John Crichton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ss_buttcrack) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2023-08-14 09:18 pm
ss_buttcrack) wrote in come_sailaway2023-08-14 09:18 pm
[August Catch-All]
Who: John Crichton (Harvey) & Open
What: August Catch-All
When: Thru August
Where: All over the ship
Warnings: [cw: discussions of addiction, drug use/alcoholism, depression, suicidal ideation, trying to get sober, grief, the boy's going through it. Will warn if other things come up.]
Was never much, but we've made the most
How many months has it been, now? How many nights has he slept in the brig like it's his personal cabin? Too many, probably. That ends now. He and Arthur are on speaking terms again. It isn't what he'd call a warm relationship, still, but it's enough. It's a start. So, he's moving back. Back into his cabin, that is.
Moving down to the brig had been simple enough. He took only the essentials that first day. But, over time, he accumulated more. Now, moving it all back into his cabin is proving to be a bigger job. He can be found making several trips up and down with arms full of his belongings, shuttling them back into his dusty cabin piece by piece. If anyone offers to give him a hand, he won't say no.
So, I choke on the sun [CW: Addiction/drugs, Sobriety, and all other CW's from above apply to this one]
A. Interventions:
Four weeks. That's how long Valdis told him he'd have to endure without his Lakah. Four weeks. It didn't sound that long at the time. He was too tired and fed up with himself to resist. But now... the pain is so loud. Every thought and feeling he has is turned up to eleven without the drug to dull it down. Outside of when he goes to get meals at sporadic hours of the day and night, he's made himself pretty scarce. It's easy to blend into the background while everyone else is busy licking their wounds from that excursion. He tries to tell himself this pain will pass. It has to pass. Any day now.
It doesn't.
About a week into the month of August, he finds a breaking point. He's tried everything he can think of to distract himself. Sports, exercise, swimming, gaming, gambling, reading, eating... nothing breaks the tension knotting up his shoulder blades. He hasn't slept in days. Pacing the deck gets old after doing it for hours. Before he fully realizes it, his feet have carried him to Stan The Man. He stands outside of the bar looking in like a starving man. Saliva is practically about to start dribbling from his chin.
"Dammit." His fists curl at his sides and he brings one of them up to stick between his teeth. He yells at himself under his breath, "Dammit, John, if others can do this, so can you."
But... frell. He wants a shot so bad he can taste it. Sweet oblivion is so close. All he'd have to do is cross the threshold. No one would even know to stop him. Well. Actually, that's not entirely true...
He repeats this battle several times over the course of the month. Sometimes, he's able to pull himself away. Other times, when he's at his lowest, his feet make it over that threshold after all. On those, especially, he could use a friend to help him turn back. Or, even an enemy. He'll take any help he can get.
B. Message From An Old Friend?
Midway through the month, two packages show up at the same time for him at Sundries. He ...has a feeling about them, so he waits to look inside until he gets to Sand Dollars. Now, he's sitting here at the table with two objects in front of him and he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"You still lookin' out for me, Bash?" he says to the empty cafe as he taps a finger against a very, very specific bag of coffee beans that he recognizes as the good stuff Bash used to brew for him. Next to that is a book titled Addiction & Recovery For Dummies.
"I am a dummy..." he grumbles, plonking his head down on the table. "I sure wish you were still here."
Eventually, he gets up and orders a coffee (not the good kind, he wants to save that). With brew in hand, he takes a deep breath and cracks open the book to the first page. "Okay. Let's see what you got for me."
[Closed to Ari]
[The text that arrives for Ari this day is no different than any of the other ones. But, there is a difference: this one was sent by Harvey.]
Do you have some time this evening to go over that equation we left off on?
-Cmdr. Crichton
What: August Catch-All
When: Thru August
Where: All over the ship
Warnings: [cw: discussions of addiction, drug use/alcoholism, depression, suicidal ideation, trying to get sober, grief, the boy's going through it. Will warn if other things come up.]
Was never much, but we've made the most
How many months has it been, now? How many nights has he slept in the brig like it's his personal cabin? Too many, probably. That ends now. He and Arthur are on speaking terms again. It isn't what he'd call a warm relationship, still, but it's enough. It's a start. So, he's moving back. Back into his cabin, that is.
Moving down to the brig had been simple enough. He took only the essentials that first day. But, over time, he accumulated more. Now, moving it all back into his cabin is proving to be a bigger job. He can be found making several trips up and down with arms full of his belongings, shuttling them back into his dusty cabin piece by piece. If anyone offers to give him a hand, he won't say no.
So, I choke on the sun [CW: Addiction/drugs, Sobriety, and all other CW's from above apply to this one]
A. Interventions:
Four weeks. That's how long Valdis told him he'd have to endure without his Lakah. Four weeks. It didn't sound that long at the time. He was too tired and fed up with himself to resist. But now... the pain is so loud. Every thought and feeling he has is turned up to eleven without the drug to dull it down. Outside of when he goes to get meals at sporadic hours of the day and night, he's made himself pretty scarce. It's easy to blend into the background while everyone else is busy licking their wounds from that excursion. He tries to tell himself this pain will pass. It has to pass. Any day now.
It doesn't.
About a week into the month of August, he finds a breaking point. He's tried everything he can think of to distract himself. Sports, exercise, swimming, gaming, gambling, reading, eating... nothing breaks the tension knotting up his shoulder blades. He hasn't slept in days. Pacing the deck gets old after doing it for hours. Before he fully realizes it, his feet have carried him to Stan The Man. He stands outside of the bar looking in like a starving man. Saliva is practically about to start dribbling from his chin.
"Dammit." His fists curl at his sides and he brings one of them up to stick between his teeth. He yells at himself under his breath, "Dammit, John, if others can do this, so can you."
But... frell. He wants a shot so bad he can taste it. Sweet oblivion is so close. All he'd have to do is cross the threshold. No one would even know to stop him. Well. Actually, that's not entirely true...
He repeats this battle several times over the course of the month. Sometimes, he's able to pull himself away. Other times, when he's at his lowest, his feet make it over that threshold after all. On those, especially, he could use a friend to help him turn back. Or, even an enemy. He'll take any help he can get.
B. Message From An Old Friend?
Midway through the month, two packages show up at the same time for him at Sundries. He ...has a feeling about them, so he waits to look inside until he gets to Sand Dollars. Now, he's sitting here at the table with two objects in front of him and he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"You still lookin' out for me, Bash?" he says to the empty cafe as he taps a finger against a very, very specific bag of coffee beans that he recognizes as the good stuff Bash used to brew for him. Next to that is a book titled Addiction & Recovery For Dummies.
"I am a dummy..." he grumbles, plonking his head down on the table. "I sure wish you were still here."
Eventually, he gets up and orders a coffee (not the good kind, he wants to save that). With brew in hand, he takes a deep breath and cracks open the book to the first page. "Okay. Let's see what you got for me."
[Closed to Ari]
[The text that arrives for Ari this day is no different than any of the other ones. But, there is a difference: this one was sent by Harvey.]
Do you have some time this evening to go over that equation we left off on?
-Cmdr. Crichton
no subject
"Really? Out in space you say?"
no subject
"Oh yeah. Commander John Crichton, astronaut." He offers his hand out. "Before I got here, I was living on a ship full of aliens out in deep space."
no subject
"Carl Kolchak, Independent News Service out in Chicago." A decidedly less interesting, and not so-mysterious, man. "Sorry, did you say aliens?"
no subject
"Sure did. Don't tell me that surprises you here of all places?"
no subject
Also helps that there aren't exactly many Crichtons out there.
"No, guess you can say I also ran into a few back home too."
no subject
His eyebrow goes up. "Really? Ran into some extraterrestrials in Chicago?"
no subject
no subject
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"I spent something like three years living on an alien spaceship, so, who knows? Maybe I can shed some light on it if you lay out the details."
no subject
"But hey, sure. You're welcome to try. Now, about living on an alien spaceship...."
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"Yeah? What about it, specifically?"
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"How did that happen?"
no subject