#i had to suddenly say goodbye to my beloved cat this weekend

[crowdsourcedloner]

.

[selfpositiveundertale]

Long sad post. My husband and I are in mourning and it's rough.

It is with a heavy and broken heart I must announce that the other night we had to say goodbye to our kitten Sterling Cowboy. He was named after Sterling Archer from the TV show Archer since my husband loves that show and Cowboy Absher from the podcast Old Gods Of Appalachia since I'm obsessed with it and listen to the stories over and over.

Sterling had something really wrong with his brain and it had suddenly gotten worse despite our best efforts. We rushed him to the ER vet but there wasn't really anything they could do that would let him have a good quality of life even if he could have survived the weekend, so we said goodbye. We are having him cremated and the remains returned to us in a nice wooden box.

My husband and I are both absolutely heartbroken about it. I've seen him cry many times over the 15 years we've been together, but I've never seen him cry as hard as he did over losing Sterling. It really hit him hard, even harder than when his beloved cat he had for 6 years that loved him more than most dogs love their humans passed away. We've spent a lot of time crying into each other's arms since Friday night. We're going to miss our precious little demon kitty baby and all his tiny violence and his pretty brown eyes. We'd never seen a kitty with brown eyes before this wonderful, unique little baby.

He was never even guaranteed to make it past the first day my husband found him, the vet I first took him to wasn't expecting him to last the night with how malnourished and dehydrated he was, not to mention he had a heart murmur, but he had nearly four months of love and comfort and food and safety in our home. He never wanted to bottle feed, which was strange considering he had to be maybe 3 weeks old at the most when my husband found him, he wanted wet food immediately(though we mixed kitten milk replacement into it) and turned out to be a messy eater until he learned how to eat without getting his food all over his face and paws. We had to help him go to the bathroom at first, until he learned to do it on his own, and he figured out the litter box immediately. He grew so much, going from just .4 lbs that first day to 3.5 lbs on the last.

He spent his first and last moments in our lives being held by my husband, in his shirt pocket in the beginning and in his arms swaddled in a towel at the end, and some of his early days being carried around in a crochet pouch around my neck so I wouldn't have to leave him unattended when he was too little to be alone.

We loved that baby so so much and he knew it and he loved us too. Even when he was being rambunctious and chaotic and biting and scratching in his playfulness, he would still be purring and blinking slowly at us, and he loved to be held and cradled like a baby or held in anything resembling a pocket or pouch, such as the hood of a hoodie worn backwards. He would literally climb both me and my husband, latching on with his little claws whether we had clothes on or not, so he could scale our frames because he wanted to be held. We are both scratched up from the neck down as a result of his climbing and playful scratching, but those will heal much quicker than our hearts.

Enjoy some of my favorite pics of him. We will have the last one printed out and put inside the paw print keepsake we were given and it is also my lock screen now on my phone. I'm also considering doing an artist rendition of it and getting it tattooed on me at some point. It's our favorite of all of them, he's just like

ʘ⁠👅ʘ

and it's so precious. We love it. It makes us smile through our tears to see it.

Good vibes, thoughts, prayers, whatever you got, is appreciated. We had such a short time with Sterling but it was so full of love and memories and it hurts so much now that he's gone. If I can think of a meme to make, I'll make one. It might help me feel better if I can do what I've done before and write a kind message of words I need to hear and put them on an image of a beloved character.

Sterling was a feisty fighter from the very beginning up until he couldn't anymore. Even through recovering from malnourishment, the time he sprained his paw, the time he bruised his chest, and the first time his brain issues surfaced and made us rush him to the ER vet, he fought and had so much attitude and spark packed into his little body like dynamite that he recovered every time. But this time he just couldn't.

Stay determined. I'm trying to. It hurts, but I'm trying.

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩶🩶🩶

[charlicheems]

The wait

Friends are something everyone has experienced having. Friends are those who are there for you when you're at your lowest. They comfort you, encourage you, and make you realize things that would change your world. They give you new experiences and knowledge. They share memorable moments with you, and in return, you entrust them with your secrets, thoughts, and heart.

Everyone has their definition of what a friend is. Some say friends are those who are there with them always, at their highest and their lowest. Others say that friends are those who push you to be the best version of yourself. And some even say that they think a friend is someone you can rely on, someone loyal, someone trustworthy, someone with respect, and the list goes on. But for me, a friend is "Something” that comes into your life and leaves a lasting impression, and the friend I’m referring to is named Gas-gas. Gas-gas is a black cat named after one of Cinderella's mice, Gus-gus. He was a sweet cat, he always came when I called him, he listened to me when I told him about my day, and he'd stay with me until it was time for me to go home. You see Gas-gas was my cat, but, he lived at my grandmother's house which was fifteen minutes away from our house. It was like this because my parents, at the time, were not in favor of keeping pets. I only ever got to see him when it was weekends because that was the only time when my parents could accompany me to go to my Lola’s house. However, this changed when my parents got into a big argument. Because of this, we stayed at Lola's house for the time being, resulting in my bond with Gas-gas blossoming. Every day after school I first change out of my uniform, organize my items, then I go straight to our meeting place to call him over and then spend time together. That was our routine since at night I was always busy with homework. This routine went on for a while, I would wake up, go to school, go home, and then meet up with Gas-gas at our usual place. It was fun every day, and I thought nothing bad could happen, nothing’s going to change this, right? No, the universe taught me that life is full of surprises, what you might have now can disappear without you even knowing, and this was taught to me the hard way. Gas-gas suddenly stopped coming to our usual place, he stopped going home, he stopped existing even, he was gone.

Overwhelming worry, sadness, confusion, and fear, were what I felt when it was confirmed that he had vanished. I did not even get to say goodbye, it was like he was ripped away from me. Till this day I have not a clue as to where Gas-gas might've run off to, why he went away, and who was involved. But I know for a fact that wherever he is, he holds a piece of my heart. His disappearance left me with two things. The first one is the things that kept me going. Inspiration, he motivates me to be persistent in life and do what I'm passionate about. He gives me hope, taught me to be contented, and showed me that a simple life can be enough. He gives me happiness from the memories we've shared, comfort because I know he's always with me guiding every step I take, and he taught me the value of friendship and how it can be achieved by those who are willing to sacrifice wholeheartedly. The second thing he left me was fear, though the experience taught me a lesson, it also came with a negative outcome. I fear the day of his disappearance. It reminds me of how I lost my first-ever friend, and how the world can suddenly take away something so dear to me. It has been a few years since this happened but the scar on my heart will never fade away, like my memories with my beloved pet, it shall stay with me forever. Though I don't know where he is now, I still don't want to believe that he is dead, because it would hurt too much. I'm still keeping my hopes up because even though he's not with me physically, and years have passed since he left, I still have this gut feeling that he's still alive, and I'm holding on to it for my dear life because if I let go, I know that heartbreak is the fate that awaits me. So, as I'm writing this, know that I'm still waiting and hoping that my friend will find his way back to me, to his home that is patiently waiting, to his friend that he left, itching for his arrival, waiting for a clue to come to me and tell me where he could've ran off to. But, for now, all I can do is pray as he continues his journey back home, and wish that I’ll be the first person there to greet him upon his arrival.

[tribeoftrolls]

Today of Jan 13 2020 was a very hard day. Ugh this is the new year of 2020 and this had to have suddenly happen. Dx 

Not a good way to start the year but things can happen at any time, at any moment.

To give a heads up this is a tribute to the passing of my cat Mocha and the mention of another I had just before him name Malachi. If you don’t want to read this due to feeling that this is a sensitive subject then you have all right to scroll pass. It’s not like I’m gonna know and I rather my readers/followers to also be comfortable as everyone handles the passing of a pet differently.

About four years ago I lost a cat name Malachi and he was the age of 8 years old as his diabetes had him crash. I was in the process to find the right insulin for him as his body kept rejecting. The insulin would work for a while and then just suddenly stop. I was visiting the vet a lot just to find the right insulin but eventually he turned for the worse. After his passing some time in the spring of 2016. A few months go by and my brother calls me asking if I can adopt his mother in law’s cat and explained what was going on.

That’s where Mocha comes in some time in June of 2016.  I adopted Mocha when he was the age of 11 years old. He was owned by my sister in law’s mother. She couldn’t care for him anymore and needed a new home. He eventually made it to me once it was found out that my nephew was allergic as my brother and his wife took him in but didn’t expect their son who was just a toddler at the time would become allergic. I’ve had him for four wholesome years and I feel like I raised him since he was a kitten. He was a really, really good cat. He was extremely social. He loved to meet anyone who came in at my door and when I came home he was at the door or greeted my husband too when he returned from work. He was surely a lap cat. Any lap he can find he wanted to cuddle up and be there. He did it to not just us but anyone that was in our house such as my parents or my husbands parents etc. 

I have another cat name Madison and it was a bit of a tug of war with getting along but he had a very calm disposition. Hardly any fights and the most was Madison just growling at him and he would walk away. Other times I’d find them on the couch or in the bed sleeping almost side by side. It was a love and hate relationship I guess but they got along for as much as Madison allowed. Madison is at least 16 or 17 years old as she has been with me for as long as my marriage, she was with me for a year or two when she was just a kitten before I got married. So she’s in a granny age of stubborn. 

Mocha’s calm disposition allowed Madison to get use to him as we slowly introduced them. He eventually took rule of the roost as the dominate one, he became the top cat of the house. He’d follow me everywhere, including the basement which he loved the basement. I trained him to come to me when I call his name, just as I trained Madison too. He’d always would show up when I called him. He always slept at my side near my chest. His purrs were extremely soft that the only way you knew he was purring was to feel his chest. He was water obsessed, anything water he did not care he would let it rain on him as well as tried to jump into the shower. And would demand the bowls to be refilled even though fresh water was already in the bowl. As his care taker I and my husband would refill the bowl of water just to appease him. In just four years he became Mocha boy, Mocha Man and more nick names. He became our fur baby just as much as Madison is. 

When I first met him I fell in love with him immediately. Love at first sight does exist. He lived to the age of 14 years. Unfortunately he had developed cancer at some point of his life and the signs showed up all of a sudden, something was wrong with him this weekend. And to find out today he has cancer and all that we had discussed with the Vet to know the best plan for Mocha. As much as it sucks. As much as I dislike this part of letting go of a beloved pet. In the end he’s not suffering anymore and he gave me the best four years of his life. I have owned all types of animals in my childhood and up until even now. I only had one cat that portrays Mocha’s disposition and that was Bangle. He was another good cat during my childhood years. All cats have all their unique qualities to them but he surely left a big paw print on my heart. I’m going to miss him dearly. And I gave him as many kisses and hugs during the whole process. I’m just writing a tribute to him as well as Malachi as I don’t remember writing anything on him. And as much as Malachi and Mocha look almost the same, they are not of the same litter. They are just the same cat breed. 

To who ever is reading this, love on your pets extra always. It’s never easy to say goodbye but as long as you hold memory to every pet you have cared for, they are never truly gone. Always do what is best for your fur babies, even when it’s the most difficult and hurting.

Picture of Malachi: 

[reecedarlene]

4/20/2018 -  After work, a friend I’m getting closer every day with (by bonding over our toxic relationships with our mothers) came to visit from out of state.  We met, went out to dinner, and I stayed out from 5:30 pm to 9:00 pm (sorry to our waitress)

Then after getting home I played on my Playstation 4 until about 11 pm when my ex who recently found some of my childhood books that apparently have been in the trunk of his car for the last year and a half since we broke up.  I drove over to his house, not knowing just how large the box was.  After retrieving my beloved Animorphs books, we talked.  We talked about everything, good and bad, our lives now, our lives before when we were together, and it was midnight.  So he asked if I just wanted to go get coffee, he’d drive, he’d pay (I didn’t bring my purse he literally lives 20 feet from my apartment).  So we went to get coffee, it was casual, it was safe, but I knew it was inappropriate.  I couldn’t help it, I’m so fed up with my current boyfriend and it doesn’t matter how many times I try to leave him he just won’t go...  I got home that night at 3 am

4/21/2018 -  I had set an alarm the previous night to get up at 9 am because of a “$5 a Bag” booksale at the local library.  The alarm went off, and even though I am usually ecstatic on weekends when the boyfriend isn’t there because it means I can do whatever I want without having him checking in on me and being upset I’m not spending time with him.  But that 9 am alarm went off and I was Just So Tired.

I woke up feeling exhausted, conflicted, and overwhelmed.  Like a 25 year old failure for sitting in this 2-bedroom apartment I can barely afford and do not  need, with more debt than I can manage, in a relationship with someone who doesn’t love me or respect me enough to Just Get A Job, and I just didn’t want to get out of bed.  But I knew if I didn’t get out of bed, if I just laid there and put on Friends reruns and stayed under my soft blanket - I’d hate myself.

So I got out of bed.  I put on a Boy Meets World T-shirt, and brushed my hair, and I went to the book sale.  I had other plans that day, too.  Meeting with a friend for Bubble Tea, going thrift shopping, it was a day filled with all of my favorite things.  But even as I was skimming through book spines I wanted to go home.  I was waiting for a text from my - notoriously flaky - friend saying “So sorry, girl, but I’m so busy, I can’t do Bubble Tea today” but it didn’t come.  Instead I got text from my boyfriend, complaining that his friends “value the Magic Card Game more than his friendship, that he wants to just come back tonight, that he hates being away from me, that he hates being around his mom, hates his fake friends, hates everything”.

“I’m sorry :( “ I texted back because what can I say?  What can I do?  I can’t fix what’s wrong, I can’t fix how he feels, I barely got out of bed this morning.  So I filled my bag, I paid my $5, the guy who accepting my cash tried to goad me into buying more books but I know in my heart, I shouldn’t have even bought these books seeing as how I have books I bought in 2003 I still haven’t gotten around to reading...

I got in my car, and it was a beautiful spring day.  60 degrees in Michigan, no rain clouds, no threat of snow, the sun was out, there was a breeze, you could keep all the car windows down.  A day like this would usually make me so happy.  But I checked my phone again, still hoping for a cancellation text.  “Hey, girl, what time are we meeting?”  “Is 2:00 too late?”  “No that’s fine :) “  The clock read 11:45 am.

So I texted another friend, a friend in a volatile relationship, a friend who’s kids I had found books at the sale for anyway, so I texted her “Hey, can I swing by for a few?  Just to drop off books and kill some time?”  “Absolutely I’ll be home in 10″.  So I went, spent 2 hours talking to her, her husband, her kids, and petting her Australian Shepard.

A third friend texted “What are you doing today?”  “Meeting for Bubble Tea at 2″  “Can I come?”  “Sure!  Pick you up at 1:45″  This might seem insane, already I’ve socialized with 6 people in a 24 period of time but this is me, this is my element, and usually I’d be so excited but I still just want to go home, get back under my covers, order in food, and ignore the Friends reruns on Netflix.

I pick up the friend, I drive to the city where the Bubble Tea is sold, and the friend I’d been waiting on all day to cancel plans says “I’m running behind but I’ll be there.”  So we sat in my car for an hour, windows, down, talking about all that’s wrong in our lives so that by the time the friend I initially made these plans with shows up, I’m talked out.  But I still want Bubble Tea, so we still go in, we order, we talk until 5:00 pm

Flaky friend and I had planned to go thrift shopping, but now she’s saying she’s going to her mom’s after tea to go watch The Greatest Showman.  I don’t complain, because I expected something like this, and the other friend is with me anyway so we’ll just go like we always do anyhow.  So we say our goodbyes after continuing to talk outside for 30 minutes.  Then the friend I picked up and I go out to eat, go to a few stores, and I finally get to go to bed without feeling guilty - 9:00 pm. 

But when I walk in the door, I remember...the cat needs wet food today, and the rats’ cage needs cleaning which I tell myself I’ll do tomorrow, I need to go pick up my birth control, I tell myself I’ll do that tomorrow, I need to do laundry - I’m 3 weeks deep and I’m out of underwear and clean pants.  I know that if I don’t do my laundry tonight there’s a really solid chance I won’t do it tomorrow...so I start laundry.  I tell myself I’m being smart.  My apartment building has 3 washing machines and 3 dryers, if I just haul down all of my clothes I can certainly get 3 loads done in 2 hours and it’ll only be 11:00 pm and I can feel good knowing it’s done.

After I put soap and clothes in all three washers I realize...one of the washers is jammed and won’t accept quarters.  So my single cycle plan turned into two cycles because the clothes are already soapy and down there.  I finish laundry, washed, dried, folded, and put away at 1:00 am

4/22/2018 -  Sunday morning, with no alarms, I wake up at 9:30 a.m.  I have a "Good morning” text from my boyfriend.  I know that if I check Facebook and the “Active” sign lights up and I don’t text him he’ll ask too many questions about why I didn’t text him when I first woke up.  “Good morning, how’d you sleep?”  “Like shit.  You?”  “Ok I guess.”  “When is your friend coming over?”  “IDK she’s spending time with her grandma first.”  “Oh, okay.  I guess my friends are coming.  No one said anything to me.  I’m pissed.  I don’t want them here.”  “I’m sorry.  I just texted my friend, guess she’ll be here at 2″  “Cool”

He stopped texting for a while, which I was thankful for.  I knew I didn’t have anything I had to do until 2 pm.  So I didn’t get out of bed.  I didn’t even get up to pet the cat, see the rats, check their food or water, I just turned on Friends reruns and let myself fall naturally in and out of consciousness.  Around 11 pm another text came through “How are you baby?”  “Fine.  You?”  “Okay, bored.”  “I”m sorry”

I knew I had to get up, I told myself I’d clean the rats’ cage today.  It wouldn’t be fair to let it go a 3rd week because I’m depressed and don’t want to do it.  So I got up, I put the rats in their play pen, I changed their bedding, wiped down their cage, replaced some fleece covering the wire platforms, moved things around, fresh food, fresh water, and put them back in their homes.  I cleaned the cat’s litter box, put in new litter, gave her wet food and fresh water.  Washed my hands and decided to reward my efforts with Wendy’s.  

So I changed my clothes, even put on a bra, but no socks, and drove the 8 minute round trip to Wendy’s for chicken sandwiches and fruit tea.  I brought my reward back to bed.  I checked my phone, hoping my friend would be too tired to come over after seeing her grandma, too busy, too much to finish on a Sunday.  She didn’t.  So after I ate I just laid back down in bed and waited until 1:30 pm when I did get a text.  “Done early!  Can I be there in ten?”  “Sure :) “ and I finally got up and went to sit on the couch for the first time all day.

It was good that she came, we talked, caught up on the months it’d been since we’d seen each other.  I didn’t know how long she’d stay, when 8 pm rolled around I was surprised.  I was trying to hold out until 10 pm so I could suggest going to Applebee’s for half off appetizers since I hadn’t ate since noon.  Around 8:30 I get a call from another set of friends asking if I wanted extra company and a surprise.  I didn’t really...but my curiosity got the best of me, since the friend refused to tell me who the surprise guests would be.

When they got there, with a Monster Energy I requested, I saw a friend I hadn’t seen in person since 2009.  I was so excited to see him, and his husband, and everyone else.  My apartment felt full and homey and good.  But there was still this part of me that wanted to go to bed.  But I pushed through like I’d been doing all weekend, because I was also so very excited to see this person who lives out of state who I very well may never see again.  We all talked, caught up, reminisced.  The friend who had been there since 2 stayed far later than even she had intended.  Suddenly it was midnight and of course everyone was tired and worn out and it was time to go.  The first friend stayed a little while longer, I wasn’t trying to push her out the door, but then it was 1:00 am and we both knew we’d regret being up any later.

I didn’t mention to my boyfriend a few things this weekend.  I didn’t mention my ex.  I know he’d have told me to forget the books, that seeing my ex wasn’t worth it, that I’d be disrespecting him.  Maybe he’s right, maybe that’s a fair assessment but I just didn’t care.  And I didn’t want to fight about it.  I didn’t tell him my friend tagged along for Bubble Tea.  It’s harmless, but he always acts - strange - when I don’t tell him every detail of what happens when he’s not around.  I didn’t tell him 4 more people showed up at my apartment Sunday night.  For the same reason as above but also 2 of the people are in a homosexual relationship, which shouldn’t mean anything, but it does to him.  Or he’d say, gay or not, there were 2 “strange” men in my apartment when he wasn’t there.  And even more, one of those men is transgender.  He’d have so much to say.  And that on top of all of his already hateful texts to me about his own true friends.  I just didn’t want the fight.  And even if it shouldn’t be a fight, it would become one and I was just so tired.

But since I was lying by omission...I had to clean the apartment.  Put away extra chairs and games pulled out for the bigger group.  Hide all evidence of there being more than one visitor that day.  Because I just didn’t want the hassle of him questioning things when he came back the next day.

I finally got to bed at 3 am.  The excitement having worn off, and just being so fucking thankful to have a nice cool bed with a nice soft blanket to get into after this weekend.  Wishing there was some way to stop 8 am from coming.

[yakumtsaki]

There’s no easy way to say this so I’m just gonna come right out with it: welcome to the most morbid post in Union history. Half the family is getting wiped out in a single update and I don’t mean to point fingers, but it’s 100% Wyatt’s fault. I really need someone to blame so don’t dare try to take this away from me.

Back to the present and not the corpse-filled near future, we actually have some money to spend on our spawn for the first time ever, so Shajar gets a non-completely-depressing room. No more eating from the cat bowl for our kids!

..spoke too soon.

-Is it still there, is it still there??

-YES omg it just looked right at me! Vic! I’m scared!

-Don’t make eye contact with it you fool! Don’t you have any idea about how children work??

After not getting promoted for an eon, Jojo is suddenly killing it, two promotions in a row!

-I know, I was starting to fear I’d be one of those geniuses who are only recognized after death- UGH, what is that obnoxious sound?

That’s your infant child screaming because it was abandoned on the cold hard floor the entire night.

-Oh ok, so standard parenting. For a minute I thought something was wrong.

-There, there, you’re alright. Ok.. OK seriously, stop. God, have some dignity for once in your 12-hour life. Crying in public is so embarrassing.

-NEEEEEEO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Yup. I’ve been so focused on feeding Victor and Alegra’s ancient asses from the bowl of life that I forgot Neo was an elder too, so he’s the first to go even though he’s way younger than them, great job @ me. Goodbye Neo 💔 You were such a good boy, our cat heir, and an integral part in achieving Komei’s life-ruining LTW. You will be sorely missed.

..Apparently by your archenemy Victor most of all. Vicky casually walked off the lot the minute Neo died with no notifications about running away, only to return on his own shortly after. Wtf is going on in this house.

-I had to contemplate the futility of hate.. All this time wasted trying to kill each other and for what.. It's a sunrise and a sunset from a cradle to a casket.

Yea or this lot is already glitched as fuck and it’s only generation 2. Good times.

I was very bummed out by Neo’s premature demise and not in the mood for another kid, but one peek at Jojo and Wyatt’s life bars convinced me to drop the mourning period and circle-of-life this bitch. They are extremely not getting any younger and who tf do I think I am? Someone who knows better than Mufasa?However since a) Jojo is nowhere near his 100k LTW and can’t be taking days off and b) and more importantly, I hate Wyatt, guess who’s carrying this time around!

OH COME ON

GODFUCKINGDAMMIT WYATT

-Huhu!

How the hell did this happen I DEMAND TO KNOW

-Check how your mods work in le futur, idiόt!

..well you got me there.

Jo you are ON FIRE, 3/3! Maybe we can actually complete this 100k bullshit before you’re on death’s doorstep. It’s gonna be close tho, but you know, you just HAD to get knocked up again, so that’s on you.

-No, it’s on YOU.

No, it’s ON WYATT. Let’s just not point fingers and move on, ok? Everyone is equally to blame.

-NO THEY’RE NOT

I’VE MOVED ON I CAN’T HEAR YOU

And now a section I like to call: What the entire fuck is happening. VICTORIA WHAT ARE YOU DOING

-What?? I love babies :)

I legit went back and checked, can you guess how many times Victoria autonomously interacted with any of her kids when they were babies/toddlers? If you had EXACTLY ONE TIME you win..nothing. There are no winners here.

Oh. my. god. 

-Stop hogging her already, I wanna feed her too!

-WELL WAIT YOUR TURN DICK. No, not you, baby bobo booboo.. 

We’ve had our fair share of plot twists around here but this is truly some fucked up shit. In case you don’t get what the big deal is, enjoy this little trip down memory lane aka the Victoria-Komei-parenting-hall-of-fame. Either the ‘age mellows people out’ thing applies to sims too or they got personality transplants when I wasn’t looking. Disturbing.

Of course SOME THINGS never change, no matter how life-ruining for all involved.

-Is this about my LTW, STILL? It’s been like 20 years, GET OVER IT

NEVER

Whachu doing Vic?

-Updating my will to include Komei now that I suddenly love him. Of course someone has to get cut to make that happen..

Well goodbye Daniel I guess!

-..Who the fuck is Daniel?

-I too am making preparations for when I leave this cruel world.

I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume they’re cat-related.

-NO, not everything is about cats! I have plenty of other interests and concerns. 

Name one.

-My beloved son! I’m making sure he takes care of my cats.

Finally, this family’s excellence is starting to be recognized. It’s about time.

-Yea no, this is a recognition that you trainwrecks need all the help you can get.

UGH typical jealous hater bullshit, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.

Ok, I’ve some idea what you’re talking about. Honestly what else has to happen for me to just. stop fucking throwing kid’s birthday parties? I’m pretty sure we’ve had..one that wasn’t a straight up disaster? God knows those glory days aren’t returning any time soon.

-I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m having a blast :D

Of course you are Gunther, you haven’t been sober since the third year of college.

AND SOME PEOPLE ARE TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THAT. ABSOLUTELY NOT. HALF ALIEN PROF ISTFG

-I’m legit fine with this :)

I legit don’t care, it’s not happening in our sacred home. Also BRIT IS RIGHT THERE JFC you’ve gotten stupid as shit.

You guys seriously, what sins am I paying for, why can’t we have ONE NORMAL NON-INCESTUOUS PARTY. JUST ONE. Daniel heartfarting over his ex, ok, not that weird. Komei heartfarting over his daughter-in-law..getting weird. Gunther heartfarting over Half Alien Prof..reaching for the chlorine to bleach my eyes and then immediately drink.

Nice, get in on that action Wyatt! We almost forgot about your long standing boner for your brother-in-law.

Happy birthday, Shajar! You’re welcome for this amazing party, pay me back by not being ugly.

..yea ok. You did your best with the tools you were given. And I mean the literal giant tools that are your parents. Hopefully Wyatt came through with his somewhat balanced personality???

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. OH MAN. 10 playful, 9 active and 1 nice? Literally sporting Jigsaw’s personality. I mean darling Jojo has 3 nice points and is..how he is, can’t even imagine what Shajar is gonna grow up to be like, but it’s good to know we’re moving in the exact opposite direction than intended.

-Enjoyed your kid’s birthday party, you cheating bastard? WELL PARTY’S OVER

-I may be a cheating bâtard-

-SHUT THE FUCK UP WITH YOUR SELECTIVE FRENCH ACCENT

AW Neo’s ghost making its first appearance and trying to kill Wyatt, what a sweetheart. Welcome to the party!

It was one for the history books! 

-How on earth did this party suck, I had an exceptional time.

Yea that’s because you weren’t there, it’s easy to have an exceptional time away from this family. Of course I have never personally experienced it but the mind does race.

-AH at last, my article is published! Oh, editor’s pick too, ha, of course. No, wait, editor’s warning.. As requested by the legal department? Drama queens. “Horrifying views expressed.. Widely discredited.. Not endorsed in any way by this publication.. DERIVATIVE??!!” Well, I know what I’m doing this weekend.

Is it.. rewriting your article?

-Oh, I’ll rewrite it alright. IN BLOOD

Great. Speaking of blood-

-Victor’s thirst for it is back with a vengeance. We went an entire 4 days without a cat fight and I was all like ‘woo new record’ but one thing has become clear since then:

Victor didn’t go away to contemplate shit. He was waiting..plotting..training..and now the time has come for Victor 2: Reign of Blood.

-WHERE’S YOUR GOD NOW??

Seems about right. Honestly Sophie is the wisest one among us because she got tfo just in time to miss THIS:

Yea, unsurprisingly fucking Damien here is one vicious screamer. WHAT DO YOU WANT

-YOUR SOULS

Good luck finding any in this house.

-Who’s my cute little spawn of satan? Who is? Come to grandma baby.

-ONE SMALL STEP FOR ME, ONE GIANT LEAP TOWARDS THE ANNIHILATION OF MANKIND

Wyatt continues to do nothing of use all day and is not even getting promoted anymore due to his tragic lack of skill points. Somehow that led me to deciding he should be the one to get the genie wishes, I honestly dk wtf my problem is.

-Greetings, mortal etc etc. I’m gonna skip over the intro, you know the deal with the dealio, 3 wishes, let’s hit it.

-I was expectànt more of an Aladdin flair but c’est bien I guess..

-DON’T DARE MENTION THAT MOVIE TO ME YOU FRENCH ASSHOLE

-Um, oui, your désir c’est my command..Huhu! 

-Is one of your wishes the return of your brain, because you should throw that in there.

-Non, non. C’est but one wish in mon coeur, Genié. To nevér, evér have to interact with my bébés but still have beaucoup of them.. In case you can’t tell, I am sim de famille!

-Ugh yea, that much is obvious.

-Well, your wish is granted, mortal! Let me just flick your nose as hard as I can and we’re done here..

-Pourquoi?

-Oh no reason, just for my own pleasure. Buh-bye!

-And with that, he turned into la fumée, mon cheri! Incrediblé!

-I hate my life.

That makes two of us. As in I hate your life too, my life is pretty good.

KOMEI DO YOU MIND WITH YOUR DANGEROUS CURVES, Jojo has a grueling skilling schedule to keep up with.

-So this is it. Rock bottom. 

I mean, you wanted to be heir boo, you got it. It’s a dirty job.

Finally one of the Mortal Kombat cats lives up to its name! GET FUCKED VICTOR

-K.O

Well, we all saw that coming. Victor seriously, you’re like 50yo, don’t do this.

-I’m outta here for the fourth time bitches, and this time I’m not coming back! No man is an island but this cat is.

Ok, see you soon.

Wyatt’s wish is definitely coming true, he has not touched Shajar a single time yet, autonomously or otherwise! What a guy.

-I HAVE NO USE FOR EARTHLY FATHERS, THE ONE I NEED AWAITS US ALL IN HELL

It’s gonna be a long fucking generation.

-WYATT. WYATT YOU DAMN MORON WAKE UP

-Ugh Jojό, I told you, my magique protects me from all bébé interactiόn.

-DOES IT PROTECT YOUR TORSO FROM MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS

It’s a girl! I’m like why stray from a proven formula, so I name her Cyneswith after another Crusader Kings character, who did not exist irl like Shajar but was still a fire emoji empress of Britannia. Welcome to the shitshow Cyneswith! No offense, it was great to meet you, but we have some important shit to do so..have fun on the floor?

FUCKING FINALLY. It’s promotions only from now on boo! 

..Which is more than I can say for some people. Wyatt seriously, can you move your useless ass up the ladder already so we can avoid having this freak in our house EVERY SINGLE DAY.

-The boy’s just following his heart ;)

Half Alien Prof you are by far the biggest pervert I’ve ever had in this game and Jojo spent his entire teenagehood trying to start a bdsm relationship with Stephen Tinker.

Well, Victor predictably died off lot, which is so on brand for him I’m not even mad. An insufferable dick to the very end, he lived to eat and to start fights with every animal he ever came in contact with. He only ever really loved Victoria. I’m gonna miss him so much.

Victor may have died, but that’s not going to stop the police department from trying to return him to us. Just remember that that place is under Wyatt’s supervision and it all makes sense.

Can hardly wait, Professional Make-Up Cop.

-I want to play a game, Alegra.

Man is someone gunning to be put up for adoption!

-Papa’s birthday présent to you, Shajar, is us finally meeting! Breathe it in, mon favori, I’ll be seeing you again on your next anniversaire!

-Wyatt I swear to fucking god, I will stab you.

Can we get this going please, I’m in NO MOOD.

Not bad at all! A pretty even mix of Wyatt/Jojo and I see you def did not get the Komei jaw, which is pretty much angels singing.

-Angels singing makes my eyes roll in the back of my skull. 

You make my eyes roll in the back of my skull.

-What?

What. I didn’t say anything. Love you Shaj!

-One more for the road babe? After 50 years?

Yea. Just pretend everything that follows has a broken heart emoji before and after each word.

I dress Vic up and have her wait for Death in the living room like a lady, none of those ‘dying in the bathroom in my underwear’ deaths, befitting people like Wyatt. However ideal the circumstances as far as death goes, my heart still broke in more pieces than cats Komei has petted.

-VICTORIA UNION

-Marisa? Is that you?

-NO, IT’S-wow cool armchair, where did you get-no, sorry, you’re dying and all, let me start over..

-VICTORIA UNION, YOUR TIME HAS COME. I’M HERE TO COLLECT YOUR WRETCHED SOUL

-What? My soul is not wretched jerkoff, the fuck you talking about?

-THAT’S JUST A THING WE SAY BECAUSE IT SOUNDS COOL, PLEASE DON’T RUIN IT

-HERE’S YOUR COMPLIMENTARY VIRGIN MARGARITA

-Virgin??? Oh god, I’m going to hell aren’t I?

-YOU WERE, BUT YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER MADE SOME CALLS ON YOUR BEHALF. WELCOME TO HEAVEN

-Yes, I can taste the alcohol in this! GOING GONE, BITCHES. LATES

The stacks of simoleons DID NOT EASE MY PAIN. I do love that Daniel got the most final version of ‘and none for Gretchen Weiners, bye’ possible.

Jojo is fucking devastated and immediately rolls the want to resurrect Vic. It’s bummy af, I’m not even gonna go for the obvious oedipal jokes, he was just crying for days and days and days..

Komei, on the other hand, WAS NOT.

-Eh, I’ll be seeing her soon enough, why waste the tears.

Now that I think about it Komei has never cried about any of the cats either, I think he’s just the type of person who deals with grief by suppressing it. Whatever works.

Jojo and Wyatt are always having these fashion talks whenever they’re eating which are hilarious because I can see Wyatt being into it, I mean he’s french, but in what world is fucking nerd Jojo interested in clothing. Not even that can cheer him up now 💔

Fucking Florence, bringer of doom, returns Sophie to us and the moment she does:

Tell me how am supposed to live without you, now that I've been loving you so long, how am I supposed to live without you, how am I supposed to carry on, when all that I've been living for.. is gone 💔

FUCK YOU FLORENCE

Jfc the blows just won’t stop coming. LEAVE US ALONE WE’RE IN MOURNING

Time for Cyneswith’s depressing ass birthday which I can’t give less of a fuck about, and apparently neither can Wyatt but then again he wouldn’t even if we weren’t ~back to black.

Loving the hairstyle but it does look ridic on a toddler. Good for you for committing to your british aristocracy character tho, very Downton Abbey.

Well the Komei jaw always knocks twice and apparently we let it in this time. Are you beautiful on the inside Cyneswith?

OH. MY. FUCK. BYE. CYNESWITH YOU FUCKING FREAK

-Huhu! 

NO SHE GOT THE HUHU. GOD HELP US

Cyneswith dramatically enters the toddler stage by immediately going into aspiration failure.. You can all guess where this is going.

-KOMEI UNION YOUR TIME HAS COME. I’M HERE TO COLLECT YOUR-

-Yea yea whatever, are my cats waiting for me? If you say no I will literally kill myself.

-I DON’T THINK YOU’RE GRASPING THE CORE CONCEPT OF DEATH, BUT YES THEY ARE WAITING.

-I’M OUT. TELL THE WOLF I LOVED HIM

KOMEI 💔 I’m sorry but we will not be delivering that message.

Apparently Jojo and Komei legit bonded at some point?? I was expecting like a half-hearted sigh but instead we got sobbing-

-and this sum that does not imply ‘least favorite kid’ AT ALL.

Well you know how the old saying goes: nothing will ever replace your parents but a helicopter will come close. 

Also in mourning: this breakdancer npc that randomly appeared on our lot and stayed stuck there for 2 days before I finally batboxed her into oblivion. This lot is fuuuucked y’all.

And generation 1 is officially over. Rest in peace Komei and Victoria, legacy founders, horrible spouses and somehow even worse parents. You stuck it out and were fun to play till the very end. I’ll really miss you guys 💔

[knoxxed]

what light tastes like

( Los Angeles is Jeremy Knox’s frown of concern whenever Jean pushes himself to the point of strain, the delighted grin when Jean surprises him. It’s cat fur being one more reason to stop wearing black. 

 Los Angeles is joining a starting line including but not limited to a kitchen witch, a seer, and a werewolf. It’s Jean never once being asked to confirm or deny who or what he is. 

 Los Angeles takes some getting used to.)

(Urban Fantasy!AU) for Lilly, @crazy-like-a-f0x (it’s not letting me tag you properly, i’m sorry!) for @aftgexchange‘s Summer Exchange 

It comes to Jean in flashes, after.

The realization–Kengo Moriyama is dead. Riko’s hands on his neck, slamming his face into the floor, again, again, again. The white hot bite of a knife. The way his fingers slip on the keys of his cellphone typing out a single message to Renee. Renee. Her face hovering over his, voice gentle, firm, impossible, as she hefts him to his feet.

What he remembers most clearly is the panic in his chest as she guided him outside into the night, into Minyard’s car. The way he protested, begged, half-conscious from pain.

They have it–I can’t–still in there, please–can’t leave, please, Renee–

Renee disappeared from his side for hours, for seconds. When she returned there was a birdcage with no door cradled in her arms; inside was a snow white dove.

Jean clutched it to his aching ribs and sobbed.

Two weeks after Jean flees the Nest, Kevin makes a deal with Jeremy Knox. Three weeks after Jean flees the Nest, Jean is recovering in his bed at Abby’s house. He watches the Trojans lose against the Ravens, watches Knox announce their treason on national television.

Knox says, I spoke to Jean earlier this week, says, He just won’t be back in black, says, I think we have a lot to learn from each other.

Knox says, Next year is going to be amazing, and the world believes him.

Jean sleeps, and he dreams of darkness.

He dreams of birds with burning wings, of glinting knives, of cages submerged in water.

Jean wakes up gasping. The dove at his bedside is thrashing in its cage.

He doesn’t go back to sleep.

Jeremy Knox picks him up from LAX at four in the morning on a Sunday, looking sleep heavy and bundled up in a USC sweatshirt that has seen better days. He’s holding two to-go mugs, the steam swirling in the morning air, and his face lights up when he sees Jean approaching.

“Jean Moreau,” Knox greets, sounding fond for reasons Jean can’t fathom. Jean is reminded of the times he’d had Knox as a mark–the way he was an absolute nightmare to defend against paired with the way he’d smile and seek Jean out at the end of each match. He’s never understood Jeremy Knox, and he doesn’t think that’ll change now that they’re on the same team.  

(Not for the first time Jean thinks he’s made a mistake in coming to LA, but there’s nothing to be done about it now.)

“Knox,” is all Jean says, and follows his new captain out of the terminal.

“It’s good to have you here,” Knox says as they walk through the parking lot; Jean can’t find it in him to agree with him. “I brought you a drink,” he continues, nonplused by Jean’s silence, offering out a cup. Jean takes it automatically, then eyes it warily.

“What is it?”

“Just try it,” Knox says instead of answering, smiling vaguely and rubbing sleep from his eyes, “I think you’ll like it.”

Jean concedes without argument, absurdly figuring Jeremy Knox is near the bottom of the list of people who would willingly poison him.

It’s black tea. Strong but slightly sweet, cut with milk. It’s good, but more than that it’s familiar. A memory is there, edging at the back of his brain–salty air, the smell of baking bread, the sound of his mother humming along to the radio.

Jean is jolted from the memory as they reach Knox’s parking spot. He drives a rusting pickup truck. This, in itself, isn’t out of the ordinary. What’s out of the ordinary is the small cat peering up at Jean from the passenger’s seat.

“Cleo,” Knox scolds as he stores Jean’s bags. He climbs into the truck and reaches across the bench seat to scoop the animal into his arms. “We talked about this,” he mutters exasperatedly into her fur before letting her squirm away into the center seat, curling up against Knox’s thigh. She’s a tiny thing, dusty brown and striped, with large yellow eyes that stare back at Jean with an unnerving intelligence.

“Jean, this is Cleo. Cleo, Jean,” Knox introduces cheerfully when they’re settled, pulling out onto the freeway before abruptly frowning. “Shit. I hope you don’t mind cats.”

Knox confirms Jean’s growing suspicions unprompted a few weeks later.

“She’s my familiar,” Knox says, running a hand through mussed hair that’d be the same color as Cleo’s fur if not lightened by the sun.  

They’re the only two members of the team occupying the USC dorms over the summer, so the weeks leading up to the admission have been filled with getting to know both L.A. and Jeremy Knox–whether Jean likes it to not. The captain’s optimism is almost as overwhelming as his work ethic, and Jean is beginning to understand that once Knox sets his mind to something he doesn’t give up. Jean doesn’t know if he’s relieved or annoyed that this seems to be applied to him as well; Knox hasn’t left him alone, or even seemed like he really wanted to.

“Familiars are more or less supposed to act as guide and protector,” Knox explains between bites of pancake. They’re at a small diner around the block from the dorms, grabbing an early breakfast after their morning run. Jean tends to startle awake from nightmares before the sun even rises these days, and Knox is a naturally early riser (“I grew up on a farm–can’t shake the habit,” he’d explained). This combination had led to an unexpected amount of diner breakfasts with his captain “She mostly just helps with my anxiety, though.”

They’d left Cleo behind, napping in a sunspot on the living room floor. She’d barely twitched her tail when Knox passed a soft hand over her spine in goodbye before they’d left.

“Have you always had her?” Jean finds himself asking, and Knox visibly perks up at his contribution.

“Nah, I wish. I was eleven, I think?” He hums thoughtfully into his cup of tea. “She was just a kitten back then. She found me when I needed her–that’s usually how it works.”

Jean thinks its a bit absurd that a stray cat wandering into his life could have offered Knox any sort of guidance–but he’s not about to tell him that.

To Jean’s surprise, it’s Alvarez who corrects him on his assumption.

“She’s not a cat,” Alvarez snorts into her water bottle when they’re both on the bench, throwing him a judging stare. Her and Laila had come up to L.A. for the weekend, and the four of them had found their way to the practice courts. Jean is still begrudgingly under no-contact restriction, but he’d gotten in a good workout nonetheless. “Seriously, Moreau, haven’t had much exposure to magic, huh?”

Jean levels her a blank stare before turning back to watch Laila and Jeremy where they’re locked in a stalemate of shots and saves across the court. “You could say that.”

Alvarez hums, consideringly. “Okay, let me amend my previous statement: she’s not just a cat. I think the best way to put it is that she’s an extension of Jeremy? Like picture the universe reaching inside of him and taking out a part of his soul–it’s that part that manifested as Cleo.”

Jean doesn’t know what kind of expression is on his face–blank shock? Terror? It must not be too bad because Alvarez just laughs with a levity Jean can’t mirror.

“I know, weird right?” she grins at him, rolling her eyes. “From what I understand, Cleo is basically our beloved captain–plus some wisdom from the universe.” She shrugs. “I’ve kind of just accepted it at this point.”  

The apartment he shares with Knox is covered in plants. They’re lined on every windowsill, clustered in corners on the floor and the table. Knox cares for them all meticulously, watering them each at different intervals with differing amounts, talking quietly all the while. They seem to bloom a little brighter once he’s spoken to them. Knox seems to glow a little brighter once he’s spoken to them.

“You have to give them enough attention,” Knox explains when he catches Jean staring at him over the top of his book. “If they don’t know you believe in them, how can you expect them to grow?”

Jean doesn’t know what he expected his move to the Trojans to be like, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t an apartment filled with plants and sunlight. It wasn’t cups upon cups of tea, each somehow (magically? Jean really doesn’t know) always whichever kind Jean hadn’t known he’d wanted, but did. It wasn’t becoming familiar with Jeremy Knox, with his kindness, or the way that he often laughs at nothing in particular at all–it just happens sometimes, like all the light inside him bubbles over.

Jean didn’t expect these things, but he refuses to dwell on them long enough to discover if he minds.

“He’s a kitchen witch,” Jean admits to Renee a few months later, a declaration that’s met first with silence on the other end of their routine Skype call, and then– “What!”

A muffled bark of laughter and a scramble of feet. Onscreen Renee sighs, but it sounds amused, and suddenly Allison Reynolds is budging into frame.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the dealer says, sounding anything but. The smile on her face is near-predatory. “Did you just say that Jeremy Knox, USC’s patented Sunshine Boy, is, in fact, a kitchen witch?”

His roommate had never come out and said as much, but Jean had put together the pieces. He quirks an eyebrow at Renee and nods in confirmation.

Reynolds practically cackles at that, whipping out her phone. “Oh my god, Kevin’s going to die. It’s all his domestic fantasies come to life.” She stands, typing furiously as she walks offscreen. Jean hears a door shut, laughter fading, and then he and Renee are alone.

“You know,” Renee says after a moment, circumventing the tension that Kevin’s name tends to bring, “I had thought he’d be a werewolf. The Trojans always seemed to run like pack.”

“It was… unexpected,” Jean concedes. “Alvarez is the actual werewolf. There are others on the team as well, but Jeremy is still their alpha.” He sounds confused even to this own ears. (To be fair, it was very nontraditional. Alvarez’s explanation to Jean on the matter when she and Laila were on campus in July had consisted of a brusque, “It doesn’t matter that he’s not a wolf, Moreau, he’s our chosen alpha. We’re living in progressive times here, please.”)

“So he’s Jeremy, now?”

Of course that’s what Renee chose to parse from that explanation. She’s smiling at him, far too knowing, and Jean huffs. “You’re reaching, Walker.”

Renee hums thoughtfully, and it’s something that Jean appreciates: she listens, and when she chooses to reply each word has been fully considered. When she finally speaks it’s with a genuine smile.

“Los Angeles sounds like a wonderful place.”

Los Angeles is many things. Jean has been here six months, and that’s about all he’s been able to solidly conclude.

Los Angeles is no-contact play until mid-July as prescribed by the team physician, months longer than would have been allowed at the Nest. It’s weekly appointments with his therapist stipulated in his contract.

Los Angeles is Jeremy Knox’s frown of concern whenever Jean pushes himself to the point of strain, the delighted grin when Jean surprises him. It’s a shared apartment on the eighth floor, one that’s lined with large windows and filled with plants. It’s cat fur being one more reason to stop wearing black.

Los Angeles is joining a starting line including but not limited to a kitchen witch, a seer, and a werewolf. It’s Jean never once being asked to confirm or deny who or what he is.

Los Angeles takes some getting used to.

Jeremy gives him a cactus for Halloween.

He leaves it on Jean’s side table for him to find when he wakes up from his post-class, pre-practice nap (Because that’s a thing he does now. Naps.). It’s a tiny thing, maybe an inch and a half across, in a blue painted pot. He put a bow on it and everything. Jean squints at it and goes to find his roommate.

Jeremy is entrenched in his thesis work, glasses on, chewing distractedly on a pen–he barely notices Jean approaching until Jean sticks the plant practically under his nose.

“What is this?”

Jeremy blinks up at him owlishly. “A… cactus?” the confusion clears and he frowns. “Wait, don’t you like it?”

Jean sighs and sits on the other end of the couch. “Yes, I–thank you. I meant, why?”

Jeremy just blinks again. “It’s Samhain,” he says, as if that should be obvious.

“It’s what?”

“It’s Halloween!” Jeremy chirps, smiling now.

Jean frowns; he doesn’t think Jeremy is understanding his point. “Yes, but… do people usually give each other gifts on Halloween?” Not that Jean’s celebrated it, but from the way Laila and Alvarez had talked, it seemed like a children’s holiday–or an excuse to dress up in costume and party.

Jeremy leans back on the couch and looks across at Jean. “Not everybody… but we do in my family,” he shrugs. “It’s a bigger deal for some of them, but it’s not like I can really drop by to celebrate so–I dunno. Thought it’d be nice to celebrate with you too.” He smiles at Jean, backlit by the setting sun coming through the window, and he–Jean could swear he was glowing, radiating light.

Jean shakes his head, looking at the cactus in his lap instead. He cups his hands carefully around the pot. “Thank you,” he says, and Jeremy hums happily, turning back to his work.

Jean manages to make it until January without anyone finding out about him, which, honestly, is better than he’d let himself hope. But better doesn’t stop the panic that rises when Jeremy (because yes, he’s Jeremy now) stumbles into their bedroom unawares, back early from errands, breaking off his rant about grocery lines mid-sentence as he notices Jean on the floor.

Cradling a birdcage.

“Jean?” Jeremy asks cautiously, head tipped to the side in curiosity. His eyes are locked on the cage. “Is that–a bird?”

Jean’s mouth is suddenly dry, and he finds himself floundering for words. His grip on the cage goes white-knuckled.

“It’s a dove,” he manages, finally. Obviously. He wants to run but he’s frozen.

“A dove,” Jeremy repeats, leaning against the doorframe to their bedroom. He looks a bit bewildered, considering; Jean finds himself distracted by how Jeremy hasn’t tried to come any closer after finding him. Suddenly Jeremy straightens, a small grin growing on his face.

“Jean Moreau, have you been hiding a familiar?”

It’s said innocently, half in jest. Jean thinks he could take it as an out, thinks that might have been Jeremy’s intention. Jean knows his roommate well enough now to know that if Jean wanted to keep this secret, he could.

Which is why it’s all the more strange and terrifying that he finds himself spilling the truth.  

What he was was human. A cloverhand with the ability to see the fae, to see magic. To his family, this made him valuable. It made him a bartering piece.

What he became was collateral. A prisoner to the game and to the Nest, kept pet to the self-proclaimed Raven King. He was both guard and whipping boy. They broke him, again, again, and still they demanded more. They tore the soul from his body, trapped it in a cage. To instill obedience, they said. Perfect loyalty in a perfect court.

What he is is a gallowglass. Soulless. Even freedom couldn’t change that.

It’s awkward afterward. Of course it is. Jeremy is frozen in the doorway, wide-eyed, hands clutched tight to his sleeves. Jean can’t blame him, because now Jeremy knows. Not everything, no details, but enough. He knows that Jean is soulless, because his soul is sitting in a cage on his lap in the middle of their bedroom.

“Okay,” Jeremy says finally, snapping out of his daze. “Okay.” Jean braces himself for judgement, and–

“This calls for tea.”

Jeremy flees the room for the kitchen, Cleo close on his heels. Jean blinks.

“What.”  

A result of living with a kitchen witch is the way the teakettle water seems to boil in no time at all as Jeremy flits around their small dining area, pulling herbs from various jars on various shelves, pinching and rolling them into two identical teabags.

“Do you want a cup?” Jeremy asks belatedly, distractedly when Jean stumbles into the kitchen after him. He doesn’t wait for Jean to answer before continuing, shaking his head. “No, of course I’ll make you a cup. Tea always makes things better.”

Jeremy doesn’t look at him until they’re seated across from each other at their tiny kitchen table,  knees almost knocking, their steaming, sweet-smelling mugs in hand.

“Okay,” Jeremy starts, taking a big breath. He holds it. Exhales. “Jean.”

Fuck, this is really happening. “Yes?”

“In the cage. That dove is your soul?”

Jean nods, staring down into his tea.

“Okay,” Jeremy repeats, then frowns. “Jean?”

“What?”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve been hiding your soul stuffed under your bed in some box.”

Jean opens his mouth to defend himself, then closes it again because that is exactly what he has been doing.

“Jean,” Jeremy cries, looking stricken. The teakettle begins to heat unbidden, sensing his distress. “The poor thing could’ve suffocated!”

Jean sighs. “It’s not a real bird, Jeremy, it doesn’t need–“

“Damn right it’s not a bird, Jean. That’s your soul! You’ve been keeping your soul stuffed under the bed!” Jeremy exclaims disbelievingly, surprisingly fierce.

Jean frowns. What is there to say? Once more, the perplexity of Jeremy Knox rears its head. It doesn’t take much to get him riled up–but it’s only ever defensive, on behalf of other people. He has no issue standing toe to toe with Jean, but only ever does it for the sake of protecting Jean from himself. So Jean just lowers his eyes and says nothing.

Seeing this, Jeremy deflates.

“Drink your tea, okay? It’ll get cold,” Jeremy says, voice gone gentle. His knee nudges Jean’s under the table.

Neither speaks again until their cups are near-empty.

“Why-” Jeremy starts, then snaps his mouth shut. He says instead, “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Jean is wary of what his question could be, but nods anyway.

“You said you got your soul back once Renee got you out of the Nest. You have it with you here, now. If that’s true, why haven’t you… put it back?” Jean is already shaking his head even as Jeremy continues, “I don’t really know how it works, but…”

“I can’t. I’ve tried,” Jean says.

The look on Jeremy’s face is all kinds of devastating, honestly, and Jean isn’t good with sympathy, never having been shown it; he looks away.

“There has to be a way,” Jeremy insists, but Jean just shakes his head again. He keeps his eyes on the row of succulents Jeremy has lined along the kitchen window instead of the kitchen witch himself.

“I’ve tried. Renee has tried,” Jean emphasizes, both of them knowing what a strong witch Renee Walker was known to be. He frowns, frustrated. “There are ways to make a gallowglass, but they can’t be unmade. It’s faerie magic–what’s done can’t simply be undone.”

“Faerie magic,” Jeremy mutters to himself, staring into his tea.

Jean waits for him to reach a verdict: at best, Jean is expecting to be asked to leave, to switch rooms. At worst, he’s expecting to be kicked off the team. The dread is just settling in his stomach when a fluffy bundle pounces into his lap. It turns in a neat circle once, curling up before settling in to nap.

“Cleo,” Jeremy scolds, but he’s half-hiding a smile behind the rim of his mug. The tension is broken and the dread lifts from Jean’s shoulders.

“It’s okay.” Jean surprises himself saying it, because it is. But then a thought strikes him. “Is-is it okay?”

Cleo is Jeremy’s familiar, an extension of himself. His mind makes the connections unbidden, the way it had all those month ago when Alvarez had spelled it out for him. Jeremy to Cleo to Jean to the dove. The cat is a part of Jeremy’s soul, warm and grounding and tucked against Jean’s stomach.

“Of course it’s okay,” Jeremy murmurs. “It’s you.” He’s looking at Jean with clear eyes, fiddling with a teaspoon. Something warm settles in Jean’s chest, a knot loosening as Jeremy smiles at him, gathering his mug and heading to the counter to fix another cup.

Of course, he says. It’s you.

As easy as that.

(“Don’t put it back in the dark,” Jeremy says that night, voice gentle as the touch at Jean’s elbow, anchoring him to their room, to this moment. Jean puts the cage on the dresser instead.

Much later, when nightmares more vicious than usual shatter him awake, Jean hears a dull thump and the patter of feet before Cleo is curling up on the bed next to him. She butts her head against his stomach, and Jean focuses on the way her tiny chest rises and falls with each breath as his shaking slowly subsides.

He lowers a hand to her head, gentles it down her back, and lets the quiet rumble of her purring piece him back to the present.)

Having his soul on display is… incredibly distracting. Which is to say that for the week following Jean can hardly keep his eyes off it when they’re in the same room. He’s self-conscious of it at first, before he notices Jeremy having a similar problem.

Cleo is the giveaway, of course. She’d been obviously curious the first couple days, but a few firm looks from Jeremy had kept her at a distance. Then Jean had come home from class on a Thursday to find Cleo on his dresser, budged right up to the cage and napping in the sunlight.

“She thinks it’s lovely,” Jeremy explains later when they’ve both settled into their beds. Tucked to Jeremy’s stomach, Cleo shifts in protest, letting out a soft chirping rumble. Jeremy rolls his eyes. “The loveliest thing,” he corrects. “I would say, ‘Her words, not mine,’ but I don’t think that excuse works in our case.”

Jeremy grins at him from across the space between their beds. The bedside lamp could be playing tricks on him, but Jean thinks he sees a flush dusting Jeremy’s cheeks.  

From the cage across the room there is a soft flutter of wings.

The thing is, Jeremy talks to the dove.

Jean doesn’t think he’s meant to find out, but he does. It’s an eerie reversal of the night Jeremy saw the dove, but this time it’s Jean almost walking into their room unannounced. He stops himself just in time when he hears Jeremy’s voice.

He’s sitting on the end of Jean’s bed, next to the birdcage… talking. Just talking, almost in the way he does with his plants.

He’s saying, I really want to win this season, for all of us, and I can’t imagine what this year would have been without him, you know?, and I wish you could tell me how to open this cage–I think that would make Jean very happy.

The moment feels soft. Fragile. Jean leaves quietly, before Jeremy can finish, and before he can hear any more.

They’re finishing some late night homework in the living room when Jeremy brings up the idea. Jean is laid across the couch with a lit reading, Cleo curled up by his knee, and Jeremy is sprawled across the floor surrounded by thesis work.

“Hey, what are you doing for Spring Break?” Jeremy asks out of the blue, and Jean cranes his head back to stare at him.

“You think I have plans?” Jean replies, turning back to his book. On the floor, Jeremy huffs a laugh, fidgets. Silence. Then–

“What if you visited Renee? I mentioned it to her, she’d love to see you.”

Jean files away those bits of information, that Jeremy and Renee talk, and that Jeremy and Renee talk about him.

“Okay,” is all he says, and Jeremy looks satisfied, turning back to his work. “I’ll text her.”

It’s no surprise to either of them when he’s on a flight to North Dakota two weeks later.

It’s a good week–Jean is surprised by how good. It’s relaxing, just Renee, Stephanie, and him. He gets daily updates from Laila and Alvarez on their trip to Arizona to see Laila’s family, and the Trojan group chat is as active as ever with everyone sharing whatever outlandish thing they’d done that week. The only oddity is Jeremy–or rather the lack of him.

It’s been complete radio silence from the captain since he’d said goodbye to Jean at the airport drop-off. At first Jean isn’t concerned; Jeremy hadn’t talked about his Spring Break plans, but Jean figures he’s plenty busy spending time with his family. But it’s still weird. Regardless of if Jean replies, Jeremy constantly blows up his phone with Snaps or texts or random links to pictures of cute dogs.

On Wednesday, Jean is watching a movie with Renee in the living room when he gets a text from Alvarez.

8:42 P.M.: have u talked to jer??? we havent heard from him all week

8:43 P.M.: and hes not answering his phone

8:43 P.M.: and like… now that im checking i cant feel him through the pack link?

8:44 P.M.: NOT IN A “HES DEAD” KINDA WAY

8:44 P.M: its just kinda fuzzy. like theres a blur where he should be

Jean feels cold all over, and then the dread start to pool disproportionately in the pit of his stomach. There’s no reason to be worried, Jean assures himself, Jeremy is just busy. And for some reason he’s blocking the pack link. It’s coincidence.

He pulls up Jeremy’s contact and presses call. Jean finds himself holding his breath, but the call doesn’t even ring, just goes straight to voicemail. Jeremy’s cheery answering recording chatters across the line, and Jean hangs up without leaving a message. There is a knot in his chest, tightening with each passing moment. His phone buzzes as Alvarez sends him another message.

8:45 P.M.: were lowkey freaking out jean

8:46 P.M.: jeremy doesnt do this kinda shit

“Jean?” Renee asks, and Jean jumps at her voice. From the open doorway to Jean’s guest room across the room the rattling of metal can be heard. The dove must be agitated, Jean observes absently.  “Jean, are you alright?”

“Alvarez texted,” he says, and a small part of him is surprised at how blank he sounds. “No one’s heard from Jeremy all break. His phone is dead, or off. They’re worried. She said–Alvarez can’t feel him over the pack bond.” His phone buzzes again.

8:49 P.M.: ANSWER YOUR PHONE MOREAU

8:51 P.M.: I haven’t heard from him. His phone went straight to voicemail.

When Jean looks up he expects worry from Renee–surprise, or words of assurance. She is fond of Jeremy Knox (who isn’t?). And when he looks over, the worry is there. But the surprise is suspiciously absent. The shock of that freezes him.

“What?” he chokes. “What do you know?”

Renee takes a deep breath and frowns, folding her hands in her lap as she turns to face Jean head on.

“He didn’t want you to find out,” she starts, and Jean stares at her.

“What did he do, Renee?” Jean repeats, a hollow desperation clawing at his insides like it hadn’t in months. “Where is he?”

“He didn’t say exactly where, but I assumed…”

“Renee.”

“If Alvarez can’t feel him, he’s probably in the Summer Court.”

The dread from before spills over; Jean’s world narrows to a point. He knows firsthand the cruelty of the faerie courts. Even the Summer Court, the most benevolent of them all, is the last place Jean would send Jeremy, and yet he’s gone, unasked, on Jean’s behalf. It’s suicide.

Renee is speaking to him again, but Jean can’t understand her. His phone is buzzing incessantly on his lap. Laila is calling him. He fumbles with it, but manages to answer.

“Jean! What the hell, where have you–“

“I know where he is.”

Staticky silence.

“Oh thank god, where is he?”    

Jean swallows and closes his eyes. “The Summer Court. He–planned it, or something. With Renee, I don’t know. He’s seeking audience with the Faerie Queen.” As soon as he says it he knows it’s true.

He hears Alvarez yelling over the line, and Laila is asking more questions Jean doesn’t know the answer to. As for one, as for why, well. There’s really only one reason it could be.

“He’s–so stupid.” Jean scrubs a hand over his eyes. He’s trembling. “He’s doing it for me, the fucking idiot, if I’d known I would have never…”

Never left California. Never let Jeremy risk this.

Beside him, Renee shifts and says softly, “Don’t you think that’s why he didn’t tell you?”

Jean digs his fingers into his thigh, grounding himself. “Stupid,” he repeats.

“Jeremy has the monopoly on stupidity, Jean,” Laila says, sounding calmer now despite her worry. “We knew that. He cares too much.”

Jean huffs a laugh, a slight choked thing.

“What do we do now?” he asks. Laila is quiet for a while.

“We trust that he knew what he was doing. We trust him. And we wait.”

Renee tells him that the conversation with Jeremy went something like this:

“Hey Renee–would it be okay if Jean came and stayed with you for Spring Break?”

“Of course, he’s always welcome. But, Jeremy–can I ask why you’re the one asking, not him? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry–didn’t mean to worry you. Jean’s doing really well actually. He seems… happier lately.”

“That’s good. Then why do you need to get him out of California?”

Of course Renee saw right through him. Jeremy was quiet for a long moment, then continued.

“There’s something I need to do. And I don’t think that Jean would approve of me doing it.”

“Will he be safe if you do it?”

“If I do it right, I think it’ll really help him. I just… need some answers.”

“And what about you?”

“Hm?”

“He won’t like it much if you get hurt, Jeremy.”

“Oh!” Jeremy had laughed. “Well I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Jean gets the call four days later.

It’s been six hours since he landed in L.A. It’s been forty-five minutes since a door appeared on the dove’s cage; Jean hasn’t been able to take his eyes off it. He hasn’t dared open it, merely brought it with him to the couch where they’ve been ever since.

The callerID flashes as his phone begins to buzz. Jean answers on the first ring.

“Knox,” Jean says, and he doesn’t want to imagine what he sounds like. Awed, angry, concerned, fond. Jeremy had done it. Somehow, he had.

“Jean,” Jeremy says, his voice warm, tired. Jean could collapse under the weight of it.

“You’re back then.” His fingers clutch at the phone, and he wills his voice to remain steady.

“I am.”

Jean wants to ask him, wants to say, What have you done? What did you give them? Nothing comes without a price. What comes out is: “Where are you?” Somehow that feels more important at the moment.

“Um… about an hour outside Fresno? I think. I’m looking for where I left the truck.”

Jean doesn’t reply, and the silence hangs on the line.

“Jean, I’m–“ Jeremy starts, and Jean cuts him off because he can’t hear apologies from Jeremy right now. Not about this.

“Is Cleo with you?” There’s a moment, and then Jeremy laughs. Jean can hear his exhaustion, but it still warms him to his core.

(He could have been dead, he could have been gone, but he’s here, he’s on the other end of the line– )

“Yeah, she’s here.” A soft of sort relief settles over Jean’s bones. “She’s missed you.”

There are many things that Jean wants to say in that moment.

(I missed her, too.

You’re such a fucking idiot.

Please tell me you’re alright.

I never expected anything like you.)

What he says is: “Come home.”

The first thing Jean does when Jeremy walks through the door is hand him a cup of tea. Jeremy blinks at him, then at the cup, eyes lidded with sleep. He takes it, smiling, and Jean can finally breathe again.

At his feet there is Cleo, rubbing up against his calf, butting her head against him, meowing impatiently until he picks her up. She settles instantly, tucked in the crook of his arm.

“What did you give them?” Jean asks, because in the end that’s what it comes down to. But Jeremy just shakes his head, dismissive.

“Did it work?” he counters, eyes wide, and Jean gestures to the living room.

“Go see for yourself.” Jeremy does.

“There’s a door,” he says, quietly, knelt in front of the cage. He looks up at Jean, elated. “There’s actually a door!”

“Did you think there wouldn’t be?” Jean asks, sitting on the couch; Cleo jumps out of his arms to curl up on a cushion. Jean knows if there was even a chance he hadn’t succeeded, Jeremy wouldn’t have come back.

Jeremy moves to sit next to him, the cage between them. “Well no, but… they weren’t very specific with the how of it. Just that it would.”

“Jeremy,” Jean says after a moment on silence. “Faeries only work in equal exchange. What did you give them?”

“Nothing.” Jeremy looks suddenly frustrated, shifting to face him. “Nothing, Jean, I didn’t give them anything because there was nothing to exchange. It’s your soul. It’s yours.” Jeremy breathes deeply to calm himself down, and slumps back against the couch. “I just reminded them who they were dealing with.”

Jean is still, blinking at Jeremy’s vehemence. Then the wording strikes him.

“Who–who they’re dealing with?” Jean looks at the boy next to him, eyes glinting, practically alight in his frustration, in the name of protecting Jean. “Who are they dealing with?”

Immediately Jeremy’s eyes widen and he looks away. “I…” He chews his lip then sighs a long breath, resigned. “I never really told you, did I…? What I am.”

“You’re a witch. A kitchen witch,” Jean says, but Jeremy is shaking his head. Jean frowns, not understanding. “But you have a familiar. And the tea, and your plants…” he trails off, watching Jeremy carefully.

“My gram,” Jeremy starts, staring resolutely across the room. “My great, great, great grandmother–was a cloverhand. Like you.” He pauses, lets that sink in. “She caught the eye of one of the daoine sídhe, the fae. He was disguised as human, under glamour probably, but she saw through him instantly. She chose to let him court her, met him every step of the way… and eventually she became one of them.

“He wasn’t the Summer King at the time, but… A couple hundred years later, and he was. And she is Queen. And all of this is to say,” Jeremy takes a deep breath, finally looking at Jean. “That I have faerie blood, and a claim to the Court if I ever wanted it.” Jean’s eyes widen at that, and Jeremy quickly continues, hands held placatingly. “I don’t! I don’t want that, I already have the Trojan Court.”

Jean is silent as his brain scrambles to process this new information. Jeremy isn’t a witch–he’d never been a witch, Jean had just assumed. Jeremy is part fae, with a claim to the Summer Court. He’d used that influence to give Jean a chance.

When Jean doesn’t say anything Jeremy begins to fidget nervously. “Look, you’re probably freaking out, or like–like reading too much into it? But honestly I didn’t do anything, I just told them what they should already fucking know, because it’s your soul, Jean, like what the fuck–“

“Jeremy,” Jean tries to interrupt before the other boy can get too worked up–he was well on his way already.

“Yeah?” Jeremy is looking at him, nervous, and Jean wants to ask him why. Jean wants a lot of things lately, more than he’d ever thought possible–he wonders when that happened.

“Thank you,” is what he says instead.

And Jeremy smiles.

Jean doesn’t open the cage that night, or the night after that, or anytime in the week following. When he finally does it feels almost… too normal. It’s after practice on a Friday; they have no game that weekend, so there’s two days free to themselves. It’s a novel concept, one he never could have foreseen a year ago.

Jeremy is napping on the couch, Cleo snoozing on his stomach. Jean had left them out there to do some work at his desk, but found himself too distracted to get much done. His eyes keep straying to the cage on his desk, on the door and the dove behind it.

Almost before he realizes it he’s crossed the room, fingers twisting the latch; the door springs free. The dove is watching him cautiously, wings fluttering. Jean reaches inside, his hands gently cupped around its wings as he pulls it from the cage. His heart is pounding in his ears. The dove is shaking in his hands, warm and vividly alive. He brings it to his chest and presses it close.

One moment the dove is there, the next Jean’s palms are pressed empty to his chest. He’s notices he’s gasping, knees trembling. It feels like the first breath of air you take when you step outside in winter, like falling back asleep in the morning when there’s nothing to call you out of bed. Jean feels overwhelmed, he feels light, he feels… happy.

“Jean?” he hears Jeremy call sleepily from the living room, and then padded footsteps approach. “I’m sorry,” Jeremy says, rubbing sleepily at his eyes, “I fell asleep in the middle of our conversation, didn’t I? Thesis is just kicking my ass, and with playoffs coming up…” he trails off, noticing the sight in front of him: Jean shaking, the cage open and empty in front of him.

“You did it,” Jeremy whispers, eyes wide. “You did it!” he cheers, rushing forward, throwing an arm across his shoulders, and then Jean is turning into him, hands gripping at his waist and they’re hugging, gripping each other tight. Jeremy is laughing in his ear, and Jean–

Jean holds on.

(on ao3 here)