crawling cat

anonymous asked:

How would you direct cats?

ok so the house lights stay on for the start of jellicle songs for jellicle cats and slowly go down as cats crawl out from behind the rubbish saying “are you blind when you’re born?” “can you see in the dark?” etc, and just as they’re building up to “jellicle song for jellicle cats” there’s a muffled gunshot and a blood curdling scream. suddenly the orchestra stops, the house lights come back on, and a detective bursts into the auditorium, flashing his badge and saying that everyone must stay where they are, for there has been a grisly murder. jennyanydots has been shot in her dressing room with a gun set on an automatic timer. to make matters worse, fur has been found on the gun, meaning one of the cats is responsible. and so begins an intense and heated debate among the cats as they try to find the murderer among them. each cat comes under suspicion at some point, and as they are scrutinised, dramatic secrets are revealed. grizabella is having an affair old deuteronomy. the run tum tugger sexually manipulates audience regulars for online attention. family man mister mistoffelees is gay. none of this is a performance. eventually, the cats figure out that the real murderer is the detective. the detective is me. but as soon as they realise this, they see that I am long gone. in fact, I was in cahoots with jennyanydots, who is the best cat and was never actually murdered, and who was played in this production by jane houdyshell, the whole time. by now, me and jane are probably at the airport on our way to cuba, with the cats investment money bursting out of our two suitcases. it’s only a matter of time before the cast of cats find jennyanydots’ empty cat suit in her dressing room, and realise they’ve been had. but with the distrust and suspicion sewn among the cats cast, there will surely never be a production of cats again. and that’s it. I’ll have defeated cats.

This is my sisters cat, and he is the biggest baby omg. He’s like 20 pounds as tall as those box fans and has the tiniest little squeak of a meow. His favourite hobbies include: crawling up his cat tree at 30 mph, sneaking into the catnip and getting really stoned, and hoarding all of his toys under the couch.

(submitted by @callmealex)

Andrew’s and Neil’s heights have never been more than a small inconvenience. 

That is, until they move in together.

  • King the cat gets scared because of a package being delivered into the house and ends up jumping up on a rafter stretching across the ceiling.
  • Which King then can’t get down from.
  • Neil and Andrew obviously can’t reach a rafter and can’t seem to coax him to jump into their arms.
  • They try for what feels like an endless hour standing on chairs and couches and boxes and step stools attempting to convince King to jump into the box they are holding.
  • Just please take a moment to imagine two very short boys holding up random flat surfaced items and still not even being close to reaching the cat.

Keep reading

Dean was watching T.V. when he heard it. It was a strange, very quiet sound. Low and gutteral—a growl?

Dean scooped up the remote, squinting until he found the mute button and punched it pointedly. And he heard it again, but this time it sounded even more faint, reminding him of the quiet sounds of a motor attached to a fan. Then, footsteps. Wet. Sloppy. Heavy steps trudging across the tiles of the bunker.

Dean stood, wrapping a hand around his gun still resting against the small of his back.

The sounds were closer. Closer. Closer. Then…


“What the hell, Cas?” Dean said, letting go of the cold metal in favor of a glare at the puddles forming at the base of Cas’s shoes. In fact, Cas was completely drenched with the runoff from the blizzard outside, leaving him looking like the soggy end of a mop.

Dean gestured to Cas’s wet form: “Dude, you’re making a mess, what, did you roll around in the snow?—” then, Dean paused, holding up a finger, “wait, shh.”

Cas scowled. “Dean, did you just shush yourself—”

Dean held up a hand with a stern face. “Shh!” he said again. And, there it was again. The quiet growling… no, purring?

Dean looked Cas up and down suspiciously, noticing for the first time that the angel’s hands were hidden behind his back as if he were hiding something there.

Dean raised his chin, suddenly looking down at the angel like a child, who was, incidentally, avoiding eye contact.

“Cas,” Dean said carefully. “Baby, what’s behind your back?”

Then, in the background, a mewl.

Dean’s eyes widened, his tone changing immediately.

“Cas, please tell me that is not a cat behind your back right now, or I swear to God…”

But Dean didn’t finish because, in a second, the angel was stomping, wet and furious towards his boyfriend, blue eyes cold and hard. And, at that moment, Dean could swear Cas’s vessel was taller than him because he didn’t usually see the angel look so intimidating—outside of the bedroom.

“What, Dean?” Cas said. His voice was calm and collected, but there was a chill in it that sent shivers down Dean’s spine. “You swear to God, you’ll what?”

Suddenly, Dean backed up against the couch with a thump. And, Cas looked smug.


“Dean,” Cas said confidently, acting as if his ass hadn’t just meowed. He took another step forward, as if he were about to kiss his boyfriend, but instead, brushed his nose along his jawline until he was whispering in Dean’s ear. “I’m going to pull my hands from behind my back and I want you to think very carefully about your next words. Do you understand?”

Dean closed his eyes briefly at the skin contact, swallowing, then nodded.

Then, as if he hadn’t just threatened Dean with the wrath of God, the angel’s face broke into a soft, curly smile as he pulled a wet, scrawny black cat from behind his back. The angel tickled under the cat’s chin, cooing with crinkly eyes, bumping his nose against the cat’s pink one.

Dean’s eyebrows raised as he eyed the black, patchy fur ball. The thing was starved, dirty and frankly, hideous. And yet, Cas looked as if he were adoring a new born baby and not a mangy cat.

In contrast to his gruff voice from only a moment ago, Cas spoke sweetly to the cat while directing his words to Dean:

“This is monkey,” he said. “I found her behind a dumpster.”

And Dean started to crack a smile as he watched his boyfriend who looked like an adorable wet mess himself, cuddle the scraggly cat until it purred in his arms.

“This is your new home,” Cas purred back.

This snapped Dean back to reality: “Cas,” Dean started to protest, but was cut off quickly when Cas’s head snapped back up to Dean, expression fierce in warning.

Damn Cas, Dean thought, how the hell can you manage to be both adorable and scary as hell?

“I’m talented like that,” Cas said smugly. Then, when Dean’s eyes widened comically, “Dean, you should really watch how you address me in your thoughts, some of them smack very close to prayers and I’m pretty good at tuning in to those.” He finished with a wicked smile that made Dean’s cheeks heat up.

Dean cleared his throat, then stared at the bundle of dirty dripping, fluffy masses in front of him with a sigh.

“Ok,” Dean finally consented. “Welcome to the bunker monkey.”

“Thanks,” Cas said, leaning forward and giving his boyfriend a wet kiss. When he pulled away, the cat started crawling up to Dean’s shoulders, purring heavily as he cuddled against the warm, dry heater he’d found, soaking Dean’s shirt.

Dean sighed again, but this time he was smiling at the way Cas’s face lit up at the situation.

“You’re welcome,” Dean said, pulling Cas in close to him. “I love you, you monkey.”

Cas smiled and kissed Dean again.

When they pulled away: “Just to be clear,” Dean said. “I meant you.”

Cas reached up and pet the cat again with a relaxed smile: “I know,” he said. “I love you, too.”

So I have this headcannon that Damen has a lot of cats.

Cause he’s from this TOTALLY-NOT-GREECE Mediterranean place, and I’m pretty sure that, like actual Greece, it’s crawling in these pseudo-feral cats. Cats everwhere. Cats in temples. Cats climbing ruins. Cats sleeping in the Mediterranean sun. And they don’t have homes per-say….but they’re very people friendly.

And if Damen grew up in this open air palace….you just know that place was crawling with cats, cause cats go where they damn well please.

And since we all know that Damen is a giant softie, it’s a pretty good guess that he’s been low-key taking care of a bunch of them and sneaking them table scraps and letting them sleep in his bed with him since he was a tiny toddler.

Can’t you imagine? Little Damen gathering up a bunch of dinner scraps and feeding an ever growing population of abandoned kittens, to the horror of his nurses, who are pretty sure that those feral things are diseased, but every morning when she goes to wake him up, he has a room full of stray kittens?

One of playboy Damen’s many hookups getting distracted from sexy times by the sheer number of cats sleeping in Damen’s bed when he pulls back the covers and he’s like, not even mad cause yes they are his, and yes, they are so cute, and yes he has named every single one of them after heroes from epic poems. That tiny one there? That’s Ajax. He’s feirce.

Damen on campaign with Laurent in Prince’s Gambit giving Lauren’s table scraps to local strays, and Laurent being all confused about why they have picked up so many furry four legged camp followers. And why haven’t the mice and vermin attacked their food supplies? Are these two strange happenings related?

Years later, Damen sees a rat in Lauren’s chambers in Vere and is mad grossed out but Laurent is like “they’re a part of life, there’s nothing you can do about them” and Damen’s all “Just get a cat?” And Laurent is all ?????? So next time he comes Damen brings like 200 cats and releases them in the palace and Laurent is pissy until all the vermin disappear. Then he gets attached to a tiny, underweight, undersized black kitten and he realizes that cats are basically him in four legged form, and maybe that is why Damen is so good at putting up with his icy personality, cause he’s basically a human cat and Damen seems to love cats sooo…..

Cat-ptive Prince and Damen the Cat lover and Laurent the Basically-is-a-cat.

i am so on board with the idea of percival being a giant softy

he was adorable with the lamia (at least until the enchantment turned all the knights against each other)

Originally posted by sandiest-cupid

but consider:

  • percival being a massive hugger. he hugs everyone if he thinks they’re having a bad day. once he hugged arthur without thinking and there was a stunned silence and then arthur joking appointed him the Official Court Hugger, and he takes it very seriously
  • they send percival if they need to rescue a child or someone very afraid. he talks to them real quiet and gentle and every time he returns with them riding double on the horse, clinging to him
  • once they found a baby in an devastated village and he insisted on being the one to carry it home. he wrapped some cloth into a sling and rode into camelot like a proud mama
  • the castle is crawling with cats after he rescued one and it had kittens. they nap in the armory and keep merlin company when he cleans arthur’s armor. they all sleep in percival’s room and at night you can hear them purring
  • the mothers of camelot all adore percival and give him an abundance of baked goods as thank yous. he always comes home with muffins and bread and sweet buns and one time, an entire cake that gwaine stole pieces of
  • he likes to knit and no one questions it. it relaxes him, plus all the knights now have lovely sets of winter hats and scarves

I managed to start and finish this in the same night omg @A@ !  So here’s a print for my lovely bestie @alainaprana of her OC ZigZag, the skullshape was really fun to work with and can’t wait to print it so that I can sent it to your place. *Hugs tight* You’re a fantastic friend and I wanted to show you how important you are to me. Thank you so much for being such a precious friend and I hope that you like your gift ;u; (I sincerly wish I could do more asdjkbdas)

I swear to god I spend at least 10 minutes trying to draw while my cat crawled over my shoulder and tried to get affection from me while streaming.

Art© @little-noko

ZigZag© @alainaprana

There are multiple types of silence, one of which, I like to call screaming silence, where silence is truly deafening. The mind howls in the dead of night, but no sound escapes your lips. The heart gasps and shudders in agony, but the lungs expel no air, the tongue spills no syllables. You lie there in your own sweat, in your festering thoughts and wonder why it never ends, why no one notices. And then you remember: no one can even hear you. You hide your pain well, like a wounded alley cat crawling into the darkest depths to breathe its last breath.
—  t. edana talbott // screaming silence
6156. Beast Boy has a tendency of waking up in the middle of the night, since he is part nocturnal like some of the animals he can turn into. He will walk around for a bit until he is either tired or notices one of the other titans having a nightmare. If that happens, he will turn into a cat and crawl into their bed to cuddle with them, and usually falls asleep after a few minutes.

Submitted by idkhellofandomfriends

mysterious little towns

- headlights cutting through fog like thin sheens of ice, the darkness pressing against your car windows, settling into your mouth, escaping through every rattled breath, driving down some disturbing route you took a wrong turn on, the highway lost in the jigsaw puzzle stretch of land behind you, nocturnal animals watch you from the shrubbery, their eyes like red, yellow, brown bruises, the trees here seem to whisper to you.

- veins leaping out of your skin, the soulless eyes of hitchhikers on cross country roads, you stop by a gas station lit like a zombie apocalypse, a stale hotdog and frosty beer at the moonlit diner for half the price you pay in the city, suspicious dark blotches on the waitress’ blouse, a smile like a knife to the throat, your heart flooding.

- an empty playground, houses that seem to weep silently, strange lights in the sky, a newspaper always headlining inexplainable deaths & animal maulings, a black sedan, men in suits, that unshakable feeling like you’re being followed, shrill disembodied screams reverberating from the parking lot; crawling into your ribcage like spiders that hollow you out, you close your eyes & pretend you’re safe as if sleep won’t invite other nightmares.

- the lady at your doorstep attempting to sell you cursed objects, the occultist symbols painted on your door, the little boy with a hole in his head, yard sales of ancient objects and dolls with eyes like wolves in the night.

- ritualistic chanting, the kid who killed himself on the bridge, ravens flocking the skies like dark, bloodied stars, a pet cat that crawled out of its own grave, a moon silver and wraithlike, the man on the radio speaking directly to you, a warning to be aware of witchcraft and voodoo.

- days that stick to your teeth like bubblegum, nights that feel like they’re burying you alive, a latched door slowly creaking open, a piano’s melody swimming through your ears even though you don’t own a piano, the old lady next door who tells you stories about a wedding that never happened, your knuckles choking white, a painting on the wall that seems to change position everytime you look at it.

- a perpetual roller coaster ride, getting lost in a labyrinth of funhouse mirrors, watching blood soak your favorite jumper, a boy watching you from under the blanket of shadows, poltergeists trashing your bedroom when you get back, spilled tea on the floor, a face that looks like yours; but you’re not so sure anymore.

’- you know, I’ve either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
but now
I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I’m going to have a place and
the time to
no baby, if you’re going to create
you’re going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you’re on
you’re going to create with part of your mind and your
body blown
you’re going to create blind
you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquakes, bombardment,
flood and fire.
baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don’t create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
—  air and light and time and space, charles bukowski

The various stages of caterpillar and cat

The Garden of Curiosity continues with another “strange symbiosis” here:

Kind Regards,

King of Shroom