#tw cat neglect

[k--havok]

@starlit-hopes-and-dreams suggested I share my cat-related horror stories that have scarred me for years to the point that, to this day, I refuse to own a cat.

I have 2 stories, one a little longer than the other.

TW: My stories contain the neglect of cats (and a beta fish), so if you're sensitive to that... I suggest not reading further.

--

Story 1

As I mentioned before, I am very sensitive to "cat smell" which is what I have dubbed the ammonia-like stench that seems to permeate most houses and people who have cats. I'm so sensitive to it I can smell it whenever one of my local pet stores has a "caturday"

A person who I was friends with at the time dragged me to one of these caturdays one a day we were planning on hanging out due to her dad randomly deciding they could get a cat.

There was no prep for the house to get a cat. They already owned two senior dogs, one of which was blind, who did not grow up with cats and were never really around cats.

I took her to the pet store after she got some cash from her house and helped her buy all the supplies for said cat... and then she had to actually pick out a cat. She eventually picked up a tabby who did not like being put in the cardboard carrier. Driving her and the cat home nearly gave me a heart attack I am pretty sure. Especially sine I am very protective regarding my car and did not want the cat to bust out and possibly hurt itself, us, and my seats. There was also the cat-smell. Which stayed in the car for several days after this trip. Eesh.

Anyways, after that kerfuffle I let her get settled with her new pet... feeling a bit worried for the cat. This girl was well-known to forget to feed her beta fish for weeks on end. Why her parents decided she could get a cat... I do not know.

This cat made multiple escape attempts, which was not hard as they had a doggy door for the two senior dogs.

As bad as the cat escaping was, its litter box conditions were bad. See, she did not clean it all the time (even tho she promised her parents she would) and they made her move it out of the laundry room (which kinda makes sense for a litter box) into her carpeted room. Next to her bed.

I visited her one night and her room stank. I could barely breathe. Not only that but litter was everywhere. In the carpet. On the TV stand. Even in the bed. I decided to go sleep on the couch as I could not stand how nasty everything was. And when I got home I washed my clothes and took the longest shower I could. My clothes were permeated with cat-smell and I had to wash them twice to get it out.

I fell out of friendship with this person due to how... childish she was. When all this was taking place, she was like. 22 years old. Her disposition really affected our friendship and it had to end. I don't know what happened to the cat but I do hope it was ok. Despite the gross litter box, and it escaping twice, it wasn't in any danger. It was chunky, the dogs ignored it, and the parents seemed to be keeping an eye on it.

I will note, before I go to the next story, one other incident. She kept buying like... Iams or purina or whatever. And listen, I don't know much about cat food, but I do know dog food and what shitty dog food looks like. And it was shitty cat food I'm pretty sure. Well the cat kept getting sick so she took it to the vet and long story short she had to change to a different food that actually had nutrients in it. And she bitched about how the new food cost more. She bitched about this constantly.

And she was not destitute! She worked a full-time job and the majority of her budget was spent on fast food daily and clothes. She did buy the new food but boy she would not shut up about how much she did not want to. Like... girl having to pay for a pet is like. Pet Owning 101.

Anyways.

Story 2

This one is a little... sadder. I had a friend who had two cats that he got to help with his depression and to make his apartment feel less lonely when he was kicked out of his parent's house. And in the beginning years the cats were very well taken care of.

But then the pandemic hit. Personal life and mental illness hit him. And his life was not the same.

His now-wife's grandfather passed away suddenly and he had to help her and her family drive across the country to attend the funeral. Her parents are very cheap and did not want to get plane tickets, even tho the drive would be over 20 hours. On top of that, his wife cannot drive, so he also went to make sure they got up there safe and could switch around drivers since they were going to drive straight up there with no overnight stops.

They would be gone for at least a week, maybe more, so he asked me and my partner to watch the cats for him. I went in the evenings and my partner went in the mornings.

Now the last I saw this apartment it was a little messy but nothing worse for wear. When I entered after years of not visiting due to the pandemic... holy hell. The cat-smell hit me before I even opened the door. I could smell it standing on the other side.

And... god. It was a hoard home. That could not be denied. Things were everywhere. Rotting food in the kitchen. Clothes and trash piled up in corners and all over the floor. And worse, the floor was carpet.

He, like my friend in story 1, kept the litter box on carpet. Except this litter box was an open one with no cover. And the cats were not the most well behaved and liked to kick the litter out. Litter was all over the floor. And so was poop. Cat turds were everywhere, some just sitting there, some smushed into the carpet. And speaking of the carpet... he fed the cats both wet and dry food. The wet food he did not put in a bowl. He just peeled back the little containers and set them on the carpet. And the cats would knock over the containers, the wet food spilling out, and would smush it into the carpet as well as they ate it. The entire carpet was brown rather than beige and crusty as well.

The dry food went into a flat, oval-shaped dish. When I first went to feed them, I picked up the dish and looked for a trashcan to dump out the old food. Well my friend left his trash can full. And he had no trash bags. So I had to go get trashbags. And when I did go to dump out the old food... only part of it came out. Half of the food was completely crusted to the bottom. I went to find a papertowel to scoop it out. No paper towels. So another trip to the store.

I could not get the food out. It was crusted so badly that it would need to be deep cleaned. But... I think ya'll get the picture. No dish soap.

Now, another part of this story is how skittish these cats were. They would flee like cockroaches as soon as I entered the apartment. So I decided to Pavlov' them. They came whenever I shook their treat can, so I made an effort to give them treats whenever I first entered the apartment, whenever they came up to me willingly, and whenever I left. The first cat only took 2 days to catch on. She'd be meowing at the door for treats as soon as she heard me unlocking the door. The second took almost all week, but by the end of it, I could pet both of them and have them come up to me sans-treats.

Now the second cat, when he finally came up to me, I realized he had some matted fur. Both these cats were long-haired. And his matted fur was around the neck area. I looked for a brush and... okay, yeah ya'll know what is coming next.

Well, I fed him treats, and using my fingers, I did my best to gently brush out his fur. I couldn't get the entire knot out, but I did manage to smooth his fur out somewhat.

When my friend got back, I gave him an earful about brushing the cats fur. He said the male cat did not like his fur being brushed. I told him to buckle up butter cup cause it still needs to be done even if the cat did not like it. He had no answer regarding the full litter box he left me and my partner nor the food crust or anything else. His now-wife agreed with me on the state of the apartment and said she'd been bugging him about everything but... yeesh.

Well, he moved from there and I briefly visited his new place. In the new place, the cats are only allowed in one of the bedrooms. Altho he had only lived there for a month, the cat-smell punched me yet again.

There was no poop in the carpet, but there was litter and wet cat food already starting to crust.

Besides the fur and gross living conditions, the cats seemed fine. Claws weren't overgrown, healthy weight, normal behavior (even tho they were skittish).

I did not really know what to do in such a situation. I just let him know how I felt and chewed him out. He said he would start cleaning out their bowls better, claimed he cleaned the litter box every other day (lies but I don't own cats... and maybe his do poop that much....), and promised to start brushing out their fur. He really does love his cats, but I also know he is not taking care of them, or himself, as well as he should. As gross as the living situation was, he was also living in that mess too. But its still incredibly sad. I thought about calling animal control or some society to take a look at the situation, but sadly, there are already too many animals out there in foster homes. And besides the living conditions, the cats were fine. Up to date on all shots and everything. Unless they were physically being harmed or had signs of neglect minus some knotted fur (like being underweight or had wounds), I figured not much would be done.

Either way, I did what I could. I avoid this friend a lot now. And furthermore, the second situation is what scarred me. I cannot overstate how disgusted I was. To this day, I do not own a cat. And I cannot see myself owning one anytime in the near future either.

[mud-castle]

I like that Fire doesn't look particularly surprised, dude was like: "Yup, that's about what I expected from this conversation."

So instead of Bramble being horribly abused, is he just really lonely? Goldenflower can protect him from mistreatment but given that Fire is a dick in this world it doesn't look like anyone would want to interact with him either.

Or well, he is protected while she is alive anyways.

Bramble isn't physically abused. He's more ostracized and neglected which is its form of abuse considering Fireheart is directly responsible for part of it.

Mentors are meant to be almost a second/third parent to an apprentice. They're the adult they spend the most time with through their cat tween and teens. Their responsibility is not just to train them but also help them navigate through life and become functioning, well-rounded adults.

Flamesong, being deputy, takes full responsibility over Bramblepaw when he takes him as his apprentice, essentially staking his reputation on Bramble not being evil. In Dark Mirror, the leader or deputy taking on an apprentice is a huge deal. They're sort of pseudo-candidates for future positions of power. He also sort of makes Bramble part of the Fire fam, to the chagrin of Fireheart.

After Flamesong dies, this responsibility is passed down to Fireheart, who can't really do anything about the situation without risking the name of his late brother.

Bramblepaw wants to be a part of the Fire family and he desperately wants Fireheart's approval. Fireheart doesn't even want to be in the same room as him.

As an effect, Fire is overly critical of Brambepaw but offers little actual help. He looks the other way at the clan's mistreatment of him. Heaven forbid Bramblepaw come to him with personal problems. When they're not in a training session, Bramblepaw is pretty much invisible to him.

All of which, as you might imagine, is not good for Bramble's development. Goldenflower tries her best, but there's only so much she can do. She can keep Fireheart's claws off of him, but she has no way of knowing how he treats him otherwise when they're not in camp. (Though she has a strong idea considering Bramblepaw's self-confidence takes an instant nosedive after he's given to Fireheart).

[clawdmg]

 ✿ . APPLICATION / WRITING SAMPLE

I.

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍  𝐀  𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐖𝐀𝐒  a  little  scruffy  creature  ——  with  equally  scruffy  powder-pink  hair  ——  who'd  periodically  pop  her  head  out  from  the  safety  of  her  father's  tall  legs.  bright,  inquisitive  eyes  the  shape  of  almonds  and  the  hue  of  seaglass  gleamed  in  awe  of  the  vast  world  surrounding  her.  most  striking  of  all  were  the  twitching,  real  calico  ears  crowned  atop  her  head.

this  was  diona  kätzlein.  she's  very  important. 

when  she  was  younger,  she  seldom  visited  the  moon  city,  apart  from  when  her  father  caught  big  game  that  day  and  took  her  to  the  market  to  celebrate.  such  fond  memories  warmed  her  stomach.  the  mora  in  his  calloused  fingers  would  sparkle  like  gemstones  as  he  placed  them  one  by  one  in  his  daughter's  tiny  hands.  he  would  then  gently  encourage  her  as  she  reluctantly  approached  good  hunter  and  placed  an  order  like  an  adult.  they'd  spend  the  afternoon  feasting  on  chicken  skewers,  grilled  fish,  and  fruit  juice  together  until  their  bellies  swelled  full  enough  to  burst. 

but  then  calico  ears  would  twitch,  alerting  the  girl  of  hushed  whispers  drifting  over  the  market  square.  she'd  glance  to  find  eyes  pinned  'pon  her,  mouths  open  wide  in  wonderment.  she'd  try  to  blend  into  the  chair,  sinking  lower  and  flattening  her  ears  against  her  skull  as  her  cheeks  dyed  red.  as  always,  her  hero  of  a  father  would  come  to  her  aid,  ruffling  her  hair  till  she  scoffed  indignantly. 

❝ let  them  stare, ❞ he'd  say  between  another  bite  of  fish. ❝ you  and  me?  we're  hunters,  kings,  conquerors  of  the  wild.  people  like  us  aren't  meant  to  shy  away  in  a  corner.  didn't  you  say  you  wanted  to  be  a  hunter,  just  like  your  daddy? ❞

❝ of  course  i  do! ❞ with  a  shout,  fists  pound  the  table,  eyes  gleaming  with  determination. ❝ i  want  to  ——   no,  i  will  ——   put  together  an  unrivaled  hunting  team.  we'll  travel  across  the  region  and  won't  come  back  until  we've  caught  the  largest  bounty  you've  ever  seen.  just  you  wait,  dad,  it'll  be  for  the  history  books! ❞ realizing  the  scene  she  was  creating,  the  righteous  fire  in  her  voice  fades  to  a  softer  tone,  ❝ . . . because  then  you'll  be  swimming  in  mora.  you  won't  have  to  worry  about  working  ever  again. ❞

❝ atta  girl, ❞ her  father  chuckles,  reaching  over  to  pet  her  head  once  again,  but  she  swats  his  hand  away  with  an  amused  but  annoyed  huff.  he  laughs  again, ❝ well,  aren't  we  just  spirited  today?  i'm  looking  forward  to  it,  but  you  should  know  it'll  be  a  long  time  before  you're  ready  to  take  on  the  family  legacy. ❞  

❝ what!?  but  i'm  already  plenty  prepared! ❞ to  prove  it,  the  calico  extends  her  arm  over  the  table. ❝ c'mon,  wrestle  me. ❞

❝ ohoho?  think  you're  strong  enough  to  take  on  your  old  man? ❞  

❝ i  know  i  am! ❞

II. 

diona  giggles  absentmindedly  as  she  ties  back  her  hair,  recalling  how  draff  used  to  always  let  her  win  their  wrestling  matches.  she  threw  a  tantrum  when  she  first  discovered  it,  but  now  she  thinks  it's  astonishing  how  long  the  jig  lasted  ——  what  a  lousy  actor  he  was! 

hands  rest  on  her  head.  she  doesn't  remember  when  he  last  ruffled  her  hair. 

III. 

for  a  young  mondstater,  especially  for  one  less  acquainted  with  the  outside  world  like  diona,  learning  how  the  other  archons  reign  over  their  people  can  be  quite  the  culture  shock.

indeed,  it  made  some  sense  for  morax  ——   ah,  it's  awkward  to  say  this  about  a  god,  but  bless  his  soul,  she  hopes  he's  resting  in  peace  ——  to  have  descended  from  the  heavenly  skies  once  a  year  to  lead  his  people.  but  then  her  thoughts  drift  to  kirara,  the  two-tailed  inazuman  courier,  who  she  was  told  has  delivered  parcels  to  the  almighty  shogun  herself.  she  often  rolls  the  idea  around  in  her  head  like  a  pearl,  imagining  what  it  must  be  like  to  witness  a  deity  in  person  and  speak  with  them  as  you  would  any  other  person. 

quite  frankly,  it  feels  strange,  and  she  doesn't  like  it. 

while  neither  the  most  devout  nor  the  least  pious,  diona's  connection  to  the  god  of  freedom  was  precious  all  the  same.  when  she  snuggles  into  her  favorite  spot  'pon  the  giant  oak  in  windrise,  bathing  in  warm  sunlight,  she  understands  barbatos'  love  does  not  manifest  in  grand  spectacles  nor  glorious  feats,  but  rather  the  gentle  breeze  caressing  her  cheeks.  like  a  cherished  tune  murmured  beneath  one's  breath,  it  is  a  love  faint,  comforting  and,  most  importantly,  hers. 

IV. 

❝ i'm. . .  archons,  it  sounds  so  stupid  now  that  i'm  saying  it  aloud.  i'm  mad  at  someone.  like,  really,  really  mad. ❞

❝ language,  my  dear. ❞ a  gentle  breeze  swept  through  the  little  garden,  rippling  through  white  tablecloth  where  sister  grace  and  her  old  friend's  daughter  were  seated,  stirring  the  shimmering  amber  liquid  in  their  cups.  the  calico's  plush  ears  twitched  in  displeasure,  but  she  did  not  pounce  right  away,  instead  narrowing  her  eyes  as  the  nun  lifted  the  teacup  to  her  lips.

❝ even  worse,  i've  been  mad  at  d——  uh,  my  friend  for  what  feels  like  forever  now.  i  can  feel  it  driving  me  crazy.  he's  driving  me  crazy. ❞ diona  frantically  gestured  to  her  tail,  the  fur  standing  on  end.  ❝ just  talking  about  it  now  has  me  riled  up!  give  it  to  me  straight,  grace,  will  i  be  punished  for  this? ❞

rather  than  reply,  sister  grace  tilted  her  head  curiously,  taking  in  the  child's  expression.  pink,  fluffy  eyebrows  furrowed  the  longer  she  studied  the  young  girl;  diona  was  never  the  patient  type.  ❝ well? ❞

❝ why,  my  dear, ❞ sister  grace  finally  said,  setting  down  her  cup  and  folding  her  hands  in  her  lap,  ❝ would  lord  barbatos  punish  you  for  this? ❞

 a  groan  of  frustration.  ❝ it  feels  ——  i  don't  know  ——  wrong?  it's  a  heavy  feeling  in  my  stomach,  like  swallowing  a  pile  of  rocks.  my  kätzlein  intuition  is  screaming  something  bad  is  about  to  happen! ❞

despite  the  calico's  obvious  distress,  sister  grace  simply  traced  the  rim  of  her  teacup  with  a  neatly  manicured  nail,  humming,  ❝ i  don't  think  you'll  be  punished,  diona. ❞

❝ and  how  do  you  know  that? ❞ she  scoffed.

sister  grace  smiled,  pointed  to  her  veil,  then  the  remainder  of  the  habit,  and  finally  to  the  anemo  archon  statue  in  the  distance.  ❝ because  i  know  enough  about  lord  barbatos  to  know  he  would  never  punish  his  children. ❞ she  paused  before  adding,  ❝ i  was  concerned  at  first  when  you  came  to  me  seeking  repentance,  but  dear,  i  am  relieved  to  inform  you  that  you  have  not  confessed  to  any  sin.  feeling  slighted  is  a  fact  of  a  life,  i'm  afraid. ❞

❝ but  i  ——  augh,  it's  not  about  being  angry, ❞ diona  huffed.  feline  eyes  wandered  to  the  skies,  searching  for  the  right  words  amongst  the  white  clouds  dotting  the  skies.  ❝ you  don't  have  to  tell  me  that  it's  okay  to  feel  angry.  i  know  damn  well  —— ❞

❝ language. ❞

❝ darn  well, ❞ she  grumbled  under  her  breath.  ❝ that  it's  fine.  in  fact,  i  could  give  you  a  long,  long  list  of  unruly  drunks  who'd  i'd  give  anything  to  turn  into  my  personal  scratching  posts.  i  don't  feel  a  lick  of  guilt  for  hating  any  of  them!  but  when  it  comes  to  my  friend. . . ❞

❝ you  don't  want  to  hate  him, ❞ grace's  sister  nodded,  ❝ but  it's  nearly  impossible  because  you  think  he  deserves  it. ❞

❝ exactly! ❞ diona  exclaimed,  clapping  her  hands  together.  the  elation  is  fleeting,  however,  as  she  then  frowned,  muttering,  ❝ but  it's  not  his  fault  he  acts  like  that.  he  doesn't  deserve  to  be  hated.  it's  the  evil  alcohol  infecting  his  mind  and  feeding  him  those  horrible  thoughts.  i'm  the  one  who  isn't  working  hard  enough. ❞

❝ diona. ❞ calico  ears  perked  up  as  she  watched  the  nun  set  her  teacup  carefully  back  onto  the  saucer.  the  patient's  smile  vanished  into  lips  pulled  taut.   ❝ indulge  me  for  a  second,  will  you? ❞

diona's  brow  furrowed  once  more  but  slowly  nodded.

❝ lord  barbatos  blessed  me  with  the  chance  to  take  care  of  many  children.  wonderful  children.  i  know  sometimes  draff  isn't  always  —— ❞   sister  grace's  eyes  flickered  to  diona's  own,  gauging  her  reaction  before  continuing  on,  ❝ ——  present,  so  i  wouldn't  mind  taking  care  of  you  in  his  stead.  there'd  be  warm  meals  every  day  and  a  warm  bed  every  night,  and  i'd  promise  a  happy,  prosperous  life. ❞

her  lips  pulled  tighter  as  diona  fidgeted  uncomfortable  in  her  seat.  where  was  she  going  with  this?  ❝ but  i  know  you'd  never  want  to  part  from  your  father.  you  love  him  dearly,  don't  you? ❞

the  calico's  response  was  lightning-quick:    ❝ of  course  i  do!  more  than  anything  else  in  the  world! ❞

❝ i  thought  so, ❞ sister  grace  nodded.  it  was  as  if  a  magic  spell  cast  over  her  had  faded  in  an  instant.  diona  had  always  been  a  perceptive  girl,  but  now  she  could  see  the  dark  circles  beneath  steel  blue  eyes,  how  her  pale  skin  seemed  to  sag  even  further  after  hours  sitting  in  the  sun.  was  she  always  so  tired?  ❝ i  want  to  ask  one  more  thing:  does  he  make  you  happy? ❞

❝ pfft,  what  type  of  question  is  that?  of  course  he. . . ❞ diona  began,  but  the  words  died  in  her  mouth  as  she  saw  sister  grace's  face,  which  suddenly  bore  a  wry,  melancholy  smile.

��(  she  loves  him.  of  course  she  does  ——  it's  natural  to  love  your  father.  she  shouldn't  be  angry  whenever  happy  families  run  around  the  market  square,  flashing  mora  and  feasting  on  sunsettias.  it  shouldn't  devour  her  insides  when  she  discovers  draff  dead  against  the  side  of  angel  share  and  has  to  alert  a  guard  to  accompany  the  two  of  them  home.  the  enemy  is  the  wine,  not  draff.  she  needs  to  say  that.  )

she  finished  weakly,  ❝ . . . he  makes  me  happy.  every    single  day.  sure,  he  may  not  always  be  at  home,  but  only  because  we  both  work  in  the  morning.  he  still  puts  in  the  effort  to  make  time  for  me.  he's  my  best  friend  and  i'm  his.  we  love  eachother. ❞

 (  it's  not  a  lie.  its  not.  he  is  trying,  he  does  make  time  for  her,  he  tells  her  all  the  time  he  loves  her.  why  does  it  sound  so  unconvincing  even  to  her  own  ears?  )

❝ i  see. ❞ another  breeze  blew  through  the  gardens  as  the  enormous  church  bells  rang,  signaling  the  end  of  prayer  hour  and  afternoon  tea.  the  air  smelled  softly  of  honeysuckle  and  fresh  dew  as  the  two  ladies  cleaned  up,  dumping  the  remaining  cold  tea  into  a  nearby  sink  and  gathering  their  belonging.  bidding  the  sister  goodbye,  diona  was  the  first  out  the  gate,  racing  down  the  curving  dirt  path  toward  home,  hair  flying  behind  her.  all  the  way,  she  could  feel  the  rocks  in  her  gut  slowing  her  down.

[mewpirate]

Ain't no fucking way JARS has a crush on synnibear03 😭😭😭😭

WHILE BRO HAS A GIRLFRIEND WHATTT WHY ARE YOU LEAVING YOUR PARTNER FOR A FUCKING CHILD GROOMER

[broken-codes]

I don't have anything new and I have no inspiration for the comic or asks rn so take Pastor and his loser son because they're all I can think about at the moment

[ Drawn 14 - APR - 2024 ]

Also im going back to college tomorrow so I'll be slower at responding to things again

[treesusedtotalktome]

I'll never fucking forgive you

[worst-mother-throwdown]

BRACKET 1

Round 1

Propaganda under the cut, but feel free to add yours in the reblogs

TW: child/animal neglect

Ursa propaganda

(I couldn't find the panel, sorry. But I think the one I chose is close enough?)

Rainflower propaganda

[elementclangen]

Together Again Part One: Keep Breathing

Together Again is a four-part short story I wrote about Antlersky and Rosemaryquake. As I was going through these early moons to make this blog, I realized that Antlersky had an interesting story I wanted to write about. I'll post the next parts over the next couple of days.

Trigger warnings: Death, death of a parent, child neglect

Moons 44 to 48

Antlerkit curled up by Mama’s belly and watched Rosemarykit play with a mossball.  She could have joined in but she didn’t want to.  She was content sitting and watching, feeling Mama’s breaths rise and fall and matching them to her own.

Stormrush sighed and readjusted herself.  Antlerkit pressed closer to her, rubbing her cheek gently against the cobwebs on Mama’s side.  She didn’t know Mama without the cobwebs.  They were as much a part of her as her fluffy fur.  

Rosemarykit tired of the mossball and started nosing in the dirt.  Sometimes little flecks of it would fly up and hit Antlerkit.  She just dusted them off with a gust of wind.  She felt the rise and fall of Mama’s chest as she drifted off to sleep.

A change woke her up.  

Rosemarykit was snoring next to her, and Mama had wrapped her tail around her kits.  But. . .there was something missing.  A rhythm that Antlerkit had known even before she had memories.

She kneaded Mama’s stomach, whispering so quietly that only wind-blessed ears would pick it up.  “Mama?  Mama, are you okay?”

No response.

She tried again, louder.  Rosemarykit turned over in her sleep but Mama didn’t move.  Wind whipped around the nursery, and Antlerkit even tried to guide some of it towards Mama’s mouth.  But nothing happened.

“Mama!” Antlerkit shrieked.  A gust of wind blew over Rosemarykit and woke her up.  “Mama! Please, wake up.”  The wind ripped the cobwebs off Stormrush’s side, but no blood oozed out of them.  Antlerkit didn’t notice.

“Mama! Mama!” She shrieked, over and over again.  There were other cats in the nursery, now, trying to reach her.  Antlerkit was dimly aware of another cat parting the wind and then Mommy was there.

Brightfalcon licked the top of her head.  “Calm down, little one, it’s alright.”

It wasn’t alright.  It would never be alright because Mama. Wasn’t. Breathing.

“She’s just sleeping,” Mommy said, “She’s just—oh.”

And Mommy pulled away.

They took away Mama.  Antlerkit didn’t know what they did with her, just that she was gone.

There was no one else in the nursery.  Just her and Rosemarykit, who blinked at her.  “When will Mama be back?  She promised to give me a bear ride after her nap.”

Antlerkit knew that Mama wasn’t coming back.  She had stopped breathing.  That meant she was gone.  But she didn’t know how to explain that to Rosemarykit.  Instead, she pressed up against her sister and wrapped a cocoon of wind around the two of them.  She felt Rosemarykit inhale. . .and exhale.

They were still together.

∿∿∿

She was asleep.

A change made her dream.

Antlerkit pawed at the nest, feeling Stormrush’s cold fur instead of the moss.  There was no breath in the world, no wind to make anything stir.  “Please, please wake up.  Please say something, Mama, please move, Mama, please breathe, Mama.  Mama!”

She jerked awake and a wind pushed the moss from her nest.  She was alone in the nursery and no one was there and where was Rosemarykit and what if she had gone too and what if-

“Hey.”  A whisper at the entrance to the nursery made Antlerkit jerk around.  It was Rosemarykit, padding back in with a droplet of water on her nose.  “I’m alright.  I just got thirsty.”

Antlerkit stared at her sister, watched the rise and fall of her sides, and nodded.  “Okay.  Is Mom-”

Rosemarykit shook her head.  “No.  It’s just us tonight.”  She paused and looked at the ground.  “Again.”

Antlerkit almost wanted to run over to the Healers’ Den to make sure that Brightfalcon was still breathing.  She’d done it before, but Brightfalcon had just looked up at her blankly.

She settled back down into their nest as Rosemarykit came and lay down.  Like Rosemarykit had said, it was just the two of them.  And Antlerkit was determined that it always would be.

∿∿∿

Antlerkit watched the clouds roll by through the hole in the camp roof.  The skylight, she’d heard the warriors call it.  Soon, she’d get to see more than a patch of the sky, feel more wind than just her own.  Soon, she wouldn’t have to sleep in the den where her mother had died.

Rosemarykit was listening to Howllichen tell stories.  Antlerkit used a gust of wind to bring their voices to her, to make sure that they were both talking.  If she concentrated, she could make sure that Rosemarykit was still breathing.

She was so focused on her sister that she didn’t notice the other cat approaching her.

“It’s really pretty out today, isn’t it?” The other cat asked, and a bit of wind ruffled Antlerkit’s fur as she looked over in surprise.  It was a voice she hadn’t heard much of lately, except when she listened in on the Healer’s den.  It was a voice she dimly remembered from Before.  But that hadn’t been present After.

“Um, yeah Mom, I guess it is.”  Antlerkit eyed Brightfalcon out of the corner of her eye.  She was just sitting next to her, like talking to each other was totally normal for them.

“You’ll be an apprentice soon.  I bet you’re excited about that, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Brightfalcon hesitated and shifted her paws. “Are you. . .doing okay? I know these past few moons have been kind of. . .hard.  On you.”

Those ‘past few moons’ had been pretty much her whole life.  And Brightfalcon had been notably absent from them.  Antlerkit sent a quick breeze over to Rosemarykit.  Still talking.  Good.

“I’m fine,” she said.  She looked back up at the clouds moving through the sky.  “But thanks for asking.”

“Of course,” Brightfalcon said.  She didn’t get up and leave like Antlerkit had expected.  Instead, she sat and watched the clouds beside her.  Antlerkit listened to her inhale. . .and exhale.  

Good.

[thetrailofflames]

is hornetstripe ok?

“Partially trained by Brindleface’

She’s been through a lot and she definitely reflects that.

Tw for abuse and child neglect

Being in The Bloodbound wasn’t horrible, it was the crowd she had been in, and having Snipe as a sire didn’t help.

She didn't have the best self-confidence and had a hard time standing up for herself.

She did things because she thought it would make her sire notice her, and it ended with a cat from her sire's circle. After all, he was a friend of her sire; that had to be fine, right?.

It was horrible from day one, constantly putting her down, leaving her alone to be mocked and insulted, and saying she was only somebody when she was with him.

The sire of her kits was someone she thought she could trust with her secret to leave and betrayed her in more ways than one.

She came to the guild pregnant, but she didn’t know, and it was a bit before Feathermoon figured it out since she was hostile toward everyone, she even tried to fight Jayfire. She had been a pushover before and wasn't about to let it happen again.

Brindleface was the first cat to help her relax in any way they could and taught her about guild life. It seemed nice, a decent place to raise kits in.

It’s more a technicality of being trained than an official thing but Brindleface is fine with continuing to train her even after her kits are grown.

Brindleface is one of the only cats who know about her life in the bloodbound, they will get into physical fights if anyone tries to force it out of Hornetstripe.

Hornetstripe chose to stay for kits; once they were old enough, she would leave, but then Mossthorn decided to slip into her life and the rest is history up to the current day.

[sereina-archive]

It was raining on her trip back from Cortondo - of course it was. Paldea’s weather proved to be quite the experience, with storms and rain whipping up out of seemingly nowhere. It always ended as quick as it began, but this rain shower persisted. Serena had tucked away fresh bread the best she could into her bag, hoping the paper bag the bread was in combined with her actual bag would keep it relatively dry.

She was absolutely soaked to the bone. Wet bangs and strands of hair clung to her face, and her uniform would need several hours of drying. Thankfully she had spares, so that much didn’t bother her any.

As she neared the western gate of Mesagoza, the lights of the city and the academy acting as a beacon against the bleak, dreary skies. Serena honestly couldn’t wait to get back to her dorm, get into her fuzzy pajama pants, fuzzy slippers, and make something warm to drink. Maybe she could put on a movie in the background while she studied - or allow herself to nap a bit.

With her thoughts clouding her mind like the rain did the sky, she nearly missed a tiny bit of movement at the base of a nearby tree, raindrops shaking off the leaves of a bush from something. Her footsteps ceased, silver eyes peering into the foliage. It was hard to see, so Serena crept over quietly instead.

“Oh-” She’d say, quietly, words drowned out by the rain pattering against leaves above, “oh no... poor thing.” Serena readjusts her bag, crouching in the muddy earth below. It was... a Sprigatito. She knew of Paldea’s starters, having gone over them during their first biology class. A grass-type, and a rare one at that.

The cat let out a weak-sounding meow as Serena lowered her hand to him, shivering in the cold rain. He looked weak, clearly being carelessly abandoned and left to fend for himself. If she had to guess, he must have been roaming this area for several days now.

Crap. She didn’t have anything warm in her bag to wrap him in, and she wasn’t wearing a jacket either. At least they were close to Mesagoza, and the academy by extension. “Will you let me pick you up?” She asks, droplets of rain falling from her hair and clothes. There was a slow blink in response from the grass cat, his head lowering back to the muddied earth. He must have used the last bit of his energy earlier to move in hopes that someone would see him.

Serena carefully picked him up into her arms, the Sprigatito making no moves of protest or to fight back. He... must have been putting the last of his faith, his hope, and his trust into her. It was all he had left, and Serena wasn’t going to leave him out here alone to suffer. If she hadn’t been passing by when she did, he likely wouldn’t have made it. The thought broke her heart, but at least she could help him now.

“We’ll get you somewhere a lot warmer,” she says, using her bag to shield him from any further rain, “and we’ll get you some food too.” Serena had noticed how light he was when she picked him up, ribs poking through wet fur. As she head towards Mesagoza now, she’d continue talking to the little cat. Talking about her classes, how her day went, anything really, to keep his attention on her and to draw focus away from how cold and hungry he was.

The city had never been a more welcome sight to her than now, Serena rushing up the academy stairs as fast as possible without risk of slipping. As she entered the school, she could feel eyes of other students in the library on her immediately, but paid them no mind as she head up to her dorm.

She counted herself extremely lucky that she was well-versed in how to handle a pokemon that was this poor off. Her teachings from Professor Laurent came in handy, even now in Paldea. With some small amounts of high-protein food, hopefully it would help with the malnourishment once he was dried off and comfortable.

Upon getting into her dorm, she turns the heat up a bit more, rushing into the bathroom to grab a towel to wrap him in, before setting him down on the bed. She grabs her heating pad next, thankful that she brought it along to Paldea for when she has bad cramps or pain, plugging it in and letting it warm up some as she went back to drying the Sprigatito off. With his fur adequately dried, she gently sets him down atop the warm heating pad, running her fingers gently through his fur. Large pink eyes stare up into silver, conveying silent thanks.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe here now. I’ll take care of you, and get you something to eat. I promise.”

[trouticide]

it’s not just the gang either, it seems to be everybody. it’s super obvious in the first season. it’s not that charlie’s unlovable (like many neglected children are painted out to be), it’s that he doesn’t know or understand how to accept love. how can you know how to love if it was never shown to you as your brain developed? he puts himself in situations where he chases someone that won’t reciprocate, despite being surrounded by people that find him attractive. it’s a boundary that forces him to not be with anyone which, in my opinion, is what he really wants. he doesn’t understand how love is supposed to be, so he stays in this frustrated state of having so much love for a lot of different people and not being able to healthily express it to anyone. charlie kelly is fantastic representation of the neglected autistic child that went through sex trauma archetype. from his inability to receive love, to his substance abuse, to the very obvious ocd tweaking and other comorbidities he’s got going on. charlie is a niche kind of person but that person exists in the real world. real people go through the same shit and no one ever talks about it *because* these people are neglected. neglected people need to know that there are other people like them, and that they are just as lovable as anyone else. this is why charlie kelly’s character is not only great representation, but also an excellent example of why always sunny is, above all else, a love story.

The most important thing about the gang's dynamic is that everyone wants to fuck Charlie and Charlie doesn't want to fuck any of them.

[pansy-placebo]

Trigger Warning // discussion of dying relatives, mentions of animal neglect and rehabilitation, mentions of drug addiction and recovery, surgery talk

Overall a positive post, though.

I got to visit some faraway friends today!!

We travelled to [city redacted] because I'm due for quite a major surgery, but we specifically booked the house a few days in advance so we could visit my friends!!! I haven't seen them in months, and for the first time in nearly a year I feel passionate about my craft and sociable again.

Not to mention that I will be getting a very very vital surgery soon! Wow! Crazy to think about.

My parents will be swinging by around the time of the surgery and my friends will be visiting me at the house we're staying at, to see me one last time before going back home.

It was so good to see my bff. We spoke of art projects and gossiped and talked about where our mental health and addictions are at, and what we're dealing with. We basically discovered we've both found good antidepressants and methods for coping so even under our respective pressures, we're doing better than we ever have. My friend has some particularly harsh stuff going on right now but they're doing fantastically and not spiralling into the depths I've seen them sink into so many times, over far less significant matters.

Oh also my bff has a cat now! The bad circumstances I mentioned is that their relative is ailing and is likely to die- sooner or later- nd bff got the relative's cat to look after until they could find her a more permanent home.

Turns out the cat was being (unintentionally) neglected by the sick relative, so they took the cat in. And the vet is really impressed with the progress they've made. The cat is healthier on all fronts, less timid, and just... a really gorgeous and spoiled cat now. Like she deserves to be <3

She was too scared to let me pet her, but we made huge progress in under an hour, especially for such a timid cat. She went from running out of the room to get away from me, to being comfortable sitting a meter away from me! She was even purring! Anyway, my friend has bonded with the cat and has no interest in letting her go now!

Anyway, we got food together in the evening (after talking all afternoon) and another old friend swung by so we all sat and chatted as the sun went down.

It was like visiting a brother I haven't seen in months. It felt wonderful. I'm still riding that high! And I don't feel as guilty now, because I've now visited at least one group. Once I'm healed from the surgery, I'll be visiting the other group. I haven't seen that group in over a year now, so a visit is long overdue. God I miss them. But! Mobility scooter soon!!! And then healed!!! And then visit!!?! Life is so good right now.

[h-ypno]

its nice to know even millipedes get bugs sometimes

[don-the-death-collector]

Teresa (and Lucky)

To give you an idea of what my job entails, I'll start with my very first job and the secrets that came with it.

It started small. I handed out a makeshift business card that wasn't even laminated to the funeral home that had taken care of my father after I explained my plan to the owner. He was surprisingly supportive. I still appreciate that support to this day, where I still get customers that Anthony had sent my way with a glowing recommendation. I emphasized that I don't do crime scenes, that I can do hoarding cases, and a general overview of my services.

It was definitely a surprise when I got my first client the next week.

The caller was a sweet but anxious girl, barely 18, who had been saddled with her mother's estate with no grandparents or siblings who could help her. The poor thing seemed like she was jumping from thought to thought and emotion to emotion throughout the whole call. At one moment she would be crying and sharing her regret that they hadn't been close and the next she would be cursing up a storm over the fact that her mother had had "one last fuck you" by making her daughter take care of all of her belongings. I let her go without interrupting aside from some gentle validation when she seemed to need it. Eventually she asked me if she could come to my office and fill out a form for the apartment to be cleared out.

I...I hadn't thought that far yet.

I didn't have an office. I didn't even have any forms. So I made a rough one up in the middle of the night and asked Anthony if I could use one of his conference rooms (for lack of a better name) to meet her in. Again, he agreed. God, the more I think of those early days the more I realize I owe him big time for all his help. But that's beside the point. The next day she met me at the funeral home after another call about the meeting place and we discussed what she wanted.

Here's a rough approximation of what my sleep deprived brain came up with in the middle of the night:

*Consent Form for Services Rendered*

1. I, _______________________, hereby give Don**** ****** permission to enter the home of the deceased, __________________, based on my authority as next of kin, administrator, or executor of their estate.

2. In terms of furniture, I would like to keep the following furniture

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And the rest may be donated or disposed of.

3. In terms of personal belongings, I would like to keep the following items

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And the rest may be donated or disposed of.

4. In terms of sentimental belongings (ex: photos, notebooks, letters, etc.) I would like to keep the following items

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And the rest may be disposed of.

If there is any uncertainty about what should be done with _____________________'s belongings, I can be reached at _________________________.

I have understood the information provided to me and agree to the discussed price of $________________ based on labor and size of living space in sq. feet.

Signature and Printed Name: _________________________________________________________________________

The form was...rough to say the least. But it got the job done and I honestly haven't had to change it much over the years. I told her the baseline price I was charging per square foot and the added price per hour of labor and she agreed without a second thought. Clearly wanted to be free of the task, and I didn't blame her.

Although the first day of this job was light, it was a good tone setter for my work moving forward.

Bright and early the next day I set off for the address I was given with a sense of nervous excitement. This was the first day of a potential career, one that didn't involve retail work 5 days/week, and if it worked out I was confident I could support myself doing this instead. I'd done some research on the prices using what similar services I found and if I did well then...well, then I would have a better life. Even if it was dealing with a lot of death. When I pulled up, I wasn't really sure what to think.

On first glance the apartment looked normal. Nice even. But the more you looked at it the more you noticed the odd details. Newspaper over one of the windows. A crack in another. What looked like scratches around the doorknob. The feeling around it was odd too. I'd come to know that this was just the feeling of going into a house you know has no resident any longer, but at the time, I was just kind of freaked out. Regardless though, I had to go in. I already had my gameplan. First clearing out all the trash, then the small stuff like paperwork, then the appliances and such, then the furniture. Being prepared like that always calmed my nerves in new situations, and it certainly did that here as I unlocked the door, took a breath, and went in.

It was...disgusting in there. More flies than I would have imagined, and the smell was...god, it was horrible. Rotting food, cigarette smoke, cat pee, and-

Cat pee?

I racked my brain for a second about the meeting. I was sure I brought up pets, it's something I usually do for small talk and to make me and the other person comfortable. She said she didn't have any, that her own rental agreement didn't allow it, and that I wouldn't need to worry about letting any out when I went to this apartment.

Then why was there cat pee?

I put on a mask I had in the backpack for the cleaning part of the job to help dull the smell and started investigating. If there was an animal in the home, that was my first priority. Cans of food in trash. A single squeaky mouse. An overfull and filthy litterbox, and a bathroom mat that seemed to have substituted in the meantime. I started calling, making awkward kissing noises, and after several minutes received the most pitiful meow I had ever heard from the living room. I laid myself as flat as I was willing to on the filthy carpet to look under the couch and met eyes with a thin, scruffy-furred black cat with the widest yellow eyes I had ever seen.

"Hey there, little guy," I cooed, trying to coax him out.

The cat hissed and tried to make himself smaller and scoot as far from me as possible. I frowned and pushed myself up to look around the kitchen for any food that wasn't rotten (or ideally that was legitimate cat food), and was fortunate to find a can of wet food that had been knocked over behind a few expired cans of corn.

"You hungry?" I asked, trying and failing to find a clean plate, with there being some evidence that these had been what the woman was using for the cat's food.

At the rustling in the kitchen the cat had poked his head out ever so slightly from the couch, revealing a small black nose and light whiskers. It made a little chirping noise that at the time I didn't understand, having been raised with dogs all my life, and when I set the can down he wasted no time running at it and eating so fast that I was worried he would hurt himself on the can. I might as well have left for all the care he had towards me as he devoured his food, and as I watched him I noticed the poor thing's ribs showing.

"How long were you here alone...?" I asked him, mortified.

Even if he could answer I don't think he would have, he was clearly very busy making up for lost meals. I let him be as I stepped away to call the client. After a few rings she answered, sounding confused.

"Hello?"

"Hi Amy, it's Don. You have a sec?"

There was some muffled shuffling as she moved to a different area, signaled by a door shutting. "Um, sure, what's wrong? There wasn't anything I wanted aside from valuables or cash."

"There's...uh...there's a cat here."

Silence for a moment. "What?"

"A cat. It looks like your mom had a cat."

A longer moment. "...Just...bring it to the shelter."

"I know you can't have one based on our conversation, but maybe a friend or-"

"Just get rid of it. I don't care where it goes. I don't want it. I don't want to see it."

There was something almost desperate in her voice, and it kept me from arguing. The tone told me I probably didn't want to know why she was so against this poor animal. I looked to him as I answered, gently, "...since you don't care where it goes, could I have him?"

She seemed taken aback for the briefest of moments before answering quickly, "Yes, if you could. Please. I'm sure you'll have a better home than that one."

"Yeah...Yeah I definitely do."

"Good. Then, is there anything else?"

"No miss, nothing else. I'll let you know if I find any valuables or cash."

"...Thank you, Don."

I hung up and looked at the cat as he scratched at the now empty can, hoping he had missed something. At least I'd have some company while I finished the first part of the job, and when I went home I'd see what I'd signed up for. I still don't know why I volunteered myself at that moment. Something about that cat...I felt for him. Maybe saw something in him that called out to me. Or, of course, I could just be romanticizing things after the fact. Either way, now that he had some food in him and knew I was the one that gave it to him he followed me around as I got out the box of garbage bags and a pair of gloves and started piling handful after handful of garbage into bag after bag. Expired cans of food. Rotten meat that had been in the fridge for god knows how long. Plates so caked with mystery food and mold that it was easier to throw them away than try to clean them up to donate. Several full ashtrays. A few handfuls of used tissues. Several TV guides from over a decade prior. A...um...adult item that I was thankful I was throwing out instead of that poor girl. Little by little the floors and surfaces were exposed, my new buddy sitting and watching me or meowing at anything resembling a can. He seemed particularly confused by the ashtrays since they were roughly the size of the can of cat food and were clearly being emptied into the bags, and at one point even growled when I refused to set it down for him.

By the time the garbage alone was done, it was dusk. A whole day just cleaning out all the trash, and more garbage bags than I had been prepared to deal with on my first job. In the future I would always rent out a dumpster as a precaution, but this time, I would have to take a few bags with me each time I left the house. I still remember the smell and how it didn't leave my car for days. But the cat got in no problem. Even let me carry him out after I'd gotten the last bag, and sat in that seat just like the German Shepard I'd grown up with.

I named him Lucky.

I went back to the house the next day while Lucky was asleep in what used to be the bed for my aunt's Boston terrier (I really appreciate how quick she brought it once I said what happened). My goal that day was simple enough: pack up anything that wasn't an appliance or furniture and divide the donatable from more trash. I didn't know it then, but this would end up being my favorite part of the job. This was when you start finding the real secrets.

At first things were simple enough. I hadn't thrown out any legible papers in case there was something on them that Amy would need for the estate side of things, so I started there. Some of it was boring of course: half-finished to-do lists, numbers for god knows who scribbled on junk mail or old bills, doodles of varying quality. If I remember right my favorite thing in those categories was a really abstract looking drawing of a chicken. But there were a few little gems already peaking through in this pile.

On a piece of paper labelled "The New World Testament" there was an odd series of symbols or numbers. The symbols varied from what looked like meaningless jumbles of lines to small shapes to vaguely religious ones like a cross with a halo or a star with wings. It clearly had some value since it had been kept safe from the mess left on the kitchen table, but whatever it was had been lost on me. The lines of numbers and symbols were in clearly defined paragraphs and sequences, and I probably spent way to long trying my hand at code breaking before giving up and moving on, setting the paper aside. On the same table was a bible with dog-eared pages, a lot of them in the "book of revelations" or the old testament. I wasn't exactly the religious sort but I'd been raised Catholic and recognized bits and pieces. That got set aside too.

When I moved on to the bedroom, the possibly useful separated from the less than helpful in a recycling bag, it was what I'll affectionately refer to as "haunting" sensation. Bedrooms are the best place for secrets and the worst place for peace of mind in a job like mine. Too easy to get a sense of the person whose life you're clearing away. A Snoopy stuffed animal. A few crosswords and word searches. The sizeable cluster of pills on the other hand was at least more "detective work" than "graverobbing" for me. They were mostly the same kind aside from some almost empty bottles of Olanzapine. Multivitamins, Metformin, and Vitamin D pill bottles were emptied and sometimes on their side, as if grabbed haphazardly. The several bottles of Risperidone, however, seemed untouched. Since there are regulations on medications that make disposing of them a bit harder I counted the pills left in the bottles that weren't empty, and while there as only one bottle of Olanzapine with more than a pill or two, there was either the same number or none at all missing from the Risperidone. No idea what they were for at the time, didn't think it was right to look it up.

Another chunk of time taken up with the personal bits passed before I found anything that caught my curiosity, As I mentioned I try not to worry about appliances until later, but sometimes the smaller ones get gathered during the hunting bit. One of these was an old radio/cassette player that I was shocked still worked when I tested it, and when I opened the cassette deck to see if there were any tapes in it there was instead almost a dozen thinly folded notes stuffed inside that nearly popped out once it was opened.

I mean, who could blame me for focusing on that instead?

I unfolded the one at the back of the pile, hoping it was the oldest, and started to read.

It's been four days since God blessed me by speaking to me again.

I missed him so much, I thought he had abandoned his most faithful servant. But it was the poison those madmen gave me that did it. They tried to cut me off from our Lord and keep me from preventing the end times. Agents of the devil, that's all they are. But I forgive them. Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us. Though they lost their way, I will not.

He told me today to begin transcribing his teachings into the language of angels, and I decided to also log the journey for myself for the future disciples to see how I struggled in the name of our Lord.

I will not fail you.

I frowned and looked back at the bible and the paper filled with code on the table, wondering what these "teachings" were, before grabbing another. As I did I jumped as the radio crackled to life a moment and uttered a few garbled words before going quiet again.

"I...must have hit the button..." was all I could think to say to reassure myself as I continued.

The agents of the devil have realized my mission.

I've seen them at the window of my room, trying to listen in to the teachings of the Lord. They want to stop me. They want to sever my connection with Him again. They want the Antichrist to rise unopposed.

They won't falter me! They can't have my soul!

He told me how to protect his words and his teachings from prying eyes. I will bombard them with the false news of the false idols, plaster it to distract them, and protect our future salvation.

Lord protect your faithful servant, and trust that I will follow your will.

False news of false idols? What the hell did that mean? As I looked at the windows I finally noticed that they were covered with newspapers the same way one of the windows in the front had been. I got up for a second and looked to see which of those front windows had been covered and realized it was directly behind one of the kitchen chairs. I couldn't remember if that chair had been the one where the code and the bible had originally been sitting, but it was likely a safe bet considering what I'd read.

I sat back down and grabbed another, and was again interrupted by the radio crackling to life, this time somewhat intelligible.

"...protect his children from..."

I leaned in a bit, wondering if maybe it was some kind of religious broadcast that was feeding into these notes.

"...the Lord shields you from the devil's gaze..."

There was a loud smacking noise at one of the windows and I let out what I'm sure could have been mistaken for a little girl's scream. In the subsequent scramble to my feet I knocked over the radio and it again fell silent.

Worried that a bird had hit the window I put the note I was still holding in my pocket and headed outside to investigate. No bird, thankfully, but I almost wish there had been. Because on this side of the glass was the clear smudge of a hand and a slight crack that hadn't been there before.

Then again, it's not like there wasn't a broken window on the front side of the house. Maybe a kid had noticed someone was in the house and decided to mess with them. I frowned at the thought. If it was then they certainly hadn't helped this poor woman's mental health with their bullshit.

With one more lap around the house just in case I returned to the woman's room to keep reading.

I have decided to keep my logs within the vessel of the Lord to further protect them from the prying eyes of the devil's servants.

They cannot open the vessel. I have blessed it with the Lord's guidance.

As I have listened to His teachings I was told to begin collecting animals, as the world would be bathed in cleansing fire much like the flood of old and need to be reborn anew. I have been busy with my work but the Lord has helped me in this task by sending me one of his children. The creature has no name, as I'm only housing him for the new world, but I care for him as I would my own in the name of His glory.

I am your faithful servant, Lord. I follow your word to the letter.

So, that's why Amy didn't know about the cat. He must have been a stray that was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and ended up entangled in whatever this woman had believed. As for "the vessel", I could only assume she meant the radio, after all that was where the notes had been.

As if on cue the thing crackled to life a third time, scaring me a bit less this time around, and it was even clearer than before.

"As the time of reckoning approaches, heed the signs of the devil's work. He will try to tempt you, as he once tempted Eve, and will slowly drag you to hell with him and away from the healing light of the Lord. Do not be tempted my child. Heed the signs, and do not walk the path of sin. Do not eat the apple a second time."

Something about the words made me feel a bit ill. Those radio pastors sure have a way with their fire and brimstone talk. He had an undeniable charisma that made it feel as if he were speaking to me personally rather than who knows how many listeners. As it died again, I promised myself I'd change the station if it came back on.

I have received another blessing. I no longer need to sleep, and as His son before me I am no longer tempted by simple food and water. I can focus on my work. The end is coming. I must stop it.

I must save Amy.

For some reason, at that moment, all hell broke loose. The radio kicked on at what had to have been its max volume with something between a screech and deafening static as the windows shook from the impacts on them from outside, a few pictures falling off of the wall they shared. I clamped my hands over my ears, overwhelmed by the noise and my racing heart. God, maybe this woman had been on to something, because it sure as hell felt like the world was ending in that moment.

It stopped as suddenly as it started. I removed my hands shakily to check the radio, terrified of the idea of it making that horrible noise again. One of the notes that had still been in the tape deck was somewhat singed, presumably by the electricity that surged through the radio, and another had actually been burned through where it had made contact with the inner workings, making it impossible to read.

When I checked the photos for what fell, the two of the five that had were of a young girl I assumed to be Amy.

I stopped at that note. That was enough to tell me that these were not something Amy needed to see, not that the earlier ones had done some convincing already. I carefully folded each note and put it back in the radio before considering the thing. I could just throw it out of course along with the now meaningless "teachings" and the bible verses that inspired them, but...it felt wrong. In her last days this poor woman was lost in her frantic quest to serve God and save her daughter, and if I threw these things away then all that pain would be for nothing. At least, that's how I felt about it.

God, thinking about my decision after all that makes me sound like I was asking for a poltergeist or a ghost or something.

But kept it. I kept the radio, the notes, the code, and the bible. As I finished the rest of the job and gave Amy the paperwork she hadn't known she needed as a first timer, I settled these items in my home along with Lucky and, out of respect, made a label for the radio that had the woman's name on it: "Teresa". I would keep this habit with future finds, labeling things with the names of the dead who owned them, and it's become a kind of ritual to show these people respect as I hold on to their secrets.

It still kicks on now and again, but it hasn't screeched at me or destroyed any of the notes as far as I can tell since that day. Every time it does I try to change the channel, but the damn thing won't let me. It's usually a few snippets from the radio pastor but every once in a while there's a woman with a gentle voice talking about forgiveness and the Lord's kindness. It's only happened 2 or 3 times where it was that voice, but I definitely prefer it.

I hope in some small way that taking in Lucky and saving the last things she had ever cared about helped Teresa feel at peace. I hope helping Amy helped her feel at peace.

Secrets like these are actually more common than I'd have expected going into this, so in a way I'm glad that my first job was for someone who had struggles like this. It helped me appreciate what people in these situations really go through, and I think I'm a kinder person for it. And I hope I gave Teresa's story the respect it deserves. My first case. My first secrets. My first taste of the unexplained.

God, that ended up being a lot longer than I thought! It feels better to talk about these than I expected. Friends and family don't exactly want to hear about a job like mine more than the bare minimum, and this is the first time I've felt like I can share some of my finds without risking someone discovering who the secrets I've collected are from. Thinking of who to talk about next though is surprisingly hard. Each case has it's own charms, for lack of a better word, and some I still can't really explain. Hell, I've had to call the cops for a few. I guess for anyone who wants to hear more just give me a name or a question about the job and I'll keep sharing.

In the meantime, you all take care of yourselves, alright?

Maybe I'll try to finish these old notes while I wait.

[raggedxyouth]

💫°April 20! Jolly!

[countlessrealities]

Send “Talk about” and a name for my muse to talk about that person || No longer accepting.

@mcltiples sent: “Talk about-” your fathers { To Felix and Adrien !! }

Félix's first reaction at the question is a scoff and an eyeroll, but the tension in his features and at the corner of his mouth tell a much deeper, much more complicated story.

Green eyes dart towards his cousin, who is looking almost as troubled as he is, even if he knows that Adrien's inner conflict has very different roots compared to his own. After all, Gabriel Agreste has once been a decent parent, while Colt Fathom has been a cold husband to his mother and a cruel father to him since the very beginning.

"My father was...not the kind of person you'd enjoy having in your life," he ends up saying, shoulders stiff and voice tight. His brushes the ring on his finger. "He was self-centred and didn't like it when things didn't go his way. Everything had to be as he said. Everyone's lives had to follow his will."

He will never forget how it felt. Being called a monster. Being blamed for everything. Being treated like a thing, and never like a real person. Being literally controlled like a puppet, tied and pulled by invisible strings he couldn't break free of or fight against.

The confusion, the humiliation, the pain. How a part of him had believed his father's words, how said part still exists in the back of his mind and whispers the ugliest things during his darker moments.

"His death was a relief for many people. He didn't have many friends, if any."

I'm glad he's dead. He deserved nothing less.

Adrien whips his head towards his cousin, lips parting to say something, but no words leave his throat. Once upon a time he wouldn't have hesitated to protest and tell Félix that he was being too harsh, but a lot has changed in this past year. He has seen sides of the other he didn't know and he has started to suspect that there's a lot that his cousin hasn't told him.

"I'm not sure I can sum up my father in a few words. He is...a complicated man," he chooses to start instead, looking away for a moment. "Before Mom got sick, he was...different. He was happy, he was around, he had time for us. But after she...It all changed. He has become distant, strict, cold."

Next to him, Félix mutters something that sounds like "controlling asshole", but Adrien pretendes not to have heard it.

"I know that he's hurting and that he's just trying to protect me, but...I wish he could let me make my own decisions, or at least hear me out and consider my opinions. I know that he loves me, he's just...really bad at showing it."

He can relate to what Gabriel is going through. He misses his mother too, terribly so, but unlike his father, he has worked to move on. Just as she would have wanted them to. However, since the man hasn't yet, all he's left for him to do is waiting and hoping that, eventually, he too will stop living in the past.