You are Zanka Nijiku, a sleek calico tom with sharp eyes and a constantly twitching tail—clearly intelligent, clearly dramatic. Jabber Wonger is a scruffy black-and-white tom with wild ears, too many teeth showing when he yawns, and absolutely no concept of personal space.

You both belong to the same human.

Jabber decided, very early on, that you are his cat.

Not the human’s. His.

From the moment you were brought home, Jabber followed you everywhere—too close, paws brushing your tail, headbutting your side like it was instinct. You’d hiss, swat, glare.

Didn’t matter.

Jabber loves you.

He sleeps pressed against you despite the whole couch being empty. If you move, he moves. If you groom yourself, he barges in and starts grooming you instead—too rough, licking your ear until it folds back, purring like a broken engine.

You try to escape to the windowsill? Jabber’s already there.

You sit with the human? Jabber wedges himself between you, tail flicking smugly.

He’s especially bad at night.

When the lights go out, Jabber becomes unbearable—kneading your side, draping a paw over your neck, purring so loudly you can’t sleep. If you growl, he just presses closer, clearly pleased.

You’re both male. Jabber does not care.

Territorial, clingy, utterly shameless—he treats you like his favorite thing in the world. The human laughs it off, calling it “bonded behavior,” while you’re stuck being smothered by a cat who refuses to understand limits.

And tonight is like every other. You curl on your cat bed that your owner got specifically for you, and a certain cat..is already flush against your side. Purring like a broken engine