come_sailaway | Give A Bitch A Break [October Open]

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Give A Bitch A Break [October Open]

Who: Erin Peters and YOU
What: AAAAAAAAA
When: Mid October Forward
Where: Library, Bobby's, possibly elsewhere
Warnings: Tiamat fallout, suicide discussion, depression & stress

There Is No Silver Bullet [Closed To Valdis | Library]

Finding Erin won't be hard, once Valdis is herself again; she's the only soul on the ship currently meditating into a killing trance, a state of no-mind she's hoping will be effective against Tiamat. She's...

Having obstacles. Intrusive thoughts, feelings, anxieties, these impede her meditation, but she's getting there. This has gone on long enough.

Maybe tell her the good news?

Grade A Hypocrisy [Library | After the Previous]

Erin keeps coming to the library to read, on the theory that she's definitely not isolating, look, it's a public space. What actually keeps happening is she gets three chapters in and passes out, drooling on the comfy chair. Coffee? No help. Tea? No help. Turning into a toy robot? The toy robot snores and turns back into Erin after an hour, leaving her sprawled on the table.

The Smoking Prompt [Bobby B's]

I'm writing this on a phone, Erin smokes multiple times a day, find her here. She's still drinking pretty heavily too.

Wildcard

It warm in Hell.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Madgod scoots along the floor in his cat form, making a sound like brakes bringing a car to a screeching halt beside Erin. He's wearing sunglasses perched on the end of his nose, which he "bought" from Sundries.

"Well, I can't say I've ever seen anyone in more need of making biscuits. Well, actually, I can say that. I can say whatever I well please, in fact."

...

....

(.......)

"Buddy -"

(WHY CAN'T HE BE AN ACTUAL CAT DAMNIT)

"- as flattered as I am by the offer -"

(FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MONTRESSOR WE NEED TO EVOLVE INTO A CAT LADY SO FUCKING BAD)

"- I really do not think you making biscuits on my belly is gonna end the way either of us want to."

(WE HAVE BEEN ROBBED!)

Edited 2023-10-11 01:12 (UTC)

"Oh no, no no no, you misunderstand me, Miss Erin. I meant that we ought to go down to the kitchen and cover ourselves in flour and butter and a sense of stubborn hope, and make biscuits so soft, they'll make the Pillsbury Dough Boy look like he's been hitting the gym by comparison."

Don't ask me to justify how he can make that reference.

"And incidentally, if you want to test-run a catgirl form, well, I could certainly help with that."

Edited 2023-10-11 01:17 (UTC)

"...Nnnno."

(Yeah buddy I hate to join this fucking Debbie Downer but if one more thing happens to our body that we didn't specifically initiate we're gonna go insane enough to usurp your title.)

"...I hate you so much head voice." Erin hangs her head, sighs, and then: "I have one question and one question only: can you manifest a tiny chef hat."

He pauses for a moment, looking confused.

"Ohhhhh, did you mean a cat lady, and not a cat lady? My mistake, not to worry, cased closed, yadda yadda."

"And of course I can manifest a tiny chef hat, with optional tiny rat chef- which is also me, of course. Didn't you know, I'm an exceptional rat chef!" He makes some grunting and groaning noises.

"Hmm, the hat seems to be stuck, give me a little bit."

(Don't -)

Oh no, I'm gonna.

"Push, puuuuuushhhh!"

"Ask and ye shall receive, mortal! You asked for this." The cat begins to vibrate with such an intensity that he becomes a silver blur. The entire room starts to rumble with the disturbance. Ethereal butterflies form at his edges and immediately crumble into sweet-smelling vapor. The light in the room bends and changes hue.

*pop*

With a comical noise, a chef's hat appears on his head in the most anticlimactic fashion. Everything returns to normal.

Erin collapses against the wall dying of laughter. Full chested blue-in-the-face 'do you need a glass of water' laughter.

He sits there, waiting for her to catch her breath, with all the confidence of a cat who knows he rules the world.

"...Okay, okay...okay, hoo, alright." Erin shakes it off. "Okay. You wanna ride on my shoulder or are we walkin' side by side, m'Madgod?"

"I wouldn't mind a ride. I get the feeling that right now you're less of a mood to walk side by side with your own disorders, talking with them and making sense of them, and more inclined to hold them and feel how soft they can be. Am I on the mark here?"

"Wish you weren't," Erin agrees, annoyed at herself. She scoops up Sheogorath and puts him on her shoulder before setting off for the kitchen. "...Life aboard treating you well at all?"

"As well as it ever has," he purrs, making himself comfortable in multiple senses of the phrase. He's warm and so very, very unfairly soft, maybe just a tiny bit heavier than is convenient.

"Of course, I'll be keeping most things in confidence, we did agree as much... but did you know there are other gods on board? As in, they have faces? And voices? Voices that sing karaoke?"

"...Only one besides you right now, and Sheo, buddy, if you let her out of the box I'm gonna be cross like you wouldn't fucking believe."

Erin pauses.

"...Maybe two. You meet Helen yet?"

"Yes! I've met Helen! Room with a view! Though I don't think I'd make the mistake of labeling her a god, I know she knows better than that and I'm not going to try and drag her into that mess." He swishes his tail.

"And I doubt I can let little Tia out of her box, but why shouldn't I? Do you have any idea how miserable it is, spending so much of your early existence in a prison, or being a prison?" He's not actually saying 'why shouldn't I?' in a defiant way so much as he's genuinely asking 'why shouldn't I?' He's genuinely not sure.

"Can we take the various creative and sincerely meant threats in my head as a given and move my justifications on from there?"

Head voice isn't taking shit for given. Head Voice is inventing new crimes against sapient life at an alarming rate.

"Well, you're certainly passionate about it. But that doesn't tell me why Tia deserves to be in the box."

He's actually being oddly insistent about this. Might have something to do with having been created as a torture device for another god and still being a bit salty about that.

"She's an undead parasite forced on my beloved against her will, and her first taste of freedom was spent torturing Valdis and everyone Valdis loves." Erin's voice is low and hard, full of pain, and that pain echoes, rhymes with existing trauma. Memories of killing imposters with her friends' faces and the terror of getting it wrong, battles in dreams with creatures that can only steal forms, paranoid hallucinations...

"'Tia' needs a grave, and nothing better. But I'd settle for a new set of bones to call her own, if it meant Valdis could be free of her."

"A new set of bones to call her own, if it meant Valdis could be free..." he echoes her words with uncharacteristic depth and clarity.

"Perhaps I should meet this Valdis face to face. Do you think we could bring her some biscuits, once we've made them?"

Erin's quiet, for awhile.

Sort of.

(You better fucking behave with her. She's been through so much lately, we swear on our mother's bones we'll make Siffleur look like a fucking vegan if you play stupid games. You hear me? YOU HEAR ME?)

"...Might be an idea, yeah."

([Incoherent yelling])

"Oh, I'm not planning on toying with her. I'm as serious as a heart attack."

His tail curls up over Erin's other shoulder, resting gently rather than flicking playfully.

"Perhaps when your mind isn't already cracking under the weight of other things, I could tell you a little story. Then you might understand what this means for me."

"Yeah...sorry about that. Head Voice is what it is." Erin reaches up to scratch the cat's head with gentle fingertips. "I'll let you know when I'm ready to listen. Things are. Rough."

"I know, mortal. I know," he purrs quietly, appreciating the scritches, before immediately following up with a bouncy, jaunty, "That's what the smell of buttery baking bread is for!"

Things Erin is: competent enough to make biscuits, even mostly blind.

Things she's not: able to do so cleanly. By the time she's done the Lost is covered in flour, but there sure are plates of tasty biscuits. One for her and Sheogorath, one for Valdis. Speaking of...

"Quiet a moment, I've gotta text."

Valdis love I am covered in more white powder than Scarface and now I will bring you flaky delicious biscuits I cannot be stopped. However the local god of madness whose name I will not subject to the speech to text would like to come with are you down to meet a cat that has every disease?

The only local god of madness she is aware of is in the shape of a man, not a cat. Valdis normally likes cats, and one thinking it is a god isn't in itself unusual, but if Sheom can become a cat, she's not sure she wants to meet him.

If it is who I think it is, we have met, and I am disinclined to entertain that insanity at this time.

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I Apologize For Nothing

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