it would make dean fucking furious, but i actually love the idea that jack sometimes calls sam "sammy" and that sam lets him. he's the only one besides dean that doesn't get "it's sam"
jack is always watching dean, and while part of that is search for dean's approval, the rest is because it teaches him how to interpret and be loved by sam
he calls him sammy when he's scared, or worried, or even relieved (seeing sam after lucifer brought him back would definitely elicit a sammy)
dean says it and it's sammy (protected)
jack says it and it's sammy (protector)
i also think he's seen dean and sam hug each other, sees how sam scrunches himself up so dean can still get his arms over his shoulders and folds beneath his brother. and when sam hugs jack, he hugs him sort of like dean hugs him, like how jack thinks dean used to hug sam twenty years ago
being enveloped, sam hunching over to keep him tucked into him, and for a moment jack feels like nothing can get to him
(sam used to feel this way too)
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Okay okay but about the clone thing in Stormbringer.
I think looking at it from the point of view of Chuuya at that moment uncovers so many layers.
We have N, claiming that this is Chuuya's original, the boy who was human, who had a family, and who didn't survive N's experiments because his body wasn't resilient enough out of stasis.
For Chuuya, who at this point is said to be the second iteration, the one who isn't human, who but who lived...to me this scene screams survivor narrative.
Chuuya never truly separates that boy from himself. His line when he's fighting the clone is You are me, why are you attacking me? The clone isn't just there for fun body horror and more trauma, it represents who Chuuya used to be, a child with "kinder eyes", someone who was human and who did not survive in the end. Chuuya was the one that survived. The boy had to become Chuuya, in order to survive. Someone who lost his humanity somewhere in that process, who had to watch his past self die, understand that he couldn't be that anymore, ever, because of what he went through.
In the end, Chuuya learns of his parents, and that he is human, that he's the original. It's a process that let's him accept both parts of himself, the human boy who died and the experiment that lived. And in the end, he lets go, choosing the Port Mafia as his family. Accepting that he can't go back. But knowing that, despite everything he's been through, he's still human.
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I’m not joking when I say that there are some people you should absolutely not attempt to fight. I can confidently say after watching so many high school fights that most teenagers can’t fight worth beans. I’ve gotten accidentally stuck between two teenagers fighting, and the punches they were throwing - some of which hit me - were weak as hell. That said, there are some teenagers you don’t fight because they will absolutely put you in the hospital.
I don’t care if you think that they’re a bully and you think you’re standing up for yourself. There’s a difference between the high school bully who needs a good humbling, and the teenager who takes beatings at home unleashing all of their anger and frustration on any fool who gets in their way. I have had students put other students in the hospital before. I’ve had students who went to jail. Don’t put your life at risk for a fight you will most likely lose. Again, I am not joking right now.
There’s too much senseless youth death and incarceration over this. It’s not worth it, and those people don’t need another punch to send them over the edge.
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Could you write a drabble for Mikoto and Shidou plus Blood? This request miiight be inspired by the fact that Mikoto mentions his body hurting a lot but doesn't seem to be receiving any medical treatment, either because Mahiru and Fuuta take priority or because there's no obvious cause, and therefore cure, to his pain...
👀👀👀 Thank you, this is such a good combo ough!! It's so interesting how much focus the others get when it comes to physical health, since Mikoto has clearly complained of his condition :( It looks like Milgram is trying to push the idea that he's completely oblivious to his alters, but I spun it where he's aware, just deep in denial. So have some Mikoto angst to get us hyped for Double!
Mikoto should be grateful. He was lucky. That’s what he kept repeating to himself. He had both of his eyes intact. Both his arms. He was strong enough to walk around freely. He wasn’t on the verge of death, or collapse. Thus, he should be grateful no one was offering him any help, because it meant he didn’t need it. He repeated it again. Maybe this time he would believe it.
With a groan, his body rolled out of bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up actually feeling rested. Everything ached. His muscles tightened with soreness. His throat felt as raw as his knuckles, though he hadn’t been using either. He had no desire to lift his arms over his head, or twist around too much, so he didn’t change out of yesterday’s uniform. Maybe the belts and buckles had made it difficult to sleep. The theory wasn’t a convincing one, but dwelling on things like that had never gotten him anywhere.
He ran his fingers once through his hair, combing out a bit of the mess. Looking in a mirror was the last thing he needed. He made his way to the dining hall.
The others trickled in for breakfast. His appetite, at least, hadn’t suffered. He hardly noticed the others giving him wide-eyed stares. What were they expecting? Of course he was looking worse for wear, given the circumstances. He ignored them, glad to focus on the hot meal before him.
A hand weighed heavy on his shoulder.
“Mikoto,” Shidou’s voice may have remained calm, but it was urgent. “Do you need some help?”
“Huh?” He shrugged his hand away, offering a weak smile. “I’m fine! Oh, I think Kazui was saving a seat for you over there, if you --”
“-- How about we go to my cell for a moment? Or yours, if that would be more comfortable.”
What was everyone’s problem this morning? Mikoto did his best to keep his voice pleasant. “Really, man, I’m good.”
Shidou’s expression remained unmoving. Very carefully, he informed him, “you’re bleeding. Pretty badly by the look of it. You’re coming with me.”
Mikoto blinked. He looked over his shoulder, following Shidou’s gaze. The back of his uniform was torn across the center. A significant splotch of blood seeped into the material, growing even larger as he shifted to see it.
“...Oh…”
Back in Shidou’s cell, sad to have left his breakfast plate behind, he slumped into a chair. Shidou gathered together some supplies. As always, he got right to the point. “What happened?”
“I… I’m not sure. I don’t remember anything from last night. I don’t remember most nights, recently. I know that sounds crazy, but…”
“It’s fine. I have definitely heard crazier.” He smiled, something gentle and reassuring. As usual, there was something hidden behind his eyes. It was as if he already knew what Mikoto was up to late at night that earned him so much soreness the following days. He didn’t offer an explanation, though. Mikoto didn’t press him for one.
He winced as he was helped out of his uniform. Removing his shirt revealed the mysterious gash. Shidou’s eyes widened at the array of scratches and scars. Some were fresh, but most originated long before Milgram. Though he didn’t ask, Mikoto answered.
“I’m pretty clumsy, huh?” Maybe this time he would believe it.
Shidou was kind enough to pretend to. “Here, allow me…”
Shidou got to work cleaning and dressing the injuries. Mikoto closed his eyes. Even though the disinfectant stung, and sometimes those gloved fingers pressed a little two hard, it felt nice to have things patched up.
“Is there anything else going on? Are you feeling pain anywhere else?”
Mikoto could have laughed. He didn’t. “I’m just sore. And my head’s been killing me, but I’m used to migraines. Perks of the verdict, I’m sure.”
Shidou hummed in thought.
“Thanks, by the way. I’ll try to be more careful.” Not that he had much choice in the matter, it seemed. But he’d do his best.
Shidou kept his face straight, but there were traces of pain in his voice. “I will too. I’m sorry, Mikoto. If I had known… I’ve been distracted lately, but I should have paid closer attention.”
“It’s fine,” he flashed a grin. “I know the others are pretty fucked up. And I’m not dying or anything. I’m lucky, you know?”
“I wouldn’t say so. Doctors don’t only treat the dying.”
Mikoto frowned.
It didn’t take much longer to finish treatment. Shidou gave him a few instructions about the bandages, then offered him a clean shirt. “You’re good to go. I’ll be checking in more often, now. I’ll see if I can find something for your head.”
“Thanks. Really.”
He returned Mikoto’s torn uniform. “You should talk to Es about getting a new one. Until then, you’ll want to clean this with --”
Mikoto waved a dismissive hand, heading out of the cell. “Don’t worry, I know how to wash blood out of my clothes. Er, that sounds bad. I’m just a clutz, yeah? The blood’s always been my own.”
Maybe this time he would believe it.
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