stede and his learned helplessness and his missed opportunities wounds me every time. it's the way he and mary could never have been a happy couple, but they could have been friends, and sooner, but stede was never, ever willing to reach out, not in a way that made him vulnerable. and that's not to say the failures of their marriage are his fault - the failure of their marriage is the fault of mary and stede not choosing each other and stede being a gay man with a lot of trauma and mary being a woman with no free choice in this time period.
but we see that mary tried to reach out, the night stede left. and we see that her anniversary gift is something to represent their marriage and their wedding, an event they were both a part of and hold memories of, combined with being the product of her own labors - it's literally something she made to represent their union, which she's miserable in but is trying to make work nonetheless.
stede's gift is the miniature ship, and the reveal that rather than talk to mary about his plans and aspirations, stede has gone ahead and set the whole thing up, spent the money, and plans to have them all leave their lives to join his new life of......????
it's an escapist fantasy rather than a real start over, a real life, a real try, because actually asking mary to go out to sea with him, would have actually involved telling her why he was miserable, because it wasn't just about the marriage but an entire lifetime of rejection, and stede couldn't do that. he couldn't bring himself to, didn't feel like he could. so he didn't and things shook out as they did and he ran off alone without a word to anyone and a note.
and when things got to their worst, he ran off alone again, back home, thoroughly convinced that he needed to stay in his place in the box that didn't fit and where nothing could change -
except things COULD have changed and that's why when he comes back things have changed. because all along things could have changed, if stede had opened up to mary and the two of them worked things out. it's part of why stede's so angry all throughout episode 10. because all along these could have been different, but he couldn't see that, because a lifetime of trauma had taught him not to reach out and try and change things, and those coping mechanisms that probably helped him as a child and in school - were wrong.
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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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