cats are my best friends

i’m in my prime,
not withering and old.
but i refuse to play
your wicked games any longer.

i know this tether is unbreakable,
but you make me feel like i’m interchangeable.
you drew a target on my heart,
when did this become fatal attraction?

i don’t have the strength,
the energy,
nor the patience
to be held hostage by your love.

so baby please don’t despair
when i say that
i’ve found the courage to
let you go.

you were never meant to be tied down in the first place.

—  believing i could love you was my mistake, c.j.n.
6

i met the cutest cats today!! their names are fatty and queso and we are best friends now 🌻

if people were elements,
then we are ice and fire.

your touch is frost upon my burning skin,
my breath melts your frozen heart.
your kiss is cool against my lips,
and my heat warms you all the way down
to the tips of your toes.

and although we could complement each other,
beckon the other away from the end of polarity
to come and meet in the middle,
too much of one

will eliminate the other.

—  and i’d never forgive myself if i caused your destruction, c.j.n.
3

These are my best friends cats. The first one is Lola, she has extra thumbs cause she’s a barn cat and she only ever wants attention on her terms. The second girl is Tiger Lily who tries to escape outside all the time, she also grew up in a barn. She’s chill af. Last kitty is Fairlight, or Lil’ Blue. All she wants is love and belly rubs. She’s usually pretty shy but she’s warmed up to me.

2

there’s a good reason these tables are numbered honey, you just haven’t thought of it yet // panic! at the disco

Creepypasta #1103: I Had A Friend Who Lived In The Air Vents

Length: Super long

When you’re a little kid, you do some strange stuff to get attention. Especially when you’re an only child and then poof, you’re not. You’re getting the “little brother or sister” pep talk from Mom and Dad and everything changes. You’re used to being the center of their world, being told you’re the most special little girl, but as Mom’s belly gets bigger and bigger and Dad’s patience with you gets smaller and smaller you realize it’s not going to go back the way it was. Not ever.

That’s what happened to me when I was seven, anyway. I was the kind of kid that needs a lot of attention. I hadn’t had to try hard for seven years, I’d been coasting on my parents’ single-minded doting. But pretty soon I noticed some small differences; they were less interested in what I’d done in school that day, more interested in getting ready for my new little brother or sister.

I was like an alcoholic without a bottle. You feel fine at first but soon the tremors set in and you realize you just needit, you know? You need their eyes on you, loving you, reminding you that you’re the most special little girl in the whole wide world, maybe the only special little girl.

So in the last month or so before the baby came, I got creative.

“I made a new friend!” I told them one night at dinner.

“At school, sweetheart?” Mom asked.

“No!” I was fidgety, excited, twitching in my seat when they both looked at me with rapt attention from across the table. Time to launch my plan into action. “He lives in the air vents! His name is Marty and he’s MAGIC.”

“Oh,” said my Dad, and he smiled a little. “That’s fun. Eat your peas, Rosie.”

And that was it. That was IT! I’d just told them that Magic Marty lived in our air vents and all I got was ‘that’s fun?’ And what’s worse, they went back to talking about the BABY — I always heard that word with an ominous sort of importance — and whether they thought the nursery could be painted over the weekend or not.

I stewed and pushed peas around my plate. I knew I was going to think of something better. Something to make them ask me questions about Marty, about me, like they used to.

Stupid BABY. I didn’t care if it was a brother or a sister. It was a pain before it even got here.

Over time, I came up with new tidbits about Magic Marty and how amazing he was. He only ate jellybeans! He could move things with his mind! He had a cat named Baseball and he was my VERY best friend!

Keep reading

2

I actually have had more dogs in my life than cats I would say. When I was… In our house… as a family we had both, we had a dog and two cats. We had a golden retriever called Muffin, named after her mother Crumpet, who was my best friend in the world… And she was around for ten or twelve years, and we had two cats called Orlando and Grace. (…) I love dogs too, I’ve always wanted to have a dog actually as, you know, for myself but… I travel too much, it wouldn’t be right.”

Bonus:

“Like master, like dog”

i’ll see you

A/N: happy birthday grace @prongsno. ur the only one i would wear a bad hat for. 


She brought back a dead thing. She forgot she wasn’t meant to be able to do that.

“You can’t fucking say anything.” Lily said immediately after, staring at James, who was looking at her, wide eyed, mouth parted. She felt her pulse going in her neck, the only sound in the entire street.

“I-“ he said, strangled. Staring. His eyebrows go up, and she can’t believe she did this. She can’t believe- “The cat” he finished, disbelieving. She doesn’t know what to say to that. “It was dead” he almost gaged, chest heaving.

“James. You can’t tell anyone.”

“It was dead.” He pointed at the street where the cat had been minutes before. “I- it was” he gestured to the front of his car, inches from them, “and then you-“ he waved his hands, “and then- it was alive again.”

“Yes. I was there. I know what happened.” She couldn’t help herself. James’ eye twitched, and he abruptly stalked around in a circle before turning back to her, finger out, accusatory.

“Don’t fucking-“ he grasped for the word “sass me, Lil, You just-“

 

Lily snorted. “Sass?”

“How long have you been able to do that?” he asked. Her throat closed up. She hadn’t ever, not once, talked about this aloud. It feels so wholly unnatural to be standing here in the middle of the street at eleven at night next to James’ car, over the spot where there used to be a dead cat two minutes ago.

Since forever. Since before I knew my own name. Since before I knew yours. That long.

 

“A while.” She said. He stared at her again, and its only with the street lamp on that she can see him, cheekbones illuminated by light. Hair sticking up like an electric shock. He is giving her a look she can’t quite place, but she isn’t scared, even now, when he could yell and anyone could come running, because of course its James who would be first to know. It could never be anyone else.

“I wanted to tell you.” she said, truthfully. “But what if you’d-“ she stopped herself. She had been about to say but what if you’d never spoken to me again, and the thought is to be awful to be said out loud.

There is a long silence, and for one awful minute she thinks he’s going to get back into the car and leave her, never come back, and then she’s thinking about how much it’s going to be so fucking hard to never speak to him again, how much it’s going to suck to not be in his front seat again, late night driving, stealing fries, laughing about his mother and the fact she hadn’t done her chem homework in months.

“I would never say-“ he started, then stopped, looking at the streetlamp and then back to her. “you must know. I’d never say anything. I’d never do that to you.”

She’s flooded with relief so fast it almost knocks her over. It’s all through her, like she’s been filled with sea water, and all at once she’s calm. He’d never say anything. He’d never do that to her. How could she have doubted him.

“I know.” She said because there was nothing else to say. The world is such a quiet place, serene. In her dreams where this happened it was always lighter, during the day, she was always bringing back a person, he was always less shocked. It didn’t matter. None of it did. She brought back a dead thing and he still loved the same.  

“Do you think-” he asked into the silence, “If I hit a cat and it died but then my best friend bought it back to life a minute later, I still have to report it to my driving instructor? I’m asking for a friend.”

She laughed. He was so good. He smoked and interrupted her in English and speed on city roads and called her mother ‘Vi’ but he was good the whole way through. He was looking at her, half smiling, like she was something else. A piece of art. A star in a classroom. A thing to hardly be believed.

“Tell the friend he should try avoiding hitting the cats, and then he wouldn’t have this problem.”

“The friend said to tell you that it was dark and he was trying his best.” He opened the driver’s door.

“If the friend stopped speeding-“

“Oh my God! The friend was going fifty!”

“The friend obviously can’t read. The speed limit is forty.”

Later- she knows- they’ll talk about it. Skipping class or eating food or in the music room at lunch where students aren’t supposed to go, he’ll ask her and she’ll tell him. the whole pointy, uncomfortable, strange thing of bringing things back to life when they should not be. But now- laughing. Now- arguing about the radio station. Now- the dark, the stars, the road. Now- her heart aching like a broken bone for him without her knowing why yet.