out to cup his face. “Are you alright?”
His heart absolutely swelled. Quite frankly, his head was still spinning, all stuffed full of cotton, and he didn’t have the presence of mind required to feel disgusted with himself for how excited he was that she was here. How fucking thrilled he was to have her attention-- to have her eyes on him, let alone her skin. He forced a very weak laugh, waving her off her concerns. 
“I am fine!” He mumbled with a shaky grin, his voice slurring slightly as he tried to get his tongue to move properly in his mouth. “A little internal bleeding never hurt anyone…!”
And she smiled, actually smiled at him, patting his cheek gently. “Oh, of course you are. That’s my handsome, fearless warrior,” she cooed. Yoshi chuckled very softly.
She had always done this. Laughed at his stupid jokes, raved over even his dumbest of movies, and showered him endlessly in praise. And, admittedly, he had always loved it. He had always soaked up the attention. 
That was what scared him the most, really. The thought that, maybe, that was all this ever really was at the root of it all-- just him wanting someone to pay attention to him and give him compliments. Maybe that’s why things were like this; because of his own selfishness poisoning something good. Because he was too broken and greedy for anything else. Maybe moments like these were the most he could ever hope for, realistically, and he just had to accept that.
Her hand left, and he heard her move away. Pathetically enough, it broke his heart. He was dimly aware of her hailing down one of the nurses out of the corners of his vision. 
“Make sure he’s well enough to perform in tonight’s line-up, understand? I want him in tip-top shape as soon as possible. No jiggery-pokery or bafflegab or anything else. And fetch me if anything else happens with him, won’t you?...”
He sighed, letting his eyes slide shut again.
---
“Okay, Red, listen to me very closely, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I will be gone for three hours. Okay? Three hours. Do you know how long that is?”
“Uhm…”
“That is the whole Scooby Doo video tape played twice.”
Raph nodded a bit, his eyes wide. Right. Dad would be gone for two Scooby-Doo’s.
“I’m going to go get some more food and things for you and your brothers, and then I will come back.”
Raph blinked widely up at his dad. “More tuna?”
“Yes, I am going to try to find more tuna cans for you,” his dad assured. “But listen. Okay? This is very important. I need you to watch your little brothers while I am gone. Okay?”
Raph glanced back over at his three younger brothers, who were all still asleep in their respective boxes. He was the only one who had been rudely awakened by their father, much earlier than they would usually arise on their own, but he had been gifted a peppermint candy for his troubles, so he couldn’t be too upset about it. 
“If you’re quiet, they should sleep until I get back. But if they wake up, I left breakfast out for you all. Right over there where we usually eat. Remember how I’ve shown you how to help feed Orange?”
Raph nodded. He’d fed Mikey lots of times before, repeatedly begging his father to let him hold his littlest brother in his lap and give him his breakfast. He knew how.
“And make sure Purple does not eat all of Blue’s food.”
Raph frowned.
“But… Donnie’ll bite me…”
He heard his father sigh, very softly, under his breath.
“I have told him not to bite today, okay? But Blue needs to eat, too. And besides, you are very tough and brave, aren’t you, Raph?” He hummed, smiling a tiny bit, leaning over just enough to rub his son’s scaled head. Raph beamed at the praise, nodding excitedly. Tough and brave? Of course he was! He wasn’t afraid of Donnie! Even if he did bite really hard.
“Good boy,” he said. “The Scooby Doo tape is already in the TV. Purple will help you rewind it and play it again when it’s over, okay? So you boys can watch while I am gone.”
“Okay.”
“But you have to make sure none of your brothers wander off, okay? You have to stay right here in this tunnel the entire time I’m gone. Understood? No exploring. You must be sure to watch Mikey.”
“Okay.”
“Red?”
“I’ll watch, Daddy.”
“Good boy,” he said again. “And if I don’t come back before the timer starts beeping--” he gestured to the kitchen timer that lived by his bed. Raph wasn’t that great with numbers yet, but he recognized the “eight” at the front. “Then bring your brothers and come find me, okay? But not before the timer goes off. Understand? Only if you hear the timer beeping. Do you understand, Raph?”
“Yeah.”
“Repeat it back to me, please.”
“Uhm…” He chewed on his fingers, looking to the side and shuffling his feet a bit. “Uhm, if the time… beeps. I’ll come find you…”
“By yourself, or with your brothers?”
“With my brothers...”
“But not before the timer, okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” Their father sighed very deeply, leaning over and kissing his forehead. “I will be back soon, my son. Take good care of your brothers.” 
---
“Come ON.”
“Raph, stop. It’s not gonna work,” April sighed.
“It will if it knows what’s good for it!” He snapped, reeling back and throwing himself at the bars of their literal cage once more with a loud crash, the very walls shaking in response. “Come on! Open already!!!” 
“Raph--”
“We’ve gotta get outta here!” He hissed, his tail whipping behind him, and the sharp movement threw him off balance, nearly making him stumble to one side. Goddammit. He swore softly under his breath, bristling, the anger scratching underneath his (foreign, strange, uncomfortable) skin only pitching higher in response. They had already been here for-- what?! Two days? Three?! They were so close, and now they were just stuck here, completely vulnerable, completely at the mercy of an actual, literal crime boss--
“Raph. Stop,” April said again, firmer this time, reaching out to grab his arm. “You’re hurting yourself.”
Raph yanked his arm away from her, whipping around to look at her, growling, his lips drawn back over his fangs in a snarl. April didn’t flinch away or back off. Her hand chased after his.
That was almost worse, and Raph’s snarl almost immediately gave way to a cracked little half-sob. His body slumped slightly, unclenching tight muscles to instead wilt in exhaustion.
“I have to get us out of here…” he insisted weakly, looking away from her again, hiding from her eyes out of shame. He didn’t want to look at her. He didn’t want her to look at him. Jesus, what did he look like right now…? His clawed feet scraped against the ground beneath them. Earlier today he had accidentally stabbed Leo with one of the spikes of his shell after moving too fast and left a bruise. A fucking bruise.
Yeah, sure, fine. Maybe his brothers were freaks now. But he was even worse. He was a monster. A useless one.
He sobbed properly this time.
“Raph, it’s alright,” April tried to comfort, moving close enough to rest her hand on his arm, and looking at how tiny she was compared to him made him feel sick. He was pretty sure he could bite off her hand if he really wanted to. Even if he didn’t want to-- what if he still did somehow? “We’ll figure a way out of here--”
“It’s not alright!” He hissed, his chest tightening. “I have to fix this.”
“Raph, we’ll fix it together,” Mikey spoke up, almost cautiously moving to Raph’s other side. “I’m sure we can figure out--”
“No!” He snapped, and he hated to interrupt Mikey, and he felt bad as soon as he did it, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t-- panicking, exactly, but he was close to it. Next to it. “I’m-- I’m supposed to protect you guys, and I can’t even--”
“Raph, you don’t have to always protect us!” Mikey protested.
“But I want to!” Raph cried in protest. “I want to protect you guys, I wanna keep you safe, and I-- I didn’t! I’m supposed to take care of everyone! I’m supposed to be in charge when Dad isn’t here, and I-- all I did was bring us to some magic crime city, get us locked up like animals, and turned into mutants!--” He barked out a strained, teary laugh. “And I can’t even get us back out!”
A few tears tracked down his face. “Dad trusted me to take care of everyone when he wasn’t here and I just let him down.” He could feel the panic breathing hotly down his neck. “He’d be so disappointed in me--”
“Raph, stop.” Mikey hissed, his voice hard, so very much so that it quite nearly surprised Raph out of his spiral. 
“That’s not true at all,” his younger brother hissed, his own face kind of flushed and teary as well. “None of that is even your fault! And even if it was, I still wouldn’t care and neither would Dad! And you are protecting us! We’re all still here, aren’t we?” 
“More or less,” Leo mumbled softly, bitterly, and Raph looked ruefully down at his claws, shifting his joints closer and biting down a hiccup. Mikey glared.
“We are!” He insisted. “Look, we’re still the same people, even if we do look different now! Right? None of that other stuff matters so long as we stick together--”
“Mikey, stop it!” Donnie snapped, bristling a bit, his head jerking up so sharply that it was likely painful. “Just stop, okay!? Stop saying it doesn’t matter! Stop saying that we’re ‘still the same people on the inside,’ stop trying to find the dumb silver lining, okay!? Just admit that this sucks! Okay!? Just because you’re apparently all hunky-dory about being a fucking box turtle--”
“You think I like this?!” Now it was Mikey’s turn to snap, rounding on his siblings, his hands clenched into angry fists. “You think I’m happy about this!? Because I’m not, okay!? I hate it too! Does that make you feel better!? I’m fucking miserable. I hate this. I’m scared and I don’t know what’s going on and I’m really, really sick of falling over because I don’t even know how to walk anymore!”
Mikey sobbed loudly, plopping back down on his rear.
“I hate this,” he hiccuped weakly. “I hate it too. I’m just. I’m j-just… I’m trying my best…”
Another sob wretched itself from his throat as he buried his face in his arms.
For one long moment, quiet veiled the space.
Raphael was careful and calculated in his movements, taking care with the spikes and sharp edges of his body as he scooped his brother up in his arms, wrapping him up tight. Mikey wept, clinging to his brother in return.
“Sorry,” Raph mumbled, very softly.
Leo joined them quickly enough, burrowing in against his brothers’ side. “Me too,” he whispered.
Donnie didn’t join the embrace, but he did sit close by, hugging his legs to his chest and staring to the side, down to the ground. “Me… too,” he sighed, frowning a little, twitching uncomfortably. “... Sorry. This. This just really sucks.”
“It does suck,” Leo agreed.
“Yeah,” Raph mumbled.
“I keep dropping things b-because I-- I only have three fingers,” Mikey warbled softly.
“Me too,” Donnie admitted. “And I can’t really sleep, because I don’t know how to get comfortable anymore.”
“I keep accidentally biting my tongue,” Raph said.
“Every time I sit down, I crush my own tail under my ass, ‘cause I’m not used to it being there,” Leo confessed with a small laugh. “Isn’t that stupid?”
“My back hurts because of the shell. I’m just not used to it being there. It’s so heavy.”
“Everything smells so much stronger now. I hate it. It’s nauseating.”
“I still can’t figure out how to balance like this.”
“I just feel so stupid. How could we not know?”
“It’s all so overwhelming. I mean, just, everything. I can’t believe there’s so much that we forgot.”
“It seems so obvious now, looking back…”
“My skin is so thick now. It’s awful. I feel all swollen all the time, like I can’t bend any of my joints properly. I feel stiff.”
“If that guy made us, if we’re his ‘creations,’ experiments, then we’re not yokai, right? We’re something else. Mutants, I guess. Is there anyone else like us?”
“How did Dad even end up with us? What happened?”
“Do you think he’s a mutant, too? God. What else don’t we know? What else didn’t he tell us?”
“Do we still count as Hamatos? Are we Hamatos at all…? Do you think Ghost-Sensei knows?”
“I’m glad we know. I mean, mostly. We should know, but I just… part of me wishes we didn’t.”
“We can’t ever go back.”
“Our entire life was just, like, a lie. It was a trick. The whole time. And we fell for it. I can’t believe we all fell for it--”
“We just have to be different now.”
“We were always different, but at least before, we didn’t have to… to carry it. I don’t even know how I could even talk to people now. Even if we do fix the bracelets. How am I supposed to just talk to normal people when I’m in the back of my mind, like, ‘oh my god, they don’t know I’m a turtle’ the whole time?”
“I think I’m sort of glad Dad didn’t tell us. I mean. I’m upset, too, but I just… I dunno. Everything feels so complicated now.”
“I can’t believe we forgot.”
The longer they talked, all five of them bunched up together, the less tears there were, and eventually, during a moment of quiet, Mikey sighed, taking Raph’s big hand in his own smaller one.
“You hurt your knuckles,” he observed, noting the swollen, occasionally bloodied skin around the joints. Raph gave a very soft huff of laughter.
“Yeah, well, guess we match, then,” he said, though Mikey’s own knuckles were mostly healed by now, only bearing a few small scabs. Mikey smiled, just the tiniest bit, just for a second, before he sighed, laying his head back slightly. 
“I know this sucks,” Mikey mumbled. “... Like, it really, really sucks. But at least we’re still together. And that counts for something, doesn’t it? I think so long as we’re together, then we… we’ll be okay.”
Leo gave a wry smile, elbowing his brother ever-so-slightly. “Wow, Mikey, when did you get so wise?” He teased.
Mikey grinned, chuckling a bit and laying his head back again to stare at the ceiling, and then stare out the bars of the door that contained them. Raph sighed, his gaze following after his little brother’s, gazing out into the empty halfway. He had no idea why they were being kept here or what they were planning on doing with them. None of the guards would even speak with them. It was terrifying, if he was being honest.
But they had come here for a reason.
He believed what Mikey said. He did. If they were all together, they’d be okay. But that meant all of them.
“We’re gonna find Dad,” he finally said. “We are. And he’ll know how to help fix it. I know he will.”
---
“Raph.”
He wasn’t meaning to ignore his Dad. He wasn’t. He just--
“Raphael.” 
Mikey whined loudly, pulling against his older brother’s grasp, attempting to wriggle away from the iron grip Raph had on his wrist.
“Raphael.” This time, his father reached over, physically removing Raphael’s hands from his younger sibling. Mikey immediately went darting off, and Raph’s heart jumped up into his throat, his eyes growing wide.
“Dad--!”
“It’s okay, Red.”
“Dad, he’s too far!” He hissed, his voice strained with panic as he turned desperately to his father, grabbing at his pants leg. 
“No, he’s not. It’s okay, Raphael. Here. Look.”
He hoisted his child up in his arms with just a bit of effort, holding him up to his chest.
“See, my son? We can still see him from here.”
From up in his dad’s arms, Raph could watch Mikey throw himself into a pit of brightly colored foam balls with a squeal of excitement from across the play area. Leo wasn’t far off, immediately moving to join his little brother’s side, eager to show him all the blue balls he had collected. Dozens of other children scampered about nearby, clambering over play equipment and chasing one another. Raph frowned, grabbing fistfuls of his father’s shirt and fidgeting, chewing on his fingers nervously.
“What if he gets lost?”
“He won’t.”
“What if… there’s somethin’ dangerous?”
“There is nothing dangerous here, Raphael.”
“What if there is?” He pressed. “It’s big.”
“It’s okay, Red,” Dad soothed, readjusting his grip on his child, drawing him a bit closer. “I promise it is safe here.”
Raph looked down at the floor, clenching and unclenching his fists, the tiniest whine escaping from him. His father sighed softly.
“You have done a very good job looking after our family, Red,” he hummed, rocking them back and forth just the tiniest bit, idly swaying as he spoke. “But things are different now. Okay? Nothing here is going to hurt Michelangelo. And even if it did, I am right here to help. I am not going anywhere. I will not leave you alone. I swear I will take care of you and your brothers. Alright?”
Raph sniffled a bit, nodding the tiniest bit.
“If we are ever anywhere where it might be unsafe, I will tell you, okay? So you can watch out for your little brothers. Like when I tell you all to hold hands when we cross the street, right? Would that help?”
He nodded again, swallowing the lump in his throat as he laid his head down on his dad’s shoulder.
“Good,” he sighed, rubbing a few small circles along his back. “Do you want to go and play? There are lots of things here that I think you would like if you tried them. I think you’d have a lot of fun if you would let me handle looking after your brothers.”
Raph shook his head, burrowing further into his father’s embrace. He did want to go play, really. They had never been anywhere so cool before! They had been to the playground a few times now, but this was like a playground inside-- and they even had video games! And prizes! And he wanted to follow after his brothers, to stay close to them, but…
They kept going in opposite directions. And this place was so big and he couldn’t follow all of them, and, and--
“Okay. That’s fine,” Dad assured. “How about this? How about we sit and watch together for ten minutes, and then we can try going and playing something with one of your brothers. Do you think that would work, Raphael?”
Raph sucked in a deep, shaking breath, wiping at his eyes a bit before he finally nodded.
“Uh-huh.”
---
Though he had, in fact, performed in the Battle Nexus as scheduled that same evening, and then the following day as well, he was not actually ‘released,’ so to speak, from the infirmary until now, three-and-a-half blood transfusions later. Yoshi supposed he had no real complaints, given that the infirmary had actual beds in it to sleep upon, but the staff there were not exactly friendly, and he had quickly tired of being awakened at all hours of the night by other screaming patients. Not to mention that it was very awkward to share the same sleeping space with someone who’s leg you had recently broken in four different places…
But Big Mama had visited him each evening he was there. 
The guard escorting him was really a formality at this point, Yoshi suspected, and he almost dared to hope that he would be allowed to move freely through the Nexus in the near future. Surely Big Mama knew he would not try to run away with his children relying on her protection, right?
If he were permitted to wander without supervision, he might be able to corner a spectator and inquire about the current state of the Hidden City police’s hunt for Baron Draxum. He didn’t expect Big Mama would be informing him of such things, but if Draxum was apprehended, then there was a chance he might be able to find a way out of here and get himself back home, get those four remaining years like he had planned, or at least go visit his children and make sure they were okay… he hated that he had left without saying goodbye first, and had no doubt scared them with how he had disappeared.
 He had been researching for quite some time now, in between parenting and managing dojos, alternative sources for cloaking crystals. If he was able to pay for new ones, he could return Big Mama’s to her and perhaps argue to lighten his ‘sentence,’ or maybe even get out of it somehow. It was a long shot, but worth a try. Maybe this time could count towards that? He had had the crystals for ten years… did that mean he owed ten years time as a champion in return…? Ten years was still not as bad as a lifetime, assuming he lived through it all… 
He frowned as he calculated, shuffling his feet through the cold halls. 
The deal had still been worth it. He didn’t regret it. If a lifetime in the Battle Nexus was the price for his children’s lives in the world, then it was a price he was more than willing to pay.
He just regretted the pain he knew he inflicted on his family. It had always bothered him, sitting on his shoulder and hissing in his ear for the past ten years of his life. Every wonderful moment, every birthday, every movie night and dance recital and field trip, he still thought about it. Thought about how he would have to leave one day, and how it would hurt them. 
It was a shame. They deserved better than that. He had already done everything he could, even now, to prepare and to soften the inevitable blow as much as possible. Tucked away in the back of his nightstand back home, he already had hand-written cards for each of his sons’ college graduations, wedding days, and the birth of their first children, preparing for every scenario, just in case, since he knew he likely wouldn’t see most of them should they come to pass. He had had everything prepared, legally, for years now, so things would be taken care of in the event of his ‘death’ or ‘disappearance,’ and so that his children would have to shoulder as little of that burden as possible. He had invested in a hefty life insurance policy back when they were still in elementary school, ensuring that they would always be taken care of financially in his absence. 
He had even penned a letter, years and years ago, that could be delivered to his children once he was gone. He had been ready to die for a long time now.
But he still wasn’t prepared for how heavy the guilt would feel.
He, likewise, was not prepared for the shriek that pierced through the air a moment later as he passed by one of the dungeon’s many hallways, so sharp and sudden that he stumbled slightly.
“DAD!!!”
He absolutely froze in his tracks, his heart stopping still in his chest as he whipped around to face the familiar voice. His eyes widened so dramatically he was half afraid that they would fall from his head.“April!?” He cried, spluttering slightly. “Boys!?”
[ next ]
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meloriri · 11 months
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i keep seeing oeople getting upset over the mafukasa parallel thingy and like. yeah their backstories arent parallel AT ALL but thats not what im talkinf about i just mean the masking 😭 they both do it in very different ways but the intention beneath it is the same and THATS where the parallel is!! but ppl acting like mafuyu and kasa have the same trauma r… odd. mafuyu is an abuse victim and kasa was subjected to unintentional child neglect that was done in such a way that his parents literally couldnt have done better because if they were there saki would be alone and hospitalized 😕 they both have very differenr problems but they cope in the same way, and i find that interesting ok sorry for ranting i still have sm more i could say RAHH
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genderhawk · 8 months
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im going to sue Roald Dahl for false advertisement and consequent emotional distress damages because, as it turns out, being a neglected little autistic girl who reads a million books at a college level by the time circumstances force you into school (against your parents wises) does NOT give you any kind of powers at all let alone telekinesis
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squintclover · 1 year
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(CW: implied neglect, child abuse, physical bullying, result of trauma)
The thing is that teachers, every one of us, starts off wanting to be Miss Honey.
We go into teaching, fresh faced - even if only figuratively - and eager. Some of us are misguided. We want to be Miss Honey so that when that child achieves or exceeds their potential they can say it’s thanks to us. We want to be the one they cite in academic articles, tell their own children about or even thank in their Oscars acceptance speeches.
And there are those of us who genuinely want to make the difference. Who see the children for who they are, not under the heading of 'pupil', but under their life’s mantle as human.
Along the way, some of us get jaded. We start to think that every minor infraction is a reflection on us, and every major one is a specific 'fuck you' from the kid. Sometimes it is. But not often. Usually it's a reaction to the constraints put upon them by adults, or their less than child-like home life. But the teacher's response is to grow harder, cooler, more vitriolic to these innocent souls.
We all go into teaching wanting to be Miss Honey. But none of us want to meet our Matilda.
Harry Potter is my Matilda.
Teacher’s aren’t supposed to find some children exasperating, or vexing, or just plain boring. But most of all we aren’t supposed to have favourites. But there are children you can’t help being drawn to, even despite the previous teacher’s comments.
In handover at the end of their previous year, you might hear how this child is kind, that one is hard-working, this one needs keeping an eye on. And you might hear how this child just can’t help themselves; how they continually find themselves in trouble; how their guardians are constantly telling you of the trouble they cause at home; how difficult they are.
I hear of children, as they come up through the school. I hear their names being lauded or lamented in the staff room. I see glimpses of them in assembly, or the dining hall, or catch them catching it off their teacher for yet another indiscretion.
But meeting Harry Potter, having him in my class for the first time, is… haunting. Because I can’t stop looking at this boy, this troublesome miscreant, and seeing how utterly broken he is.
His skin is pallid and grey underneath the warm tones, his glasses - broken and too big for his thin face - hide dark shadows beneath his eyes. No eight-year-old should have dark shadows. His uniform, threadbare and sleeve-bitten, hangs off of his slight frame; he’s the smallest in the class by far, both in height and stature.
I try, as I do with every child, to catch his eye. To try to show him that I want to start afresh. To smile at him and tell him ‘welcome’. But he avoids it. A flash of green disappearing beneath dark lashes as he turns away from me.
It’s okay. We have time.
‘He’s always late’ they said. ‘Doesn’t care if you tell him off either. Nothing makes a difference.’
He’s eight?! I think. That’s not his fault!
I don’t tell him off. I smile and say ‘good morning’, I tell him how pleased I am he’s here. He stops the first time, and I can see him looking to the side, as if checking for the catch, to see if he is about to be caught by a predator who had lulled him into a trap.
There is no trap. There is never a trap.
I repeat it every morning he is late, which is more often than not. It took a while but soon he stops shuffling and slouching in; instead he starts to meet my gaze at the door, green and guarded and serious, letting me know that he is there. That he has heard. Soon he begins to mumble a ‘good morning’ back. I haven’t seen a smile yet. It has only been a term.
He comes back from the holidays still tired, despite the supposed rest. And I don’t see the green again. Not for about a week.
I don't hear from his aunt and uncle about a Parents' Evening. I check in with the other Year 4 teacher; they have booked in for Dudley's appointment. I give them a time slot anyway. Schedule it to start just as Dudley's finishes.
They walk straight past my room.
" Excuse me? Are you Harry's guardians?"
"What has he done now?"
"Nothing, Mr Dursley. But I wanted to talk to you about him. It is his parents' evening after all."
"We aren't his parents."
They walk off. Barely making eye contact, even.
I try to talk to Harry about it. He's doing some colouring at wet play. It's so easy to forget how young he still is, especially when he's moodily walking in a far off corner of our concrete playground, or trying to punch some other kids' teeth out.
"Did you have a nice weekend, Harry?"
He shrugs.
"What did you get up to with your family?"
"'M not their family."
I don't say anything. Sometimes that's all it takes.
"They don't really like me being around. I was in my… room mostly."
"You wanna tell me what happened at break earlier?"
"Not really. I know I shouldn't have hit him but - I just did it without thinking, really."
Harry starts coming to stand near me around Christmas. Wherever I happen to be, Harry's hovering close, usually picking at the knick-knacks accumulating on my desk. Or else biting his nails or picking at dry skin.
I pass my hand along his arm, find reasons to run my touch past him. I suspect from the way he leans into it, that he's not accustomed to kind touch. I fix his collar, or trace a hand over his hair as I mark his work. If I'm talking to him face to face, I direct his gaze with a gentle finger under his chin.
He holds my hand one day. I am well aware that, by this age, it's not cool to hold your teacher's hand. He's picked his moment. The rest of the children have followed into assembly, Harry is at the back of the line. I go to grab something from my desk and as I join him by his side, he slips his hand in mine. I squeeze it tight. And when we sit down, Harry on the floor and me on my chair, he is practically on my feet.
Harry never has his P.E. kit. He assures me he brings it in, but it always vanishes from his peg. It's probably just as well. If it's anything like his other clothes, they'd fall off him in seconds. And I don't think he could bear the embarrassment. How could I let him? So, there's a PE kit in my cupboard now. He knows it's his. We never say a word about it.
The bullying is hard to catch. He gets changed quickly and always crouched behind a table, tucked against a chair. It's only thanks to his polo shirt, gaping neck slinging around his shoulder, that I see the bruises. Harry doesn't talk to me about it but I catch Dudley and his friends. The way they torment him, taunts and jibes rain in-between fists and feet.
I speak to Dudley's teacher but I don't think they will do anything. They've heard Harry's name spat out by his previous teachers, they think he's the trouble. So I speak to Harry's guardians. I barely get my words out before they hang up.
The headteacher doesn't try either. He's supposed to be the one who notes these things down, who keeps a record of all these events. In case you need to build a case.
He doesn't.
Reading Harry's work is painful. It's lacklustre, at best, and completely illegible the majority of the time. But he's articulate. When I can get him to talk to me, he uses words I don't expect. His social understanding is exemplary, even if he can't apply it to himself. He reads beautifully and can explain the subtext, he sees relationships as beautiful and can find the hidden meanings. But he's 'failing' every subject because he refuses to write.
Seeing him with the reception children is where I see his gift. He reads with them slowly in the library and holds their hand as they show him the bugs. I was told he shouldn't be allowed the privilege, of buddying up with the small ones, but seeing him shine and nurture and teach just goes to show that people don't see Harry the way he deserves.
My hair turns blue today. I don't know how it happens.
Harry and I are talking. The class thinks that he is getting told off, and maybe he is in a way. We've got to an understanding. Harry knows that I love him, that I am always on his side. But that doesn't mean I don't hold him accountable for his actions. It takes love to fight against the pain. I don't think Harry is given enough love to fight alone. Perhaps if he did, he wouldn't have to fight at all.
He doesn't look at me. Won't allow me to get a word in. And I don't want to really. It is so rare for Harry to show me anything but reservedness. I can see him fizz, almost spark, with pent up fury.
Then suddenly it stops. And my hair was blue. We laugh and laugh about it. It's magical.
But somehow a letter ends up going home with him anyway. No-one will tell me who has sent it.
The thing about living in the same town you work in, is that you inevitably bump into the children you teach. Usually, it goes one of two ways: either they exuberantly wave back and tell everyone in touching distance that you are their teacher. Or they resolutely ignore you.
Harry never sees me. I see him sometimes. Wandering the streets aimlessly, or as I walk past the Dursley's house on the way to the supermarket. He's usually lost in thought, eyes detached or fingers desperately clawing at the roses in the front garden.
I see Harry move up through the school. His remaining two years undoing any goodwill he feels towards his teachers. His Year 5 teacher is full of the spite, of having taught inadequately for too long. Harry is the problem, the spawn of all evil. I try to collect him into my classroom whenever I can. He sometimes comes willingly; the trust for adults is broken, however, and I have to fight to show him how I am still on his team.
And then one day he's gone.
I don't see him at our school, of course. He has outgrown us all. But I don't see him in the streets either. I don't catch him mowing the lawns. I hope that he's some place wonderful. That there is magic and wonder and comfort there. That there is a motherly figure who loves him, who holds him accountable too.
I hope that he flies, soars, through his teenage years. That his interests are sparked and valued; that he fights for what he believes in and stands up for what is right. I hope that he learns to love, to not obsess on what others do. That he knows that he is good and just.
"I'm not their family," he had said.
I hope he finds some.
I see him years later. With two men.
He's able to withstand their touch, he leans into it, as he had once upon a time with me. And he laughs.
I may not have been his Miss Honey. But he found one, or even two, anyway.
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imfinereallyy · 1 year
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Father Figures, pt. 2
I swear it was a one-shot. But then my hand slipped and "oh oops there's Wayne". You can access part 1 here. This is rated m btw. The full version will be available on ao3 (my first time posting on there...) which is linked here. Anyway, enjoy :)
The first time Wayne Allen Munson meets Steve Harrington is in a hospital room. Sure, he has seen and heard about the kid in passing. It was hard not to in a town like Hawkins. With the kind of money his old man has and the pretty face his mother parades around, the Harringtons become a sort of household name. Especially in Wayne's household.
See, Wayne may not be much of a talker, but his nephew sure is. Especially when he gets angry about something. And boy did Steve Harrington make his Eddie mad. During Eddie's first time around with Senior Year, Steve's name comes out of that boy's mouth so often that if not for that tone of his, he would have thought the kid had a crush on him.
Actually, Wayne regretfully asks at one point if he does have a crush. Wayne finds out pretty quickly that Eddie doesn't, which isn't the problem nor why he regrets asking. The problem is apparently at that very moment in time, Eddie hasn't exactly come out to Wayne. The boy shakes so much that Wayne is afraid that Eddie might cause an earthquake. Wayne has to calm Eddie down and explain very carefully he doesn't care, he's his kid no matter what. Eddie cries, and asks "Dad, what made you think to just casually bring that up?"
Wayne shrugs and simply says "Didn't think it was a secret."
Eddie lets out a wet laugh. Wayne doesn't mention how it's the first time since Eddie showed up on his doorstep that he calls him Dad.
His heart swells.
So, with absolutely no crush in sight god Wayne he's an asshole, Steve's name is brought up quite often.
"Steve Harrington just parades himself around like he's a king."
"Steve Harrington just stands there while Tommy continues to be a piece of shit. Worse, he acts like he's bored."
"Girls just hang off of Harrington, he's even got Nancy Wheeler on his arm now. What a prick, thought she was smarter than that."
"Looks like Harrington got the shit kicked out of him by Byer's. You gotta love Karma sometimes."
Wayne watches Eddie frown at the last one before saying, "Kinda gotta back Steve up on the pictures though. That was creepy."
Eddie shakes his head then continues to rant "But smashing his camera? Dick move. Doesn't understand what it's like to be poor."
Wayne is still not completely convinced it's not a crush.
Wayne Allen Munson seems to know all about Steve Harrington before he actually has the chance to meet him. None of which he has learned makes Steve seem all that good.
Imagine Wayne's surprise when he finds the Harrington boy next to his son's hospital bed.
"What're you doin' here?" Wayne asks, startling Steve from his chair. Wayne watches as he hops up from the ground, straightening himself out.
"Sorry sir, I was just uh, keeping him company. The kid's families won't let them out of their sight and Dustin wanted him to have a familiar face with him if, sorry when he wakes up. Because we weren't sure we were allowed to grab you yet. So I volunteered to stay with him, seeing as I don't have a job anymore, and well I sort of feel responsible for Eddie now. And, god I am hanging out with Robin too much because I am rambling. Sorry, Sir. "
Wayne raises an eyebrow at him. He has seen Steve around town before, hard not to in a small place like Hawkins. Eddie points him out once, scoffing at his perfect hair and holier-than-thou attitude. Wayne originally is prepared to yell at him. The sight of a boy who looks very much like the very ones who hunted his Eddie down just a few days ago ignites something protective within him. Hearing this boy ramble though, flustered and making himself hopelessly small in front of Wayne, makes him hesitate.
"Boy, I don't know half-em names you're sayin' right now. I do recognize that kid Dustin though, ya know him?"
Steve nods his head up and down, "He's like my brother sir. Our brother." He looks down towards Eddie's bed.
Wayne avoids looking at his boy and chooses to look directly at Steve. "Well, he's a good kid. Came to me when Ed was missing, at the school. Told me he was a hero, and that he'll be missed. Guess now it was probably cause he wasn't sure if he was gonna make it and didn't want to get my hopes up. Don't know what made him change his mind either when he found me again today, told me they had him here."
Steve's face softens as Wayne talks about Dustin. Wayne pushes on, "If that kid trusts you, I don't got a reason not to trust you either. Well, until Eds here wakes up at least. He can tell me otherwise."
"Okay, Sir." Steve makes his way to move around Wayne and leave. Wayne grabs him by the wrist to stop him, and Steve flinches. Wayne decides to file that away for later and lets him go.
"No need to leave kid. And stop calling me sir. I'm not your old man. "
Steve's lips lift a little bit like Wayne just brought up an inside joke he isn't a part of. "Okay, sir—I mean Wayne. Okay, Wayne."
Steve and Wayne sit side by side next to Eddie. It's then Wayne finally looks down at his kid. He can't help but the rush of tears that come up at the sight of him. He is paler than usual, curls flat and dirty, tubes coming out of every part of him.
"My boy." He chokes.
Steve thankfully stays silent as Wayne weeps. They sit for a while in silence before Wayne asks, "You gonna tell me what happened?"
Steve, who Wayne doesn't point out has bloodshot eyes, says "You going to believe me?"
Wayne simply returns "I'm willing to try."
So Steve tells him. Tells him everything that has happened over the last week. Tells him of monsters and other worlds. How it isn't the first time, how it is hopefully the last. How scary it is for them. How Eddie is stupid but incredibly brave. How Eddie barely makes it. How Steve will be the first to yell at him when he wakes up.
Wayne listens carefully through the whole thing and can't help but think of how fond Steve sounds when Eddie's name comes up. This isn't the boy Eddie once spoke of. Albeit, it has been a long time since Eddie's spoken his name. Wayne isn't used to tigers changing their stripes though. It's a pleasant surprise he doesn't comment on.
Wayne rubs his thumb across Eddie's hand. "How did he get out? If he was practically dead?"
"Oh, I carried him Sir."
Wayne's head snaps to Steve. "What?"
Steve shrinks a bit, "Sorry I mean Wayne. Sorry I didn't mean to disrepe—"
Wayne cuts him off, "Dammit kid, I'm not mad at that. I'm not mad at all. It's just—you saved him. You carried him out of what I can only understand is what I think hell is, and you didn't think to mention that when I first saw you?" Wayne looks at Steve for a moment. Really looks at him. He's in clean jeans and a polo, but that's where his old persona ends. When Wayne looks at him closely, he can see the dark bags under his eyes, the purple bruising all over his body, and the angry red scar around his neck. Steve looks exhausted, physically and emotionally. Steve looks like a boy, desperately trying to be a man. He looks like a soldier after war.
"It's not a big deal. I did what anyone else would do."
Wayne shakes his head. "Steve. That's just the thing, I'm pretty sure no one else woulda done that. And even if they would, it doesn't make what you did any less important. So, thank you."
Steve's eyes mist a bit when Wayne says "it doesn't make what you did any less important." He looks away from Wayne and just nods.
"Okay?"
"Okay, Sir. Okay, Wayne."
---
When Eddie wakes a few days later, after a night of breathing on his own without the tubes, he interrupts Steve and Wayne's conversation on the Chicago Cubs, and says "Dad?"
Wayne is up in an instant, crowding his boy's face. "Oh, Eds. I am so glad yer alright. You scared me."
"Mmm sorry," Eddie mumbles nuzzling Wayne's chest. He then looks up towards Steve, who is watching the interaction between the two men. "Harrington?"
Steve leans forward on his elbows, and chokes out "I told you not to be cute."
Eddie giggles, his tears reflecting Steve's "Sorry big boy, can't help what you're born with."
Steve looks up at the ceiling with a wet laugh. It eventually turns into a deep sob. The only other time Wayne witnesses Steve break like this over the past few days is when he's reunited with Hopper. "You shithead, you're not allowed to be funny right now. Don't. Don't do that again. Okay? You really scared us." Wayne can hear Steve's unspoken you really scared me.
Eddie's tears are rushing down his face now. "I'm sorry Steve. I'm so sorry."
"You didn't do anything wrong. Just—next time, don't let there be a next time. Okay?" Steve's not making much sense to Wayne as he leans his head on Eddie's bed face down.
Eddie seems to get it though. He hesitantly strokes Steve's head with his fingers. "Okay, Stevie. I promise. Now, get some sleep. It's your turn, I've had enough."
Steve's shoulders sag as he gives in. Wayne shares a look with Eddie, and Wayne knows right there they have the same thought.
They've collected another stray.
———
When Eddie is home, Steve becomes a regular occurrence in their newly acquired government-funded house. He helps a lot the first month especially. Takes Eddie and the Mayfield girl to and from physical therapy. Cooks dinner on the nights Wayne works (which is most nights) and makes sure to have leftovers specifically labeled for Wayne. Keeps both Wayne and Eddie company when one of their stress becomes too much for the other. Steve's even there on the nights the nightmares get bad. Spends his time on the couch until Eddie wakes up screaming, and calms him back to sleep so Wayne doesn't worry about him at work. Or so Wayne can get a full night when he's off.
Steve's there so often enough, that when one night he isn't, Wayne's concerned.
"You're going to pace a hole into the floor boy." Wayne looks at Eddie in their living room from the couch. Wayne doesn't tell Eddie he's concerned too. Doesn't think it would help much.
"I'm sure he's just held up, or got plans Eds. Not like he was plannin' on coming here tonight."
Eddie stops and faces Wayne, biting his thumbnail instead. "Sure we didn't have plans. But Steve's been here every day for the past month Wayne. And when he hasn't he's called. I haven't heard from him in like 22 hours—" Wayne doesn't point out that Eddie did the actual math "—and that's weird. He doesn't do that. We don't do that."
Eddie's anxiety starts to seep into Wayne's. He can't help but think of the worst-case scenario. Car accident. A run-in with that Andy kid. His mind even jumps to when Eddie was in the hospital, and his stomach sinks. Wayne can't help it, he has grown attached to Steve.
"Why don't we call some of yer friends, yeah? Maybe they've seen your boy."
Eddie is so incredibly distressed and doesn't even rebuke Wayne calling Steve his like he usually does. "Yeah okay, good idea."
As Eddie reaches for the phone though, there is a light knock on the door. Eddie rushes to answer it.
"Steve thank god I was wondering—Oh my god sweetheart what happened?" Eddie drags Steve in and places him on the couch. It's then that Wayne sees him.
There on Steve's jaw, is a bruise the size of Indiana. Steve's eye is swollen, and he is breathing heavily while clutching his ribs. Wayne remains frozen and Eddie frets over Steve.
"Stevie, who did this? Where does it hurt? What can I do?"
"Eds I'm fine."
Eddie looks like he's about to yell but restrains himself. "You are most certainly not fine. Do not give me that look Harrington—"
"Oh I'm Harrington now."
"—Yes you are Harrington right now because only a Harrington would be this stubborn and ridiculous. Now tell me what happened and tell me what hurts."
Steve's resolve loosens slightly, and his head falls onto Eddie's shoulder. He lets out a painful whine, "My stomach. It—fuck—it hurts so bad Eds."
Eddie brushes his fingers through his hair and whispers to him gently. "It's okay baby, I got you."
Wayne realizes three things at once.
One, Wayne isn't sure Eddie has called Steve that before. He calls him names across the board. But baby isn't one of them. Wayne knows for a fact the two aren't together yet. They have been dancing along the line for a few weeks now. Wayne thinks about pushing the timeline along, but the boys don't seem to be there quite yet. This seems like a step in the right direction.
Two, in the past month and a half Wayne has gotten to know Steve, he realizes that the boy doesn't do well around older men. He flinches at every sudden movement Wayne makes, and won't even let him give him a pat on the back let alone a hug. Also in that time, Steve has barely gone home. Knows his parents didn't visit him at the hospital, but did come home two weeks later to make sure nothing is damaged from the earthquake. Assholes.
And three, Steve avoids the question as to what happened. Eddie seems to let it slide. Wayne doesn't give the same courtesy.
"Who did this?" Wayne says abruptly, startling Steve who seems to realize Wayne's presence only now.
"Wh-what?" Steve shakes.
"I'm not mad boy. But I'm not stupid. I know this ain't a what but a who. And I think we can both conclude who. But I'm going to ask you anyway. Who. Did. This?"
The last of Steve's resolve crumbles as Wayne puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. It is as if he hadn't known a gentle touch from a father before. Maybe he hasn't.
"My dad. He uh, we got into a fight last night. Found out how much time I was spending here, with Eddie, with the kids. He started saying how I was spending time with the wrong people. I tried to just nod and go upstairs because it was just easier to ignore him than fight him sometimes. Like what's he going to do right? He's only here a couple of days a year. But then he mentioned Robin and he called her a slur, and that said her kind was an abomination. And oh god I don't even know how he found that out Robs is going to be pissed she's been so careful—"
"Babe." Eddie squeezes Steve's hand.
"Right sorry, he just was going off about Robin. And it just set me off, I just lost it on him. How dare he talk about her that way? And I just told him that if he's got a problem with her, then he's got a problem with me too. And God Wayne, the silence that came after. It was like all the words had been sucked out of the room. Next thing I know he's grabbing me by the jaw and throwing me on the floor. And he just starts kicking me, screaming about how I am no son of his. I didn't know what to do. My mom just watched it all. I just laid there... I should have fought back—I—" Steve trails off trying to collect himself.
"When he was done he sent me to my room and told me to think about what I'm doing to this family. I just laid there all night and all day, just waiting for them to leave. I had to wait til they left for dinner tonight to get out. I can't—I can't go back there. Me and Robs were planning on moving in together next week, we made a deposit on this two-bedroom downtown, but I don't think I can spend another week there, and oh god, all my stuff is there. What have I done." Steve puts his head in his hands.
Eddie is crying with Steve by the end of it. Neither he nor Wayne comments on how Steve just came out to the both of them. It doesn't seem important at that moment. Wayne crouches down to eye level with Steve.
"You did nothing wrong. There is nothing wrong with you. You did what you had to do to survive, and even if you didn't it still wouldn't be your fault."
Wayne stands back to his full height. "Now, you can stay here until you and the bird girl have your place. Do not fight me on it. Anyway Steve, I know it's difficult right now. But I'm going to need you to let me know what you need from your house."
"What, why?"
Wayne just sighs, "I know you ain't stupid. Just tell me."
Steve seems hesitant but tells Wayne anyway.
He nods at both his boys when he speaks next. "You two stay put. I'll be back soon."
Steve and Eddie both look like they want to fight Wayne on it. Steve wants to stop him from leaving at all, and Eddie probably wants to stop him from going without him. They both smartly stay silent.
"Okay, Uncle Wayne."
"Okay, Wayne."
———
Later, Wayne comes back with three duffle bags and bruised knuckles.
Steve hugs him without a second thought.
———-
A few days pass and the three of them are in the kitchen when Eddie asks. "Did ya tell hop?"
Steve snorts in his coffee. "Hell no."
Wayne can't help his curiosity as he watches the both of them across the table.
"Steve, you have to tell Hop. He's going to find out anyway." Eddie pushes as he puts an ungodly amount of sugar in his coffee.
"No I don't. He'll just flip out, there is no good reason to tell him."
Eddie puts his hands on his hips. It reminds Wayne of Steve the past couple of times he's seen him around the kids. "I can think of one good reason. He's practically your dad. And I'm pretty sure your Dad would want to know what your old man did to ya."
Wayne can't help but hum in agreement. He knows if Eddie's old man comes around, he wants to be the first to find out.
Steve looks at Wayne briefly before saying, "No he's not. He's just like that with everyone."
"No, he's not. With El? Yea, that's his daughter. Maybe even Will. But not with anyone else. Except you. Why do you think I'm afraid of him?"
Steve gives him a look, "Cause he's an ex-cop Eds."
"Please that doesn't scare me. Didn't scare me when he was an actual cop either."
Wayne isn't sure that's entirely true. He remembers a very specific incident of Eddie tripping over his laces to get away from Jim.
Eddie carries on, "No, he scares me 'cause he's your dad, and I know he'll hang me by my toenails if I so much as make you cry. So yea, I think you should let him know. Besides, we both know he's going to be way more pissed when he finds out from literally anyone else. And we both know he will because you told Robin, who definitely told Nancy, who probably told Joyce, and you can see where I am heading with this."
Steve throws his head back and groans. "He's going to full government name me when he finds out."
Eddie lets out a manic giggle, "Ooo, you never told me what your full name is. Now you gotta tell me, Stevie."
Steve gives Eddie an exasperated look, "It's Steven James Harrington."
It's now Eddie's turn to groan. "Of course, you have his name. Well, I guess it's better than Richard. Hop must love that. Was kinda hoping you had my name or something."
Wayne makes a mental note to talk to Jim himself. Knows Steve will avoid it. But Wayne's got to make sure someone is looking after Steve when he can't. Wayne's been meaning to thank the man anyway. For all his done for Eddie. And now, for all he's done for Steve.
"Want me to make you feel better Eds?" Steve says with a smirk.
"Please. I'm not sure if I can go on any further with the torture of knowledge that contains your middle name."
"Hopper's middle name is Edward."
The scream of joy Eddie lets out nearly punctures what's left of Wayne's hearing.
———
By midsummer, the boys are an item. They haven't said anything to Wayne but he can tell. One day, the boys come back from their friend's weekly dinner holding hands. So they didn't have to tell Wayne. Not really.
It is just that, Wayne has gotten to know Steve Harrington over the past few months. He has gotten to know him as "Friend Steve" and "Brother Steve", and even after one intense game night, "King Steve". Wayne has a feeling though that "Boyfriend Steve" is different. As much as he likes the boy, his kid comes first. Wayne feels he needs to give Steve a talk.
The problem is he can't really give him a talk if neither of them has really told him. He has made that mistake once with Eddie, assuming, he won't be making it again.
So Wayne waits. And waits. And waits. And just as he is thinking he might never get the verbal confirmation from the two, he gets the image clear as day of what the two are on a Tuesday when he gets to go home early from work.
It's just not in the way he expects or wants.
Wayne can't really blame the boys. They didn't know Wayne would be coming home early, it was a surprise to Wayne himself. So they probably didn't think that anyone would be coming around the Munson household on Tuesday at midnight.
That doesn't make the situation any less scarring.
See, Wayne Allen Munson wasn't a god-fearing man. He can't be with what his Eddie had been through. But he can't help but think this is some sort of cosmic punishment when he gets home and hears moaning.
Wayne stands there in the foyer as a loud, "Yes baby just like that" and "Oh god, harder" and even the unfortunate "You're so tight, it's like you were made for me."
Wayne thinks god might be laughing at him. Wayne can't really go upstairs and stop them. They are both adults and he feels that having an image of what they are doing would be substantially worse than the noises.
Wayne decides to put some earplugs in (which thankfully cut off the noise, since his age made him half deaf anyway), sat in his armchair, and waits it out.
About an hour later (jesus an hour later) Steve comes downstairs to the kitchen in only his boxers. He doesn't seem to notice Wayne. His head is in the freezer when Wayne decides to clear his throat loudly.
Steve slams his head in fright and whips around with an icepack in his hand. "Oh shit."
"Oh shit is right."
All the color drains from Steve's face. "How much did you hear?"
Wayne appreciates that Steve cuts right to the chase. "Enough." He knows he can explain to the boy that he didn't really hear that much, and the earplugs are firmly in his hands as evidence, but he decides to torture Steve.
Just a little bit, can't have him too comfortable.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Munson, I—"
Wayne cuts him off. "No need to apologize, just as long as you boys are being safe that's all I care about. No that ain't what I want to talk to you about."
Steve visibly swallows as he sits across the counter from Wayne. "What about then?"
"Look, I'm awfully happy for the two of you. It's about time you boys got your shit together—"
Steve lets out a small laugh at the comment. Wayne continues. "—but I need to make things clear with you Steve. You hurt my kid, I hurt you. Eds has been through a lot. Not just with the whole spring break situation. I mean his whole life. He bounced around from place to place until he landed on my doorstep. He's used to giving his all, and not getting much in return. Eddie loves with his whole chest, and he doesn't know how to do it any other way. You better make sure you're worthy of it because I am not sure anyone is...including me. You're pretty damn close though, I know it. I can see it. You're a good person. But that boy is my whole world. I know where to hide a body if need be."
Wayne expects Steve to cower in fear, but instead, he smiles softly at him. "Don't worry. I'll dig the grave myself. I'll try my best not to hurt him, sir. I can't promise much, but I can promise I'll love him every day without fail."
"You tell him that yet kid?"
Steve shakes his head, "No. I think soon though sir."
Wayne nods feeling satisfied. "Good, and enough of this sir crap I thought we've been over this."
"Okay, Wayne."
"Better. Now, who's the ice pack for? You or him, because I don't want to have to grab the shovel outta the shed tonight."
Steve's blush spreads from his cheeks all the way down to his chest. "Uuuh, for me sir. I mean Wayne."
"Good. Go grab my son for me now will ya?"
Steve stutters, "Wh-what? Why?"
"Just go grab 'em."
Steve runs upstairs and brings down a smug-looking Eddie. Wayne's sure Steve gave him the rundown of what he heard, and Eddie doesn't appear to be ashamed like Steve had the smarts to do.
Little shit.
"Sorry Wayne didn't know you were home. Was that what you wanted to talk about?"
Wayne looks from Steve to Eddie, before narrowing his eyes at the latter. "Nope. It's your turn."
"My turn?" Eddie's confident face turns confused while Steve's flashes surprise.
"Yea kid your turn." Wayne contemplates for a second what to say, but knows in the end that Eddie will get the message loud and clear from one sentence alone.
"You hurt him—" Wayne turns to point at Steve, before facing Eddie again "—I hurt you. Got it?"
All the color drains from Eddie's face. That's the reaction he is looking for.
"Got it." Eddie grabs Steve's hand to make his way back upstairs. Before they are completely out of sight, Steve catches Wayne's eye. The boy looks softer than he did before. He looks like he wants to say something but settles on,
"Goodnight Wayne."
"Goodnight Steve."
———
Steve doesn't ask Wayne about that night until months later in October. Wayne is on the couch with a beer when Steve walks in (he has the key Eddie gave him in September). "Eddie's not here right now. Think he's running late with band practice."
"Oh I'm sorry. I can come back later." Steve stands awkwardly in the doorway.
"Don't be silly come sit. I'm just watching the game. It's no cubs considering they didn't make it far, but it's still a good game."
Steve nods and makes himself comfortable on the couch. Since spring break, Wayne and Steve have built a friendship of sorts. Steve still shows signs of apprehension in the first few seconds, but the conversation becomes an easy flow after a while. They usually talk about sports, cars, or cooking. All stuff Wayne enjoys but Eds won't show the slightest interest in. It's nice, to have someone to share this stuff with.
Today they mostly talk about the game on tv and Eddie's habit of running late. It's after a particularly funny joke about Eddie being late to his own birth that Steve asks, "Hey Wayne, can I ask you something?"
"Ya just did kid."
"God, you sound like Eddie."
Wayne chuckles, "Sure Steve. Shoot."
"Why did you talk to Eddie too? About the whole, hurting each other stuff? I mean Eddie's your kid, and I'm just the guy who gets to spend time with him." Steve waves his hands around, it reminds Wayne of Ed.
"Well, I love ya both," Wayne says easily while he takes a sip of his beer, like it isn't hard to say. And it isn't really. It was quite simple to Wayne. Just like Eddie, Steve might not be his kid by blood but he is close as he can come.
"Oh." Steve takes a deep breath, as if he is holding back tears, and says "Thanks, Wayne. I love you too."
Wayne almost mistakes the pain as Steve's voice as reluctance. The happiness that shines in his eyes says something else. Says he doesn't hear that from fathers very often. Says he hopes Wayne means it.
He does mean it.
Eddie walks in the doorway to find the two men silently staring at each other, and Steve close to tears. "Well hello there my lovely family how are—Wayne what did you do to Steve? Did you yell at him? I promise the bruise on my face was from dropping a wrench while trying to fix the van. Nothing else." Eddie pulls Steve up and squishes his face between his hands. "What did he say to you, baby?"
Steve shakes his head and laughs lightly at Eddie's antics. "Nothing bad. Promise. Happy tears."
"Happy tears?"
"Happy tears."
Eddie stares at him for long moment before deciding he believes him. "Okay. Okay. I relent." He grabs Steve's hand and throws a wave at Wayne. "Let's go upstairs though, I have to tell you about practice and how Gareth brought a boy with him! And you'll never believe what boy it was! It was our little baby Byers himself..."
Wayne hears Steve's gasp and Eddie's giggle as he continues on up the stairs. Wayne can't help the warmth that settles in his chest.
Because Wayne Allen Munson is lucky to have two wonderful boys. And he is even luckier that his two boys love each other. Because they deserve that and so much more.
———
Okay, it’s a lot I know. I just couldn’t resist. I wanted to write Steve and Wayne too. I think this one is less sad and more funny but I think that kind of speaks for the kind of relationship the two of them would have. Also it contains much more steddie than the last one. I’m thinking about maybe writing a part 3 with Steve’s relationship with the kids and how he’s their father figure? But for now it ends here. Also this took me like two days to write? I’m sorry for any mistakes or rushed parts. I am one woman show. Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)
Also I have finally posted on ao3!!! Can’t believe it, I’ve been so nervous about it especially because I am still without a beta. But this felt long enough to put there and I wanted to be able to share with more people.
access part. 1 here and ao3 here
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14dayswithyou · 9 months
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What would happen if Angel were to marry Ren/[REDACTED], but through being married Angel were to become incredibly abusive, and kinda following into the foot steps of Ren/[REDACTED] father, and treating him like Ichiko, including their kids? Would he put up with it still being incredibly patient an try to seek help, or maybe just try to reset the whole story/game back to day 1, and try different personas to try not to frick up Angel?? (This questions been on my mind lately!!)
✦゜ANSWERED: As disturbing and heartbreaking as it is, Ren would honestly still stay with Angel even after they start behaving like his father T_T
⚠️ If you haven't blocked them already, please be mindful of the cw tags below before proceeding!!
While he is extremely patient when it comes to you, Ren also wants your unconditional love and attention just as much. Even if it means going through the same harrowing abuse he endured as a child, they'd willing do it all again if it meant only having you all to himself. He wants your undivided attention, he wants you to be just as obsessed and in love as he is, and he wants you to only interact with him (as opposed to Leon, Violet, Moth, etc.).
But in saying that; Ren would also know firsthand what it's like to have a parent neglect and mistreat you — so if he saw the exact same thing happening with his own children, then he'd honestly just find a way to let them escape without you knowing (because obviously if you were anything like his father, you wouldn't care about the whereabouts of your children). Ren might go to his best friend River for help, relocate your kids to another safe place (since he can literally buy another house if necessary), or ultimately try and dissuade from being such a monster to your children. Ren isn't like his mother Ichika; he won't sit by and ignore his own children out of fear — because he doesn't fear you in the first place.
But Ren does put you before everyone else — even himself. Which is why he's willing to re-experience all the traumatic abuse you give him.
Ultimately though, I don't condone that kind of abusive behaviour or actions — so if anyone is considering making their Angel anything like Taylor (or Ichika to some degree), please do not interact with me or this blog >_<
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lexezombie · 3 months
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So Creek + the Chef Bergen,,, huh,,
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yeah I gave em kids cus ofc I did,,
extra notes:
Tbh they were an accident
It was a fling! one night stand! they swear!
Creek n Chef didn't think they could reproduce given,,, ykno,,,
Oops quadruplets!
Chef named them (obviously)
Creeks an awful dad who plays favourites and rewards his kids for out-performing each other
Chef couldn't care if any of them exist or survive
She is kinda fond of Scallion though
Onion + Scallion are treated the best
Garlic does her own thing
Spud is barely noticed by either parent (usually fed by Onion)
Clothes r made from scraps (creek has new pants dw)
Spud is wearing part of a plastic bag yes
Spuds colours are in fact duller cus, like Branch, he's depressed : (
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