come_sailaway | [Open July Log]

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[Open July Log]

Who: Deputy Pratt and YOU!
What: Pratt got his first regain and it's a doozy. Also still has no idea he's just telling the truth all the time.
Where: Buffet, Laundromat, around the Deck
When: Throughout July
Warnings: Standard Pratt warnings apply (cannibalism, murder, starvation, cults, etc) but now with Jacob warnings too! (Brainwashing, torture, skinning people). Important!! There's a very real chance he'll attack anyone who talks to him in the third prompt on the deck, so be aware.

Pratt got a notice that he had an item at the Sundries shop and was kind of stoked about it. Sweet, first present from back home. He swings by on his way to third breakfast, but as soon as he picks the thing up there's that sudden pang of trepidation. It's a rectangular box, looks pretty normal and what's in it is pretty obviously clothing from the weight and the sound it makes when he shakes it but.....

Oh that's interesting. Go ahead Peaches, open it.

1. Buffet

He doesn't open it. Not right then anyway, instead he takes it with him to the buffet grabbing himself some grub to fortify him against the growing dread seeping into the pit of his stomach. However; mashed potatoes can only do so much, and eventually he does, actually have to open it and see what it is.

You already know what it is.

Sliding his fingers through the tape on the box he lifts the lid off and stares. The look on his face almost like he might have just unboxed a human head, but it's just a jacket. An Army jacket with the name J. Seed on the chest. A plain, normal jacket that he recoils from so violently he spills his soda everywhere along with the remains of a bowl of pasta as he almost falls on the ground in his haste to get away.

Weird reaction since other than the fact the jacket reeks of blood and human entrails, it doesn't seem that bad?

2. Laundromat

As soon as he recovers from his shock at what's in the box, he grabs the jacket and fucking bolts out of the buffet to the one place he knows no one goes that often: the Laundromat. He stands in the middle of the room, amber lights flickering, signs cheerfully reminding him to balance his load, holding the jacket in both hands and looking right on the verge of either crying or punching something.

Go ahead then, put it on.

"Shut up!" It's not clear who he's talking to since he's in there alone, but then he suddenly throws the jacket at the wall, not very effective since the heavy canvas just flutters to the ground in a heap.

He stands there watching it, eyeing it like it might be a rabid dog waiting to attack him.

Eventually he does pick it back up, rubbing his fingers along the bloodstains, the holes around frayed patches on the sleeves. Standing there in the laundromat about to have a full on panic attack over a jacket.

3. The Deck
Pratt should have taken the time that he was in the laundry room to actually wash this new item of clothing that smells like it's been in a slaughterhouse for years. Because it has been. Unfortunately Pratt didn't think about it. And is now not thinking about anything because he is just... walking in circles around the deck.

Wearing his new 'gift' from back home he's been walking the length of the ship and back for probably hours now. The way he moves, his stance, is different than his normal 'cop on duty' pose he usually has, but it's pretty obvious this is some sort of a patrol. What for, and why, is anyone's guess.

4. End of the Month Wildcard

Well, Pratt has stabbed and been stabbed, and eventually got himself murdered. Apparently that's what he needed to put the pause on his spiraling breakdown. Sure he's still wearing the jacket, but he washed it. Several times.

Pratt is trying to reintegrate into society and aggressively pretend he's not a traumatized psychopath that could snap at any moment.

As always he can be found at the Buffet or the Dining Room since this guy is practically always eating. He's also hanging out near the Pool with comically large glasses of shaved ice. He doesn't look like he belongs at the pool since he's still wearing his police boots, the army jacket and pants. But look, he's trying. The shirt has an oversized foliage print, that counts right?

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"Sharky? Just imagine him without the beard and wearing jeans and hoodies instead of floral print and that's about it. I'm pretty sure he was born with a pack of matches in his hand." And then somehow the matches grew with him into a lighter and then eventually a flamethrower.

He looks up at Steven, expression very reminiscent of a lost puppy in the rain, "You think so? I... I don't even know where to start. I mean, I thought that's what I was gonna do - pretend like I'm retired and just eat my weight in garlic bread and I guess.. deal with shit. Or that's what I wanted to do, I probably would have just compartmentalized it away and made it worse. You know, bottle it all up cuz that's the manly thing to do. The strong thing."

He runs his fingers through his hair, it's as long as he could get away with and still be within police regulation, and now it's even a little bit longer. "No I'm not happy. I fucking hate Jacob. Hate everything he did to me and to everyone else and I wish it could have been me who killed him. But.. I don't think I could. And even though I hate him, there's a part of me that still craves that guidance. How fucked is that? I'd probably fucking go back to him and the cult if given the opportunity because it was ... it like satisfied that need for authority I have. And to have someone appreciate shit I did."

Wow that's some uncomfortable things he's thinking right now. That he absolutely was able to be manipulated the way he was because he's so eager to please and be praised.

"No, don't do that. Bottling it up isn't healthy or being fair on yourself. What happens when that bottle is full? You'll either lash out at somebody and feel guilty about it or cave in on yourself and find some cheap thrill that'll ruin how you feel about yourself. Drinking or gambling or sex or something illegal. You should find someone you trust, someone that's easy to talk to and work it out. Who cares about being manly? Nobody's measuring your-- manly bits. And you don't win any prizes for being a stubborn, taciturn, lonely and angry man."

Does Steven have strong feelings about this particular subject matter? Clearly not. What might make anyone think that?

"It's easier to follow someone charismatic and intelligent and so full of purpose than to confront the fact that none of us really know what we're doing. The approval, knowing you're doing the right thing, the need for validation - people use these things to draw you in and use you. They give you a wee bit of power, throw a few kind words your way, just enough to keep you hanging off their every word because they know they've got you and they can twist and mold you into anything they want. And when it all falls apart, it's easy to point fingers and say this was some nefarious mastermind's fault than to look in on ourselves and ask why we always latch onto abusive people, why we're broken, and accept that maybe need a little bit of help to find the wisdom and the resilience to face our fears, or overcome our challenges." Steven's not sure why he's saying all this to someone else when he's got someone who needs to hear this, but he hopes it helps nonetheless.

"We're all just figuring things out, and that's hard, and making mistakes you can't come back from won't make you a better person. But it'll make you your own person, away from Jacob. Maybe you don't think you want that, but. I would like that for you. And I'm sure the people you are close to want that for you too."

"I think I'm already overflowing. Back home, if I wasn't a cop I would have gotten drunk every night, gotten high, had sex with whoever. Probably wake up in a ditch. Literally having a job was all I had - and that was before all the cult and trauma and shit. And now here, I don't have that. It's just me and I ... gotta be responsible and make decisions." He holds his head in his hands, voice rough from all this talking he's been doing. "I don't think I'm ready."

As for who cares about being manly, the answer is that he does. "I don't have much self esteem, I'm a fucking jerk and a loser and people only respect me cuz I had a badge. So yeah, it looks better to be lonely and angry and manly and like.. I dunno smoking while riding a horse or something."

Things he's actually done, because why the fuck not. If he can't be tall dark and handsome maybe he can have the rugged mystique of the Marlboro man and then die of cancer.

But with that next part, he actually looks up at Steven because that is so spot on accurate that it's like he literally peered into Pratt's psyche. "That's.. that's it. And I know it. I'm just too scared to admit it because then I have to say I was wrong. That I was manipulated, and no one wants to admit that. It's like saying you're fundamentally broken and too stupid to see what's happening. Except I knew what was happening I just... I was too weak and cowardly to try and stop it cuz in the moment it felt right. It was only looking back that I'd see it was all my fucking fault."

He's definitely starting to tear up because he's literally never talked about anything with this depth with anyone. Part of that Montana individualism is never admitting when you have an emotion. And people expected him to just 'get over' what had happened to him. And then when he didn't, they wanted to get rid of him, he was a nuisance, something that reminded them that people were fallible.

"Yeah. yeah I... thanks. That's.. Thank you. I really wish I could hug you. Maybe eventually."

It's so tempting to just reach over and pat the other man on the back but Steven is more mindful of not making him upset more so than he does have any sense of self-preservation. He ends up sitting on his hands and rocking in his seat a bit so he doesn't accidentally set him off.

You know he could always just sprout another personality to help him out when the going gets tough and he feels like checking out. It seems to have worked out for Marc and Steven. Even if they are certifiably insane. Steven recognises that he's fairly high maintenance though and Marc always seems like a sneeze away from a mental breakdown so he doesn't want to offer bad advice, especially not to someone who's already having a hard time.

"You have to be ready," Steven says quietly with a small shrug. "Flung in at the deep end and all. And you have to find something else to measure yourself by. You're going to hurt yourself like this. You have to find yourself without your badge, without your drink and your reputation or wha'ever, alright? I wouldn't believe you if you said there was nothing there. To me it just means you haven't peered into yourself enough. But I would believe you if you said you didn't like what was there and wanted to change yourself for the better. I think everyone's got something they need to work on." Some people more than others, unfortunately.

"I'm in room 135. If you want to talk or just. If you're ready one day. I give half-decent hugs. I think." And if he just wants to drink himself to oblivion, Steven can always introduce his 'twin' (if they haven't met yet). They're like two peas in a so manly, #nohomo, the man your man could smell like pod. They'll brood well at the pub together.

He's gotta get rid of the hallucination before he starts going and manifesting new personalities. Though he's halfway there since he doesn't remember what he does when he really snaps, and is already kinda used to only having like 60% of his memories available.

"I mean I gotta right? Badge doesn't mean anything here, and I'm not gonna drink because I'm too scared I'll get violent." He looks down at the ground, toying with the edges of his jacket. "I think most people don't gotta redo everything but... I kinda gotta start from scratch since I don't even know who I am anymore, or what my purpose is. Which I guess should be freeing but for me it's fucking terrifying."

Because he's kind of scared of everything right now, especially himself.

"Maybe that's kinda the point of this place."

"You can have-- a little bit," Steven says quietly with a wince. He hates that he's giving this kind of advice. "Unless you can't stop yourself once you start. But. If you've been drinking a lot, and you try to stop all of a sudden, then... you'll just feel miserable. A glass wouldn't hurt, while you slowly wean yourself off. Just to keep the old habits for a little while, you know. It's hard enough adjusting to life on a big boat without taking comfort things away from yourself." Oh, if this bloke ends up going on a binge and something terrible ends up happening... or multiple terrible things. Steven's going to feel so terrible about it. He tries not to dwell on that possibility.

"It's not necessarily a bad thing, starting with a clean slate! If there's anything good the ship can give you, it's that chance to start over. It just means it's a little overwhelming to get started, until you find a bit of a foothold and know where you want to go. And-- just be patient and kind with yourself. You'll have some good days and some days that could be a lot better. Accept that you won't get all the answers right away and you're still figuring things out as you go. I think you're-- being a little hard on yourself, right now."

He's nodding along, because this is all exactly what he needs to hear.

"Don't think I'm gonna tempt it and I haven't been drinking for a bit now anyway. I'm gonna be real fun at parties, a non-drinking vegetarian." He sighs ruefully, "I'm in for a world of tap water and eating nothing but salsa."

Fortunately for him there is a variety of pastries he can stuff in his face here, and he's gonna!

"Kind and patient with myself." He laughs softly, "Yeah that's not something I've ever been good at. Hard to be when you hate yourself. Probably something else to work on yeah?"

He folds the jacket, rolling it into a tube in his hands, because that makes him less likely to want to put it on.

"I'm always hard on myself cuz I've never been good enough. So like.. I assume I'll fuck everything up. Or screw myself somehow. And usually I'm right. My partner on the force called it a 'self-fulfilling prophecy' whatever that means. But it's true."

Steven snickers at that. "Well I'm a vegan who'd rather not drink either so. We can have tap water and salsa together." He can't even have the pastries, but. Maybe he'll let himself have one or two, for camaraderie's sake.

"That's what it means, mate. You think you're going to mess it up, then you get anxious, then you make mistakes you wouldn't normally when you're calm, then you mess it up, and then you lose confidence, you feel miserable, and the next time around you have to do it, you're sure you're going to mess it up, and you get anxious, and you know how the rest of it goes." Steven is a big flaming ball of anxiety, and Marc loathes himself too, low self-esteem and beats himself up and all that, so he knows how this goes only too well.

"You have to break the cycle. Believe in yourself. Accept your shortcomings. Forgive yourself especially for the li'le things. You'll be alright and have a be'er time of it. I promise."

"We're gonna be decimating the stir fry section of the buffet. Though I might try the crab legs cuz like... crab legs. Not something we have a lot of in Montana. Shit is probably $80 a plate." He might be able to stomach that, assuming crab doesn't really register as 'meat' to him. It's definitely a different texture so he's vaguely hopeful.

"Man.. anxiety fucking sucks. To fix it you have to do exactly the thing that makes you more anxious. What the hell. Why are we like this.." Humans are far more complicated and messy than he ever thought. Probably because he never acknowledged any of this applied to him. It's rough to realize you're not as 'put together' as you thought. "You're real good at this. Have to deal with people having breakdowns at you a lot?"

"They do look good... but... sometimes they smell weird. And there's all that shell and tight corners, tiny squeezes. Hard to get into. Looks like you have to keep tugging and poking. A lot of effort for a little bit of white stuff."

Are they still talking about crab legs?

"Uhm! A little bit." Steven starts wringing his hands when the topic veers a little closer to home. He doesn't really want to talk about Marc like he's some kind of basket case.

"There's someone on the ship who looks like me, called Marc. He... is like you, I suppose. Just needs a little help, and some patience. But it's hard, innit? For real men to ask for help." Whatever a 'real man' is. Steven doesn't have those same hangups about not appearing masculine and tough. He suspects both Marc and the Deputy do, though. "Well, you don't have to ask, with me. You can just show up, and I'll know."

"People tell me that's what makes it good. But I kinda think I'd like it more already outside of the shell. Looks less like I'm eating an ocean spider that way. Shellfish is kind of.. they're like bugs aren't they?" He's pretty sure they're insects, lobsters are just weird red water beetles right?

"Looks like you?" He glances up at Steven actually really looking at him, "I dunno if I've met him, I kinda.. don't really look at people when we're talking. I just remember what they sound like."

Which is something he never used to do, but now eye contact freaks him out a bit, so he usually looks at the ground or the table, only glancing up occasionally. So he has no idea that he's actually met Marc.

"It's real hard because you're kinda... not supposed to. Goes against everything we know. Maybe that's an American thing though. I dunno. Only been to Canada and that's sort of just more Montana up there."

"Yeah. They usually feed off the ocean floor. Um, they're not kosher." So it feels kind of doubly wrong for Steven to even entertain the thought of eating them. He could maybe be more easily convinced to close one eye at some other kinds of non-shellfish seafood.

"You'll meet him, I'm sure." Marc will ~~overprotectively try to vet all of Steven's friends and dad with a lever action shotgun loading style intimidate them~~ be around, usually a lot more so than Steven who tends to be a little bit more reclusive.

"I don't think it's an American thing." Even if Marc is American too. "It's. Just a thing. A man thing. It doesn't have to be this way, but. Some people just-- are very narrow-minded about what it means to be a man, you know?"

"Yeah, and we're all stuck here together on the ship, it's only so big." Plus they all live down the same hallway, so it's sorta inevitable he'll see everyone eventually. Though some of them like the skeleton and robots, are a lot more memorable so he feels like he sees them more than anyone else even if that isn't actually accurate.

"Hard not to be when that's what we're taught from like.. birth. Or I was anyway." He's gotten a double dose of masculinity being both a man and also living in a rugged individualist area that promotes a very stoic, emotionless existence for men. "When I was about eight, I fell off a horse and broke my arm. When I cried at the doctors office because it hurt, my dad threatened to break the other one. And that's just.. how it is. Or was. Guess being dead I can cry about broken arms all I want and no one will give a shit."

If Steven so much as broke a fingernail, Marc would have swooped in and coddled him and made sure he was really okay. So much so that now they're dysfunctionally all up in each other's business and constantly checking in on each other and worrying and fretting even when they don't need to be. Steven really doesn't know how good he has it.

"Well I'd hope-- someone would care. And want to help you. I wouldn't know how to fix it, but. I would be upset. And make sure you're alright. And bring you food." This seems like the least anyone should be doing, to help out. It wouldn't kill people to be kind.

Pratt wouldn't even know how to react to that level of care, probably initially be a jackass because he isn't quite ready to admit he needs help ever.

"Maybe here, everyone from different places and don't know each other. Don't know anyone's history." Which he should be thankful for, no one is initially terrified of him because he might be a walking time bomb.

"You're nice. That's real rare, don't let anyone take advantage of that."

"Could go both ways I suppose... sometimes strangers are less inclined to help." That's what living in London had felt like, at times. Everyone's too busy and minding their own business to want to stop and help someone.

At the mention of Steven being nice though, he smiles and clutches at the front of his shirt over his stomach. Yes, he's nice, and easy to take advantage of. Marc can only protect him so much.

"Thank you. I'll be careful," he promises. He's rarely ever, actually, but he'll learn in time. Hopefully without needing any hard lessons because people have hurt him.

"I'm about to do some laundry. Think you'll hold onto your jacket?" Maybe it's dry clean only, but that'll be tough, with the stains.

"Yeah... think I'm gonna go back to my room. Lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling, figure out what I'm gonna do with it."

It's scientifically proven that the best thinking is done from the floor.

"Thanks though. For talking to me. And you know.... caring."

"Yeah. Yeah course. Let me know if you want company." Steven would happily leave his laundry washing while he walked his new friend back to his room, come back to dry his haul later.

He's never done much thinking from the floor actually but he's not going to knock it until he's tried it, honestly.

"I'm here for you, alright?" He promises gently. He might have a whole host of 99 other problems to deal with, but that's not going to stop him from looking out for others.

He nods and manages a small smile before leaving, keeping the jacket mushed up into a ball.

There's going to be a lot of ceiling staring in his near future, and thoughts about what he's going to do with his time here. And sure, things are gonna go terribly soon for him, but post that, he's going to take Steven's advice to heart.

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[Open July Log]

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OMG I'm going to cry this is so good. <3

Finally Steven gets to tell someone what's been bugging him too 😍

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