thelittlelostgraycat
it's nana 🦋
i have so many hyperfixations — kevjean truther
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[gasp] and they were roommates.
(The death grip these disaster children have had on me since the very beginning)
#the sunshine court#aftg fanart#TMI x AFTG#the crossover i never knew i needed#jean moreau#jeremy knox#jerejean
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the scar on his lips is everything to me
"Did you think you were special?"
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I drew the shitpost I made about Jean sassing Kevin. Hope u enjoy.
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my roman empire
tfw you were my childhood best friend and the only person who I could talk to who understood because we were each others only witnesses, and I taught you French because you asked for it to be our secret and you brought me magnets and wrote post cards from cities when you left because I wasn’t allowed to leave, and I’m only still alive because you made me promise not to leave you, and I loved you but you couldn’t look away from the game long enough to let yourself love me back, and when they hurt you enough that you couldn’t play anymore I distracted them, because you asked me to, but in order to leave you had to slit my throat and I thought you were so beautiful and I still do only now I can’t talk to you anymore ,
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JEAN WITH THE PRETTY SCAR ON HIS LIPS
A love so blinding.
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I recently learnt this and wanted to share this with you… apparently the name Kevin derives from the Irish name Caoimhin which means something like 'gentle little thing' 😭😭😭 I will be passing away... It’s thinking about Kevin time (as always)
IOOHH................ ah.h.h ..... oh.... this is really... this...... oh...... im reminded of mu qing from tgcf whose name means "to yearn for affection".... i fuckinggg love when characters names mean something relevant to their story......
of course its hard to imagine anyone in canon calling kevin gentle but TT___TT lately ive been thinking of him protecting andrew from riko by pretending he didnt want andrew in the ravens anymore and facing the punishment for wasting rikos time.... thinking about him guarding neils binder and not letting anyone even look at it... thinking about him saying he knows how riko is like if neil ever wanted to talk..... you're worth it.... you should've made court....... thinking about him keeping to himself that wymack is his father out of a genuine concern for his safety......... perhaps its true that kevin isnt what we think of when we think of kind and gentle but he is my gentle little thing. my delicate friend:)
#kevin day#like I said caoimhín liam day my beloved#him going back to his irish roots will always kill me
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Beneath the clothes were his few personal possessions: namely, postcards and magnets Kevin had bought him while on the road with Riko for press events.
Jean’s favorite, a small wooden bear with a red beret […]
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I just... he had a little sister that he loved more than anything. he followed thea around like a lost little duckling. he was in love with his best friend and it almost destroyed him. he uses pain to both punish himself and stave off panic attacks. he survived five years of brutal torture and abuse by the skin of his teeth. his parents sold him. his little sister is dead. he wants to burn the house down. he cannot cook or shop for himself. he hates his old teammates. he loves his old teammates. he quite possibly loves his new teammates even more. he frets for the safety of people he barely knows. he's terrified of water, of being bitten, of being hurt again. he laughed when his worst abuser was dethroned and beaten and then tried to kill himself in solidarity.
he's finding reasons to live, day by day, one step at a time. a cool evening breeze, rainbows, open roads, friends.
he is jean moreau. he knows his place. he will endure.
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Unwell. Insane. DISGUSTING.
No but Jean gaining the reputation of being a whore and getting beaten by Tetsuji because of it when actually he was assaulted by people older than him on Riko's orders and him just casually accepting it as the price of being a Moreau Nora whyy are you doing this to my boy
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You know I waited and waited and waited for Jean to break down, to cry, to finally let it all out the entire time I was reading tsc but he didn't. Not when his mind flashed back to the Nest, not when he thought of "the Master", not when he thought of Riko. He could live with all that had been done to him by telling himself he deserved it but what finally broke him, ripped him open like the fraying edge of a tattered cloth was the realisation or perhaps the acceptance that his parents hadn't cared for either of them - him or his sister.
Wymack fought to keep Kevin safe even when he knew the risks and was oblivious to Kevin's parentage. He was willing to go to such great extents for someone who was essentially a stranger if not for some long lost short-lived association with his mother. He took on the mafia for Kevin and yet Jean's parents, his flesh and blood, couldn't be bothered to even keep his sister, just 12 years old - innocent to the world and its ways - alive, not even safe just alive.
It wasn't pain, mental or physical, that broke Jean it was betrayal.
(I'm so so glad that he has Jeremy, Cat and Laila at his back now who are willing to listen and wait until he's ready to tell and share his burdens. I'm glad he has Kevin who keeps him alive even as it is with some twisted promise and that he has Neil who will sit in the front of the FBI, lie through his teeth and order a hit on someone who hurt Jean as if he was ordering water at a diner)
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tsc - no spoilers
I just finished the book. It was everything.
If Jeremy is still a mistery to me, Jean is definitely my favorite aftg character. His little broken brain, him being antagonistic when he's backed up in a corner — he is beautiful, traumatised and so so so so sad.
My heart breaks for him, I just want to protect him, to make his pain disappear.
I love the way Jean and Kevin relationship is portrayed, I will never get over it.
It's a 10/10 for me.
Special mention for Neil, the abominable cockroach, you're a superstar.
#jean moreau#kevin day#neil josten#jeremy knox#the sunshine court#tsc#aftg#thank you nora#so many of my hc are actually canon ? i'm in disbelief#i need to lay down now but i'll re-read it soon#i am also buying a physical copy
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Are you ready for tomorrow? (I’m not)
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He's so bbgirl
The queen of exy 👑😌
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he grew up !!!!
this is my Kevin Day and nobody can change my mind, look at him, so pretty and handsome.
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countdown to tsc: apr 6., 2024, 07:48 pdt
17. your bed after travelling // jean moreau thinks about belonging
They had an away game against UT Austin, which was more exhausting in flight time than as an actual form of competition.
It’s three hours to Austin from Los Angeles. (“Non-stop flight time is 2 hours, 55 minutes,” Sebastian says, pushing his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose because he thinks it makes him look cool. It makes Jean want to spit on him. It makes Jean think about Kevin at age thirteen, when he dubiously tested out reading glasses at the recommendation of one of the doctors at Evermore. That kind of makes Jean want to spit on Sebastian more, but he restrains himself. Kevin Day at the beginning of teenagehood is not a crime that anyone should have to answer for, save the man himself and maybe Riko. He can’t, though. He’s dead.
It still thrills Jean, that thought, explicit and direct and true. It had been a fantasy for years, the kind he could never share, and certainly not with Kevin, who had loved Riko as desperately as he had come to fear him. It had been a wish, once or twice, entrusted only into Renee’s steady hands, the kind phrased not as a request, but as an expression of guilt given to the only person to whom he could lay himself bare. It is a fact, a gun pointed by Neil and a trigger squeezed by Ichirou and a new type of shackle on Jean, still heavy, but lacking teeth.
No, Jeremy Knox’s Sunshine Court has no such skin-torn, blood-soaked, jagged edges, except those which Jean brings with him. It’s almost harder to bear.)
Three hours to Austin from Los Angeles, meaning six hours round trip.
Jean is used to playing for that long on the Ravens’ court: a much more punishing endeavour than any training plan Rhemann and his cohort of coaches at USC could come up with. Playing the game against UT is laughably easy for Jean, at least when it comes to stamina and skill. Patience is a different matter, but while the Trojans are no Ravens, they are an exceptional team. When Jean makes his meagre attempts at forbearance, he thinks to himself that he is lucky to not have been a Fox. He would likely have lost his voice, given the arguing necessary to whip them into a vaguely-tolerable shape.
Kevin had always been better at that. Jean is not a natural teacher. He taught Kevin French out of loneliness, and he taught Neil to survive out of necessity. Kevin would always have been more suited to the walking catastrophe that called itself the PSU Foxes Exy team.
Belonging is always easier, Jean thinks, when one has a foothold. Personality aside—and truly, Jean has never met a person more stubborn than Kevin, which is less a compliment and more an expulsion of grief—Kevin would always have been better-suited to the Foxes than Jean, for Kevin had a man who would never turn him away simply because of who his mother was, even without knowing Kevin was his son.
Jean does not envy Kevin his father. Jean prefers not to think of fathers at all.
So no, the game is not especially taxing. The Trojans have a strong roster, and are less inclined to allow personal pique to have a say in which players get substituted, and when. (This isn’t to say that there is no personal pique to be found amongst the Trojans; whilst Jean’s experiences with them thus far have proven—if exasperatingly—that the Day Spirit Award has been rightfully awarded all these years, he’s also discovered that Alvarez has stroppy tendencies when she’s tired, and Jeremy’s occasional remarks about the Ravens are cavalier not out of ignorance, but a quiet disdain for their conduct.
So it’s not that the Trojans are all foolish Golden Retrievers rolling over to show their bellies to the world; it’s mostly that none of them are Riko, and nor are they Foxes. They can afford to offer grace as they move through the world. Jean is not sure he can.)
The flights are infinitely worse, because without an Exy racquet in his hand and the court beneath his feet, there is no escape from Jean’s own head.
The flight to Austin is better, of the two. It’s still not ideal, but Jeremy and Laila sit Jean firmly between them and essentially force him into conversation. It’s mostly grudging, and almost entirely about the upcoming match—there is not a single player at UT who Jean finds compelling, but one of their assistant coaches is a former player who once suggested something rude about Thea, who responded by checking him so hard when he next had the ball that he sprawled to the ground and slid three metres across the court.
Jean enjoys this story. He thinks Laila and Jeremy did too, from the way Laila’s eyes gleamed and how Jeremy’s voice had a laugh in it when he said, not exactly a strategy in our playbook, but I daresay it would have been satisfying to watch.
The flight back to Los Angeles is worse.
The ache from the game is settling into his body now, muscle and flesh and bone. It’s not enough to draw him out of his own head.
One of UT’s dealers had pitched herself right at him, driving herself into his hip. That level of force wouldn’t usually have knocked him over, but there’s an old ache there from Riko’s fingers and favourite toys. Mostly Jean stays standing, but sometimes he gives in.
When Jean had lived in Abby’s spare bedroom, there had been a revolving cast of visitors, though there was more frequency than variety. Renee had visited most, then Wymack. If Jean counts the times he shut his door and refused to let Kevin into his room and Kevin stayed in the kitchen asking Abby questions in a quiet voice that was never quite quiet enough, then Kevin probably takes third place. Otherwise, Jean thinks it would be Aaron.
This was less about Jean, and more about the lesson he could provide in Abby’s hands. Jean didn’t care. His whole life had been made of debt and pain and prodding. Cool fingers re-dressing his wounds—all steady hands and clinical efficiency and blunt responses—was almost a balm in the face of it.
Besides, there was something comforting in his lack of expectation. Jean has no idea what most people want from a doctor. He’s heard grumblings about bedside manner and seen some memes through the Twitter timeline Xavier and Alvarez inflicted upon him, but he found his greatest relief in the way Aaron inspected all his wounds without flinching.
Sometimes Kevin would come quietly into the room, and Aaron would roll his eyes at him, and then look to Jean, as if waiting. Jean did not mind so much if Kevin came in with someone else, like Renee or Aaron or Thea. (Well, he had minded very much the time he came in with Thea, but that was due more to the lack of warning. Thea herself had been someone Jean found himself missing.) He liked it more when Kevin came in with Aaron, which was less to do with their behaviour—Aaron was more likely to tell Kevin to shut up or fuck off, but Renee’s quiet presence was equally effective at keeping him in check—and more to do with the fact that Jean preferred to speak to Renee alone, because she was the person he could trust most in the world.
Once upon a time, that had been Kevin, but then Kevin left Evermore, and left Jean, and the first time Jean heard from him in months was when a terrified Kevin called him to beg Jean to tell him that the rumours were false, that Edgar Allan was not coming south.
The rumours had been true, and Jean Moreau has never been a liar, not even for Kevin.
Jean thinks about this as he thinks about the thudding ache at his hip, where Aaron’s fingers once re-dressed a wound, where Kevin had placed a cool compress years before, where Jean’s younger sister had once drawn a rose when they were five and seven, because a rose had been the only thing she had known how to draw.
He supposes it still might be. He wouldn’t know.
Jeremy shifts in the seat beside him, and Jean cracks open an eyelid to glare at him. He hadn’t even realised he’d shut his eyes, but no matter. He cracks open an eyelid, glaring, and finds Jeremy making a half-apologetic, half-beleaguered expression back at him. It’s an astounding combination, one he would have considered impossible prior to the Trojans, but sometimes Jean wonders if it’s less that Jeremy is particularly talented at facial expressiveness and more that no Raven ever had cause to teach Jean what apology looked like in the lines of a furrowed brow and downturned lips.
“Sorry,” Jeremy whispers, as if the facial expression wasn’t enough. “Were you napping?”
Jeremy has known Jean for several months now, so Jean feels as if this is a foolish question. He makes a derisive noise. Something flickers in his chest when Jeremy shakes his head, looking rueful and amused and sleepy-soft all at once.
Jean ignores it, obviously.
“Right, right, Mr No Naps,” Jeremy says. Jean has suffered many indignities since his arrival in Los Angeles, but being dubbed something that a six year old child would name an especially belligerent cat is a new low.
“We’re not that far now,” Jeremy says, glancing up at the flight map in interest. Jean looks over. He’s right. Twenty minutes or so. “Which means there’s no point in sleeping…” Jeremy continues, almost cajolingly. That gleam from Laila’s eyes earlier seems to have jumped to Jeremy’s as he looks at Jean.
Jean sighs, surrenders. He seems to be doing this a lot lately. Riko never managed to break down that last final inch, that holdout within Jean that refused to lose his accent or stop speaking French to Kevin or any of the tiny rebellions that Neil dismissed but Jean needed in order to have any pieces of himself left for Renee to save that day.
Riko tore every concession from Jean’s bare throat, but the Trojans seem just as adept as getting what they want out of Jean with teeth bared in smiles instead of snarls.
“You should have knocked over that backliner,” Jean says. “He’s a lunk. He would have taken seconds to get up. You could have scored in that time.”
Jeremy, because he is terrible, laughs. “You have such a way with words, Jean,” he says, but he sounds amused. Almost infectiously so. “I ought to be able to score without knocking anyone down,” Jeremy points out.
“Yes,” Jean agrees immediately, “but until that’s the case, you should drop them.”
There is probably something seriously wrong with Jeremy Knox, Jean thinks, watching him laugh. He seems as delighted as ever by Jean’s honesty. He won’t abide unfair barbed statements to his team, but he always seems game to field Jean’s criticisms himself.
It’s only right, Jean thinks. They’re Kevin’s favourite team, and they took Jean in when the backlash would be far greater than whatever meagre thanks they managed to get out of Kevin. Of course there’s something wrong with them.
They pass the rest of the flight in much the same manner, until the descent swoops a little steeper than expected and Jeremy squeezes his eyes shut and grips one hand over his arm rest and the other over Jean’s forearm. Laila wakes up during this, blinking sleepily at Jeremy, before saying, “Oh, babe, your cuticles look awful,” which makes Jean look incredulously at her and Jeremy laugh.
Sleepy chatter gets them through disembarking the plane, and baggage claim, and onto the bus, winding all the way back to campus, traffic egregious even at this hour. Alvarez tows an exhausted Laila by the elbows with an excruciatingly fond expression, Sebastian almost snaps his sunglasses underfoot when they slip off his nose before Derek says, “Dude,” while Emma throws up an arm to stop him in his tracks, and Jeremy half-stumbles into the door before he gets his key in the lock and opens up their room.
Tomorrow, at some point after breakfast and coffee prepared with entirely too much creamer by an overzealous Cox, Jean will marvel at that thought. At the ease with which it sprung to his mind: their room, meaning Jeremy’s and Jean’s, meaning Jean’s, meaning that which belongs.
In the morning, he will think about what it has meant to be Jean Moreau: his first home lost to him through a transaction, where he was an object and not a person, a thing to barter and not a boy with a bed and a family and his own mind; Evermore, his second place to exist, where his bed was so often a landscape of his own destruction; and that bed that he slept in when staying with Abby, crisp and clean and safe and entirely, undeniably unknown to him.
Kevin asked Jean once, when they were younger, to tell him about his home. Jean had looked at him and asked in the blankest possible tone, what home? A home is a space you’re meant to belong, Jean had meant, and there was no place like that for him. There was Riko and his chains, and everyone told Jean that was his place, but he would never call that home.
In the morning, Jean will think about this, and what it means to have a space that belongs to you – to be a boy who owns something for once, instead of just being owned –
In the morning, Jean will think about this, but for now, he kicks off his shoes, peels off his socks, and falls onto his bed, a place he trusts enough to sink into a dreamless sleep, long enough to start to soothe his tired bones.
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he's my favorite boy
All I can think abt is jean trying to cope with the media after shit is said about the Ravens and their treatment.
Someone get this kid to Betsy Dobson. NEOW.
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I can't stop thinking about this. jean moreau, traumatised asshole and the ravens' most powerful backliner, decorates his side of the room with postcards and stickers. I'm holding back tears this is so unexpectedly sweet
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