#I don’t know how to draw Macavity

[themostimportantnight]

My favourite genre of Cats post is “Tumblr posts edited over pictures of Cats characters”, they remind me of some sort of joyous life I never lived for some reason

[afairytalestray]

Day 18 of @storyweaverofgondor‘s Cats-pril - magic! I based this off of my pre-canon hc series #7. I wanted to look at what my fave Jemibub can do :) Also on Ao3 here.

..

“Demeter?”

Munkustrap about jumped out of his skin and fell off the tyre at the sudden quiet voice from beside him. Everlasting, how was Misto so silent? Demeter snorted as he tried to recompose himself. It was fine for her, she was used to him. There was an understanding between those two that he didn’t have – a level of trust built from surviving and escaping from Macavity together. Demeter had settled back into the Junkyard, but it was harder for Misto, who hadn’t had a real home before Macavity had gotten his claws into him. Misto was an exercise in patience; he was very nervous around other Cats after his experiences with Macavity, and it would take him time to trust the Jellicles.

“Sorry,” Misto whispered, looking worried as Munkustrap pulled himself back together.

“It’s ok, Misto, I just didn’t see you there is all!” he said, making sure his tone was light.

“It’s really fine,” Demeter smiled, rubbing her and Misto’s shoulders together, drawing a small smile from him. Munkustrap felt himself smile too, their friendship was a comfort and he was glad they had each other. “What’s up?”

Misto paused for a moment, his eyes flicking between Munk and Demeter, before deeming it safe enough to speak. Even that was a victory in itself – Munkustrap made it his business to get to know every member of his tribe, but at the moment, the only Cats Misto was really comfortable talking to were Demeter, Bombalurina, and Tugger.

“It’s Jemima.”

Munkustrap felt a brief spike of panic, but forced himself not to react in case he put Misto off. Demeter frowned slightly.

“Is she ok?” she asked, carefully controlling her voice to be slightly concerned but not accusing. She was masterful at this.

“Yes,” Misto nodded, and Munk felt his heartbeat calm. “It’s just…” he trailed off, his eyes flicking to Munkustrap again. Munk made himself smile and Misto took a deep breath. “She has magic.”

Whatever Munk had thought he was going to say, that wasn’t it. He felt a splurge of knee-jerk panic, and worked furiously to keep his face and body language neutral. He knew, intrinsically, that magic was not evil. It could be used for good, when in the paws of the right Cat. He had just never seen it. His and his tribe’s one and only experience with magic had been Macavity, which had been horrible. He knew that Misto also had magic though, although he only knew because Demeter had told him. Because of Macavity, Misto hadn’t wanted the other Jellicles to know. Demeter had told Munk of how Macavity had forcibly drained Misto of his magic and used it to hurt others, and Misto didn’t want the Jellicles to think he was similar to Macavity. It had been painful to hear, and Munk’s heart had gone out to the young Tom. No wonder he was nervous, Munk wouldn’t be in a rush to tell anyone that either.

“What kind of magic?” Demeter asked. If she was worried, she was hiding it entirely.

“Nonmaterial,” Misto answered. “She won’t be able to do physical magic like me, like conjuring lights or creating barriers or lightning-”

Everlasting, was that what he could do? Munkustrap could see how Macavity would be desperate to get his paws on him.

“-but her power is likely dynamic, and will grow naturally over time. She’s very emotionally intelligent, so I think she will develop empathic abilities.”

He fell silent and Munk took a moment to acknowledge that this was the most he had ever heard Misto speak.

“Is it dangerous for her? Will she need training?” Demeter asked, and Munk was glad that she seemed to understand all this much better than he did.

“No,” Misto shook his head. “Nonmaterial magic can’t be worked on, you have it or you don’t. It won’t affect her physically, she should maybe just make sure she doesn’t get her own emotions confused with another Cat’s, that could be overwhelming.”

“Does Jemi know?” Munk asked. The thought that she wouldn’t feel safe telling them hurt, but he could only imagine how scary that would be. Did she think they might turn on her? To his relief, Misto shook his head again.

“No, I only do because Magical Cats can sense other Magical Cats, even when they’re too young to be aware of it. She’ll work it out naturally when she’s ready to know, it’s scary to be told before that. But I thought… I thought you should know. He’s more interested in physical magic, but if Macavity senses her then he might try and take her,” he finished quickly.

Oh, that was why he was telling them. He was trying to protect her, to stop what happened to him from happening to her. Munkustrap felt his heart swell. Misto was clearly scared to tell them this, but still had for Jemi’s sake. How a Cat could go through what he had and still be good was a mystery to Munk. But before he could say anything, Demeter reached over and hugged Misto. She whispered something Munk couldn’t make out, and Misto nodded, hopped down from the tyre, and disappeared into the Junkyard in a flash.

“He’s still a bit scared of you,” Demeter explained, a half smile on her face.

“I can only hope it’s not because I’m Macavity’s brother,” Munkustrap said, but Demeter shook her head.

“It’s not,” she said, placing a reassuring paw on top of his own. “He’s just not used to the Cat in charge actually being nice.”

Munk winced in sympathy.

“I’m glad he told us,” he said. “I could tell it was difficult. But if it helps us protect her, then I’m grateful. I’ll be even more careful if I sense Macavity lurking about.” 

“I’m glad it won’t cause her any pain,” Demeter nodded. “I think the physical stuff can have some nasty side effects. I hope she won’t be afraid to tell us when she realises,” she said, echoing Munk’s previous concerns.

“Maybe we can have a brainstorm about reassuring the tribe that magic isn’t dangerous by itself? That might help Misto too.”

“We could talk to your dad? He has a connection to the Everlasting Cat, he’ll probably be able to talk about it better than us.”

“Yeah,” Munk said, “he’s better at stuff like that. I just want our Jemibub to be happy.”

“Me too,” Demeter sighed. “Hopefully she’ll never have to feel alone. She’ll have us, she’ll have another Magical Cat, all we can do is make sure she knows we love her no matter what.”

“I think we annoy her with how much we tell her we love her,” Munk chuckled, making Demeter smile.

“There are far worse problems to be had.”

[the-candy-store-cat]

[fluffytuffles]

gina watched cats 98* for the first time in 3 months and has thoughts

*okay she watched act one, listen act two kinda drags and also I’m trying to bang these out while I still have the motivation

part 3

This is explaining what version of a character I think of when I think of the character. That is not necessarily synonymous with my favorite version of the character and certainly shouldn’t be taken as me saying they’re the better/best version of the character.

[ important disclaimers ]

Jellylorum - Susan Jane Tanner vs Kayli Jamison Rating: Maroon

My perception of who Jellylorum is as a character is so affected by Tanner’s performance (with good reason) that it’s difficult for me to really imagine another version of her (at least in replica productions). As such, as much as I can see Kayli doing a great job in the role so far, it’s difficult for me to shake my original idea of Jelly.

Jemima/Sillabub - Veerle Casteleyn vs Brianna Kim Rating: Purple

This is an instance of the same function being filled by two effectively different characters, if in-name only. So even though yes I know they’re the same character, when I think of Jemima, I think of Veerle’s. When I think of Sillabub, I think of Brianna’s. I get to have my cake and eat it too and just say it depends on which name we’re using. 

Jennyanydots - Susie McKenna vs Michelle E. Carter Rating: Red

When I think of Jennyanydots, I think of a kind but stern grandmotherly character. That’s what McKenna brings to the role, and like Jellylorum, the whole reason I see the character this way. This isn’t necessarily fair to newer performers, but fairness in deciding which version is my default version is irrelevant. Love you Michelle, but 98 Jenny takes the win here.

Macavity - Bryn Walters vs Aiden Pressel Rating: Purple

This mostly comes down to the actual designs of the characters more so than anything about the performers. While I personally prefer to Revival-era costume and makeup design, the 98 version is too over-the-top to ignore. It really depends on how genuinely threatening I want my Macavity -because 98 Macavity, while wild and unpredictable, feels too ineffectual to feel like a proper menace. So I’m gonna call it a draw. (But don’t worry, we’ll get back to these two.)

Mistoffelees - Jacob Brent vs Paul Giarratano Rating: ...

Okay. We made it to the big one. And... Paul. I love you. I completely adore you and your Misto. But if anyone actually thought I was going to replace my bestest baby boy Misto, the only Misto I need, #real misto, the only version of the character I’ve seen get to have any proper emotional payoff over the course of the show, culminating in the incredible moment of the tribe celebrating (see above)?? That was never gonna happen.

Red. Reddest of red. I’m emo now.

[star-freckled-kitten]

Redoing my introduction post! ✨

••••••••••••••

Hey hey! I’m Cettie/Haiku!!

A little about me:

•I’m 18! No nsfw stuff tho pls

•I draw sometimes lol

•Etcetera is my favorite Cats character! As you can probably tell lmao hi

•I have a moodboard account; @star-freckled-moodboards !! Requests are always open^^

•I’m pretty much always open for art trades! I love drawing cats oc!!

•Open to make new friends!!

•••••••••••••••••••

Time for a more serious mood change now;; ship discourse under the cut.

Alrighty, so. Any proshippers, get away from my account.

I don’t want anyone who thinks p3dophia, Inc*st, R*pe or any of these disgusting topic are ok any where near me. Please respect this!

Now I won’t go out of my way to search for pr*shippers, but if I happen to stumble across them I will block them. If you’re neutral on this whole shipping situation please be cautious.

I don’t care if we had a good relationship or we were friends in the past, I’ve made up my mind. I do not want any one who supports pr*shipping on or near my account.

•••••••••••

Also a quick note;; I know there’s no canon or whatever about Cats the musical but there are a few NOtps I’d like to keep away from me:

•Misto x Victoria

•Tugger x Munkustrap

•Munkustrap x Macavity

•Munkustrap x Mungojerrie

•Mungojerrie x Rumpleteazer

ofc I won’t hate or yknow harass you if ship these pairings, I’m not bad person lmAO these are just ships I’d like to stay away from. c:

Of course I’m always open to learning how like these ships! But for know if like to stray away from them

•••••••••••••

Back to a more friendly note! I’m always open for Oc interactions and questions! I love developing my ocs w you guys!!

Buh-bye!!

[jellicle-shifters-au]

all aboard

a little au i’ve had knocking around my head: what if demeter, after escaping macavity, hid away on skimble’s train?

---

“Tickets please! Yes, yes, thank you very much! Have a wonderful trip!” Up and down the aisle, Skimbleshanks punches tickets one by one and hands them back to the passengers. He punches each one and hands it back in record time, moving easily down the line. An empty booth here and there makes it a little easier, but then—

The next booth he comes to is empty…except for the young woman he finds tucked away under the table, in a stained threadbare white t-shirt and fraying gray sweatpants. She stares up at him from the shadows with wide green eyes, somehow tucked so far underneath in just the right way that passenger after passenger had walked right by her without seeing her. But he’s seen her, and he sees the fear in the woman’s eyes, the desperation.

She doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink, the entire time Skimbleshanks stands there, ticket puncher in hand, as still as the woman under the table. And all he can do is stare at her.

Where did she come from? When did she get on the train? How long has she been there? Skimbleshanks knows everything that happens on his train, sees everything, but somehow he’d missed this young woman sneaking aboard and hiding herself under the table. 

Who was she? Why is she on the train? He stares at her, his shock morphing into curiosity, because she looks vaguely familiar. Her face is gaunt, her black hair mussed and tangled and on the brink of greasy, dirt and tear stains across her face, but something does indeed look familiar about her? Where had he seen her before?

It hits him all at once. Seven months ago, a young woman had gone missing in the dead of night on her way home from work. Her case had been on every news station in the area, her face flashed up on screen with a number to call if anyone had any information.

Demeter Mayweather.

Wherever she’d been, she found her way out, and she’d found her way to Skimble’s train. 

And still, all he can do is stare at her.

He doesn’t know what to say to her without drawing attention. Passengers are already settled into their seats, ready and waiting, and pointing out a stowaway on board is only going to bring Demeter more anxiety. And with the way she’s tucked under the table, with the way she stares up at him with tears welling in her eyes, begging him not to say anything, begging him not to throw her off the train, attention is the last thing she wants. 

So Skimble says nothing.

Instead, he blinks for the first time in what feels like hours, while Demeter's eyes never leave him, never blinking, never letting him out of her sight for more than a moment, and looks over at the booth next to her. Another woman is sitting there with her sleeping infant, and above them, the window in the stowaway’s booth is opened. 

Hm.

That could cause a breeze, couldn’t it? It could wake the baby.

Skimble tucks his hole puncher into his belt and slides into the seat. “Excuse me, miss,” he says, more to Demeter than to the woman in the seat on the other side. But, of course, he doesn’t want to accidentally hit any passenger in the head with his elbow. He shoves the window up until he hears it click into place. These windows can be such pesky things, not wanting to close and all. “I don’t want the baby to get cold.”

“Oh!” the mother says, looking over her shoulder as he does. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” Skimble slides out of the booth. He gives the hidden woman a little nod as he steps back into the aisle. You’re safe.

She gives him the tiniest nod, so tiny he thinks he might imagine it. But she blinks finally, and settles herself into the wall for the long ride ahead.

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

Omg omg ong you're doing shorts again!?!?! Yessssssss I'm so excited! Could I request "I don't care about everyone else! I care about you, Misto!", for tuggoffelees?

Again, cannot stress enough how pumped I am for this 🙌

I AM DOING SHORTS AGAIN I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE EXCITED :D

(also hope you don't mind but i added in my Urban Legend!Tugger AU into this!)

Tugger paced anxiously around the room Bustopher had given to him, waiting for Mistoffelees to return.

The magical tom melted out of the shadows, his blue eyes piercing as he materialized in front of Tugger.

"Are you okay?" the Maine coon exclaimed, rushing towards his companion. "Where did you go?"

Mistoffelees glanced at him with confusion, primly brushing his fur down. "I'm fine. No one saw me."

"You went to look for Macavity." Tugger sighed. "You could have gotten hurt!"

"Why do you care?" Mistoffelees questioned, cocking his head.

Tugger reeled back, golden eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Mistoffelees gathered the shadows around himself to sit. "You never act like this. Not even in the moments you're with your brother." His eyes bored into Tugger's soul. "Why do you care?"

"I don't care about everyone else! I care about you, Misto!" Tugger shot back tersely.

This threw the black cat off, his tail twitching slightly. "What?"

Tugger sighed heavily. "After everything happened with Macavity, the tribe started treating me differently. I wasn't Deuteronomy's son, brother to the next leader. I was Grizabella's son, and the brother to the deranged magical cat who attacked every now and again." He pawed at the ground. "You're the first cat to look at me like I'm something else... like I'm my own person. I can act like myself around you. I don't have to be the perfect son, or try to act a certain way so I don't scare cats."

"You think I act like this around everyone?" Mistoffelees asked quietly, motioning to the shadows surrounding him and the quiet whispers that had filled the room. "I love my uncle, and I know he loves me no matter what, but he doesn't truly understand these things. Vicki does, to an extent, but I'm always fearful of hurting her or that tom she likes."

"You won't." Tugger answered automatically, making Mistoffelees smile gently.

"That's exactly what I mean." he said, amusement in his voice. "You're so confident that you're safe here, that I won't hurt you. No one's ever treated me like a regular tom before."

Tugger nodded. "Even after learning about me, Misto, you never changed the way you saw me. Why?"

Mistoffelees hummed, the sound like bees swarming, but was incredibly comforting to Tugger. "I didn't see your status, or your appearance. I saw a tom who, despite his struggles and anger at himself and his tribe, continued to do good, to protect those he still cared about." The cat stood, approaching Tugger. "You, Rum Tum Tugger, are what your eldest brother wishes he could be. Macavity gave into his anger and hatred, his magic encouraged him to hate. But you? You never once spoke ill of those cats who hurt you. You've never spoken ill of your mother, your father, or your brother."

"They're my family." Tugger answered immediately. Mistoffelees placed a paw on his cheek, stroking the fur there.

"You see the good in everyone around you, you see not just one action. You see if they are worthy or not of your love." he explained. "That is why I stay, and that is why I care about you. We look at one another for the way we treat others, and how we look at the world. We are similar, you and I, and that is why I love you."

Tugger's face split into a wide grin, and he wrapped an arm around Mistoffelees' waist, drawing him and his shadows closer. "I love you too, you fantastically creepy magician."

Mistoffelees laughed, thousands of voices joining his, and Tugger simply beamed, eyes shining gold.

[everyonewasabird]

Brickclub 3.7.4 ‘Composition of the Band'

Hugo describes Patron-Minette operating as if crime is a play with a casting director and a props guy: you want to commit a crime, you go to the guys in charge of crime.

And that’s. Not how anything works?

Why, in this book of cops and thieves, are we a thousand pages in and just now getting a new theory of criminals that doesn’t make sense or fit with anything we’ve learned?

Sure, there are organizations within the broad category of crime. But organizations have their own particular concerns, and purview, and power, and limitations, and people comprising them, and relationships to other organizations. And most don’t just happen to be made up of the four most different kinds of criminals Hugo could think of.

And if there’s anything that’s absolutely guaranteed to not be perfectly centralized, surely it's crime? What about the kind of crime Valjean commits? Vidocq is a lying liar who lies, but his memoirs present a way more convincing portrait of crime than this--and we know Hugo has read them. What he’s outlining is practically Macavity.

And sure, I suppose there’s implied government funding and extra power because of the assassinations and whatnot that may be happening. But I still don’t think that explains the logic of how Hugo is claiming this works?

This isn’t REAL. And I don’t think it’s meant to be.

In some sense, it’s sort of as real as Javert is, in the way that Javert is every cop we meet in France. This chapter says over and over, these characters aren’t men, they’re faces that are always replaced by other faces, they’re the components of the Polyp of Evil, etc, etc. These are the four kinds of crime, plus some listed subtypes. It says they shift names and numbers and faces, and I don’t know how literally to take that--I’m leaning towards taking everything said about P-M being more symbolic than human.

It’s still strange though. Javert may represent a system, but he does also hang together psychologically. We get some sense of his place in the police, and how he moves up the ranks--or doesn’t. His job may not be strictly historically accurate, but he makes intuitive sense.

But this? This is nonsense.

Hugo has been able to trace sympathetically the lives of lots of different people in misery. People who commit crimes aren’t some other species, which he knows perfectly well, because it’s the point of this book. And sure, the book’s rhetorical argument is better if he admits some people aren’t going to be redeemed by the power of love--but Thénardier was already doing that for us.

Drawing a line demarcating Evil around any group of people is a genocidal logic this book is better than; this “Polyp of Evil” nonsense is practically Lovecraftian. Whatever he’s doing, it HAS to be intentional.

So, WHY?

All I’m coming up with is how much a centralized committee of a few people in charge of all evildoing sounds much more like a government than it does like a criminal gang. We know there’s a government connection because of their histories. We know they fall in line--somewhat inexplicably--with the Napoleon III-linked Thénardier.

But that’s as far as I’m getting.

They can’t be a realistic part of this world, so they have to be a symbol--and Hugo is saying over and over again this chapter “THEY ARE A SYMBOL.” But I’m not putting the pieces together.

[cryptidvoidwritings]

*kicks (a wholly un-kinky, sfw/sft, bit of silliness) into the void*

Day 16: Pet Names - 1100 words

The thing is, everybody has a pet name.

Some are obvious: Bombs, Cass, Queenie, and Lightning Bug. Jenny will not tolerate anything else... except when she allows ‘Dottie’ (to this day Quaxo doesn’t know how Tugger managed that). He still refers to Macavity as ‘Macca’ sometimes, he’s never called Munkustrap anything but ‘Straps’ as far as Quaxo knows, and he calls Jemima ‘dove’.

Some are more clever: Numinous and Arcane, Imp and Puck, Sir Pouncington Cival III and Et Tu (and really, when had Tugger ever read Shakespeare?), Cadence (Demeter’s reaction when he’d first call her that was admittedly very funny), and Miss Misc. He has even referenced Quaxo’s uncle as Uncle Brummell, though he has the good sense not to say it to Bustopher’s face.

Some were initially calculated to annoy and eventually became fond, like Slinky (which Alonzo still will not cop to liking) or Jelly Roll (Jellylorum swats every time he uses it but she somehow always misses, even when he’s right next to her). Every so often he uses Augustus instead of Gus just to see Gus Jr roll his eyes and hide a smile. Plato has been ‘Socrates’ for as long as Quaxo can remember, and George remains ‘Curious George’.

So yeah, everybody has a pet name. Everyone but him.

He can’t even blame it on being new to the junkyard, since both Alonzo and Victoria have had names bestowed on them

“Don’t push your luck. He’s just going to wind up calling you ‘socks’ or something,” Alonzo yawns.

“What if it means he doesn’t actually like me?”

“I really don’t think that’s a problem,” Cassandra says dryly.

“But—.”

“Have you asked him?”

Quaxo draws back in horror. “But then he’d know. I’d never hear the end of it.”

“But I might,” Alonzo grumbles.

Cassandra nips his ear. “Be nice.”

“Ow.” Alonzo pulls his most pathetic ‘hurt’ face. When Cassandra remains unmoved, he pouts and rolls onto his back. “Seriously, Quax, just ask him about it. But if he starts calling you ‘duck’ or ‘quack’, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You realize that not having your name mangled makes you special among the tribe?” Cassandra asks.

Quaxo frowns. “Special?”

“There isn’t a cat who gets away with their name unscathed. Except you.” She punctuates this with a whip of her tail across his back.

“Do not tell me he respects my little brother more than his own father,” Alonzo groans.

“He has a name for Old Deuteronomy?” Quaxo whispers, eyes wide.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that he has been overheard to refer to his father as High Top, Esq, providing Old Deuteronomy is not available to hear him,” Cassandra says sagely.

Quaxo can’t help but smile; that sounds exactly like something he’d expect from Tugger. It also means that even Tugger’s father has a special name and Quaxo is definitely the only cat who doesn’t. He curls his tail around his paws and sinks down into its meager cover.

“Oh, now see what you’ve done? You’ve made him sad.”

Cassandra kicks Alonzo and licks Quaxo’s cheek. “Love, it really doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you. Just talk to him if it bothers you so much.”

Quaxo sighs. Apparently, he has no choice.

+

One never knows when the Rum Tum Tugger can be found in the junkyard. He comes and goes (nobody knows exactly where to) as he pleases. There is no rhyme or reason to his visits but Quaxo has always had a sense for them. He just knows that Tugger will visit, so he sits out that evening, watching the sun disappear behind the human dwellings near the junkyard from the roof of the rusting car. He keeps one eye on the main gate because the Rum Tum Tugger can certainly creep when he wants to.

The Rum Tum Tugger isn’t creeping tonight. His paws land heavily on the ground as he walks through the main clearing. His path is roughly aiming for his den. Quaxo stands to draw Tugger’s attention. He arches his back in a stretch and jumps from the car roof to the boot.

“Tugger.”

“Out late, eh, Quaxo?”

“Just watching the sunset.”

“Sure you weren’t waiting for me?” Tugger chuckles. He joins Quaxo on the boot, wrapping his tail around his paws.

Quaxo sighs. Now or never. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Tugger lifts a surprised eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Why do you give everybody pet names?”

Tugger’s head cocks to the side and he hums. Quaxo waits to be made fun of but for a long while, there are only the sounds of London between them.

“Seemed a thing to do,” Tugger says at last.

“What?”

“It annoyed all the right cats for a while.” Tugger shrugs. “But then they all got used to it. I was going to stop because it was boring not to get a reaction, but the first time I didn’t call Straps Straps after months of him swearing he’d have me sent to the pound, he gave me the biggest sad cow eyes.”

Quaxo’s lips twitched up. “And what about those who liked it from the start?”

“Them, it’s just cute. Have you seen how Pouncival puffs up? Or how Etcetera giggles? Seems mean to stop.” Tugger frowns. “Why ask? Did someone ask you to ask me to stop?”

“Would you?”

Tugger stretches out his back legs and resettles. “Depends on who.”

“What if someone wanted one?”

Quaxo forces himself not to cringe away from the dawning understanding. Tugger’s eyes twinkle. He lowers himself into a loaf, bringing his head down to Quaxo’s height, pressing their foreheads together. Quaxo keeps hold of his gaze in spite of Tugger’s knowing smile.

“This is because you don’t have one, hm?”

There is suddenly a spot of dirt on Quaxo’s paw that absolutely must be attended to. He grooms it fastidiously. Tugger chuckles. Quaxo figures he might as well clean his ears while he’s working on his paw. He turns slightly away so he can really work the back of them. Tugger’s paw lands on his shoulders and pulls him in. He’s purring like a chainsaw as he takes over grooming Quaxo’s ears.

“See… the thing is,” he says between long, rough licks, “I’m not entirely sure you’re ready for one.”

“What does that mean?” Quaxo grumbles.

“Dunno yet. There’s just... more to you.”

Quaxo cannot decide if he should be flattered or not. Tugger starts to groom his head fur backward and Quaxo wiggles away. He swats half-heartedly. Tugger catches his paw and kisses it.

“Show me?”

Quaxo smiles and calls on his magic

[the-fangirl-diaries]

91 Thoughts I Had While Watching Cats (2019)

Yes, I had plenty of thoughts about this movie, and while some things weren’t great, it was definitely way better than I thought it was going to be. 

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT. 

Looks like the cat’s out of the bag. (I’ll show myself out now.) 

Silver Tabby Cat sounds like Cutler Becket. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mentally prepare for a quiz.” ~ Victoria, maybe. 

What’s the Heaviside Layer? Is that like Heaven? 

Aww, look at the little kitty in the top hat! He’s so cute! I love him already! 

Take a shot every time they say Jellicle. 

Cirque du Soleil what now? 

I wanna be a Jellicle cat, too. 

WAIT! DID THAT SIGN SAY MORIARTY?

They even have a statue where they go and pray? Nice. 

How many more adjectives can these guys think of? 

Magic kitty loves Victoria, guess he’s no longer single. Sad.  

YAAS! IDRIS ELBA!

Macavity? Like what I had removed at the dentist once? 

A name change is definitely part of the initiation. Don’t question it. 

Mr. Mistoffelees. I will probably name my future cat that. 

So all these cats basically wanna be reincarnated? That’s kinda sad. 

AHHH! JENNY WHAT ARE YOU- WHY ARE YOU SITTING LIKE THAT? 

Is no one going to address the fact that the mice are children? 

Dinner and a show, but which is which?

Oh, hey, look, human cockroaches, yummy, lol! 

*sings* Jason Derulo! 

Rum Tum Tugger? I’m sorry, but who was in charge of naming these guys? 

Okay, he’s kinda cute, actually. 

The soundtrack has no right to be this good!!! 

A Milk Bar? GENIUS!!! I totally wanna go to one of those.

Why are y’all being so mean to Grizabella? 

I mean, she went off with Macavity but can you blame her? 

You’re going to, though. 

Poor baby. She looks like she could use a big hug. 

And who comes to lighten the suddenly depressing mood? James Corden! 

Buster? Christopher? Pick one. Just pick one. 

Look at that distinguished gentleman. Excuse me, sir- 

Okay, um, I did not need to see that, haha! 

Jenny, Jenny, Jenny. You don’t get out much do you? 

HE’S THE BAD GUY...DUH. (Sorry, again.) 

DON’T DO IT BUSTOPHER! IT’S A TRAP!!!!!

*High pitched, sing-song voice* MACAVITY!!!! 

*VANISHES* 

Look, they even managed to squeeze Thing One and Thing Two into this. 

Why are they just holding her by her arms?!  

So their names are Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer?? M’kay, not gonna read too much into that. 

Wow, this song makes me wanna destroy something for no reason! 

Why did Victoria lift her leg like that? I know she’s a ballerina, but why?

*Thing one laughs like a psycho and I yeet my phone into another dimension*

DUDE!!! I HAD IT ON FULL VOLUME!!! 

“Draw me like one of your French Cats!” ~ Mungojerrie. Definitely. 

MUNGOTORIA! FOREVER!

This is a dating simulator and no one can tell me otherwise. 

Choose your route. 

HOW BIG IS THAT FLIPPING STEAK COMPARED TO A HUMAN?! 

Mungojerrie eating steak ASMR. 

“I prefer my competition chained. Up.” An actual line in the movie. 

Misto covered for Victoria. Such a sweet boy. 

Mother, I am in love. 

But wait, if they know about the twins’ antics, wouldn’t they just assume....? 

“So which one of you wants to die?” ~ Old Deuteronomy, maybe. 

Finally, we get to go to the Jellicle Ball. 

I see the twins there, too. 

Aww, Victoria left to help Grizabella. 

SHE’S SUCH A SWEETHEART!! *Cries* 

GUS IS TOO PRECIOUS! I JUST WANNA GIVE HIM ALL THE LOVE HE DESERVES! 

Or sit with him and talk about life. 

“I’ve acted with Tree.” Guys, this is Gandalf in a cat form. 

*Lightning strikes courtesy of our friendly neighbourhood magician, Mr. Mistoffelees* 

*Gus looks at his paws* Yep, I’ve still got it. 

MACAVITY, I SWEAR IF YOU TAKE GUS IMMA BEAT YO-

Forget about the Polar Express, I wanna go on whatever train this is. 

“I like trains.” ~ Skimbleshanks, probably. 

Skimbleshanks, why are you spin - Oh. 

TAYLOR FLIPPING SWIFT, IT’S ABOUT TIME! 

She’s getting everyone high on catnip, seems legit.   

Why are all the villain’s songs the most catchy, like dang! 

THE NAPOLEON OF CRIME! 

I’m loving all of these - 

OH, SWEET MAMA! HE’S NAKED! 

And there goes Old Deuteronomy.

Growl Tiger definitely deserved more screen time.  

“Why won’t you let me die?!” ~ Macavity.  

And the award for best supportive boyfriend goes to Munkustrap! 

MISTORIA FOREVER! 

Screams: TOUCH MEEEEE!!! IT’S SO EEEEASY TO LEAVE MEEEE!!!!

*sobbing*

She’s the Jellicle Choice! You bet she is! 

A cat is not....a dog. 

Tell that to my dog who acts like a cat! 

Please stop staring at me! It’s getting weird now. 

Victoria! Stop making me cry. 

It’s over? 

Yep, that was - ahem - terrible. A nightmare. Never watching it again. 

*dries eyes and sniffles and presses restart*

[theimpossiblescheme]

“And from that moment, the boy in him, the innocent heart, the joy in him, they were gone.”

“They say he was never actually born, you know—he was just spat right out of the earth like a devil. That’s how he has all those powers of his.”

“You really believe that?”

“Sounds as plausible as anything else.  Explains his looks, too—just look at how they draw him on those Wanted posters.  That’s no natural-born cat, if you ask me.”

As the two voices faded further down the street, a deep smoky chuckle sounded far above them on the nearby rooftop.  “Well, that’s certainly a new one.”

Socrates glanced over at the broad, brown-speckled tomcat beside him.  “What, you’ve never heard that theory before?”  The more nights like this passed—just the two of them keeping vigil during the Mystery Cat’s conferences, making sure no foolish alley cats tried to break inside—the more he almost marveled at his mentor.  Pallas had been at the Mouser’s Palace longer than anyone, even Macavity himself, and he certainly wasn’t afraid to drive that point home.  He carried himself like a seasoned war veteran and trained like one, too, sparing no pity for his young charges and brutally racing, hunting, and sparring any weakness or hesitance out of them.  But with that came a certain… predictability, Socrates supposed, that was almost comforting.  You knew what to expect from the old-timer and, if you could keep up, fell into a sort of rhythm.  Not all nights were spent running drills and long, dangerous errands; some nights were just the two of them talking and keeping an eye out.  And every so often, Pallas would drop hints to just how long he’d been around.  Socrates wondered if he asked enough, he’d have enough pieces of background to form the complete puzzle.

Presently, Pallas lashed his tail to one side, settling down onto his forelegs with a grunt.  “Not that exact one, anyways.  Heard somebody claim he’s a werecat once… he’d make a damn ugly human, to be sure.”

He knew he shouldn’t laugh, but Socrates couldn’t quite stifle it as he sunk down next to him.  “I don’t know—if he’s not actually a human, he could have been inspired by one.  He’s not the only Napoleon of Crime who ever worked in London.”

“Heard that one, too.” Pallas rested his head over his paws and flicked one heavily scarred ear.  “Lot of ‘em tend to be on the more… sob-story end of things.  Figuring a cat like that had to be made, not born.”

“Oh, yeah?”  He’d never said so out loud, but Socrates had always wondered.  Macavity had been a fixture in his life from the very beginning, so much that even as a kitten he’d never thought to question it.  This was his home, Macavity was the master of the house, and it was all of their jobs to defend it.  For the longest time, he’d even assumed that they were father and son—it seemed like the only explanation, since he’d never known any other father.  But ever since finding out otherwise… well, that was just one set of questions on top of another, wasn’t it?  If he wasn’t here because of Macavity, then what for?  Why did Macavity want him?  Where had he come from to begin with?  At first the theories were just a curiosity, but then his own curiosity kept growing.  Cesare always told him he asked too many questions, but something itched at the back of Socrates’ mind, as though the world and his understanding of it would shrink back down if he ever stopped.

Pallas tipped his head up at the black sky.  “There’s a couple of popular ones like that.  One’s that his mother and father just gave up on him.  Couldn’t handle a cat with his powers, so they just cast him aside out of fear.  Another’s that he didn’t come by all that power honestly—he was cursed with it or gifted it or something like that, and he didn’t know how to handle it himself. Either way… they say something in him just died one day.”  His voice climbed up to a higher, almost falsetto pitch as he imitated the voice of some old gossip sharing the story with their quilting circle.  “And from that moment, the boy in him, the innocent heart, the joy in him… they were gone.”

Socrates didn’t smile this time.  He just listened.  “You think any of that’s true?”

“Who the hell knows?” Pallas snorted, lowering his voice back down to its usual pitch.  “You’ve heard any of ‘em, you’ve heard ‘em all… no use putting stock in stories, I say.”

“… What do you think, then?”

“Eh?  Speak up, kit—my hearing’s not what it used to be.”

“What do you think about… where Macavity came from?”

At that, the old tom levelled a beady black gaze at him.  “I don’t.  That’s the thing.  I don’t waste time guessing about where any of them come from.  Macavity’s not that special, kit—there’s bullies and braggarts all over this city, every one ‘em tryin’ to be better than the others.  You want my advice?”  He chucked Socrates in the shoulder none too gently with one paw, but compared to his usual strikes and slashes during training, it was practically a love tap.  “Don’t you think about it too hard either.  You’ll just make yourself miserable.”

… But that was the thing, too.  Socrates did think about it.  Constantly. He tried not to, honest to Cat he did. Good brothers and sisters in the Mouser’s Palace kept their heads low, their mouths shut, and their ears open unless told otherwise.  But the more he talked to Bombalurina and Demeter and even Alonzo when he was around, the more he wondered…

The more he talked to little Plato, abandoned in his own crate in the cellar, clinging to any warmth and laughter he could find in such a cold place, the more he wished he could give him more hope.  More answers. His head was still a jumble of contradictory orders and conflicting desires, none of which he could make sense of.

Pallas wasn’t going to help him.  Not outright, anyway.  But one of these days, one way or another, he was going to wheedle more secrets out of the old tom.  He was going to find out everything he possibly could.

And then he was going to tell the others.  Light their way a little better through these dark nights.  And to hell with Macavity, whoever he really was.

[acatpersonapparently]

@plzdonthitmewithyourcar requested angst so therefore I come bringing Jemtoria angst

i.

Idealism must run in their blood. Victoria always looked up to Munkustrap and Demeter because they saw the world for what it was and still wished for more. No wonder their daughter was born with dreams dancing behind her eyes. She didn't view herself as negative, just realistic. The first time Jemima stops her paws to let ants pass she wants to scoff. She sits there for two whole minutes watching Jemima construct walls with pieces of bark around the ants marching path. Wishing them a safe travel, Jemima turns to her, smiling ear to ear, and thank her for her patience.

Anyone would do it, she says, pawing the earth.

ii.

Jemima cries when anyone else does. Victoria would call it a superpower if it wasn't so frustrating. The sniffling, the tears, the way she drops everything to sit there and let the tears flow. One time, Pounce takes a really hard tumble down a pile of trash and she finds Jemima on the tires, sobbing. She tells her that Pounce is fine, He wasn't even crying when I looked in on him and Jelly. But Jemima sits there, shoulders trembling and tears like rivers

He is, he is! Jemima insists. The tears just won't come out so I'm crying for him.

Victoria doesn't get that much at all, but she loves her sunshine girl and her little glass heart so. She wraps her up in the most loving and soft touches she can and waits for the storm to pass.

(Victoria checks on Pounce the next day. After Jemima had woken up and bounced on her way when the sun came up. He's limping and his shoulders sag with hurt pride and Victoria is almost frustrated with how right she was.)

iii.

It's after the Jellicle Ball that Jemima acts different. Her daydreaming girl is spending so much time... Elsewhere. A place that Victoria can't touch or reach. It's like she's floating along in a daze and Victoria is trying to tether her down. Jemima is still sweet and friendly and chatty with everything she meets, but the lulls in-between, it's like she stops being there at all.

Then she starts jumping. Startling out of their naps in the morning sun, jumping out of her skin while they're drinking water or chatting with Skimble, head popping up wide-eyed between bites of their meal.

Victoria sits next to her, shoulder to shoulder, and asks, Where are you?

Jemima avoids her eyes and bows her head, You don't hear that? Victoria shakes her head and suddenly her young friend looks much too old for her age. I just keep hearing somebody crying. And that's when Victoria reminds her that if someone is crying then she would be too and Jemima's shoulders shake a little with laughter and she agrees

They both decide to pretend that nothing is wrong at all now that it has become painfully obvious something clearly is

iv.

One of Victoria's proudest moments is when Jemima informs her that she's going to be the next Jellicle Protector just like her dad. Jemima is practically glittering with the good news. She positively gushes as she tell Victoria about the story-telling and fighting she's learning. The whole thing fills Jemima with a new vigor and sharpness that Victoria was starting to worry she had lost.

That's great... I wish you were spending more time with me. Victoria thinks to herself, Jemima immediately cocks her head like she's listening to something. Victoria asks her if she saw any cool flowers today to snap her back.

One of Victoria's angriest moments comes the next week when she swings by to visit Jemima and ask her how her first outing as Protector-in-training went. The den is completely dark and there's is a mountain of blankets shaking like there's an earthquake. She reaches out to lift them and-

Don't touch me! Jemima bursts out and scrambles across the room, pressing herself into the wall. Victoria flattens her ears. Everlasting, how long has she been crying in the dark? I'm his! I'm Macavity's! Jemima spits from across the room. Do you know what that means?

(She doesn't)

Victoria reaches out, to touch her sunshine girl and hold together that little glass heart. Jemima recoils like she's been offered poison. In that moment, rage bubbles up in Victoria's calm heart and she want to slash and claw and tear at everyone involved in making such a bright girl dark. Jemima flinches and Victoria's heart melts into love, love, love. They freeze, both waiting for the other to do something.

It means that all these voices are real. Jemima whispers to the dark and Victoria tackles her with a hug she can't say no to.

v.

Pollicles attack the Junkyard. A rush of frothing, gleaming, teeth and heavy paws thundering. They rip up through dens and scratch up Victoria's favourite spot to sunbathe. She doesn't see Jemima after the chaos begins and Jemima yells for her to grab Jelly and Jenny and hide.

(She feels like a useless kitten cowering before a storm at the din outside. She's boiling with the urge to do something and fear as to what may be left when she steps outside.)

It's Alonzo who sticks his head into their dark hole to let them know the storm has passed, blood marring his monochrome.

You need to stay calm, He says

About what? She asks. He shifts his weight back and forth in his feet. She does not stay calm

Jemima, glass-heart and all, is laying hands on the wounded. Her red fur flickers like fire. She's the saint of gentle as their breathing steadies under her touch and then she gets up, stumbling. Only the blood on Jemima seems to be fresh and flowing. Victoria rushes forward to stain herself with it.

I can take their pain, Vi. Jemima's words have the cadence of an excuse made to circumvent a scolding. See? I can do this as Protector. I can protect them from all the pain, Vi. Victoria feels a creeping light pour into her, a soft prying into her ribcage. It coils around her concern, her fear, the pain that's aching in her heart at her sunshine girl being blotted out by so much agony.

She kisses Jemima. She kisses Jemima and lets the tears from her eyes pour down the smaller girl's crusting cheeks. She kisses her to stop her and because she doesn't know what else to do with her.

You can have all of me, but you can't have that. Victoria whispers. She will never be allowed to have that. The girl in her hands who loves and cares for everyone so much that it hurts needs the selfish love in Victoria's chest.

vi.

Months of ceaseless "helping" and "healing" follow. Jemima drawing grief from people's hearts and into her own. Pulling out thorns of agony, terror, and fear and letting them bury themselves in her flesh instead.

Victoria hates it. She really hates it.

Your compulsive need to fix things and help people is destroying you. Don't you see that? Victoria tells her, drawing her gentle lover up from the fetal position on the floor. She pushes back the sweaty hair in Jemima's eyes and tilts her chin up to look at her. Jem's brown eyes are cloudy, like she's look at her from the other side of the veil.

Jemima croaks. Her whole tiny body trembling with effort just to support herself. They're not in pain anymore.

Yes, but you are. I don't care about them, I care about you. Why don't you care about you. Victoria swallows all of those thoughts down, but since they're already so close. Not just close as Victoria's hands support Jemima but as two people who have mapped out each other's souls. Jemima feels those thoughts pass through her skin.

But who else? Jemima whispers. Even now, she can hear it all. The pain, the heartache, the despair that seems to be flooding out of every heart on earth.

Anyone else, Victoria tries to communicate through kisses. She wants to wrap Jemima in a blanket of love louder than all the pain that knocks at her door. She runs her hands up and down Jem's arms (Everlasting, when did she get so thin?) trying to share some of her warmth.

Jem, you need to stop. Come home with me, sleep with me tonight. We can watch cartoons and I can paint your nails, brush your hair. Victoria whispers the suggestions to the hazy eyed girl in her arms. Jemima pushes her away and takes a few stumbling steps, collapsing back to her knees.

I have appointments... Tomorrow... I'm protector. Jemima's head bobs with the sleep that always is evading her. Her hands clutching her head, rubbing her temples. Brain flashing between boiling hot agony and freezing cold grief. Mom and Dad said... I have to help people.

But not like this, Victoria thinks, rushing forward to catch Jemima's head before it hits the ground. Those happy idealists who raised you and loved you, They didn't mean it like this

[demons-incorrect-alw]

Demeter: Hey, Macavity. I’m sorry for complaining about you in front of everybody. And also for complaining about you behind your back.

Macavity: Didn’t know you did that, but thank you for the apology.

Demeter: I’m not done. Also, I’m sorry for complaining about you during my book club. Those people don’t even know you. That was uncool. Also, I’m sorry I-

Macavity: It’s okay. I get it.

Demeter: No. Also, I’m sorry that I didn’t take the time to tell you how to fix your mistake. Come on. We can go over it upstairs.

Macavity: That’d be great. Lead the way.

Demeter: Oh. One more sorry. You’re about to see a drawing I did of you in the stairwell. Just remember I was really pissed at you at the time.

[mystery-vixen]

For the touches ask prompt thingy:

I could not for the life of me pick one because all of the prompts are so,,,,, 😩good

So have my top 4 and feel free to pick whichever one u like best

Mistocavity

Touching 50

Kissing 29

Hugs 31

Hand Holding 45

I hear you. But what if I did all of them? 👀

50. Putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

29. Hushed conversation in between kisses

31. Hugging while straddling the partner

45. Comparing hand sizes, then linking their fingers together

Pairing: Mr Mistoffelees/Macavity

Warnings: suggestive content? Not entirely nsfw, but these two are definitely playing grownup twister behind the scenes

Mr Mistoffelees enjoyed rainy nights. He loved the sound of it hitting the roof of his den. He loved how it felt, chill against his skin and how it smelt. Most of all he loved how Macavity hated it.

The ginger cat had walked through fire. He’d trekked through various dangerous areas. He’d walk through hell with little interest, Mistoffelees imagined. But, walk through the rain? Absolutely not. That’s why he was still here, very much to Misto’s pleasure and he silently thanked the everlasting cat for making it so wet outside.

The black cat laid on his bed, watching Macavity a few feet away who had taken up space at a makeshift desk Misto had created from an old, discarded cupboard drawer and decorated with stage lights. He was giddy just watching the ginger cat scribbling away on a piece of paper.

Mistoffelees clearly remembered Macavity grumbling and rolling his eyes when Munkustrap had asked his help for the ball this year. In fact, he’d distinctly remembered the cat saying “Fine. But, don’t expect anything big.” A funny thought as he watched Macavity flip the page over and begin furiously scribbling in the page below it.

He was ecstatic. It was a side of Macavity that only Misto was allowed to see and he adored it. He felt honored to be able to see a softer side of the cat. A side that he’d been told numerous times by others wasn’t there..

His eyes wandered up and down the cat, taking in everything about him. He was here! That in of itself was exciting. Misto never had a problem making Macavity stay per say —He simply preferred to sleep in his own den and with Misto’s shows being so frequently at night and Macavity getting up to do god knows what at random hours of the night.. It simply worked better for them to sleep separately. But, not tonight.

Misto’s show had been cancelled due to the weather and Macavity wouldn’t brave the rain. The tux was already excited to fall asleep wrapped up in the ginger cats arms.

He wiggled his hips playfully atop the bed and craned his neck to try and see what Macavity was doing. “How’s it coming along?” He asked, excitedly and Mac froze to look up at him. Apparently, he had been so caught up in what he was doing he had forgotten Mistoffelees was there.

“It’s coming,” he responded with a shrug and Misto hummed at this. He peeled himself away from the sheet and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. In a second he was by Mac’s side and looking over the pages the mystery cat had been scribbling on. “What’s all of this? Can you explain it for me?”

Something glinted in Mac’s eyes when he’d asked and he pointed to the page with vigor. “Okay, this is the stage. This is where the kittens will be —over here is where I’ll be-“ Macavity trailed off as he pointed to the marked lines on the paper. Misto listened intently, looking between Macavity and the paper. He looked so adorable the way he behaved when he was excited and the magician loved seeing it. It was a side of him that others rarely— if not never— were able to see and Misto felt gifted that the ginger cat felt comfortable enough to act this way with him.

“—Now after the third or fourth beat in the chorus I’m going to take out the surrounding street lamps. We’ll be in complete darkness —save for the moonlight— for about six more beats and then I’ll light it up again wiiiith—“ Mac began drumming his pointer fingers against the desk in front of him.

“—fireworks!” The ginger cat leaned back in his seat with a triumphant look in his eyes. Misto’s eyes lit up. He’d heard Munk mention his show lacking something, but he wasn’t sure what. A light show could potentially lift the entire number off the ground!

As if the entire room had been covered by a dark cloud Macavity’s smile faded. His chest deflated and he hunched over, shaking his head. “Wait. Wait,” he muttered. “No. This will never work.” He turned back to the pages and began flipping through them again, his neck sinking into his shoulders as he grumbled.

“Huh?” Misto tilted his head curiously at the cat. “What do you mean? It’s a great idea! Why.. you were so excited just a second ago.” He inched closer to the cat. Macavity was deep in thought, staring down at the pages with a thick glare as if that would somehow make the plans develop themselves.

“Hey, Mac. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I love your ideas—“ Misto had begun to say when Macavity sighed loudly and caught the black cat off guard. “You only think it’s good because you haven’t seen my best. This. This is childish,” he grumbled, lifting the page and crumpling it in one hand.

“No, don’t!” Misto yelled and launched his hands over Macavity’s fist before he could throw the wad of paper over his shoulder. Macavity froze and his eyes darted to Misto, stunned. Misto have him a stern look as he uncurled the cat’s fingers and fished out the paper that was wedged between them. He unwrinkled it and laid it flat against the desk again.

“It really is good, Mac. I can see so much potential already!” Misto flattened out the paper and took a moment to look down at it. “Maybe you need help? I can help!”

“Munkustrap asked for me. Not you. You’re already helping with the kittens,” Macavity sighed irritably, but the black cat paid him no mind. “I won’t take over. I promise! Just let me help a little. Like—“ Misto pushed Mac back so that he was leaning into the back of the chair. He climbed into the cat’s lap and took the pen Mac had been using in his hand.

“Okay, so instead of having the kittens here maybe you can move them here!” Misto said while he crossed the pen over the paper. He paused as he took notice of another group Mac had marked. “Mistoffelees and others” —Oh, that was adorable. But, he had to focus! He continued to draw on the page. “And you wanted to light the fireworks here? I like that idea, but you’d have to move Tugger too. If he was in front of them then we wouldn’t be able to see his face and well, you know how he feels about not being seen.”

Misto fell silent when Macavity’s hand folded over his and slid the pen from his fingers. He dropped the pen against the table and his fingers returned to curling around Misto’s knuckles. “Your hands are so small, Mistoffelees,” the ginger cat mused while he covered the Tom’s hand with his own.

Misto smiled down at their hands and leaned back comfortably against Mac’s chest. “They’re not that small. Your hands are just big!” He argued, but there was little bite to his words. “And aren’t I supposed to be helping you? Or don’t you want my help?”

“You’re in my lap, dear. Afraid I can’t pay attention to anything else.” Misto rolled his eyes and scoffed, although he couldn’t help but smile. He pulled his hand away from the cat’s replacing it quickly with his other one so that their palms pressed together and he hummed. He extended his fingers, laying them completely flat against Macavity’s.

“They’re a little bigger, I guess,” he mocked. The tips of his fingers only barely reached the end joints of Macavity’s fingers. Macavity’s hands were thin, not sickly, but they were noticeably more thin than Misto’s. His fingers were very long, only made longer by the cat’s sharp claws. By comparison, Misto’s hands were soft, small and healthy. His claws were well-kept and trimmed nicely.

He stared at their hands for a long while, just taking in their differences and similarities before he linked their fingers together and squeezed the ginger cat’s hand. “You know, Maybe we should take a break from this for now. Is there anything else you want to do?”

Macavity leaned down and peppered soft kisses up the black cat’s neck. Mistoffelees shivered and his eyes fluttered shut. He leaned up into it absentmindedly. “I see,” he breathed. “Well..” Misto twisted around on Mac’s lap, effectively showing off his own flexibility by choosing not to stand to turn around and instead folding his leg up against his own chest and crossing it back over the side of Macavity’s thigh so he was straddling him. He felt Mac’s nose graze the backside of his calf as he went, but the cat made no comment. The ginger cat only seemed interested in their new position.

“..I can help with that too,” Misto beamed. He ran his hands up the ginger cat’s chest, sliding his fingers through soft, pale fur that was noticeably finer than the fur on the rest of the cat’s body. He remained with his hands against Macavity’s chest for a while, feeling for scars he’d memorized that the cat had gotten from dog fights long ago. His hands continued upwards. He curled his fingers around Macavity’s neck and he pressed his thumbs against the cat’s Adam’s apple.

Misto snickered at his joke in strangling the other cat. Macavity however seemed to crane his neck back in response and closed his eyes. Well, that wasn’t exactly the reaction he was expecting..

Quickly, he cups the cat’s face with his hands and pulls him down so that their noses are almost touching. Macavity’s eyes shoot open and he stares at Misto in surprise while the other cat leans up to nuzzle his nose against him. “Hey,” he whispered.

Mac blinked at Misto before curling his lips into a small smile and raising his hands to loosely wrap around the cat’s waist. “Hello,” he whispered back. Misto quickly leaned up to press his lips against the ginger cat’s mouth. Instantly, Macavity responded to the kiss and pulled Misto closer against his chest.

“You know,” Misto said before being cut off by another kiss. “You really. Like. Attention huh?” He asked between kisses that left him almost completely breathless and pushing up into the cat further. He locked his arms around Macavity’s shoulders and sat up on his knees so that they were level with eachother and neither had to bend down or lean up.

“Almost. As bad. As. Tugger.”

Mac pulled out of the kiss and rested his forehead against Misto’s. “Please don’t mention my brother when I’m kissing you.” He sounded just as raged as the other cat. Misto smiled, squeezing his eyes closed and giggling. “Noted.” He leaned back in, kissing the cat a final time before settling back down onto Mac’s lap with a sigh. He slipped his hands between the cat and the back of the chair, pulling him in closer and nuzzling his cheek against breast.

He heard a chuckle deep in Mac’s chest and felt his claws lightly trace up and down his back soothingly. “And what’s this?”

Misto smiled against him. “Nothing. I’m just happy you’re here.” He heard Mac hum in response and felt his strokes slowly come to a stop. “I’m glad. I miss being able to sleep with you.”

The statement warned the magician’s heart and he snuggled closer. “I miss it too. We used to stay up all night and talk about everything, remember?” He mused in the memory.

Macavity pressed a kiss to the top of Misto’s head and mumbled. “Oh yes. I distinctly recall a conversation in the early hours.. something about Reciting wedding vows in matching tuxes—“

Misto pulled back and covered Mac’s mouth before he could continue. A dark blush comes over his face. “That- That was a long night! We were drinking!” He babbled and felt Macavity smile against his palm.

“I was drunk, love. You barely drank anything,” he mumbled and Misto took his hand away with a sigh.

“I was tired. Yeah! Tired!” He countered the ginger cat’s claim with a triumphant grin. The cat frowned down to him and tilted his head. “Oh? You don’t want to marry me, is what you’re saying?”

Misto’s eyes blew wide and he shook his head, pulling his hands back. “N-no! That’s not what I meant. It’s just-It’s a big decision! I just—“ Misto closed his eyes and lowered his head. How stupid of him to say such a thing.

“Darling, I know,” Macavity interrupted him. “I was only teasing you. We’re a long way away from even considering something like that.” The ginger cat’s words calmed him down somewhat and he looked back up to him. “Oh,” he uttered sheepishly. He deflated sadly. “Sorry. I ruined the mood.”

“Oh, don’t be.” Macavity began tracing his claws slowly up and down Misto’s thighs. “I feel much better now then I did.” The ginger cat leaned down and planted his lips firmly against the side of Misto’s head. The action brought a smile back to the Tom’s face and he giggled quietly, lightly pushing Mac back.

“Maybe we should both go to bed. It’s late anyway and you’re probably not getting anymore work done,” he suggested. Mac leaned back and pursed his lips at Misto. “I suppose you’re right.” He scooped Misto’s thighs up against his waist and stood up, bringing the cat up with him.

Misto laughed and wrapped his arms around Mac’s neck. “Don’t drop me!” He snuggled into the crook of the ginger cat’s neck and grinned widely as he was carried away from the desk.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. You’re far too important to let go of,” Macavity cooed.

Despite their prior plans of falling to sleep together the pair opted to lay down wrapped in each others arms and talk about trivial things. They didn’t fall asleep until the very early hours of the morning and delightfully, they both remained until they both woke hours later.

[rice-pudding-slaps]

demelurina for the disny meme

Demelurina my beloved,,,,

is no secret i have about 3 different Little Mermaid AUS. But I think it would fit quite too well

As always. Canon can kiss my ass.

FAIR WARNING: This post is kilometric. And I did not proofread any of this because that's how I roll baby

Anyways

So, we start with Bombalurina. A very well known mermaid (mercat? you decide) who's voice can be heard sometimes on the shore. She is a kind and curious soul. And both the kingdom and the sea creatures absolutely adore her.

Old Deuteronomy, the mermaids (mercats?) king, treats her like a daughter. And she is presented with the higher honours.

But she is also fond of the surface. Of the magnificent and glorious surface. Oh, what music has she heard. She has collected every jewelry, painting, and little knick knack that ever fell from a boat. She watches the humans with curiosity. With wonder. There is just too much too know, out of her reach.

So one day she gets an idea. She is going to talk to the humans (cats?). Not only is she going to talk to them, she is gonna ask all her questions. And ask how can she join them, if she ever can.

So when the boat of a princess on her way back from a travel passes through, she takes the opportunity inmediately. She watches with wonder while they dance and sing, and cannot help but notice how absolutely gorgeous the princess is.

And the boat hits a storm. She helps however she can. And she sees the princess fall into ice cold water. She is not letting her die. So she brings her to chore. And quietly sings to her to wake her up. She is the most beautiful thing that ever fell in the sea... She is so ready to ask her hundreds of questions. But a scream startles her and she gets back where she came from. And the princess can't help but listen to that song in her mind...

Bomba gets to safety. And explains to her friend Tantomille what just happened. She is a very powerful mermaid (mercat?). And offers to check whatever she got from that trainwreck go make sure the princess is ok.

Bomba scatters her things. And she gives Tanto a notebook, the pages are absolutely irrecognizable, but it used to be full of drawings. Tanto uses her magic to tell her she is ok. She tells her she is a princess and about to be the ruler of her kingdom, after her mother sadly passed away. She tells her how she is lonely. And how she repeats Bomba's song to feel calm, like a spell itself.

Bomba asks if she will answer her questions. Tanto says she's not sure. But warns her of meddling with the human world. "Their ways are different than ours. We aren't meant to meet yet"

"Then when"

"I don't know

"Well, I can't wait"

She swims as fast as she can far, far away. There is a solution to this problem... a dangerous one, but absolutely deserving of a chance.

Macavity, a magical being feared both in land and sea. Capable of anything, the legend says. But never found in a place twice. You have to give him an offering to make him appear. And she does. She goes to the place the legend talks about. And offers him some of the most valuable jewels of the kingdom that she took from the palace. Out come two mermaids (mercats?) on perfect syncrony. They let her inside a cave.

And there he is. Macavity. Imponent. Warm like fire, but under the water.

She asks for a way to go on the surface. She has to meet that princess. Macavity laughs at her. And offers a change: Her voice, for a pair of legs. They will last a week. She must be back by then. Or she will turn into sea foam. If she wants to keep her legs, then a human shall offer her their heart. Is well known that mermaids don't have a soul, the only thing they can give is their heart. And they take it very seriously. So this is high stakes.

She hesitates. But she agrees. And Macavity breaks her in half. She gives her legs. And she takes away her voice. She is rushed to the surface. And she finds herself alone. And hurting. The legs hurt as if her tail was still there, just broken. She can't ask for help. And she stays on shore for a while. Sure that she will not make it...

"Oh, gods, are you ok?"

A sweet voice wakes her up. And the sudden embrace of strongs arms taking her up. She is not exactly aware of what's happening. She only smells a sweet perfume. So different of the shore...

"Don't worry, we'll get you some help"

She wakes up in a soft surface. And the sweet perfume around her. She's lost until she finds by her side a surprised face. A warm and calm face welcomes her. And her words come out of her mouth like honey.

"You're awake! Hi. My name is Demeter. How did you end up on the shore?"

She tries to explain herself, but she has no way how. But Demeter is patient. And she tries her best to understand whatever sign is Bomba throwing at her. It might be hard to communicate, but she is not giving up. And the smiles and nods that Bomba gives her are very much welcomed.

They spend a day getting Bomba back to shape. And Demeter cannot help but find in that smile a familiar charm. Like something she was meant to see. And that she has seen before... In another time...

That's not important.

She has a brilliant idea.

An old lord has a daughter that might help them. And she asks Bomba if she might want to go and try to find a way. She inmediately agrees. And finds herself enchanted with everything in the surface. The trees, the roads, the horses, the people, the dances, the music the arts. She stops wide eyed at everything. Is everything she could've ask and more. And Demeter feeds into that curiosity. She takes the time to tell her the name of every plant and animal. Retells all the stories of the kingdom. She makes sure every time Bomba stops to look at something, she gets new information. She is specially throughout about art. And they make a one day trip into two and a half.

When they meet the old lord, he introduces his children as Victoria and Mistoffelees. Victoria is mute, and she is more than happy to teach Bomba to sign. Bomba is ecstatic. And they spend the next days teaching her. Not only to sign, but also they show her new dances, new food, new textures and fabrics. New everything.

And Demeter is there in the middle. She is everything that the human world could ever be. Her voice is soft and her hands are warm. She has the prettiest smile and she dances like the world is not watching her. Her embrace is delicate and she smells like fruit and flowers... Demeter is everything she ever dreamt about the human world and more.

And Deme finds in Bomba excitement and happiness. She is confident and curious and adventurous. And her laugh is contageous and her embrace is like a sunset at the beach. She doesn't let her feel lonely. Bomba is a new fire in her heart.

And the days pass... and a week comes. And the last day, Bomba has learnt to sign a little. Or at least to communicate with Demeter. And she urges them to come back. She can't explain. She just has to go back. Demeter is heart broken. Why? Why must she leave? Isn't she happy?

She practically escapes. Trying to make it to shore. And Deme follows her. Desperate. Because she doesn't want to lose her. Bomba just runs and stops at the nearest beach. She is so hesitant. The sun is going down. Is it worth it? Does she really want to go back? To a life in the sea? Apart of everything she loves? Apart from Demeter?

Demeter finds her. Pleads her to stop. To come back. She assures them whatever is worrying her, is going to be fine.

But a storm comes. And with that, a tall, imponent, figure.

Macavity.

He comes. Demeter falls down. Looking at the legend come true. He laughs. Bomba runs to Demeter. Trying to tell her to stop. But her scream comes from a small shell on Macavity's neck.

He explains that "This beauty changed her voice... for a chance up here. And her time is up."

In front of a paralyzed Demeter, he hypnotizes Bomba. He makes a puppet out of her. And starts to slowly make her walk into the sea. Her legs losing balance as she goes. Turning into foam as she touches the water.

Until Demeter runs at her. Tries so hard to pull her out. And shouts that she loves her. That he can't take her away.

"YOU CAN'T TAKE MY HEART AWAY FROM ME."

And as she says that, Bomba falls. But her legs are back. They hear a crack. And as the shell breaks, Macavity is gone. The voice goes up. And joins the moans in the wind.

But who cares?

Bomba is there. Deme is there.

And they kiss and live happily ever after :D

Thanks for the ask! i am SO SORRY it took so long.

And I am so sorry for this kilometric post.....

[omgthatdress]

How to make Cats a good movie.

I watched Cats, and once I got over the initial horror, I was actually pretty entertained and found myself enjoying the shit out of it. Like god bless it, for as nightmare-inducing as much as it was, Tom Hooper was clearly *committed* to his vision and you gotta give him credit for that. The scenery was actually really beautiful and the cinematography was frequently breathtaking. Like it really did have a lot of elements that really worked for it. But for every bit of genius, there was something terrible that the movie just couldn’t overcome. So let’s dive in.

First of all, you kind of have to understand Cats: the musical. It’s an adaptation of poems that T.S. Elliott of nihilistic lost generation fame wrote for his godchildren about cats. And the poetry is charming af and totally captures the nature of cats and why they’re so lovable. In the in the 1970s, Andrew Lloyd Webber did a shit ton of cocaine and decided to make a musical out of these poems. As a result, Cats has no plot. It’s a bunch of cats singing their songs about who they are and doing a lot of dancing. The thinnest of narrative devices is created with the “jellicle” ball and the deciding of which cat gets to ascend to heaven or some shit. So yeah. Cats is actually pretty controversial among theater nerds, it’s very much a you either love it or hate it thing. Is it stupid? Yes.  Is it going to make everyone happy? No. Does it lend itself well to film adaptation? fuck no. I get the feeling that Tom Hooper was really going for deep, meaningful poetic cinema here and trying to make another Les Mis (which was way overly long and ultimately sank under its own sheer weight as a movie and probably is better viewed as a play). I’m operating under the assumption that Hooper was going for ground-breaking cinema that would have made millions and swept up during awards season and cemented him as a legendary director and gone down in movie history, because every little detail of Cats is clearly meant for maximum impact. You kind of need to drop all expectations going into Cats, so once you’re there, you can have fun with it. So how do you make it a good film?

1. The HORRIBLE hyper-realistic cgi human-cat hybrids. YES, it’s a technical marvel, and the CGI artists who made it all deserve a ton of credit for the work they did. And I understand why the actors were kept in their human shapes: live dance is a huge part of what makes Cats work. One of the smart decisions made was hiring theater veterans for the filler roles in the cat chorus, so when you have the choreographed numbers, it’s really spectacular. It’s just the end result was way too uncanny valley and bizarre for any of the film’s good parts to ever rise above it. I think a minimalist approach would have actually worked best. Cat ears and simple costumes with clean lines that show off the dancer’s bodies. Go for the suggestion of cats, and kind of let the viewer’s imagination take over, and showcase the cat’s personality. A huge part of what I enjoyed was hearing the poetry and imagining these cats and how they all relate to cats I’ve known. The dance and the music helped heighten this experience, but hybrids kept reminding me of the joke: what do you get when you cross a human and a cat? An immediate cessation of funding and a stern rebuke from the ethics committee.

2. The schlocky, honestly amateurish attempts at slapstick humor. I’m gonna come out and say it and say that Hooper is pretty deeply entrenched in *dRaMa* and has no sense of how comedy works. There was a lot of added in comedic bits from Rebel Wilson and James Corden, and it was honestly terrible. I mean really, a crotch hit? That kind of lowbrow comedy is so crude and base that it’s actually really hard to pull it off well. Slapstick comedy actually lends itself to the whimsical tone, and slapstick done well can be utterly sublime, but Cats seemed satisfied that fat people falling over is the height of comedy and should be left at that. And a second note on the comedy? Weirdly fat-shame-y. A saw a post about how odd it is to see James Corden, who has been very frank about how he’s struggled with dieting and come to accept that his body is fat and can’t be made not fat, playing this role where fat is added to his body, his CGI vest strains at the buttons, and he’s literally stuffing his face with garbage. The theme of fat people as lazy, stupid, and slovenly carried over from Rebel Wilson’s role, in which she also plays a fat lazy cat who is leaned on heavily for comic relief. I know the role is about a fat cat, and gently laughing at a fat lazy cat who loves to eat is fine, but, speaking as a fat person myself, this felt like a gleeful exploitation of a nasty and cruel stereotype. James Corden and Rebel Wilson are both extraordinarily funny people who happen to be fat, and their comedic gifts were tremendously mis-used here, reducing them to simply two fat bodies to be laughed at.

3. Jennifer Hudson. She’s a talented actress who can sing and emote like a motherfucker. And emote she did. She was clearly GOING for that second Oscar. I really don’t want to call her performance bad. The same level of emotion, tears running and snot flowing, in another movie, would have been devastating (Hello, Viola Davis in Fences). But this isn’t Fences, it’s fucking Cats. You need a level of character depth and development that Cats doesn’t afford to make those tears hit. All the crying and misery was an odd maudlin and over-dramatic break in the fun and whimsy. With a subtler performance and a hint of self-awareness, it could have actually brought in an emotional anchor for this light-as-air film, but Cats doesn’t make any attempt at nuance, and as a result the scenes just hit you out of nowhere like a load of bricks. 

4. Francesca Hayward. Okay, before we go anywhere, I want to say that this girl is not un-talented. She’s the principal ballerina of the Royal Ballet, and has a very long list of ballets that she’s lead in. So it makes sense that she’d be hired for a role that’s primarily ballet. This girl is a really really great DANCER. But Cats was clearly trying to make an A-list actress out of her. They tried to make her into Florence Pugh, who has been acting for a while and is blowing up right now because she’s very talented. Like everything about Francesca’s role in the film said “This is a star-making role.” A new song was written just for her to sing as an addendum to Cats’s show-stopping signature song. But the song was just okay, it didn’t carry nearly the emotional weight or all-around beauty of “Memories,” and all in all felt wedged-in and totally unnecessary and really just felt like a grab at that “best original song” Oscar. Francesca’s voice is high, thin, and child-like. It’s not unpleasant, but next to the richness and depth of Jennifer Hudson’s voice, it crumbles, and it’s not the sort of voice that I want to seek out to listen to over and over again. As for her overall performance, she largely keeps the same look of wide-eyed wonder throughout her numerous close-ups, so much so that I found myself thinking of the the MST3K “dull surprise” sketch. But I don’t know if that’s really entirely her fault. There was an attempted romantic storyline with the magic cat, but again, because of the nature of Cats and its lack of real character development or depth, the chemistry fell flat. There really isn’t much of a chance to show off a lot of dramatic range, so to keep going back to her character, it kept reinforcing the one-notedness of her performance. Really, I just kept wanting to see Francesca dance. Ironically, I think they really blew an opportunity trying to make an A-list actress out of her. All she really need to make people want to see more of her is one spectacular dance number, but for some reason, she never really gets that show-stopping moment. 

5. Dignity? I guess this goes back to the whole CGI cat thing, but there were a lot of moments when I felt this tremendous wave of second-hand embarrassment hit me on behalf of the talented actors in this film. Watching Gandalf lap up milk from a saucer was a wholly uncomfortable experience, like come on, grant the great Ian McKellan some fucking DIGNITY here. Which goes back to whatI said earlier that a suggestion and interpretation of cats would have worked better than all-out just being a cat. Or it could again just be how much Cats just fails its attempts at comedy. But then again there was no fucking reason at all for Idris Elba to be that fucking NAKED. I guess they were trying to make him sexy? But his sexy smolder and just being Idris Elba wasn’t enough they had to make sure that we all saw his chiseled pecs and thick thighs. And then at the end when he’s dangling off of the rope of a hot air balloon and what’s supposed to be a funny scene, I think, I kept thinking “I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Idris.” 

There’s a bunch of other small, nit-picky things that I could go into. Those cockroaches would have worked so much better if they weren’t humans with an extra set of arms. Watching them get eaten was some horror movie shit. Taylor Swift’s Macavity song would have worked a lot better if the cat chorus full of cats we’ve gotten to know had sung it, but instead Taylor Swift is brought in as a new cat we don’t know whose only purpose is to sing the Macavity song? but of course a big oscar-bait movie needs to have that pop star that draws in the people who wouldn’t otherwise see it and making her a part of the cat chorus would have had her performing throughout the whole movie and she would have floundered the way pop stars tend to do when performing musical theater around a bunch of musical theater actors. So I guess I get why she was thrown in.

So.... yeah? Is there anyone else who found themselves enjoying it in spite of everything? I’m glad I have dogs and didn’t have to watch this mess with actual cats around me.