voluntaryapnea

[Backdated to the last day of the latest flood.

Open Spam:]

[Stiles can still remember the last time he built a pillow and blanket fort. He and Scott were eleven and at the McCall household. They'd wanted to go camping, but it had rained and ruined their plans. Melissa had suggested they build their camp inside, and being Scott and Stiles, they'd taken her words very much to heart and dragged out every single pillow and every single blanket that the McCall's owned and within a couple of hours, they'd turned the living room into a giant fort.

It isn't exactly what Melissa had meant and she'd stared at them and at the monstrosity for about thirty seconds before shaking her head and vanishing up the stairs. Not surprisingly, that was one of her most common reactions to Scott and Stiles. At least building the fort had meant they weren't engaging into any kind of illegal shenanigans, and that had to count for something, right? Still.

This fort was much, much bigger and much more impressive than that one had been, but that could be because a majority of the Barge had been working on it for the past three days. He knows of course, that this isn't normal. It's some kind of flood, but it's engaging and relatively harmless and the mental break is kind of nice. He is stacking another pillow pile when he hears someone approaching and turns to see who it is.]

[Post-Flood Spam for Dean]

[It doesn't take long for Stiles to realize once he's out of his pillow-induced obsession that he hasn't seen Dean in a few days. Hasn't seen him anywhere. Hasn't heard from him at all. He knows Dean talked to Sam just a couple days prior to the fort-building flood, and he's not sure what to make of his radio silence.

What he does know is that the guy has to be hungry by now, so he stops by the mess hall and fills a tray with food before heading to Dean's door, knocking and waiting.]

[Private to Mason]

Hey, man. I sorta got wrapped up in that whole pillow and blanket thing and didn't ask. You okay?

[Private to Scott McCall]

Are you sure we can't kill him?

[Because honestly. Stiles is all for killing Jerry. He attacked three people Stiles cares about and Stiles actually loathes him.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Mickey had thought that shit like imaginary forts were something he'd grown out of by the time he was about six; but although he's only vaguely aware of the term flood-affected, he knows that something has him in its grips right now. Like for once it might be fun, really fun, to put down the beer and guns and strip the pillows and blankets from his bed.

So here he is, 19 years old, and crawling past a blanket fort commando-style with a throw pillow in each hand and a genuine military backpack on his back. When he reaches the pillow outpost Stiles is working on, he ducks inside and stands, lifting his hands in the universal sign of surrender as Stiles turns.]

Same team, man.

[It is fun. It's a lot of fun. It's probably the most fun Stiles has had in months and definitely the most fun he's had on the Barge. He recognizes Mickey from the brief conversation they'd had when the guy first arrived. He'd made an impression on a lot of people, Stiles included.

He feels no wary annoyance now then, just grins at the idea of someone else being on Team Pillow, because that? That is important.]

We're going to kick Team Blanket's ass.

[He's found that it's hard in life to not make an impression when you have the word FUCK tattooed on your knuckles. What's most surprising about the Barge is that people actually seem to... like him. He doesn't know Stiles well, maybe the kid would have even been one of the types he'd have bullied and terrorized back in school, but the dude just grins at him now and it's sort of a weirdly not terrible surprise.

He returns the grin with a cocky smirk and shrugs his backpack off, unzipping it to reveal the weapon he'd developed over at Bleu's fort: a pillow tied around the middle with a ragged green scarf, so it resembles a flail or bolas.]

You are now.

[Which is something he notices as he watches the other guy unzip his backpack. It isn't the first tattoo he's seen for sure; hell, he was with Scott when Scott got his -- both times. Granted. The first time he'd passed out. If he hadn't been flood affected he might have asked about it, but he doesn't right then.

He nods his approval of the weapon.]

Excellent.

[He turns to look at the fort he's been expanding for the last few hours.]

Right now I'm just fortifying. We need more pillows.

Good luck with that. Bleu's got half the fucking pillows on the boat and she won't say how.

[He zips the pack back up and shrugs it on again, peering out over the fortifications. Absently, he adds:] Probably sucked some Team Blanket cock or something. [Flood-affected or not, he still has zero filter.]

[He does arch his eyebrow at Mickey's comment though. He's never actually met or even talked to Bleu. He knows nothing about her at all.]

Or it's temporary misappropriation.

[In Mickey's defense, Bleu is not exactly chaste. Not at all in Mickey's defense, he's also pretty terrible. He shrugs, thoroughly nonchalant.]

Whichever. All I know is, bitch has got her ways, and she ain't sharing them.

[And yet, there's something affectionate in his voice. He likes Bleu, honestly. Promiscuity has never been an emotional turn-off for him; if it were, he wouldn't even have the tiny knot of people he has back home. He looks back at Stiles and grins.]

How about you? You got a plan?

[Stiles is pretty terrible in other ways. Everyone has their own issues.]

Well, we could always go steal them.

[Theft he has no problem with if it suits his needs, and right now he needs more pillows.]

Yeah? You ready to get hit in the fucking face for 'em? Those guys are pretty hardcore over there.

[He cups his hands to his mouth and calls out into the hallway.]

Hey! Fuck you, get ready!

I've been punched for less.

[By people he'd only been trying to help, no less.]

Okay but sneaking up and stealing is best done without announcing your presence first, man.

That takes like half the fun away, man.

If you enjoy pain, sure.

You get this is a combat fucking situation, right? What's the point if there ain't no combat?

Yeah, but I'd rather take a pillow to the face than a fist. Less likely to end up concussed and in the infirmary.

[He considers this. He doesn't really mind getting punched in the face, but...]

Fine, if you're gonna be a total pussy about it.

[He shouts over again:] Pillows 'n' shit only! [He may still punch someone. Cheating is also half the fun.]

13.

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam] cw: misogynistic language

[spam] cw: misogynistic language

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]

[spam]