come_sailaway | [open] how to carry on

Entry tags:

[open] how to carry on

Who: The guy piloting Sharky Boshaw and YOU!
What: Sharky is definitely, totally, super fine after being possessed for an entire month. Just... y'know, piecing together events like the Hangover, but if Zach Galifianakis was dissociating most of the time.
When: First half of November
Where: The hot tub! The spa! Photos at Sea! And pretty much anywhere else!
Warnings: General Sharky warnings apply (so check his info post). Talk about October in general, the nothing, derealization, that kinda shit. He's also openly stoned in every encounter.
Notes: I'll match tagging style!

THE LAST WILL N TESTMENT OF PICKLES T. DRUMMER
so like it says on pg 1 theres a whole resn for me doin this beynd just "screw u in prtickular"
but the tldr theres tat i jsut wanted 2 get my bros out of there n im sure u get it now rite ha ha ha
ne way point is if ur redin this i need u 2 do me 1 solid
or mb im duin you a solid since im sort of the most generous member of dethklok that mkes sense
but cn u tell jeff im sorry for beatin him 2 death n lettin chase take his body on a joyride
chase fukin sucks man i almsot murdered him again bc i wanted jeff back more
or jeffs body 4 toki ha ha ha

also sme 4 venti. oh + jiles. + biting staci (ha ha ha) i feel bad bout that 1
but u kno wat its like i wasnt goin bak no way no how sry man
boy i hope i get to crumble this up l8r n toss it i dont wanna go bake
oh n if ur redin this SORRY 4 THE BEARD i bet ur pissed but trust me this will be better
neway gotta go get redy for the big nite hope i dont ever gotta give this 2 u
[Signed with an unintelligible scribble next to a crudely drawn Facebones.]

1. [ALL OVER] at first i was afraid, i was petrified
[Turns out, being possessed fucking sucks even when you refuse to acknowledge the terrifying oblivion of nothingness. Sharky finds half of what looks like a confession letter and learns the hard way that when Pickles had said he "didn't murder anyone," he'd been talking only technically. It isn't a surprise when the letter confirms his worst fear, but knowing Pickles used his body to kill multiple people makes him nauseous.

Sharky takes a few days to sort of adjust to the newfound hyperawareness of his body, and then sets out on his own reenactment of The Hangover. He keeps an eye out for anyone explicitly named in the letter, but everyone he passes gets a momentary squint as he tries to decide if they're looking at him weird. It's, you know, it's one way of figuring out of anyone recognizes you from doing something awful.

Even people who are only passingly familiar with Sharky will notice that he's sporting a short, close-cropped goatee instead of his usual doomsday beard. Thankfully, nobody but Pratt will notice that the goatee + long hair combo makes him look a lot like a fat, retired Seed brother. When he spots someone he does recognize, he's unusually reserved in the way he sidles up to them, sort of just... waiting to be noticed before asking,]

Uhhh, hey... did, uh, did we talk after my birthday?

2. [PHOTOS AT SEA] spent so many nights, thinking how you did me wrong
[Sharky's never actually bothered with the photo zone here on the ship, figuring that if it was really interesting, someone would have told him about it already. But it's coming in clutch now! He's already found pictures of himself drinking copious amounts of liquor, which feels almost normal, plus several of him apparently playing the piano, and the drums, and the guitar??? Which is kind of cool, honestly, even if looking at the pictures makes his entire brain fill with bees.

The other pictures are less cool. Badly lit ones of Ava with him in the hot tub; another with Giles; awkward paparazzi shots of him chewing on Pratt's arm in the Spirit; one of him in the salon, shaving off his nearly 20-year-long beard... Fuck. Not ideal. It's enough to make his brain scream curses at top volume, until most of his thoughts are drowned out by FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK --

The saving grace is, he isn't the only one here. He needs a distraction, which in this case will be the next person he finds browsing the photos.]

You find any pictures that aren't, uhhh, y'know... viscerally upsetting?? [Can he see them????]

3. [CLOSED -- CALGONA SPA] just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face
[Eventually, Sharky has to come to terms with the loss of his beard. On the one hand, he could let it grow out again -- but the beard he had was the product of seventeen years of post-Collapse survival. It wasn't, like, a fashion choice, y'know? It was just easier than shaving with a rusty straight razor. And, like... okay, so, Pickles wasn't wrong about the goatee being a better look.

About a week into November, Sharky can be found at the salon with a pair of shears and an electric razor. He'd taken a big dose of his edible before coming up here... and unfortunately, it was just a little too much for his low-tolerance ass. It's making the cutting process sl-o-o-w going; he cuts some off, watches the hair fall to the counter, then stares at himself in the mirror for a few minutes before remembering what he's doing. ...So, uh, yeah, he's going to be here for a while... and he doesn't seem to notice it when someone else comes in, even if he looks up at their reflection in the mirror before going back to his disjointed snipping.]

4. [HOT TUB] and you see me, somebody new
[Ahhhh, finally.

October sucked. November, so far, isn't looking super great either, if only because he can't seem to think or feel correctly. But there is one thing that Sharky can rely on to cheer him up, and that is pants-free, consequence-free hot tub time. Hydrotherapy is real, okay, and it exists in the form of a sixty-minute jet timer.

He's shaved up, more appropriately toasted off his edibles, and only two beers deep even though it's after midnight. He'd normally bring a book or something to distract him, but his brain can't handle processing any more realities than the one he's currently existing in. Instead, he's got his head back against a few folded towels, just sort of zoning out as he stares up at the stars. They're complete nonsense but like, everything here is fake so who cares? He'll just make up his own constellations, damn.

He might be zonked, but that doesn't mean he's too unaware not to give his customary warning to anyone who approaches, even if he isn't looking at them:] This is a clothes-optional amenity for the next hour, FYI. Proceed with caution, hahaha.

[wildcard] weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye?
(Have something in mind? Message me or just throw something up and see what happens!)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Maeve is here looking for answers, too, and the answers she got aren't that much better than Sharky's. The sight of her holding Phil's wing and her katana dripping with blood aren't what she wanted to see. But she finally understands Phil's reluctance to see her.

She looks over at Sharky quietly. "I'm looking just as desperately as you are, darling." And she really hopes that she's going to find something less awful soon.

Sharky's expression twists into one of sympathy and grief. "You too, huh?" He holds out one of the pictures of his body, piloted by somebody else, with his shotgun raised. He has no idea how many shots were fired -- he doesn't even know where the gun is. "I'm low-key freakin' the fuck out."

Maeve nods. "Yeah. Me too." She looks over at the picture and frowns a little. She motions to the picture of Phil. "He texted me to tell me our lessons are on pause for a while. I didn't know why he seemed so...off. I guess I do now." She reaches out for Sharky, half for her own purposes and half for his. "I've lost time before, lost years upon years...an entire life. But this..." She looks down. "Yeah..." If she just casually wraps an arm around his and leans her head against his arm, surely that's fine. They've never actually been this physical but...she's using it as an anchor.

"Fuck."

"Oh..." Yeah, that sucks. Super sucks. And it's like, not even fair to Maeve, but it isn't like you can tell a dude to get over her body ripping a wing off, right?

She leans against him, and he almost immediately leans back, his own head tilting to rest on top of hers. "I've never been... none of that's ever happened to me before. But it fuckin' sucked." He sighs. "I tripped down the stairs. Then it was like I was..."

Floating. Nothing. Particles that didn't know how to be one whole thing anymore. It fuckin' sucked.

You can’t and she won’t. She’s just going to try to ease back into their friendship. If she can.

“That’s the new part for me. The…nothing.” She’s glad at least there’s someone that understands that she didn’t kill or whatever. “I wonder if this is what happened with Clementine. She wasn’t herself. She was just there to be used as a weapon. To keep other Hosts from escaping to the Valley Beyond. But there was nothing behind her eyes. She wasn’t even herself.”

She reaches down to take his hand. “I’m sorry you had to experience this too. It’s shit.”

Sharky had already been affectionate before the nothing, but it's become instinctive since waking up. He doesn't realize she's grabbing his hand any more than he knows he's squeezing back; he just knows that the tactile sensation is good, solid, and reassuring.

"...Pratt doesn't get it," he mumbles. "I mean. He can't. But the people who die just... die, here. None of them get obliterated like that. It's nothing for them, but like. The good kinda nothing."

"Yeah. That's true enough," she says quietly. It's hard to fully verbalize what it feels like. How it felt. "I know it's not their fault, but sometimes it's...even worse knowing that they don't know. That we were the only ones stuck there and..."

She lets out a sigh. "It's a relief that someone understands...even if I wish none of us understood."

"Regular dying sounds a lot nicer. Kinda envy them for that." Being oblivious to oblivion sounds fantastic, TBH. "But, yeah. I'd be happier if nobody had to deal with it. Not even the guys who fucked us over to get out."

He gets it, honestly. If he'd had the chance, he would've taken it, too.

"I'd take dying in Westworld over that." Which is saying something. There's...a lot of complicated feelings regarding the people that took over their bodies. She's done a lot to escape before, been in a simulation with the same story over and over again, aware that she's trapped elsewhere, but...she definitely holds it against them anyway. "I want to say they can get fucked, but...I'm annoyed to admit I'd have done the same. But I'd still stab whoever was in control of me if I met them again." Unapologetically.

"Back in..." She frowns. "Back in Westworld. I..." This may take some explaining. "Well, I have this ability to control technological things with my mind. And I've used it to control other Hosts. To make them kill each other instead of me. I've used it to force other's weapons on themselves or at least make them useless. I would have died if I hadn't and so...well..." She gestures vaguely. "I've also used it to try to escape with a smaller robotic creature. It didn't work. But I was trapped in a simulation again. After Westworld was destroyed. After I'd thought I was dead for good." She glances over. "It's how your party ran so easily, too." She looks back at the pictures. "So I'm not sure I can pass judgment, but I'm also not sure I'm feeling very forgiving either."

Maeve like, never talks about her homeworld, enough so that he can recognize it even when he's dazed like he is right now. He can hear the similarities in what she's telling him, can see the comparison between her life then and the possessions now, but he also sees the disparities.

"You did that 'cos you'd die, though. And like, not in the respawn way we got goin' here. The ghosts are already dead -- they aren't gonna get any less dead by possessin' us. Right?" Just in case she really was holding herself too close to the shitheads who stole bodies. "They can't possess Rischie into throwing a baller dance party, y'know? And they didn't give a shit about us. Possessing us was no skin off their ectoplasm."

There's a lot of things to talk about and...she's probably talked the most about it to Marc, but she trusts Sharky. Maybe it's not worth almost never talking about sometimes, but she's not...sure.

She considers his words and is grateful they're not unkind. "That is true. Especially in Shogunworld. They were going to kill all of us. Someone had to do something." She hasn't told Maximilien about this for...well...reasons. "They aren't, no." She smiles a little. "I am glad I can throw a baller dance party." Even if the words just sound ridiculous coming from her own mouth. "But no. I can understand why. The need to get free of that..." She frowns. "If I could have fought my way back, I would have. Preferably to my own body."

Okay, a lot to unpack, but: "Shogunworld... Oh my God, have you met Nobunaga? You gotta tell him about that."

Not the thing to take away from it all, but here we are! That, and hearing Maeve say "baller." Man, that's honestly the best.

"I keep wonderin' if, like... that could happen. Like, if Pickles almost beefed it on the stairs like I did, would I be able to bounce him out? Or would it have been another random motherfucker? ...And like, just how bad is it that someone else was in here?" He knocks his free hand against his head. "That feels like it's supposed to be... bad. Right?"

"I have met him, yes. We've had discussions about some of it. And discussed swords. He is...different from Akane and Musashi. Though, they were basically a mildly altered version of Hector and I." A beat. "Lee wasn't terribly creative. A one story...pony or whatever."

Maeve is only too happy to help make his day.

"Yeah. I don't know if we'll ever get those answers. I still don't know too much about whoever was inside me. I'm not sure seeing all my memories was helpful. It might have been a lot for someone who isn't used to...all of that." She looks up at him. "But I can see how that's weird and...I'm a little curious how they could access our memories like that."

To be honest, if you're making sentient robots that can do all the stuff humans can do, like, how creative do you really gotta be? The novelty alone's gotta be enough to draw in people. Whiiiich sucks to think about, TBH, and he can fully see why she doesn't talk about this stuff normally.

"All I know is the guy in me partied most of the time. Which, fair. I mean, that's what I'd do." Even if it isn't what he's actually doing. It's... a turn of phrase, right? "I wanna know why they got to root through our memories but not the other way around. It's my brain, right? I should know what rando thoughts it had while I was AFK."

Maeve just wishes they could all have become their own people. She still hasn't entirely forgiven Delores for using Musashi for her plan. He deserved so much better than that. All of them did.

"I guess at least that wasn't enough to give you away entirely." Not that she spoke to him after his possession. That she remembers. "It would at least know what was going on up there. It seems so strange to just get to come back and remember nothing else. Of course, I think on top of remembering the nothing and having a lot of confusing additional memories...maybe it would have been worse? I don't know."

"It's just... weird. Like, there was a B&E in my brain, except up until it happened I was pretty sure, like, you just... were your brain... But our memories are, like, what. Imprinted on the meat or somethin'? So they got to see them, but -- I guess maybe they weren't, like. In our brains good enough to imprint back..."

He's talking completely out of his ass, but it's been stewing for a while. Separation is supposed to be between church and state, not body and mind!

"Ugh. My head hurts just tryin' to think about it. Guess it's better not to worry about it. Fake it until you make it, or whatever." Which is exactly what Pratt said not to do, but what else can he do??

"B&E?" She's having troubling figuring out what that's supposed to mean. "I guess not?" Though she's wondering if there's something else that's just...blocking them out of their brains. So they couldn't know things. Or maybe it's just magic. Magic seems a reasonable answer to everything these days. Doesn't make sense? Must be magic.

Maeve hums thoughtfully. "Kind of hard to turn off my brain for any length of time." She frowns a little at that sentence. "I want to argue with you, but...that is also probably my tactic. I've just been...trying to act somewhat together even though I haven't really had a way to get out of my head since then. Outside of letting the white noise of machines take over everything."

"Ohh, uhh, 'Breaking and Entering.' You know, bustin' out a window to get in, that kinda shit." In this case, the window was Sharky's neck.

"But yeah, Pratt said that acting normal helps, and... I guess it kinda does?" It might help more if he was engaging with things around him, but that would involve shit like "processing" and "connecting with trauma." Noooo thanks. "I dunno, my usual routine is like. Drinkin', eatin', hitting up the arcade or the pool... lots of sittin' around doin' nothin'. At least back home, there was always somethin' that needed to be fixed or like. Tended to. Crops and shit." Babies... But he's not gonna bring that one up.

"I guess I get why people keep doin' those weird excursions, even if they're freakin' out half the time that shit's gonna go bad. And then shit goes bad here..."

"Oh. That makes more sense now." She guesses that's about a reasonable a way to look at it.

"Yeah." She's trying to figure out how to fully engage with things herself. Except for a few instances. Mostly she's been finding ways to stop herself from thinking about things too much in general. Anything to just...get out. "Yeah. Back home..." She frowns. It wasn't really better than here. At least there seemed to be some hope. She doesn't know how bad it's going to get. "I don't know what to expect there any more than I do here. So I don't know. I only have one thing keeping me going back home and I don't even know if I'm going to...be able to do it." Which is frustrating. "And I can't do it here, so...what?" She's supposed to wait forever?

She nods. "I guess so. Shit's going to go bad wherever. Even if you're not in the shit, someone you know is and that's..." A sigh. "Just as bad."

"It's like... now I know that my life had like. A set course, or whatever. And all this time I thought I was, uhhh... y'know. Settin' the destination myself, but really I wasn't, was I? And comin' here was like, okay, now I get to make decisions independant of like... a fuckin' cosmic narrative, which, cool. Fuckin' sick, TBH."

He shucks himself away from Maeve enough to reach for a random picture of his body in the salon, a manic glint in his eye as he takes a pair of scissors to his own beard.

"And then, like, this kinda shit happens and it's like the universe is sayin' 'Psyche! You still aren't in control of anything.' And now it feels like I'm even less in control than I was. Ugh. It's a real mind-fuck."

Which is basically just a more word-vomity way of resaying everything they've already said -- but Sharky's brain is only running laps right now.

Maeve listens as he speaks. The laps don't entirely phase her because they've been trapped in loops for a long time back home. Even when you're awake and free, the loops...continue. She's beginning to believe there's loops even in human behavior. Which...probably isn't entirely wrong.

She steps closer as she looks up at the picture. "This is..." She frowns. "I don't think it's going to be easy to come back from." That seems fair. "I'm here whenever you need me, okay? I don't really...need sleep, so...it's not like you're waking me or bothering me." She could sleep. She just...isn't. It's harder. Peter has offered to sit with her if she wants to sleep and...probably she should, but...it's complicated.

Sharky's nod is automatic at first, but he repeats it with more genuine feeling after a second or two, tearing the picture in half and letting the pieces drop to the ground. They'll get cleaned up, it's fine, who cares.

"Yeah, uh. Yeah. I'm not really sleepin' super good anyway, so... I appreciate it." He glances at her. "The same goes for you, right? If you need someone to, like. Talk to. Uhhh, I know I don't get it, get it. But I wanna help you out, too."

Maeve offers him her smallest smile. "I guess none of us are really sleeping that well. At least I can't imagine we are." She hasn't talked to everyone, but...it seems logical that they're all struggling at this point. "We may not be in the same boat, but a similar boat." She nods. It sounds correct. "Thank you, darling."

She glances down for a moment. "Would it...be-" She doesn't want to say too forward because she knows neither of them care about that. "Perhaps, if you don't mind, we could...lie down together for a while? We don't have to sleep, but I don't mind if we do. I don't think I could look at the pictures any longer today."

He grins a little because, y'know, they're definitely on the same boat... but yeah, he gets what she means. His face does start going pink at the request -- which is hard to ignore without the beard -- but, like. Yeah. He gets it.

"Um, yeah, sure. I'm not doin' anythin'." Other than looking at terrible reminders of a month he can't remember. "Ummm... my place or yours? Hahaha."

Maeve notices his face. She's aware that Sharky does blush fairly easily. If she'd been in a different headspace, she might have lightly teased him about it, but today? Today she's a little tired.

There's a consideration. "Maximilien isn't in the room a terrible amount, but if you'd prefer, your room is just as well. I can always just warn Maximilien ahead of time." She's sure it's not a problem. She knows a little of his feelings regarding a few people, but she's certain he won't mind either way.

Photos at sea

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