#p: cat

[mxhlon]

It had been a draining journey home to a place that no longer existed, a district of ashes and unmarked graves. Mahlon wondered what this did to a person, to have to doubly grieve. Hadn't he already been through this before? Sifting through the charred remains? And now, he had to do it all again, sifting through the rubble of his memory.

There was a reprieve to the misery, though. Mahlon liked to sit on his porch, watching Hes with the kids. They tended to a sparse garden and played in the autumn sun, finding joy even in the wake of so much suffering. Resilience. He was charmed. The sun was setting on this particular night, warm golden light streaking bright, so when a form cast shadows to his side, Mahlon turned his head, finding himself immediately stunned.

"It's you."

@catmillers

[cress-meadowforge]

When the door opened, the light trickled in, illuminating the space, streaking a silvery beam down upon where Cress sat at the foot of the bed. She was leaned back, languid, one leg hinged over the next. "Hello, Cat," Cress cooed, head tilting to the side. As though it were. a simple greeting, as though it were not coming after a most brutal severing of ties, she spoke: "I've come to apologize."

@catmillers

[nano-cache]

time: april location: eleven

"It's another beautiful night in Free Eleven. I'm Pascal--" he nodded to Cat, for her to add and I'm Delphi. "We're your oracles. Thanks for listening to Vox Machina."

He flipped the switchboard, converting their output from live audio to preset sound. Dark Days music, twangy and rich. He loved listening to it, imagining the fighting that had ensued then. The people hadn't been successful -- obviously. But their efforts weren't forgotten. They were fueling the new fight now.

"Sick," Nano nodded, queuing up their loops, which played at regular intervals overnight. Vox Machina was a largely nocturnal production. After all, it was only then that they could really assess the day's damages. Count the losses. Proof the scripts. Prep the equipment -- though with how much they moved around, he missed Slate's closet. "You good to call it a night?"

@catmillers

[mack-montresor]

Well, it was a regular fucking reunion in this Tower. At this point, they were just missing Iris. Bramble was sitting up on the counter of Six, taking large laps out of an ice cream cone that had begun to melt. It hadn't even been that long. It was just hot. The summer was stickier back home. Here, it felt thin and dry. "Hey," she said, catching a stream of melt with her mouth. Bramble licked her hand where it wrapped around the cone. She made a mental note for next time: order it in a bowl. "You gonna say it's a beautiful night in Free Eleven, or are our asses worth the half-mast mad-libs treatment?"

@catmillers

[switchorionchang]

After The Curtain || Catorimas || 11/21

Sure, Orion had seen Catalina dance before, but not in such a professional setting, where a hush settled over the audience, the spotlight rightfully on her as the music lulled the audience into mesmerized stares. Her spins, the way her dance perfectly matched up with her accompaniment, and just the general flow of the whole performance felt like she was making magic to watch. Orion was one of the first people up on his feet once the spotlight lowered and the music ended, clapping enthusiastically, even if she would never see him. Feeling proud of his friend, he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet on the way out of the busy auditorium, keeping a hold of Thomas’s hand not to lose him in the crowd. He had to keep reminding himself he was in public and thus everything he was doing might reflect on Thomas, so he slowed himself in the lobby, leaning into Thomas’s ear to point out the florist set up specifically for giving bouquets to the performers.

After picking up six red roses and six white, he angled around the mingling crowd until he went to the back near the exists, slipping an attendant a little tip and asking that he go and tell Ms. Catalina Lopez that she had fans that desperately wanted to meet her. It wasn’t a lie, just a bit of a twist, so she could be surprised when she saw them standing there. Lingering by Thomas, he looked around when the door opened and when he caught Cat’s eye, he gave her a playful wink before smiling wide.

@switchcatlopez @thomassylvester

[catbot2]

[dogposts]

"maybe you could love me a little less"

[jun-hug]

our favourite spot~

print! | kofi ♡

❗Do not reupload anywhere❗

[howlingrush-krp]

As of September 30:

ATEEZ: Kim Hongjoong

ATEEZ: Choi San

[mxhlon]

Twelve always arrived later, once dusk had fallen, and the hazy fog of night rolled in. The Capitol was flat, but the land around it punctured the soil and jutted upward with white-capped peaks, even in summer. Mahlon watched them each cycle with dull curiosity. What would it be like to stand at the top? To see the Capitol as something small and insignificant below?

Tonight was a weak attempt to actualize the dream. To stand on the roof and look out over the city in the hopes of feeling nothing at the sight. Just apathy. Just aching spite. But it was never that easy, never a simple task to make peace with one's self. Mahlon pushed through the greenery, parting foliage, which gave way to flesh, to form. He exhaled, shoulders sinking.

"You got a light?"

@catmillers

[cress-meadowforge]

Eleven canons. Nearly half of the tributes already dead. And Cress was glad, glad to see them gone. Already, the odds were greatly improved, more than doubled, with Slate and Calli still alive. The day had stretched into merciful night, darkness falling on the arena, forcing the tributes to seek shelter and settle. Cress watched, until both Slate and Calli were safe -- at least relatively. Dry, at least. And then she turned away from the screen for what must have been the first time that day.

The training center was empty, not only devoid of life, but also missing quite a few of the usual features. Ones she'd destroyed. Ones Slate had wrecked too. There wasn't an urgency to replace them, at least not for another six months. Cress turned on the simulator, pulling her hair up, shifting her stance back, ready for a cleansing fight.

@catmillers

[nano-cache]

Cat hadn't earned his trust back. In fact, after having slept on it, Nano's concern only amplified. She was going off-script, saying shit that was going to get good people killed for nothing. But they were a team. Delphi and Pascal. Cat and Nano. That was how it had been for almost a year, and Nano had endeared himself to her, or maybe she'd endeared herself to him. Did it really fucking matter either way? They were collecting information for that night's broadcast: details about the ball, about the lavishness of the Capitol in the face of widespread (and spreading wider) famine, about the sponsors who were present and placing their bets on the lives of children.

"Your favorite," Nano muttered, eyes casting sideways in Orsini's direction. "Pretty sure it wouldn't take a fucking spy to dig up something absolutely sick as shit on him."

@catmillers

[torpublishinggroup]

This advertisement is for The Dead Cat Tail Assassins, a new novella from Nebula and Alex Award–winning author P. Djèlí Clark, featuring HIGH body count with LOW page count. 

WHAT’S IT ABOUT

Undead hired killers, soul-binding contracts, sharp knives, hidden identities, and sweet, sweet vengeance. This is just a snippet of what’s in store for readers in this action-packed fantasy novella. 

Eveen the Eviscerator is a skilled, powerful assassin who is sarcastic, flippant, full of quips, and with a penchant for dark humor. What’s not to love? She’s also nice with a blade, and one of the best at what she’s contracted to do. 

Ready for magic, monsters, and fantastic beasts? Then The Dead Cat Tail Assassins is your jam. 

[elementcattos]

how exactly do the kitties get around? like do they hop or slide or a secret third thing or what?

[catbot2]

[spartanlocke]

Literally obsessed with the jiggle physics on this cat from Lies of P (source)