Test Drive 01

[cognitivus]

ɢᴇᴛ ᴄʟᴜsᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ

A Sense8 AU Sandbox

IN THE BEGINNING

It doesn't happen all at once — the world does not reorient itself and thrust upon you seven other cluster mates. No, it happens in stages. Snatches at a time. Moments, sometimes individually, sometimes in sets of two or three. Maybe you're reading a book, and you notice someone sitting beside you on the couch. Maybe you're surfing, and suddenly there's a second person on the board. Maybe you see them in passing, or maybe you both stand there, face to face, equally confused, wondering how you can both speak the same language when one of you is from Middle Earth and the other is clearly in Tokyo.

There's time to talk. Time to figure it out.

Unless, of course, there isn't. It's entirely possible that your first meeting is not during a calm, cozy, collected moment. Maybe you call on one of your sensates during a time of need. A fight, a chase scene, a moment of public speaking in the spotlight. A time when you're truly out of your depth, and you need someone with a particular, complimentary set of skills that can step in on your behalf.

It's time.

warnings : violence, psychological horror

GETTING STARTED

WELCOME TO THE CLUSTER!


On this TDM, don't worry too much about your official cluster pairing. This is for either workshopping different combinations, or different characters. If, in the end, you find you really like a certain combination, simply be sure to ask to be in the same cluster as the folks you've threaded with! For now, worry instead about playing out first meetings. It could look a little something like this:

Tag in with your character name & canon.

Set a scene by providing a variety of moments other characters can witness and jump into.

If you're going to tag into the same prompt someone else has already tagged into, consider making it a group thread; the premise eof this sandbox revolves highly around multi-person interactions. Don't be shy! These are your cluster mates, after all.

Or, if you're feeling especially daring and dramatic (and let's face it, we all are):

Set up a scene from an impactful moment around your intended canonpoint.

AU it to your heart's content. Maybe things go exactly the same as they did in canon, or maybe with a sensate cluster influencing things, it begins the path that deviates things wildly from the canon we all know and love. It's entirely up to you!

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NETWORK USAGE

Communication via text is still very possible!

Through the magic of the powers of the human mind, that group text across universes still totally exists. Maybe it appears as an actual text chain to you, or maybe it's freshly dried ink on that magical scroll that keeps writing itself the more messages are exchanged.

Whatever the case, your mind retains the communications written down by your cluster, and all correspondences to one another are visible — unless otherwise stated to be private, of course. Create a prompt on your top level with some inbox action, and do a little lowkey texting!

Be sure to specify if a thread is private, otherwise you may have a handful of other folks chiming in with their opinion on your back-and-forth exchange at any time!

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ANYTHING ELSE

Check out the info page for details, or post to the enable me please meme with information about characters you're considering bringing in! If you have any additional questions, feel free to ask me below, or on plurk!

Comments

[brandingproblem]

Clint's brow furrows. Will's here, and Will...should not be here? There doesn't feel like a good reason, because there's nothing here for him to do. Maybe he's just bored or lonely.

Clint is sharpening a knife. Will's appearance has him pausing. "It's work," is what he eventually decides to say.

[cognitivus]

Across from him, Frank's eyes lift from the piece he's cleaning with a quiet, curious, "Hmm?"

Will studies Frank's face, his brow faintly furrowed, studious, curious, thoughtful. He passes around the table, moving in closer to get a better look — and he is looking, looking in a way he normally doesn't with strangers, because-

"This is the person that owns you?" It's asked simply, not with judgment. Neutral. The cultural differences in their universe may be complex; he knows he's not equipped to understand the interpersonal dynamic at play here yet. Making assumptions about how either of them feel about the arrangement won't benefit him. He wants to understand.

[brandingproblem]

Ah. Ha. Okay, that's interesting. And kind of a little horrifying? Frank can hear him talk to his friend-partner-person in another part of the country. In another world? Hell, would that even be the weirdest thing for them to hear at this point?

He looks to Frank, shakes his head slowly, gives a casual shrug. "Nothing. Thinking out loud." With a stretch, he sets down the knife, stands. "Be right back." Like he's going to take a leak. Heads off in that direction, expecting Will to follow, so they can maybe have a conversation that isn't too loud or something.

It's when he closes the bathroom door that he realizes maybe 'I'm going to make sure Kuba's gotten a nice long walk first' would've been the smarter excuse, but, here they are.

"It's complicated," then, to the mirror. "Short answer: no."

[cognitivus]

He lingers behind for a moment, studying Frank as Clint paces away — but follows, in the end, before he's completely out of sight. Has to, because technically speaking, his awareness extends only as far as Clint's. Clint's mind can back-fill a lot, but he doesn't actually have eyes in the back of his head. Once Frank stops being in his visual and auditory range, he stops being something Will can observe.

Instead, the mirror — where he stands in place of Clint's reflection, looking back at him. It's a bizarre perspective, not something chosen intentionally. Maybe this, too, is a product of Clint's mind. What he expects to see when he looks into it.

Will finds himself standing in the restroom at Quantico, with its too-red walls and too-white porcelain, his weapon holstered on his hip, his badge hanging around his neck. His hands curled around the sink, staring into the mirror where Clint is reflected back at him.

"What's the long answer?"

[brandingproblem]

This is all something to get used to. He's more used to it already than he feels like he should be, given he's someone Weird Things simply don't happen to, but it does take him a moment, seeing through a mirror and seeing someone else, someplace else. There's a worry at the back of his mind that Frank's going to overhear him talking to himself like a lunatic.

That he'll decide it's Canada time, that there will be people up there who can help him, that Frank will blame himself for letting Clint get so much worse without ever realizing it--

What's the long answer? "He bought me. But not in his name. So the legality of it is questionable at best, complete shit at worst. And he doesn't treat me like a collar, never has. He owns me in that he exchanged money for my person, doesn't in that he's legally kinda not and doesn't act like an owner." Clint waggles a hand. "I know it bothers him, sometimes. A lot of the time."

[cognitivus]

Like a collar; so that's what it's called here. Not slave. Sure, that makes sense. Call a man a slave owner and they're forced to confront the ethics of what they're doing to a person. Call them by the noun they wear around their neck and it's less something that's being done to them and more something they are. Clever little bit of linguistic twisting to accommodate the sensibilities of the subjugating masses.

"I can imagine why," he says simply. "Legal slavery was abolished where I come from. It's widely regarded as one of the greatest atrocities in human history."

Which isn't to say it isn't still practiced, but it's done in shadows, in secret. It's done in ways that are highly illegal, and it's considered deeply disgusting to the average person.

He still manages to sound neutral, lacking in judgment, when he asks, "If it makes him feel guilty, why did he buy you?"

It's possible that Will feels a little... protective. Hannibal would probably have a thing or two to say about Will's thing about strays with neglectful, unfit owners.

[brandingproblem]

"Needed to find the guy who owned me before that. Before he put me up for auction." After running away. Stray dog. Sure as hell got treated worse than the dog. "Needed information from him. Easy way to find him, get the layout of the place, what kind of resistance to expect."

Will doesn't sound like he's judging. Even though his words almost sound like they're judging Frank. And sure. Maybe it's a protective streak in Clint to try and correct any misunderstandings about that. "Frank doesn't believe in collars. I'm the same as him, far as he's concerned. He's...really aware of the differences, though."

[cognitivus]

He can sense it, that protectiveness in Clint. That eagerness to correct assumptions he believes Will to be making. It's not entirely unfounded; less than charitable alternatives are one of many possibilities floating around in Will's mind.

"You care about him a lot," he observes gently. That, he can feel. It's more than just looking and empathizing, it's deeper than that — Will can feel it as though it's coming from himself. It's strong, it's impulsive, it's deeply loyal. Not the toxic kind of care one feels for an abuser; it's kinder than that. More whole.

He wonders if this man — Frank — feels the same way about Clint. He'll have to pay attention in the future, when they're together in the same room again. He'll get a look through Clint's eyes while they talk. Make up his own mind about the man later.

"Do you plan to tell him about this?"

It's not a demand. He'll conform to whatever Clint's comfortable with; if he rather Will not speak to him while he's in the room with Frank, he'll accommodate that. He's not sure how practical it is to run to the bathroom like this to carry on a conversation, but if that's what Clint wants, he'll understand.

[brandingproblem]

"He's good to me," Clint confirms. "Thousand different times I could've left, and I won't."

Frank won't hurt him. Frank doesn't lie to him. Frank treats him better than basically anyone ever has. He cares. A lot. It's the kind of loyalty in him his other owners have only ever dreamed of instilling in him.

"I don't...know how. I don't know what to say that doesn't sound insane. Do you think I should?" Because Will's smart, and Will's part of him more importantly, and Will can see the kinds of angles that Clint's blind to. It's an opinion he'll take to heart. "Have you told anyone? Your therapist?"

[cognitivus]

"I've considered it," he admits, turning to press his back to the sink counter. He's in the same room with Clint again, side by side; Clint facing the mirror, Will facing away from it. Here, he scrubs his hands over his face and puffs out a soft, humorless laugh. "I'm going through a psychological evaluation period after Hobbs. I-"

This is... a little embarrassing. Not as much as it could be, but more than he really intended to admit to Clint.

"I used to be a cop. Before I worked for the FBI. I was in homicide, but it... didn't work out. I could never manage to pull the trigger in the field." The expression on his face twists, something pained, a little wry, a little bitter. "Finally mustering the gall seems to have set off a few red flags. I'm trying to figure out if telling my therapist about the voices in my head is the best idea before I've got job security."

Technically, Hannibal already rubber-stamped him. It just seems like it'd be unethical of him not to rescind that if he finds out something like this.

But-

"I think I don't spend nearly as much time with my therapist as you spend with Frank. I think it'd be a good idea to tell him sooner rather than later, and I have an idea of how to prove it, whenever you're ready to."

[brandingproblem]

Could never manage to pull the trigger, and technically, he still hasn't. Change of habits, and actually killing someone, yeah, he can see Will getting looked at. Make sure he's okay after something like that. "Do you think you could've? Would've?" Pulled the trigger. "You weren't in a good place. I'm good at that stuff, though. Got trained young." How young, he declines to say at the moment unprompted.

But yeah. Maybe saying 'I didn't shoot anyone, one of several voices and selves from different universes took over my body and shot him' wouldn't sound good for a sensitive work thing. Wouldn't sound good to Frank, either, he thinks. How can he trust anything Clint does or says if he suddenly could be someone else?

"Do you want Kuba to do a sniff check? Or," and he's hesitant, first, because it's weird and it's intimate in a way, but Frank's been silently teaching him a lot about touch communication. But Clint lifts a hand, furrow deep between his brows, and lays it on Will's chest. Feels real. Feels really real under his hand. "Just start touching like I'm gonna look like a mime?"

[cognitivus]

He's still under the touch. Quiet, receptive, his arms hanging lax and his hands clasped together in front of his waist. While Clint's hand lingers, Will's eyes study his face, taking in what he can from the briefly unguarded expression.

He sees a lot in Clint. A lot that he likes. A lot that worries him. A lot that he feels the instinctive need to shelter and foster, like a lit match in the rain.

"I was thinking of something a little more factual and concrete," he says wryly. "But if you have a preference for mimes, I'm sure we can work that into it somehow."

He's teasing.

[brandingproblem]

"Ha ha," with a roll of his eyes and a sliding away of his hand. Figures he's probably been in here long enough, turns on the faucet to sound like he's washing his hands. Maybe...hm.

Frank doesn't lie to him. Maybe he needs to not lie to Frank in return.

"I think factual and concrete's gonna work best, yeah." And not bullshit that sounds so god damn fake, like Clint's cracked under the pressure after all.

[cognitivus]

"I promise I'm going to do everything I can to make things... well, as sane as they could possibly be, given the inherent insanity of the situation," he says and, after a beat, reaches out in turn to lightly clasp Clint by the shoulder.

Physical touch, it seems, is one of the languages he's been focusing on using lately. Will doesn't mind fostering that habit, if that's what he wants. It's no more uncomfortable to him than anything else — people tend to shy away from the intimacy baked into it, but as far as Will's concerned, there is absolutely nothing more intimate than sharing a mind with someone. Considering touch a barrier is patently absurd by comparison.

"We don't have to do it now," he offers. "If you need more time. If you're not ready."

[brandingproblem]

"I don't know what ready is. For something like this."

The touch, even if it isn't real (and it's real enough to him that 'real' and 'not real' don't even mean anything right now), does a lot to help settle his nerves. He might not be quite as inherently touch-communication-y as Frank, but they are in their own ways plenty touch-starved. It helps. It helps to learn another tongue, as it were.

"Not right now. Not when we're gearing up for a hunt." That's how he's phrased it since day one with Frank, hunting. "Need to focus."