pixieevil

When Demeter told him she was pregnant, Munkustrap practically went into shock. He was starting to think that he and Demeter would never have kittens of their own. He would have been okay with that – the tribe had more than enough kittens, and he and Demeter were always happy to babysit. When she told him, he ran the past few days through his mind. Demeter had been fine. No sickness like the other queens complained about, no extra tiredness or anything of note. He almost stuttered as he asked if she was sure, the words getting caught in his throat, tripping over his tongue. Demeter had laughed, pressing his hand against her stomach.

When something gets pointed out to you, the glass shatters, and you’re suddenly aware. Aware of everything that’s happened in the past, and of everything that could possibly happen in the future. It eats at you, threatens your sleep. Sometimes it’s so intense it renders you useless and hollow. Suddenly your every thought is dependent on that one thing. A habit. An idiosyncrasy. A change. That’s how Munkustrap felt the day Demeter told him that she was pregnant. Like his world had turned itself inside out. Suddenly, every thought, every action was focused on the kit in Demeter’s belly. His mate seemed ridic

It wasn’t a fact that was well known around the tribe, but Munkustrap suffered from days where he couldn’t leave his den, spending it locked in a haze of depression and self-doubt. He spent so much time and energy on ensuring that his tribe was kept safe and happy, and no one, except for his mate, even saw the need to watch out for him and his needs. Sometimes, he couldn’t keep it up. Couldn’t face dealing with everyone and their problems, no matter how big or small. Couldn’t deal with the constant threat of Macavity. Couldn’t even summon up the energy to leave his nest, let alone the den. On those day

It had taken Tugger a few weeks. A few weeks to learn the difference between the magical Mr Mistoffelees and the quiet, unassuming Quaxo. The shifts were subtle, hard to detect, even though they seemed to be exact opposites of each other and before he worked it out, he’d offended them a number of times. Which was painful in a number of ways, considering that Mistoffelees would publically snub him, and starting flirting shamelessly with the nearest tom (or queen, on occasion), and Quaxo would disappear, making himself impossible to find. The biggest differences Tugger had found was that Mistoffelees loved to be the centre of attention,

Their first date was awkward. Incredibly awkward. They barely spoke, stealing glances at each other and blushing a bright red each time they caught the other’s eye. Their paws accidentally touched as they made their way back to the Junkyard, and Demeter practically jumped a mile into the air, skittering over to the other side of the footpath and staying there until they finally got back to the outside fence. They’d paused there, looking shyly at each other for the first time all night, neither of them willing to beak the sudden silence. Eventually Demeter darted forward, pressing a brief kiss to Munkustrap’s cheek before r

Demeter was kidnapped by Macavity while she was just barely in her teens. She wasn’t the only one taken, but she was the only one who came back. She’d staggered back into the Junkyard weeks after they’d vanished without a trace, so skinny that they could almost count her ribs, her fur so neglected and filthy that they almost didn’t know who she was. Bombalurina had been the first one to pick her scent, pushing frantically past Munkustrap’s protective stance to catch her sister as she collapsed. Munkustrap had been the second to approach her, holding back the rest of the tribe as he scooped her limp body easily i

Mistoffelees had been hunting away from the Junkyard when the mystics had reached out to him. Macavity is here. Mistoffelees merely paused at the first touch of their minds to his, but his breath grew tight in his chest as he heard their warning. Munkustrap is hurt. Mistoffelees straightened up, abandoning his prey at their message and turning instinctively in the direction of the Junkyard, trying his hardest to catch its scent on the breeze. The mystics sent him one more word before breaking their connection, a word that caused Mistoffelees to panic and run back towards his home, no longer caring about making noise. Hurry. ~ * ~ * ~ *

Munkustrap perched at the top of one of the junk piles, forcing himself to concentrate as he watched over his tribe, nose twitching as he tried to detect any strange scents on the breeze. Alonzo leapt up beside him, and Munkustrap relaxed slightly, greeting him with a smile as he nuzzled him quickly. “Anything new?” Alonzo asked, sinking into a crouch as he glanced curiously out at the horizon. Munkustrap shook his head, taking one last glance out at the Junkyard. “Nothing unusual. It’s been quiet today.” Munkustrap informed him. “Come find me if anything changes.” Alonzo nodded, his ears flickin

Demeter had been waiting in the shadows since the ball ended. She’d made herself comfortable, knowing that Munkustrap would come and find her once he was certain that everyone was settled safely in their dens. She knew from experience how exhausted Munkustrap was after the Jellicle ball, and especially after Grizabella…. She shook her head, clearing the thought away as she looked out at the clearing below her, watching as the Jellicles began leaving slowly in pairs and small groups. She smiled slightly as she saw a nervous Victoria leaving with Plato, and waved at Bombalurina when she glanced in her direction as she padded away.

Mistoffelees “You’re a freak. You don’t deserve to live.” I woke up gasping. Another nightmare. Every time I closed my eyes, they reminded me. Through them, I relived every night of torture, every lash, cut and punch. It felt real. It always did. I wished I was dead. Life as a prisoner of Macavity was never destined to be carefree and luxurious. But ever since Macavity found out about my magic, my life as a prisoner of his had been a living hell. Every day, he'd torture me endlessly in hopes of getting me to give up my magic and transfer it to him. But I never gave it up. Day and night, he’d pull me out of m

The epic tale of Mistoffelees, Rum Tum Tugger, and their seven kittens continues! In a way. Before I launch into the true sequel story, here is a multi-part interlude of sorts, a look at the Jellicle Ball from the movie with the events of Mysterious Ways in mind. I've tried my very best to have everything fit in near-flawlessly, and I assure you I spent many hours watching the DVD to notice where Misto and Tugger were off-screen together, because I firmly believe that new parents would take every possible moment to enjoy some 'alone time' without the babies, if you know what I mean. So obviously: this fanfic WILL contain scenes of naughty, n

Tugger lost track of time. He wanted to sleep, and kept blinking the exhaustion from his eyes, but he wasn't about to drift off until he'd gotten news about Mistoffelees. It must have been way past time for bed by now; he hoped Bombalurina had managed to keep the kittens calm and sleeping. He only prayed the little things hadn't seen him carry a bleeding and writhing Mistoffelees out of the den. He could hear swatches of conversation from inside Jenny's bedroom, soft and hushed, but he took comfort in the fact that there were no screams, no urgent cries from the two queens, no sounds of distress. Once or twice, he thought he heard Mistoffele

Here is another part of the Tugger/Misto saga, following "Mysterious Ways" and "During the Ball". A warning: this fic contains some serious themes and is heavy on the angst. You may feel like giving Misto (and Tugger) a hug after it's all said and done. :( "Misto! Misto!" Mistoffelees barely had time to turn and smile before he was engulfed in a flash of snow-white limbs. Squeals and purrs rang in his ears before he managed to pry the excited Victoria's arms away from around his chest. "I just heard!" she giggled, loosening her grip just enough for her to beam a smile. "Misto, I'm so happy!" With a delicate cough, Mistoffelees gently prie

The air was hot and sticky under my fiery coat, I could feel my blood start to boil and skin start to blister. Before I would have sworn that cats couldn't sweat; it's a physical impossibility... At least that's what I thought. Claws scratched the grimy stones beneath our feet without much thought to the ear-splitting noise. We were both just too damned exhausted. Catching a glimpse of shade under the tattered overhang of a  closed-up bakery, I turned back to make sure I wouldn't be finishing my trip alone. "It's not much longer, Dem. Maybe another hour tops and we'll be home free." Head bowed low, she could practically taste the salty-sli