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

[He nods. Mason doesn't mention Jerry's name, but it definitely sounds like Jerry to Stiles. Supposedly needing help is how he drew in Allison and Lydia, too.]

He is an asshole. A total asshole. But not everyone's a jackass. [Except a lot of people are. Hell, sometimes Stiles is one of them.]

Are there vampires in your world?

No there aren't any bloody vampires in my world. It's jus' regular, normal human fucking beings.

[Damn. He'd been hoping for some kind of hint on ways besides the ones he's familiar with through popular mythology on how to kill vampires in case that's a thing that needs to happen. Then again, unless they were from the same world, it might not have mattered anyway.]

Got it. [He chews his thumbnail, looking kind of frustrated.] But you're healing okay?

[Mason looks equally frustrated, and picks at the bandage on his neck]

No, I'm fuckin' not. If we were home, this would've been gone five minutes after I'd been bit. Bastard..

Who the fuck ever heard of real, actual vampires existing?

[He frowns at that.]

Have you talked to Gwen at all? I mean maybe you could ask her for your healing abilities back?

[The vampire question though. It doesn't surprise him the way it does a lot of people. But it's only because he knows about werewolves. And banshees. And Nogtisunes. And kitsunes. And darachs.]

Asked her earlier. She won't let me until I've sobered up an' stopped stealing from people.

Oh. How's that going?

Vodka is the only bloody thing getting me through these hard times, Stiles.

My dad used to drink a lot of Jack Daniels.

Your dad had shit taste.

[So missing the point, Mason.]

Yeah, well. [He shrugs.] He got past it. [That's what he was going for.]

I don't want to get past it, though. You've never seen me sober, Stiles. You wouldn't bloody well like it.

What's sober-you like, anyway?

He's....

He's sad.

He's depressed because he knows of all the horrible things and he can't change a one, but he doesn't have the drink in him to stop caring.

[That isn't the answer that Stiles is expecting, but he's pretty sure it's an honest one. It's also one that most people can relate to on some level.]

But does the vodka really make you stop caring? Or does it just make you numb for awhile?

Well, y'see, that's the beauty of being a drunk, Stiles. After a while you don't know the difference.

[Fair point.]

When's the last time you were sober?

Last year, before I came to the Barge. 'bout a month or so. I think.

How'd it go?

Well, women started looking at me better, an' my breath was nicer, an' I cleaned up well. Wasn't so bad, really.

Hey, see. That sounds good. And there's lots of pretty women around this place. Plus you'd be able to get some of your powers back.

It doesn't last, though. Sobriety. I get drunk when bad things happen.

It's a starting point, though. We just need to find another way for you to deal with things when it gets rough.

What, like punching pillows or crying about my feelings? Fuck off. This is the only thing that works. After forty bloody years of watching people die every day, you tell me how to deal with rough things.

Nope. Wasn't going to suggest either of those things. So you've literally tried everything else as a way of dealing? Every single thing ever?

[Private]

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