#Żyleta cats

[per-the-jellicle-magician]

Macavity and his henchqueens kidnapping Old Deuteronomy

Grzegorz Suski as Macavity, as henchqueens mostly likely Dorota Krupska-Narloch (Mamrotka) as Recydywa and Beata Duda (Ectetera) as Żyleta

Photo from Cats Warsaw book

[theimpossiblescheme]

The Spirit That Negates

(This time Foxfire and Zephyra (who will be making another appearance on Saturday herself!) are getting their chance for @bombawife‘s OC week.  Trigger warning for violence, blood, and mind manipulation toward the end.)

Zephyra knew she shouldn’t be listening to this.  She valued her own neck too much to get into the boss’s business.  But when Macavity came back from the Junkyard in a bigger rage than she’d ever seen, storming into the back room of the Mouser’s Palace with electricity crackling off his fur, her curiosity got the better of her.

The first thing he did was tear the place apart.  A hellish, frustrated scream tore from the back of his throat, setting Zephyra’s teeth on edge, as he lashed out with his claws at everything he could reach.  Curtains, empty crates, old ledgers–none of it was safe.  The ground was a shredded mess as the hurricane subsided, and Macavity stood in the middle of it panting.  Fury in his face, eyes wide and staring, but seeing nothing.  Zephyra held her breath and remained very still behind the crack in the door.

“I know you can hear me!” Macavity cried after a moment’s stillness, and Żyleta was never so relieved to see his back turned to her.  “Show yourself, you thieving bastard!”

“Thieving?”  A new voice rang out, and both their heads whipped around to see another cat where there hadn’t been before, lounging casually on an uninjured crate.  “Don’t tell me we need to go over all that again, do we?  You lot do have such short memories.”  At first glance, this new arrival didn’t seem so remarkable–just another tabby with gold fur.  But she’d never seen such markings on his face and pelt, like…painted red and black ink to cover up the sculptor’s mistakes.  Too strangely purposeful for an ordinary coat pattern.  And there was something… insubstantial about him as well.  Blurred around the edges, like he was caught between this world and someplace else.  All at once, every rumor Zephyra ever heard about Macavity’s patron–some Fae creature he’d taken his powers from–came rushing back to her and ripped her between fascination and fear.

Macavity’s rage did not subside.  A growl built in his chest as he seized the new cat by pawfuls of chest fur, yanking him upright and sending his head snapping painfully backward.  “I had them–”

“Oh, did you now?” the gold tom drawled, utterly unmoved.  Macavity ignored him and barreled on.

“I had Deuteronomy in chains, I had Demeter under my power, I had the rest of them cowering in the shadows, and what did you do?”  His grip tightened until his claws should have drawn blood.  “You revoked my power when I needed it most!  You made me look like a fool in front of the entire Junkyard!”

“Well, of course–it wouldn’t be any fun to take it away sooner.”

His growl reaching its apex until it filled the room like thunder, Macavity threw the gold tom violently against the crate.  His spine bent with the impact so that it should have broken in two, and Zephyra barely kept herself from flinching.  “Why?  Why do you delight in tormenting me like this?”

“Answered your own question, I’d say, haven’t you?”  Peeling himself from the crate, spine somehow still whole and undamaged, the gold tom merely shook out his fur and smiled.  Splinters fell from his back like water off a duck.  “You are delightful when you lose your temper like this–it’s adorable, frankly.”

“Have I not proved myself by now?” Macavity demanded.  Sparks still flew from his fur, and his unsheathed claws were jagged and rough.  “Do I not deserve the power you gave me to begin with?  What more must I do to convince you?”

“Oh, you know it doesn’t work like that,” the gold tom replied with the exaggerated patience of a tired parent to his kitten.  “You said so yourself–power has to be taken.  Really, I deserve some credit for humoring you all these years.”

A faint zap ran down the length of Macavity’s tail as he loomed over him, grabbing his chin none too gently and forcing him to make eye contact.  “If you were less than what you are,” he sneered, “I would have you gutted for mocking me like this.”  And he let go just as roughly, the gold tom’s head jerking to one side while he remained unmoved.  “I do not need you.  I can find the magic I need anywhere else–”

“Is that so?  You think you can find another alleyway with another kindly spirit waiting around for some young upstart to help himself to some magic?  Without so much as a by-your-leave, I might add?”

“If I bested you as little more than a kitten, I can certainly do better now!”

“Mm… that isn’t quite how I remember it going.”  Zephyra watched as the gold tom slowly walked forward, actually forcing Macavity backward and giving himself enough room to trace a wide, winding path around him.  “I just happened to be hanging about on the street where you found me.  You just happened to be looking for a scrap, so what could I do but indulge you?  And when you demanded some satisfaction, I just happened to be in a generous mood myself.”  He was such a small cat in comparison, and there was such a long space between them, yet somehow Macavity looked like a rat in a trap, eyes never leaving the meandering circle.  Never daring to look away.  “You’ve come this far on a combination of sheer dumb luck and my own goodwill.  I should think a little gratitude is due… and perhaps some humility.”

“You dare to question what I’ve built?”  Something a little less than fury rumbled through Macavity’s voice now.

“Oh, not at all,” the gold tom hummed.  He hadn’t deigned to look Macavity in the face before now, and Zephyra wondered for a moment at the color of his eyes.  Like the inside of a fire.  “No, I’m sure your little toadies here stay for your sparkling personality.  To say nothing of your kept beauties–pity you couldn’t keep them after all, could you?”

At this, Macavity finally had enough.  With another impotent roar, he charged with claws and teeth at the ready.  But just as quickly as he’d arrived, the gold tom was nowhere to be found.  And before she could move away from the door, Macavity found his outlet, thundering out of the room and throwing Zephyra to the ground.  She could feel the blood across her shoulders and the last of her silk bow unraveling before the pain even registered.

“How long were you listening?” he hissed, leaning over her and pressing her head to the ground.  The tips of his claws pressed at the soft of her ear as if to pierce it through.

Between her dignity and her life, it was no choice at all.  “Just a few minutes, I swear!  I–”  Her head suddenly filled with the buzzing of radio static, of a thousand bees, of her own brain threatening to boil itself.  As the terrible noise reached a crescendo, Macavity’s voice cut through it, calm as ever.

“Get back to your post.  These corridors are dangerous, and you should know better than to wander off.  It won’t happen again.”

Gently lifting away his paw, he let her up.  Zephyra nodded once before patting down her fur and making her way back down the hallway.  Silly of her, really, to try and peek in on an empty room.

[godnattakatta]

so i went looking through the wiki for AJ pictures since i wanted to make a design for her. and i noticed something slightly interesting:

in the design for her, she has neither shoulder fluff or a warmer on her right arm.

and in a later picture, from 1997, she clearly has both fluff and warmer

but in 1990 she doesn’t have the warmer but possibly the shoulder fluff.

im not sure why they changed it and that's not what i want to talk about - i'm going with the original design and my own headcanons and i'm saying that when she lived with macavity her arm got burnt badly so that no fur can grow there anymore (probably by Macavity himself) and that's why she has no fluff there.

[lieulie]

ㅤ  @bvrttie​  said:

⭐️, 🌈, 🤗, 💙, 💚, 🦄, 👽, 🤙, 🔥 (żyleta), 😊, 💘, 🐱, 🍀, 😇, 💎, 🐒, 👍

ㅤ ⋆  ･ﾟㅤㅤ 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐉𝐈𝐒 ㅤ · · · ㅤ całkowicie serduszko połaskotane, proszę je teraz porwać do siebie, bo dopiero z takim obrotem spraw będzie ono szczęśliwe. dalej jestem w najpotężniejszym wzruszeniu, że chciało ci się tak dzielnie stukać wszystkie znaczki, autentycznie łza z policzka została starta. widać kto zasługuje na miano najlepszej dziewczynki na świecie, dawaj mi ten cudowny dzióbek, bo czas najwyższy nadrobić braki.

i have a platonic crush on you, i’m gay for you,  you’re cute, you’re pretty cool, let’s get a cat, given the chance i would gladly hug you, you are my closest friend, you’re adorable,   you’re out of this world, you’re hot, you’re funny, your blog makes me smile, i love you so much,  i’m lucky to have met you, you are fun to be around, you’re a sweet cinnamon bun  &  your blog is pretty.

[per-the-jellicle-magician]

Loose thought: Bombalurina being friends with Recydywa and Żyleta, and them stying friends and even after Bomba left Macavity

Mac may try to kill Alonzo and chase around with Munk, she's gonna have girls night with her pals and Will get from them half of Mac's future plans

[per-the-jellicle-magician]

Since i cant tell Warsaw henchqueens apart cuz there's literally no good photos of them, I decided to headcanon them as identical twins

Two badass criminal ladies who can and will kill you

So now i got Chaos Twins, Physic Twins and Evil Twins

[godnattakatta]

felt so certain that i was gonna mess up the colours so actually proud that i didn't, bless

[theimpossiblescheme]

How about...9 with Alonzo and Bombalurina (and Demeter if you'd like to add her!)

Whenever Macavity invited someone to join him at a conference, the safest place they could be was by the back doors, as far from his side as possible.  Alonzo learned this quickly, and as an enforcer he had that luxury.  He could stay stationed on the far side of the room, listening from a distance to the low rumble of Macavity’s voice and the cacophony of accompanying voices—low-level criminals from all over London, petty burglars sharing stolen meat with cut-throats who carved it up with bloodstained claws—as they discussed their plans.  Sure, it often meant he had to deal with Cesare’s dryly “hilarious” commentary or Żyleta’s jealous muttering as they stood beside him, but for the most part he could actually hear what was going on.  He’d strain to listen for key phrases or watch Macavity’s posture at the table when the topic of conversation changed and file those choice tidbits away for the future.  If he couldn’t make use of them, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer absolutely could.

Demeter and Bombalurina never had that luxury.  As the Mystery Cat’s “kept beauties”, their place was always right at his side, practically in his lap.  And every time without fail, he would lay one paw at the napes of their necks in a proprietary, almost tender gesture, with his claws itching gently into their fur. So simple… and to hear Deme and Bomba tell it, so devastating.  From the moment he made contact, their ears and minds would be full of wasps and static, an infernal buzzing that drowned out all other noise.  They couldn’t possibly overhear anything said at the conference, and they could never dream of fighting back against such an assault to the senses—it kept them docile.  Defenseless. Dependent.

And Alonzo was never close enough to help them.  All he could do was listen even closer to what they never could.

Of course, that faraway safety wasn’t always guaranteed.  There was one evening after Macavity adjourned the meeting and saw all his visitors off that he sidled over to the back door, casual as anything, and sliced at Alonzo’s face with his claws as if he were simply tearing open a sack. Cesare snickered and Żyleta visibly stiffened as their boss fixed his claws around Alonzo’s jaw and yanked his head upward, heedless of the blood.

“I keep you around as an enforcer, not an eavesdropper,” he sneered before dragging open the scratches a few more inches as he let go.  “This won’t happen again.”

When Alonzo staggered down to the cellar, Deme was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs, gathering him up in her arms and nuzzling gently at his bleeding face.  Bomba glared up toward the ballroom before putting a paw at his back and helping him sit down against one of the crates.  And for a moment, the sour tang of guilt in his throat hurt worse than the scratches… these two had suffered far worse than a cut face.  He was a grown tom, he could handle himself, he should be the one comforting them instead of the other way around…

“Jerrie’s offered to report for us instead,” Bomba was saying as she settled beside them.  “He and Teazer know how to hide if they need to—it’ll be a lot safer.”  Her tone was casual, but her brows still knitted tightly over somewhat foggy eyes, as if the ringing in her ears still hadn’t cleared.

That, too, hurt more than Alonzo could describe.  “I’m sorry… both of you.”  It was all he could manage before the rest of the words dried up in his throat.

She didn’t reply, but as her eyes started to clear he could see the understanding in them.  On his other side, Deme’s paws curled tighter into his fur.  None of them could articulate everything that had happened at tonight’s conference… it was all too much, far too soon.

At the very least, he supposed, they weren’t alone.  However small a comfort that was right now.

[theimpossiblescheme]

Oh, man, I'm late to this but I saw this one and I just...10 with Alonzo and Mungojerrie (and Rumpleteazer)?

“I trust you’ll be attending tonight’s conference, Alonzo?”  Macavity phrased it as a question, but everyone knew there was only one answer he’d accept.

So Alonzo squared his shoulders accordingly and tightened his jaw as he nodded.  “Somebody’s gotta watch the doors.  Make sure these… pampered shorthair types don’t try to sweet-talk their way out of a deal.”

The Mystery Cat smiled—at least, he turned up the sides of his mouth and flashed his teeth—and gave his own nod in response.  “Good answer, dear boy.  Now if you’d be so kind as to send for Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer—”

“They won’t be attending.”

One scarlet brow quirked upward, and Alonzo knew it could mean a number of things.  Genuine confusion was rare, dry sarcasm likely, and scornful displeasure most common.  “Oh?”

“Word on the street’s they went and got themselves caught.  One of Scotland Yard’s police dogs.”  The lie slipped out of him so naturally, he wondered if he should be worried, but right now there were bigger things at stake.  Of course, he betrayed none of this and only gave a wry smirk.  “Guess it’s what they get for lyin’ down on the job. Especially a job for you.”

“Hm… it would hardly be the first time,” Macavity drawled.  “And I suspect it shan’t be the last.  I do wonder sometimes why I keep them in my employ…”

“’Cause they’re the only ones dumb enough to go into Pollicle turf?” Alonzo ventured.

“It’s not a question of intelligence.  It’s a question of how much one is willing to dirty one’s fur with their blood.”  His tone was so nonchalant, so bloodless as he briefly unsheathed one jagged claw for effect, that Alonzo felt his ears pin against his skull in spite of himself.  “I suppose I shall have to bail them out tomorrow morning.”

“I can take care of that, sir.”

“Oh, no—I shall need you at my side in case of further incidents after tonight.  Żyleta will go to the station after them.”

“… With all due respect, do you think Żyleta can really hold her own against police dogs?  She didn’t do so well in the last Soho skirmish, and I know that area better than she does.  I’ll be fine.”

For a moment, Macavity studied him through narrowed gold eyes, and Alonzo stayed stock-still under the gaze he’d grown uncomfortably familiar with.  Finally, he averted it.  “Very well.  But you will not stay out for more than an hour.  I do have an organization to run, you understand.”

“I do understand. Thank you, sir.”

Macavity waved a paw at him and turned on his heel.  “Upstairs, the Mouser’s Palace ballroom, tonight at eight.  You will be on time.”  The click click click of his nails against the hardwood floor followed him out of the room, and Alonzo felt his spine turn to jelly as he relaxed.  That had gone better than he anticipated.  Shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears—a constant remnant of Macavity’s presence—he slipped over to one of the crates lining the walls of the cellar and pried it open.  “All right, you two, the coast is clear.”

Rumpleteazer spent no time in latching herself onto Alonzo’s waist and hugging tightly, and Mungojerrie’s grinning face popped up behind her before he clambered out himself.  “Thanks for the cover, mate—I really owe you one. Can’t have any of our marks recognizing us at a conference, y’know?”

“Maybe if you weren’t so clumsy, Vincenzio wouldn’t have recognized you at all,” Alonzo sniped back. It was just like them, to burgle one of their boss’s business partners right before a major meeting.  Just their brand of brave stupidity.

Jerrie didn’t seem too bothered, but his grin did take on a somewhat sheepish edge.  “Ah, well… you win some, you lose some, eh?  Either way, thanks a lot.  You really did save us a lot of trouble.”

“Yeah, well, don’t make me regret saving you.”  But he couldn’t force that much bite into his voice.  Not with Teazer still hugging him like this—it was impossible to be truly angry at her, at least.  And the two of them were helping Demeter, so he needed them alive.  That was how he rationalized it.  And as he pried Teazer’s paws away and let the duo scamper off, he felt an odd heaviness in his chest watching them… though not a completely unpleasant feeling.

It definitely wouldn’t be the last time, he knew that much.  Maybe he should dread that prospect more than he did.

“Thanks again!”  Teazer called behind her in a loud stage-whisper and blew a playful kiss in Alonzo’s direction.  This time, Alonzo only raised a paw.  Think nothing of it.

[theimpossiblescheme]

Official Cats wiki on the Warsaw 2004 production: Żyleta is the name of one of the henchcats, at first it was played by Etcetera's actress, then it was changed.

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