super cat burglar

est. 2015. mobile-friendly info here. read before interacting.

[savethewcrld]

The *only* thing that annoys me about WandaVision (literally the only thing, I love this show so much) is having Wanda/Pietro/the Maximoffs speak Russian instead of Serbo-Croatian/Bosnian. Like... y’all know they were from the Balkans, right? They weren’t born in Russia but Sokovia (which is literally in the Serbian territory). These lands never spoke Russian and never will.

I wish they put more effort in that, really. I would have died if I heard Wanda speak my language (which is also hers). At least Elizabeth Olsen has the accent down pat.

[savethewcrld]

Please Marvel re-hire Rachael Taylor to come back as Hellcat, I need the two of them together for science

[chooserofslain]

“ you know - i’d make a lot of  CHANGES  around here — ” ⚔ drinking since nov. ‘17

[lizzie-mcguire]

[savethewcrld]

cerebriius​:

        Can you imagine living for two hundred years? I bet you can. I bet you’re thinking of all the things you could achieve without having to worry about the hour glass draining. The whole world’s at your fingertips, what do you do? Travel, say that you’ve seen the seven wonders, acquire bragging rights that you’ve witness queens crowned and dictators overthrown. But how about what comes after all that? What happens when you’ve read every book and sailed every sea? You get pretty fucking bored. 

        You start to stare at the bottom of the hour glass and have no less than nine thousand existential crises. You start to feel guilty about the space your walking corpse takes up. You start to change, beginning with giving every grain of sand purpose.  

        She’s already called a cab for the victim. –Huh. Victim. There’s irony to found between the lines but we’ll touch on that later, after she’s extinguished the primal flames raging from within and the waves of remorse come rolling in. The shadows were her invisibility cloak. You won’t see her unless she wants you to. Her movements are quick, blink and you’ll surely miss her. 

        There are moments. There’s a moment where she succeeds in separating the woman from the man. There’s a moment where she steps into a pool of moonlight that brings attention to blood red eyes that reveal her true nature as she corners the perpetrator. Then there’s a moment of silence. The air is still, noise drowned by a sharp ringing that pierces. It’s fear. It’s unadulterated panic entering and filling the man’s heart. Bottom line is, even if you see them coming, you’re not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. 

        Teeth sink into a neck, penetrating a pulse. 

        The big moments are going to come, no one can help that. It’s what you do afterwards that counts. That’s when you find out who you really are. 

It all happened almost too fast for Trish to notice. She did not hear her, but her cat-seeing eyes have seen the woman as soon as she approached the duo. Attention heightened, Trish watched for mere seconds as the predator became prey to something more... ancient than she had anticipated. Her marks had bites in their neck time and time again after she had found them lying dead on the floor, but at first she refused to believe that vampires existed outside of Anne Rice books. Funny, she thought now, she had the same attitude towards hell and demons and yet...

Her amazement instantly replaced with urgency, Trish realized she was wasting too much time watching, and pulled a mask over her face before she jumped down. There wasn’t any point in hiding her identity from the apex predator, but the drugged woman might have been nearby still, and the man seemed cocky enough to sue her. If he was still alive that is.

“Let him go.” She said, landing on the concrete behind the gruesome scene but so she’s visible to the other woman. Dumb and reckless, Jessica would call it. Maybe she wouldn’t now, Trish can’t know --- it’s been years after all.

“Killing him won’t make things he did to other people any better.” Hellcat assumed it’s why the vampire tracks these specific people down. If anything, she could commend her investigative work. “They’re better off rotting in a jail cell in the middle of nowhere.” Better off for the society, certainly not for them. A heart pumped in her own chest, adrenaline rushing. She half-expected to be attacked after the man’s drained of blood, but judging by the history of vampire attacks, Trish didn’t find it likely. After all, she had fought demons off of Bobbi Morse in the Seventh Circle. She could easily do it again.

[savethewcrld]

chooserofslain​:

WHEN THE KING OF NEW ASGARD LAUGHED — it was a full, resonating sound - her eyes sliding away from Trish to watch as said goats stomped their way through the muddied farmyard noisily claiming their KINGDOM. “ I’m saying that you are trying to win over the wrong people in charge. ” her smile remained wide and sly, as she watched the other woman use the handkerchief, her stomach clenching as she brought the soft fabric across her cheek, brushing it only momentarily across her lips — the sensation was unfamiliar but not completely … unwelcome.

It was only in that moment, that the warrior realized it was the same emotion that had been there since the Midgardian had shown up at her doorstep the night before, and that it had only slowly built throughout the day. It was something distractingly pleasant and — encouraging in its warmth. The Valkyrie wanted to focus on that new, TINGLING sensation but as soon as it rose within her chest it was suddenly … marred by something much older and much more … familiar. It caught her off guard now as it ever had – the sudden spasm of guilt and regret that clenched muscles with the acknowledgement of that sigil. Suddenly, her smile faded and some of that steely, warrior like reserve returned as the Valkyrie nodded in acknowledgement, a dark strand of hair escaping her tight braid. Many on more on Midgard recognized the rune of the Valkyrior than she had thought possible – it was as heartening as it was heartbreaking each time it was correctly identified … Grief gripped her for only a moment as Trish came nearer, some of that old sadness lessoning as she caught that familiar scent of hard work and — a morning spent with ungrateful nannies.

The Valkyrie looked up at the sound of the other woman’s name, embarrassed suddenly that she had LOST herself, even if for just a moment — in that old pain. One battle hardened hand came to shield the Valkyrie’s eyes as she looked up to find Trish in the glare of the noon sun — her cheeks flushed and her eyes - brighter than the brilliant sky above them.

Words were, uncharacteristically for the King — GONE suddenly. For a moment, she could only nod, her fingers tightening around the hilt of the wooden sword that she still ( rather comically ) carried. “ —— yes, ” the word came out softer than the Valkyrie would have liked, lost for a moment on a sudden gust of wind. Clearing her throat she tried again, re - centering herself, finding that … royal bravado once more. “ Yes – you may but I wouldn’t use the word ‘ steal ’ around my … faithful subjects. ” She felt the color rise into her cheeks as she looked down to a black and white speckled kid that had wandered towards them and looked … rather interested in what might happen if she tested her tiny horns on the newcomer.

Chuckling, the Valkyrie stepped away from the fence and nodded for Trish to go — to keep the peace, resting the wooden sword on one shoulder as she took one backward step — “ Meet me at beside the hörgr at the far end of the field, ” her smile widened as she RELUCTANTLY turned away from Trish, her voice carrying over her shoulder, “ If you last that long —— ! ”

Words that had come from the Asgardian King caused heat to rise from Trish’s neck and to her face, not having expected the coy flirting to be reciprocated - at least that’s what all this looked like. The warrior had hundreds of years of practice on her, no doubt, and Trish -- a former talk show host -- found herself unable to think of a retort that would pull her back from her already flustered state. Instead, her fingers curled around the handkerchief the King made no effort to take back, and promised herself she would hold onto for as long as she is able to. Despite being focused on controlling her own adrenaline rush after the little moment, it did not escape her notice how Valkyrie’s face fell, and it took a great deal of willpower not to probe further. There might be a better place and time for that outside of a farming field.

Her own face brightened when she heard the yes --- there must have been many things that required the King’s attention, and getting to have her join her for dinner, and on the first day, too... It was another victory in a considerable list of many that morning. “Oh I don’t think they’d mind at all.” She said, eyes still focusing on Valkyrie’s smiling face, while her hand went for the scratch of the goat kid’s ears. It bleated and hopped away, making her laugh. Okay, maybe the goats were not so bad after all.

“See you,” she said, stepping further away to rejoin the boy with her eyes on the retreating figure until she disappeared, and then turned to the boy conspiratorially and asked: “Hey, what’s a hörgr?” 

...

The rest of the day was just as eventful as the morning. Asta, seeing how Trish didn’t tire as fast as she had expected, decided to teach her how to make butter and bread, all the while talking about her old home and asking about Trish’s. She seemed content to be where she is, but was curious of Midgard outside of Norway, and for the first time that day Trish didn’t feel like she was an alien among them. Asta had a nurturing streak that made Trish feel right at home even without trying, and by the time all the work was done Trish felt more elated than she ever remembered being in the recent memory. Scrubbing off the mud and sweat after the work was done in the bath improved her mood further, despite the vague feeling of nerves when thinking about seeing the King again. Asta had helped her pack all the necessary things for dinner, modest as it was, and Trish packed a blanket they would sit on in her worn backpack. It would do.

It didn’t take her long to reach the meeting place, having gotten the instructions from the stable boy that morning, and her hair was down, still slightly damp from the bath earlier. Having grown up in glamour and Dorothy always nitpicking the way she looked at any event, it was safe to say that Trish felt... inadequately dressed for the evening. She had to remind herself often that it was just a picnic dinner by the sea. Not a big deal --- at least until she saw the other approaching and felt her heart get stuck in her throat. 

“Against popular belief, I made it to the evening.” She called, eyes squinting slightly in the light of the descending sun. “Hi.” That’s all she could think of right now. It would have to do.

[savethewcrld]

@cerebriius​ plotted starter!

Stake-outs were undoubtedly the most dull part of investigation. Trish never understood how Jessica could sit in one spot, hours at a time, waiting for her mark to show up. Restless, with the adrenaline pumping through her veins more often that not, that did not come naturally to Hellcat. It was ironic, considering the main trait of cats was the ability to lounge in one spot for hours on end --- but not this one.The impatience seemed to be gnawing at her more than usual this time, though, having her mark being something else that she was used to in several years of her vigilantism -- a person or a thing that kept killing all of the people Trish had been investigating, and it was starting to get... annoying.

Propped up behind a roof light, perching on its edge like a cat, Trish’s silhouette was masked by the darkness of the street before - a street that led to a shady bar that her latest mark had been frequenting the past week. A serial rapist and wife-abuser, with the worst traits one could think of, and Trish knew that the mysterious figure would catch on eventually, too. Maybe they were also somewhere in the darkness nearby, waiting just as impatiently.

Surely enough, when the little digital clock of her fitbit showed 3:40 in the morning, the door of a bar slammed open and a burly man, stomping around in drunken stupor came out, laughing loudly with a woman under his arm. Drugged, by what Trish could see, tripping over her feet, and in danger no doubt. Still, Hellcat waited. Getting him off her, beating the shit out of him and giving an anonymous tip to the cops would take less than half an hour; but she wanted to see the mystery man, or a woman, who seemed to have all the same leads as Trish herself, and happened to be just a little quicker. The curiosity of a cat definitely held up.

[jones-jessica]

You know what, Jess? You do it your way. I’m gonna do it my way.

[savethewcrld]

So, I’ve decided to soft-boot this blog and end all threads in order to start anew, save from a few exceptions (exceptions being @chooserofslain, @worldknowshername / @partsofthemachine, @vulnerastti and @quam-plures).  If you’re not tagged but want to RP/start a new thread, like this post.

[savethewcrld]

partsofthemachine​:

TRISH (@savethewcrld) ROLLED THE DICE FOR KLAUS

“Not to make it sound like I have a problem…” Klaus waves the blonde walking towards the community center. The cigarette nearly falls from his fingers so he sticks it back between his lips. “Do you know what meeting this is? Alcoholics anonymous? Narcotics anonymous? Gamblers anonymous? My daddy put in my comic books…. I guess that one’s not so anonymous is it?”

Trish had seen him from afar even before he started speaking, and his face didn’t strike her as familiar --- the fact setting her senses on fire as she walked towards him carefully. Had he not spoken, she would have ignored him and passed by. Unfortunately for her, that wasn’t the case. “Depends on what time of day you come here.” She winced inwardly at the comic-book reference, thinking that maybe he knew who she was, her half-assed disguise be damned. “So, right now - the NA. And I’m pretty sure they’d tell you that the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.” Not like she hadn’t heard that one a dozen of times before.

[savethewcrld]

quam-plures​:

; plotted out with the ONE & ONLY TRISH WALKER

The wrapper fell to the floor, landing by her feet and then shortly thereafter another one followed. The colorful candies that were in the round glass bowl on the desk had been arranged perfectly and she just couldn’t stand looking at them without trying one. Especially because she couldn’t help but meddle whenever anything felt perfectly arranged.

 It was something she almost couldn’t control. As the door opened behind her, already knowing who it was Min-ah lazily twirled the chair with a big shit-eating grin scrawled across her face. “ Hello boss lady, don’t you look lovely today. ” The two had been working together, or better yet, Min-ah was doing little jobs here and there for her. The pay was good, and thus, she was a huge fan of Miss. Walker. As long as she got paid, she couldn’t really care who was paying her. 

                          “ So you wanted to talk to me? What’s up? New job?”

“No, Ian, I can’t tell you where my Patsy Walker DVDs are. Yeah, I don’t care that it’s your birthday next week, you’re never seeing them. No. No. No they are not at my apartment and I’d rather jump off the office building than give you that. Yeah, see you at five.” A huff through the flared nostrils and balancing what felt like a ton of paperwork in her other hand, Trish kicked the door open with her foot. When she first thought of an agency to help other supers in need, she didn’t account for the constant, self-replenishing piles of data on her desk.

Min-ah caught her off guard even though Trish had been expecting her somewhere in the back of her mind, and she returned a fleeting smile as she dropped the folders on her desk, sending a small layer of dust flying everywhere. “Min-ah. I see your sweet tooth didn’t let up just yet.” This time the smile was warmer as she finally sat down across from the other. Trish pulled out a drawer to reveal yet another folder - what a surprise - and pushed it towards the woman.

“How quickly can you find this guy for me? He’s been getting into a lot of trouble and I want to bring him into the agency as soon as possible.”

[savethewcrld]

Most of you are probably too young to remember facebook RPing days, but it was a thing, a huge thing where writing was more important than blog aesthetic. I just accessed one of my fave OCs’ profiles by jumping through 5000 hoops of forgotten emails and passwords, and almost cried when I saw the chapters of the book on her I started to write, and dead profiles of all my RP partners who cared about plotting and didn’t abandon threads halfway through and whom I’ve known for years (and still know and keep contact with). Sometimes I want to go back to the FB RP community, if one still exists, since tumblr’s obsession with how everything looks vs the writing itself is killing my muse y’all.

[savethewcrld]

for Hellcat’s space goddess: @chooserofslain

When the sun refuses to shine,                      I will still be loving you.

When mountains crumble to the sea,                          There will still be you and me.

[savethewcrld]

chooserofslain​:

BROWS ROSE & THE VALKYRIE LIFTED HER FREE HAND — caught as a witness & throughly amused that she had such LUCK. With a click of her tongue, she took a step towards the freshly patched fence & grinned, her own face covered in specks of mud, her hair … sea tossed. “ I am proud to say that my timing is, as always — impeccable. ”

With one worn boot resting on the bottom rung of the fence, the Valkyrie brought the wooden sword to rest on her thigh as she fished out a worn handkerchief from the back pocket of her jeans. It was a sturdy thing, blue & white gingham, with swirls of gold & deep blue stitched into each of the four corners along with a symbol — simple in its depiction of wings & an all seeing eye — stood out in silver thread at one end. It was offered CASUALLY - catching the wind it gave off the scent of lavender & leather.

“ If you don’t find yourself BESTED by goats on your very first day — then you wouldn’t be having the full — experience, ” leaning back with her leg still propped up, she smiled & allowed the wind to stroke down her own sweat soaked back, a moment of relief from a day that was only … just barely at its zenith. Eyes fluttered closed & the Valkyrie took a deep breath of sea tinged air — “ They resent our coming I think — ” she opened one eye & smiled knowingly at Trish, “ This is goats land & we — have the audacity to take it from them & then start … milking them ? The gall ! ” She shook her head in mock irritation before she brought one foot from the fence & swapped it with the other — the position affording much needed relief.

Dark eyes remained on the Midgardian for a few moments, the sounds that made up LIFE on New Asgard filling the silence between them. Finally, the warrior smiled & tilted her head to one side, eyes dropping & searching the farm yard for the offending goat —

“ You won’t hold one difficult day against us, I hope, ” the Valkyrie was not sure why she suddenly cared so completely, this woman was a Midgardian, a visitor … a STRANGER. & while she wanted all in her kingdom to be content, there was suddenly a certain twinge of something more that betrayed her — something newly exposed that didn’t want Trish to leave … too soon. Eyes returned to the other woman & her expression shifted, more introspective some how, as if she saw more of Trish than just dirt & — freckles. “ But … I don’t imagine that Trish Walker would give up … so easily … ”

Once the King smiled, Trish could feel the pang of shame replaced by a pang of something else. It took her no time to notice the tousled hair and a speck of mud above her brow, and even less time to mirror the smile that was sent her way. “Impeccable timing, huh? Yeah, It’s totally something a leader should have.” Smile wider and a murmur of thanks, Trish took the handkerchief, the scent of lavender and leather --- the same one that Valkyrie’s living room had ---- caused warmth in her stomach and her cheeks a little, and it was a welcome change compared to the stench of manure and goat milk. She dabbed a couple of sweat droplets on her forehead and closed her eyes while doing so, unable to stifle a laugh at the warrior’s words.

“So the goats are the real victims here and I should under no circumstances blame them for this. Gotcha.” Grinning, Trish was holding onto the handkerchief a little while longer, and her eyes moved from the woman to the inscription, delicately woven into the fabric. Her thumb trailed over the stitching absentmindedly when she looked up.  “I think I’ve seen this symbol before.” It had been mentioned in some of the books she sifted through before heading for New Asgard, and it didn’t escape her notice, etched on King’s forearm. Google had told her more details that she did not repeat --- after all, the Valkyrie standing in front of her probably knew more about it than any mythology geek out there. “I love it.” Much like everything else around here; except for that one specific goat. Fuck that goat.

Unsure whether it’s appropriate to give back the handkerchief she just dabbed her face with, and doubting it’s been given to her for keeps, precious as it is, Trish walked closer to the fence and rested her hand on top of it, willing herself to be nearer the King, suddenly needing to do so. Her head tilted to the side a little bit, eyes squinting, and extended her other hand with handkerchief in it to Valkyrie. “Don’t worry, I won’t give up--- Even after stepping in different kinds of poop since this morning, this is the best time I had in a while.” Earnest.

Barely managing to peel her eyes off the king, Trish looked toward the place where the blue sky met the dark sea, feeling her spirits lifted and anxiety, the ever-present constant in her life, almost completely gone, replaced with the good kind of nervousness she did not quite understand yet. Or did understand, but refused to acknowledge because of its improbability. “Can I ask for one thing, though, something that wouldn’t make it to a TripAdvisor review?” The boy who went chasing after the goats was calling back for Trish, and she took a step back, ready to go back to work, but not breaking the King’s gaze when she met it again. 

“Would it be appropriate for a newcomer to steal the King for dinner later today? Asta told me about a place I saw from the infields today, and I’d love it if you came with me after the work’s done.”

[savethewcrld]

vulnerastti​:

        The roof. Gaze wanders up towards the ceiling without her head tilting too much, eyes squinting as gears churn. The roof. Huh. Okay. “Noted.” Mentally jotted down on one of the various neon colored post-its spread about her mind palace. “I frequent the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane and I’ve been targeted more than I’d like by a specific escapee. It never occurred to me to check any points of entry via the roof. So,” a pause, a breath, a raise of brows, catching her own over-share while that breath stayed captive in the center of throat before releasing it. “Thank you for the suggestion.” Catnip for serial killers, that’s what they called her. 

        But she’s moving to the fridge tucked below her desk to retrieve a bottle of water as well as swiping a folder from one of the draws before returning back to the blonde. Arm extends and she’s handing over the water first. “There aren’t any rules being broken here,” she assures as she goes to take a seat on the actual cushion part of the couch, taking up the space beside the other. “Police reports are public property.” The folder sits in her lap, ankles crossed neatly, fingers working to open and flip. “The rest is my own information that I’ve personally gathered and have chosen to share. No one is in trouble, especially me.” Voice remains a soft monotone, meant to reassure once again and provide comfort when you go to take a breath of the air that surrounds. “I’ll reiterate by saying I work with the bureau, not for them. They wouldn’t have a case if it weren’t for what’s in this file.” Fine China. She can’t help but to repeat it like a mantra. 

        “We can start with the photos.” It takes her a moment to thumb through papers until a set of photographs are plucked free from a stack. “These are from the first initial murder. Do you remember how I said there were two suspects but the same crime?” Two artists, one masterpiece. “This proves it.” She shifts a little, angling her body and lifting the snapshots to allow the blonde a better view. “The entry and exit points created different strokes.” A beat, a nod of her head as she searches for a better use of words. “The spatters on the wall,” she explains. “These aren’t as refined as the ones we saw tonight. The ones from today were cleaner, more precise. Surgical. It’s details like this that are often overlooked by the blind eye.” Another pause, a brief glance up to read the other’s face, indulging in her awful bad habit of attempting to read thoughts too. “Do you believe me?” Eyes tick, tick, tick across that face she has focused in her line of sight. Half desperate, half hopeful. 

        She knows she’s different. But she isn’t insane. Not yet. 

     Trish’s eyes linger on Alana’s small frame for a moment too long, brain trying to process the amount of information she keeps getting. Hospital for the Criminally Insane? There’s definitely more than meets the eye when it comes to Alana Bloom, and Trish finds herself suddenly invested, more than she intended to be at first. It’s a huge thing, considering she couldn’t even get invested in the same lunch place for months now. “I can help you, if you want.” It’s said with a shrug of shoulders, nonchalant. “Foolproof this place. I’m not saying the security people aren’t good at their job, but they don’t think like- ” Cats. “Burglars, super ones.” Trish has gotten into way too many places through the roof, and the city is definitely not catching up yet.

     Grateful, Trish opens the bottle and drinks, the cold feeling washing over her in an instant, calming down her frayed nerves and the adrenaline spikes she’s still not fully put under control. There wasn’t much time for training when real life was insane enough as it is. She’d correct that later. When Alana sits down, Trish leans over and focuses on the photos. “Oh my god.” She can feel her stomach do the somersaults at the sight --- not that she is squeamish, maybe less so than a couple of years ago --- but these crime scenes are unlike anything she has seen so far, barring the one that Alana showed her an hour ago.

     A blink, and two, as Trish takes over the photo and looks it over, as if mesmerized by the gore and details that spring from the scene the longer she looks, but is nodding along to what Alana is saying. There’s definitely a difference, even though she wouldn’t have noticed if the other had not pointed it out. “I believe you.” Finally the blues look up to find the other looking at her and smiles a little bit. “Why do you think they’re doing this? The copy-cat? I’ve heard about a lot of messed up things people will do for courtship” Exhibit one, Kilgrave, and the thought sends shivers down her spine, “but I gotta admit this is by far the worst.”

[misbeharchived-deactivated20230]

ind. sel. multimuse ft.  twilight,  twd,  616,  deathless,  vtm,  good omens & more.  by rob.

[perilousxrealm]

Together we will take the road that leads into the West, 

And far away will find a land where both our hearts may rest.”

                            (featuring muses from Tolkien Legendarium,                                                                          Norse Mythology, Marvel and others.)