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theclipper_tlv2022-08-01 03:00 pm
worthallthis) wrote in theclipper_tlv2022-08-01 03:00 pm
Entry tags:
Not A Safe Space [OTA]
Who: B and OTA
Where: Various, see prompts
When: First half of August
Warnings: PTSD reactions, some disassociation
I. Arrival
The first thing B does upon arrival is check his cabin. Sure enough, there are dogs, cats, goats, a dinosaur egg, and his goddamn left arm in there. The arm's connectors no longer work, but hey, the Nurse thoughtfully left him the arm itself. At least there's a promise he might be able to use it again someday.
He sits on the bed for a little while, hugging confused dogs, petting cats, shoving goats away from his blankets dammit, and trying not to cry. He's not back home. There's a chance the Authority will change their mind. This is temporary. It's temporary.
Then he shoves his backpack and some of those afore-mentioned blankets into his closet to keep them all safe from the animals and treks out to explore his now (temporary) home. He's relatively okay, giving the soft and rounded furniture a look that's more amused than disturbed, until he finds sickbay, and hears about the padded rooms. The forced sedation. The button on his wrist-band that paralyzes people.
Then he disappears for a while into his room to panic.
II. Goat Removal
Okay. He's okay. He'll manage. He's managed with worse. First things first, find somewhere else for the goats, because they cannot live in his tiny cabin room. B spends a while knocking on cabins with doors, looking for one that's empty. If he hits yours, you'll get a sheepish smile, and, "Sorry, just looking for an empty one."
When he finally finds one on his floor, then it's time to remake it all over again. He hauls a mattress out and down the hall to his own room. He requisitions some ratty blankets and some dirt and the closet thing to hay he can get from the Nurse, and turns the spare cabin into at least an approximation of the room they had on the Barge. Then he can be found guiding the goats out of his room and into the new one.
And then doing some cleaning on his room, because, y'know. Goats.
III. Custodial
B enjoys cleaning things, so being put on custodial is fine by him. He spends a solid chunk of his time quietly using his single remaining arm to scrub something, or polish something, or do laundry. He oversees any patients who want to show up for their allotted time leniently. He'll encourage work, but won't force it.
B won't force anybody to do anything. He won't. That's not how you make people happy.
But he does play music sometimes, while he works. Anyone working with him on any given day can scrub to the sound of 30s jazz or 90s pop or occasionally a bit of 70s glam. None of the songs that mention violence remain among his CD collection, but that still leaves a lot to choose from.
IV. Pet Project
The rest of B's time he spends in the common room with two dogs, two cats (the kennel cat came, as well), and two goats, hemmed in with some of the furniture to make a pen that the goats try to climb out of (but B stops them; this is why there's only two of them, so he can keep an eye). "Daily animal time's still happening," he tells anyone who comes by, with a small but friendly smile. "It helps. Promise."
Surely the Nurse can't complain about something that makes people smile the way animals make people smile.
The cats can be found anywhere in the common room, not trapped by the couches and over-turned tables, but B keeps an eye on them regardless. It wouldn't do for someone to snatch one or anything.
V. Falling Apart
B has seventy years of putting on a mask at his disposal, for his public face. Of course, HYDRA didn't want him smiling, didn't want him showing emotion of any kind except occasionally fear, but the skill isn't really much different when you're masking with a smile than a blank face.
It doesn't mean he's not a complete wreck inside. He only uses the big public showers late at night, when hopefully no one else is in there-- and if someone else comes in, he hurriedly finishes up and grabs a towel to wrap himself up in. It's not that he has problems with nudity, exactly... it's that he cannot be naked in a big open space like this without his brain trying to throw HYDRA images at him.
People coming up behind him make him visibly flinch, though he quickly brushes it off with the same small smile he wears all the time and an apology. "Just kind of jumpy today, I guess."
He spends more time staring at the buffet-style meals than he should, tray in his single hand and trembling a little with his tension, stymied by choice again for the first time in years.
VI. Communication - for the Clipper
The Barge was a living, feeling creature, B knows. She communicated. She found ways. B has to wonder if this ship speaks, too, in her own way. Some evenings, he'll wander the halls and tap on the walls in Morse code. Hello, are you there? Will you speak with me? He has no piano, here, but he'll organize the scrabble letters into the same message, or play songs from his CDs in the hopes of conveying the message.
Will you speak, Clipper?
Where: Various, see prompts
When: First half of August
Warnings: PTSD reactions, some disassociation
I. Arrival
The first thing B does upon arrival is check his cabin. Sure enough, there are dogs, cats, goats, a dinosaur egg, and his goddamn left arm in there. The arm's connectors no longer work, but hey, the Nurse thoughtfully left him the arm itself. At least there's a promise he might be able to use it again someday.
He sits on the bed for a little while, hugging confused dogs, petting cats, shoving goats away from his blankets dammit, and trying not to cry. He's not back home. There's a chance the Authority will change their mind. This is temporary. It's temporary.
Then he shoves his backpack and some of those afore-mentioned blankets into his closet to keep them all safe from the animals and treks out to explore his now (temporary) home. He's relatively okay, giving the soft and rounded furniture a look that's more amused than disturbed, until he finds sickbay, and hears about the padded rooms. The forced sedation. The button on his wrist-band that paralyzes people.
Then he disappears for a while into his room to panic.
II. Goat Removal
Okay. He's okay. He'll manage. He's managed with worse. First things first, find somewhere else for the goats, because they cannot live in his tiny cabin room. B spends a while knocking on cabins with doors, looking for one that's empty. If he hits yours, you'll get a sheepish smile, and, "Sorry, just looking for an empty one."
When he finally finds one on his floor, then it's time to remake it all over again. He hauls a mattress out and down the hall to his own room. He requisitions some ratty blankets and some dirt and the closet thing to hay he can get from the Nurse, and turns the spare cabin into at least an approximation of the room they had on the Barge. Then he can be found guiding the goats out of his room and into the new one.
And then doing some cleaning on his room, because, y'know. Goats.
III. Custodial
B enjoys cleaning things, so being put on custodial is fine by him. He spends a solid chunk of his time quietly using his single remaining arm to scrub something, or polish something, or do laundry. He oversees any patients who want to show up for their allotted time leniently. He'll encourage work, but won't force it.
B won't force anybody to do anything. He won't. That's not how you make people happy.
But he does play music sometimes, while he works. Anyone working with him on any given day can scrub to the sound of 30s jazz or 90s pop or occasionally a bit of 70s glam. None of the songs that mention violence remain among his CD collection, but that still leaves a lot to choose from.
IV. Pet Project
The rest of B's time he spends in the common room with two dogs, two cats (the kennel cat came, as well), and two goats, hemmed in with some of the furniture to make a pen that the goats try to climb out of (but B stops them; this is why there's only two of them, so he can keep an eye). "Daily animal time's still happening," he tells anyone who comes by, with a small but friendly smile. "It helps. Promise."
Surely the Nurse can't complain about something that makes people smile the way animals make people smile.
The cats can be found anywhere in the common room, not trapped by the couches and over-turned tables, but B keeps an eye on them regardless. It wouldn't do for someone to snatch one or anything.
V. Falling Apart
B has seventy years of putting on a mask at his disposal, for his public face. Of course, HYDRA didn't want him smiling, didn't want him showing emotion of any kind except occasionally fear, but the skill isn't really much different when you're masking with a smile than a blank face.
It doesn't mean he's not a complete wreck inside. He only uses the big public showers late at night, when hopefully no one else is in there-- and if someone else comes in, he hurriedly finishes up and grabs a towel to wrap himself up in. It's not that he has problems with nudity, exactly... it's that he cannot be naked in a big open space like this without his brain trying to throw HYDRA images at him.
People coming up behind him make him visibly flinch, though he quickly brushes it off with the same small smile he wears all the time and an apology. "Just kind of jumpy today, I guess."
He spends more time staring at the buffet-style meals than he should, tray in his single hand and trembling a little with his tension, stymied by choice again for the first time in years.
VI. Communication - for the Clipper
The Barge was a living, feeling creature, B knows. She communicated. She found ways. B has to wonder if this ship speaks, too, in her own way. Some evenings, he'll wander the halls and tap on the walls in Morse code. Hello, are you there? Will you speak with me? He has no piano, here, but he'll organize the scrabble letters into the same message, or play songs from his CDs in the hopes of conveying the message.
Will you speak, Clipper?
II, also CW for anxiety and PTSD
(A lot of classic Panic Attack signs, basically.)
It's bad enough that he doesn't even stop to look at the one he nearly slams right into, though his awkward almost-stumble is enough to slow him down. With clenched teeth, he grips the railing next to him and forces out a slow breath. He's not even giving B a passing glance, but it's glaringly obvious he's nearing a point of snapping.
no subject
The goat is still right there, though. And tries to reach out and nibble on Cloud's shirt hem.
"Aw, no. C'mon, leave the kid alone," B groans, and pulls back on the loop of fabric he's using as a makeshift halter and leash for the goat. "Sorry. Are you. Hey. Can you look at me?" At the very least it might break Cloud out of his spiral for a second.
no subject
"... Fine," he says, but it's so tense and very obviously defensive, "Sorry, I'm... fine."
But the repeated word might feel akin to a balloon deflating. His shoulders even sag a little as he settles on simply looking at the goat for a moment.
"I don't know what happened. There was just... a lot. That's all."
There isn't exactly an abundance of psychiatrists where he's from. He very genuinely doesn't know what was happening - only that it felt like a lot. Too much.
no subject
no subject
"... I can't remember anything that'd explain why it felt like that."
But that's clearly as far as he'll take the whole opening up thing. He doesn't even know, exactly, why he felt compelled to say those words. Maybe... desperation? Which instantly sounds stupid in his own mind. Yet... he's already finding himself glancing off to the side, noting the things he can see. Focusing a little more to all the sounds he'd normally consider purely background noise. One hand lightly curls into the fabric of his jacket.
no subject
no subject
With a small nod, he moves close enough to crouch in front of the animal, "Uh... Nice to meet you. I'm Cloud."
As he holds his hand out, and everything, it's clear he's trying to lighten the air with a bit of awkward humor.
oops, that was absolutely supposed to be a goat, but we'll roll with the dog instead... XD
face licks are more than worth it
Cloud reaches to scratch D behind one of his ears, if that's alright, before he moves to stand.
"Uh... no, don't think so," he starts, "Before all this, I was still technically the new guy."
Only technically, given... the other Cloud, and all.
no subject