***As some of you may know, today marks one year since my precious kitty Oliver passed away. I’ve cried a lot over the past 24 hours, and I’ll probably cry even more as I write this, but I wanted to write a little something to say goodbye and what I would do if I could see him one last time. I promise no animals will die in this fic. So, in memory of Oliver, let’s do this.***
Summary: MC and Satan are walking around downtown when MC spots a familiar face … a small, furry face.
CW: Grief, mentions of past animal death
You giggled at Satan as he walked ahead of you shaking a bag of treats. “This is ridiculous,” you teased as softly called out to the invisible cats that he seemed to tracking.
He shot you a quick glare, that held embarrassment more than anything, “No. What’s ridiculous is that you’re not helping me. I thought you agreed to come along to help me find and check on any strays we find, not mock me.”
You smiled fondly at the demon as you began to lightly shake your own bag of treats. “My bad. I guess I’m not used to seeing you so … relaxed.”
Satan averted his eyes; you weren’t wrong of course. But he had cats and you — two of his most favourite things in the world — there wasn’t much to be stressed or defensive about with that combination.
“Meow.” Speaking of cats…
Satan’s head whipped around, trying to find the source of the adorablenoise. You looked alongside him, but at a notably slower speed with a nostalgic smile on your face. “Huh. That sounded just like-” Your breath hitched as your eyes landed on a small, fluffy grey lump sitting in the ally way before you — A white-tipped, tail swished nervously behind it.
***As some of you may know, today marks one year since my precious kitty Oliver passed away. I’ve cried a lot over the past 24 hours, and I’ll probably cry even more as I write this, but I wanted to write a little something to say goodbye and what I would do if I could see him one last time. I promise no animals will die in this fic. So, in memory of Oliver, let’s do this.***
Summary: MC and Satan are walking around downtown when MC spots a familiar face … a small, furry face.
CW: Grief, mentions of past animal death
You giggled at Satan as he walked ahead of you shaking a bag of treats. “This is ridiculous,” you teased as softly called out to the invisible cats that he seemed to tracking.
He shot you a quick glare, that held embarrassment more than anything, “No. What’s ridiculous is that you’re not helping me. I thought you agreed to come along to help me find and check on any strays we find, not mock me.”
You smiled fondly at the demon as you began to lightly shake your own bag of treats. “My bad. I guess I’m not used to seeing you so … relaxed.”
Satan averted his eyes; you weren’t wrong of course. But he had cats and you — two of his most favourite things in the world — there wasn’t much to be stressed or defensive about with that combination.
“Meow.” Speaking of cats…
Satan’s head whipped around, trying to find the source of the adorablenoise. You looked alongside him, but at a notably slower speed with a nostalgic smile on your face. “Huh. That sounded just like-” Your breath hitched as your eyes landed on a small, fluffy grey lump sitting in the ally way before you — A white-tipped, tail swished nervously behind it.
***As some of you may know, today marks one year since my precious kitty Oliver passed away. I’ve cried a lot over the past 24 hours, and I’ll probably cry even more as I write this, but I wanted to write a little something to say goodbye and what I would do if I could see him one last time. I promise no animals will die in this fic. So, in memory of Oliver, let’s do this.***
Summary: MC and Satan are walking around downtown when MC spots a familiar face … a small, furry face.
CW: Grief, mentions of past animal death
You giggled at Satan as he walked ahead of you shaking a bag of treats. “This is ridiculous,” you teased as softly called out to the invisible cats that he seemed to tracking.
He shot you a quick glare, that held embarrassment more than anything, “No. What’s ridiculous is that you’re not helping me. I thought you agreed to come along to help me find and check on any strays we find, not mock me.”
You smiled fondly at the demon as you began to lightly shake your own bag of treats. “My bad. I guess I’m not used to seeing you so … relaxed.”
Satan averted his eyes; you weren’t wrong of course. But he had cats and you — two of his most favourite things in the world — there wasn’t much to be stressed or defensive about with that combination.
“Meow.” Speaking of cats…
Satan’s head whipped around, trying to find the source of the adorablenoise. You looked alongside him, but at a notably slower speed with a nostalgic smile on your face. “Huh. That sounded just like-” Your breath hitched as your eyes landed on a small, fluffy grey lump sitting in the ally way before you — A white-tipped, tail swished nervously behind it.
***As some of you may know, today marks one year since my precious kitty Oliver passed away. I’ve cried a lot over the past 24 hours, and I’ll probably cry even more as I write this, but I wanted to write a little something to say goodbye and what I would do if I could see him one last time. I promise no animals will die in this fic. So, in memory of Oliver, let’s do this.***
Summary: MC and Satan are walking around downtown when MC spots a familiar face … a small, furry face.
CW: Grief, mentions of past animal death
You giggled at Satan as he walked ahead of you shaking a bag of treats. “This is ridiculous,” you teased as softly called out to the invisible cats that he seemed to tracking.
He shot you a quick glare, that held embarrassment more than anything, “No. What’s ridiculous is that you’re not helping me. I thought you agreed to come along to help me find and check on any strays we find, not mock me.”
You smiled fondly at the demon as you began to lightly shake your own bag of treats. “My bad. I guess I’m not used to seeing you so … relaxed.”
Satan averted his eyes; you weren’t wrong of course. But he had cats and you — two of his most favourite things in the world — there wasn’t much to be stressed or defensive about with that combination.
“Meow.” Speaking of cats…
Satan’s head whipped around, trying to find the source of the adorablenoise. You looked alongside him, but at a notably slower speed with a nostalgic smile on your face. “Huh. That sounded just like-” Your breath hitched as your eyes landed on a small, fluffy grey lump sitting in the ally way before you — A white-tipped, tail swished nervously behind it.
Satan frowned in confusion as he glanced between you and the cat. You had gone completely still. Your eyes were wide in complete disbelief as, much to Satan’s horror, tears began to line them. The cat on the other hand stared straight back at you, equally as still, only breaking eye contact to glance over at Satan with a mistrusting squint.
“O-Oliver?” You choked, and the cat’s ears perked right back up as it turned its attention back to you. As though responding to your call, he let out a soft mewl and rose onto all fours.
Satan watched in equal parts bewilderment and fascination as you ever so slowly kneeled close to the ground and stuck out your hand. “Ollie. Oliver. Hi,” you breathed. “Hi baby. Come here. What are you doing out here, huh?”
The cat meowed again, louder this time, taking a small step back as he glanced at Satan. Your breath caught as panic filled your face for a split moment as you took a step closer to the creature. “Hey, it’s alright. That’s just Satan,” you replied as though you could perfectly understand what the cat had sad. “He won’t hurt you. I promise, baby. J-Just come here. Come here, p-please.”
Satan had never heard you sound both relieved and happy and so incredibly heartbroken.
And then, with one final glare over to the blond, the cat slowly and cautiously approached you. You froze, holding your breath, until it gently nuzzled its head against your hand.
Both you and the cat seemed to melt at the contact.
Your shoulders shook with repressed sobs as you quietly ran your fingers through its long, grey and white fur with one hand and covered your mouth with the other.
Now Satan was truly and genuinely concerned.
He carefully placed a hand on your shoulder, allowing his thumb to rub small circles into your shoulder. “MC… Do you know this cat?”
You hiccupped as you nodded and began to scratch the under the cat’s chin — which the animal eagerly leaned into. “This is Oliver. H-He, oh god, He was my cat,” your lip wobbled as you looked up at Satan in pure, desperate, loss — Satan felt his heart crumble at the sight. “He died last year. I-It was really sudden and unexpected. I d-don’t understand. How is he- It shouldn’t be possible for me to pet him right now,” Oliver butted his head against your knuckles, as though reminding you of the reality of his presence — the action only moved to draw a sob from you.
Satan smiled sadly at the sight. “Ah, I understand. Well, MC, you know how you humans tend to call cats ‘little demons’ or 'the embodiment of Satan?’” He questioned.
You sniffled as you narrowed your eyebrows at him. “Y-You’re joking.”
The demon laughed, causing the cat to flinch back a bit. “I’m afraid not. While they aren’t remotely demonic while on earth, they do come down here to enjoy the chaos of the Devildom in their afterlife. It’s why we have so many strays.”
You squeezed your eyes shut as the hand you were petting with gently clenched around the fur on the back of his head. “S-So this … This is actually him?”
You cried when Satan nodded in response. He watched quietly, his heart both clenching at the sight of you mourning, and warming at the sound of the purrs that Oliver was releasing.
Once your eyes were red and puffy and your chest ached from sobbing, you massaged the tip of one of his ears and finallysmiled. “I can’t believe it’s really him,” Oliver lifted his white chin, seeking the comfort of your palm. You were quick to oblige him. “I never thought I’d see him again. I never thought I’d hold him. The last time I held him, h-he was so still and heavy. When … When the vet brought him out to us, he was wrapped in a blanket and they had him on his back, a-a-and I just knew that he wasn’t there anymore, even if they said he was still alive. Ollie hates being o-on his back while being held. He likes know-knowing he can get away if he wants to. I-It was my last time holding him, a-and he wasn’t even there.”
Satan squeezed your shoulder, wishing nothing more than to scoop you into his arms and comfort you. But he saw the way the cat was still eying him with caution. He didn’t want to risk spooking the poor thing.
“He’s here now,” Satan whispered instead. “I know this must hurt, but he’s not going anywhere. He appears to have made himself very comfortable in your lap,” you let out a wet giggle gently kissed the top of Ollie’s head. “If you’d like … We could take him back to the house with us.”
Your grip momentarily tightened around the cat as you looked up at the demon with watery eyes. “R-Really? B-B-But what about-”
“I’ll take care of Lucifer,” Satan reassured gently. “Don’t worry about that. Just focus on getting reunited with your cat. I have all the supplies you’ll need in my room.”
You reached up and grabbed onto Satan’s hand, gripping tightly as tears ran down your cheeks. “Yes. Yes! Th-Thank you so much. You … You have no idea how much this means to me.”
He chuckled and affectionately ruffled your hair. “I think I have an idea.”
***
Lucifer eyed Satan and the empty chair beside him suspiciously as his brothers began to scoop food onto their plates.
The two of you had left earlier that morning for Satan’s usual Saturday morning search for felines. He had heard the door open upon your return, but by the time he made it to the lounge, he could hear the echoing of your bedroom door slamming shut.
Now you were absent, and Satan was smiling. None of these meant good things for him.
Lucifer cleared his throat as he began to cut into the meat on his plate. “Satan, where’s MC?”
The blond’s expression didn’t budge in the slightest as he grabbed a second plate and began to put a portion onto it. “They probably won’t be down tonight. In fact, I’ll be bringing them their meal in a minute.”
The table went quiet as they all turned to Satan — he continued to carry about his business as though nothing was wrong.
Lucifer felt his forehead pulse in annoyance. “What do you mean they won’t be down? Why?”
Satan shrugged and scooped an extra portion of fish onto the plate. “They’re spending time with Oliver.”
What quiet had remained from the last time the Avatar of Wrath opened its mouth was instantly shattered. “WHAT?!” Mammon screeched. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?! Who the hellis Oliver?”
Levi nodded frantically as he pointed at Mammon in agreement. “A-And why is he in their room?! How are you so calm about this!?”
Lucifer groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Satan,” he growled. “I swear, if I go to their room and there is a fucking cat in there I’m-”
“Going to do absolutely nothing.” Lucifer paused at the deadly cold tone lacing Satan’s tone. He looked up and found himself instantly drowning in vats of boiling acid as his younger brother scowled at him. “They have already been separated for fartoo long. That cat is everythingto them, and they just got him back. If you so much as thinkabout separating them I will rip your arms straight from your corpse and turn them into kitten chow.”
Lucifer would’ve rolled his eyes — he always does whenever Satan gets protective over those stupid little creatures.
But Satan didn’t even blink, his voice never once raised above the icy calm it was now. Goosebumps raised on Lucifer’s arms as he realized that the blond was serious.
Asmodeus seemed to realize this too as he chuckled nervously and wrapped an arm around his brother. “He’s not going to do anything to them. Calm down, you drama queen,” he casually taunted while shooting Lucifer a look that pleaded for him to fix this.
The eldest demon sighed and stood from his chair. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to at least meet the furball first.”
Satan watched him for a moment, assessing the lack of a threat in his brother’s stance before nodding. “Fine. But no actually going in. MC said that Oliver was a rescue when they got him, and is very skittish around everyone except them. So … Just be quiet,” his mouth twitched as he peered over at Lucifer. “You’ll see why the cat gets to stay when we get there.”
As Satan and Lucifer left the room, all the rest of the brothers stood too follow.
The blond lifted a finger to his lips as they reached your door. As quietly as he could, he creaked the door open, revealing what was inside.
You sat on your bed, cheeks tear-stained but a bright smile gracing your lips, with a long-furred cat sitting in “loaf mode” on your lap while you attempted to draw. The keyword being attempted, as Oliver kept sniffing at your pencils and looking up at you and your hands in confusion.
The brothers watched as you let out the purest laugh they’d ever heard and lovingly scratched the top of his head. “Such a big sook, aren’t you baby boy?” you cooed gently as the cat let out loud purrs. Your shoulders slumped in contentment as you stared at the creature in your lap with eyes filled with nothing except pure, unyielding love. “I missed you so much, Ollie,” you whispered so quietly that the brothers could barely hear it. “I missed this. I … I miss our cuddles, even if you do drool a little,” you chuckled as you lightly wiped at his chin. Oliver used the move as an excuse to raise his head and demand more chin scratches. Fondness flooded your expression as you bent down and kissed his head. “I’m so happy your home.”
The cat mewled lightly and curled up onto your lap, causing you to positively melt. You gently wrapped yourself around him, abandoning your sketchbook and squeezed your eyes shut as, for the first time in a year, you got to properly hold your baby once more.
Lucifer pursed his lips as he watched the scene. A cat would certainly be difficult to keep around with Cerberus living just outside but …
He sighed affectionately and softly closed the door. He turned and began to walk back to his office, mentally listing the different supplies he would need to buy.
“The cat can stay.”
Anything that made you thishappy would always be welcome into his house.
***Thank you all for reading and for all your constant love and support. I love you guys. Thank you for remembering Oliver with me ❤️ ***
And you grab him by his sweater sleeve and pull him up on to the ground and
You can hear the water slosh around inside his tiny gut
Push his belly up and down but he can’t cough the water up
Suddenly a flood comes out his mouth till there is nothing left inside of him
He’s empty now
There isn’t even one small breath
And he goes limp in your arms
All the people’s mouths are moving
All you hear are car alarms
And you wake up and start to cry
I will lose my shit if even one more person I know dies
So please don’t die
The start of the second era of silence when the infant deity of thunder was stolen from the primordial god of air. God of knowledge and patron god of bards. Silenced himself to spare the world his mourning cries. There in his grove of wisteria in a vanilla twilight
Really proud of this one. Tried a new way of mixing my paint and pouring medium, which was putting it in a glass baby food jar, dropping in a few pearl beads, closing it tight and shaking until completely mixed. I’ve always had a problem with unmixed paint clumps, and this solved that problem entirely, except I need to come up with a smart way to stop pearls from falling out the jar!
Its been a hard month. We lost Princess this week. It was peaceful and we were lucky to afford a nice, comfortable place that really allowed us to grieve in a way I’ve never been afforded before. She’s being cremated too, I’ve never had a pet cremated and I’m so happy we were able to.
This, immediately after the snowstorm knocking our running water out for eight days and giving us some pretty spicy new trauma, has been so much to deal with. I’m so exhausted.
But I did this painting yesterday, I took my time with it and didn’t stress and it turned out beautiful. I was losing my confidence in my work, but this is progress!
I lost a very close online friend this morning. Her death was sudden and unexpected. I say ‘online’ because that’s how we met and much of our friendship was long-distance. But Leslie was very much a present person in my life for the past 15 years. And now she’s gone.
There were good long stretches of our friendship where we talked on the phone practically every day. She’s kept me company on long drives up and down the California coast and on short trips to the supermarket. We never seemed to run out of things to talk about, Leslie and I.
She supported me through law school and losing my dad. I think it’s possible she understood me better than almost anyone else in my life, save a few of my closest friends.
Leslie was a private person. There were things she still kept from me, no matter how close we became. I don’t think she wanted me to know how much pain she was in and how much her mobility was diminishing. But I know that over the years that we knew each other, her life had gotten increasingly difficult. I know that our friendship began because we started to write collaboratively together online, but she quit typing and using a computer about seven years ago because it was too painful. And in the most recent months, holding the phone so she could talk was becoming a burden.
She grew up in New Orleans where she went to Catholic school, a difficult environment for someone who was queer. Though she had fond memories of New Orleans and beautiful stories about her life there, including time spent with a loving grandmother, her childhood was not an easy one.
Most of her life she spent in Texas. When she was able, she worked as a veterinary technician, and carried that care for animals throughout her life. She had compassion for all living things. She was passionate about progressive politics and social justice and protecting queer youth.
Leslie was incredibly creative and witty. For every good story idea I had, she had three more. She was full of clever quips. We spent a lot of nights laughing together. In our little writing community, her characters and her stories were always some of the most popular and engaging.
And she was a kind and generous writing partner. When we first started writing together, I was young and perfectly happy to write heart-wrenching stories about terrible things happening to our characters. But as I got older, and the heart-wrenching things started to happen to me and the people I cared about in my real life, my appetite for that sort of writing disappeared. I didn’t want to do it anymore. And Leslie never complained or was disappointed. She just supported me and together we found new ways to have fun together and write other types of interesting things.
She was a tremendous friend. She was an incredible listener and an enthusiastic supporter. She was the sort of person who always remembered to tell me the new thing from the supermarket she thought I’d really like, or the new recipe she thought I’d want to try, or the new show she thought I’d love. She was usually right.
Leslie is survived by two sisters and a niece and nephew. She was not particularly close to her family. But she is deeply missed by her housemate who was devoted to her and took such good care of her, and the small San Antonio community that welcomed her as a part of their family and with whom she spent her holidays. Her housemate’s dog is still looking for her hoping to keep her company.
I don’t think I can fully capture what a wonderful, lovely, loving person this was. I’m heartbroken.
[[@else: I suppose it’s time to tell my abortion story. Of the abortion that didn’t happen, that led to me.
A lot of anti-abortion people put words & thoughts into the mouths of the unborn.
Well, I’m one that was recommended to stay unborn, who got born, and here’s what I say.
My mother found our very early in her pregnancy that there was an extremely high risk to her if she continued.
Terminating the pregnancy was floated by one of the doctors. It would have been legal due to the risk to her, but heavily stigmatized.
Her family was deeply Catholic. She was deeply Catholic.
She did not terminate. The risk became a reality.
So I’m here, and she’s not.
I’m glad to be here.
It is hard to put into words the gratitude you feel to a mother who sacrificed herself entirely for you, and I’m not going to try here.
Because I’m also very angry.
Without in any way taking away from the courage and selflessness with which she bore her situation and which she showed in all aspects of her life
I don’t believe she ever really felt like she had a true choice.
The stigma, the religious dogma, the judgement - everything she’d ever known - told her she could not save her own life.
Her parents would have, however sadly, believed she’d go to hell. Her family and friends and community would have judged her.
Everyone she’d ever loved believed it was wrong. And so she believed it was wrong.
Needlessly.
I don’t know what choice she would have made if it had been a true choice.
Maybe she would have chosen me anyway. Maybe she would have chosen to stay for her two already-existing children and for all those who loved her so deeply.
But she should have had a real, true choice.
Would I trade being here for that?
In a heartbeat. Without hesitation.
My siblings could have grown up with their mother.
My grandparents could have seen their beloved daughter live out her beautiful life, instead of mourning her every day until their deaths.
Her brothers and sisters would not still thirty years later feel the pain of losing the sistre they loved so much.
She could have continued to bring the light to the world that she had always brought, that I have heard so much about.
My father perhaps would not have descended into the grief & guilt that destroyed him, our relationship with him, the innocence of our childhoods.
Now, I think about how my young nieces & nephews will grow up without her, without the kind of grandmother I had. That pains me too.
I grew up in the devastation of her death.
I’ve watched the consequences of it play out for thirty years.
I can see what might have been differently if she’d had a true choice and it snatches my breath away, to see the suffering that didn’t have to be for the ones I love most.
I know that it is not my family, but it is also profoundly difficult to know that it is because of me.
Or to be more exact, because the world did not allow my mother her right to a true choice, and my being here is perhaps a result of that.
It’s not a burden I’d wish on anyone
I wish that I could have told her. It’s okay. Stay. Live. Be happy.
I wish I could know that she knew that that was more than ok.
Don’t I want to be here? Don’t I want to be alive, aren’t I glad to live??
Now that I’m here, sure. But had I never been, what would I have lost? Nothing.
You can’t miss what you never had. Can’t lose anything when you never existed.
There’s no pain or loss in not existing.
I didn’t exist then, to want anything. I didn’t exist to hope or wish or fear anything.
I didn’t exist back then. Not me. There was a possibility. An idea, a hope maybe. Some cells, a process in her body. Not me, any more than a sperm was me or an egg was me.
*I" didn’t become until much later. Til I was born.
My mother wouldn’t have taken anything from me or cause me any pain by living for herself, because I didn’t exist to lose anything.
There was so much pain, so much loss in losing her. Loss that will ripple down generations.
So I will say to my dying breath, as the person who only lives because she didn’t abort, that whatever she thought or chose or did not chose, she should have had a real choice to abort.
That she should have felt that aborting me was valid and good a choice as not.
Everyone should feel that, and have real access to enact that choice without obstruction or shame or question.
Whether it is their actual life at risk, or not. A forced pregnancy can be the death of many things, not just the end of ther person’s life.
Having me took away from the world everything that my mother could have given it.
Forcing someone to have a child against their will can take away what that person could be and bring if they had their choice, whether they live through the pregnancy or not.
Most of all it takes away their right - their inalienable right - to choose how they live their life in their own body.
A non-person, a hypothetical future event, the birth of someone who doesn’t exist yet, doesn’t have that right.
Other people, who claim to speak for the unborn do not have that right.
We all lose so much by it. It can cause such pain and suffering, for child-bearers, for children, for everyone.
Do not pretend to speak for the unborn.
Do not pretend to speak for the children born against their mother’s will.
Do not pretend that you care for them while you hide misogyny behind dogma.
My mother deserved her right to a real choice.
Everyone does. Unconditionally.
As the child who could have been aborted, I tell you - to oppose that right, let alone work to criminalize it, is unforgivable.
I’d like to emphasize because I didn’t say it loud enough in the original thread:
There doesn’t need to be a tragic story or a threat to life to make abortion ok.
It can be simply because you don’t want to have a child. That’s all. You still have the right to a choice.
I told my sad story because:
a) it is important to me to counter the rhetoric of anti-choice folks, that claims that if the unborn could speak they would be anti-choice
b) forced pregnancies can really f*ck up lives in many ways and that needs to be recognized.
But:
There shouldn’t have to be a tale of woe to justify bodily autonomy.
It’s a right. An absolute right. It should be protected by law.
That’s it. That’s all.
Last thingL I want this point to be heard, but I don’t particularly want to deal with blowing up on twitter.
I will probably lock my account down at some point, but I would like this still to be shared. Maybe use an unroll app and share from there if you would like to.]]
