#˗ˏˋ arc I . ››› 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈 𝙱𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂 .

[felinoir-a]

@riselazarus asked: ❛ Well… you’re not a picture of normalcy yourself. ❜

𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙵𝙰𝚄𝚇,   𝙾𝚄𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙶𝙴𝙳   𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙶𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽   𝙿𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙵𝚄𝙻𝙻𝚈   𝙾𝙱𝚅𝙸𝙾𝚄𝚂      —      the   overexaggerated   gasp   coupled   with   the   clutching   of   ropes   of   actual   [   and   pilfered   ]   pearl   necklaces   at   her   throat   completed   the   mocking   image   of   a   woman   affronted.   The   Cat   had   already   gotten   her   prizes   for   the   night,   satchel   bulging   with   the   weight   of   the   contents   of   several   safes,   precious   stones   glittering   from   wrists   to   elbows   in   a   flashy   mimicry   of   armbraces.  

❝      Better   to   be   a   catgirl   than   a   dweeb   in   a   red   helmet.      ❞      The   melodramatic   act   melting   to   a   mischievous   grin   and   glowing   eyes,   metallic   claws   dropping   to   glide   against   the   bracelets.   Sirens   screamed   in   the   distance,   just   barely   audible   over   the   ear-piercing   screech   of   the   diamond   exchange’s   security   alarm.   She   would   only   two   to   three   minutes   to   escape   the   general   vicinity   of   the   heist,   if   she   wanted   to   avoid   the   hassle   of   a   police   chase.  

Even   if   it   means   she   has   to   deal   with   an   unknown   to   her   would-be   vigilante.

❝      As   delightful   as   this   has   been,   babe   —      ❞   The   blonde   thief   takes   several   steps   back,   creeping   purposefully   to   the   edge   of   the   building   as   the   grappling   hooks   whirred   underneath   the   priceless   jewelry.         ❝      —   I’m   afraid   I’m   gonna   have   to   cut   this   short.      ❞

[felinoir-a]

   𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙴𝙵   𝚆𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙴𝙳   𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷   𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚁𝚈   𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃,   a   noxious   concoction   that   seared   along   the   tender   insides   of   her   ribs   as   the   realization   sunk   in.   The   sabbaticals   had   been   nothing   new,   sometimes   waking   to   a   cold   and   empty   house   for   weeks   on   end   only   to   receive   an   apologetic   call   and   a   cheap   bouquet,   though   it   hadn’t   been   needed.   She   knew   she   was   out   of   her   depth,   well   and   truly   in   the   thick   of   unknown   territory   with   one   James   Buchanan   Barnes   after   she   had   double   crossed   a   benefactor   and   stolen   him   away   to   set   him   free.   But   Felicia   was   a   sucker   for   strays   and   figuratively   and   literally   threw   herself   into   helping   him   put   himself   back   together   again.

𝑩𝒖𝒕   𝒊𝒕   𝒉𝒂𝒅   𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏   𝒕𝒘𝒐   𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔   (and   four   months,   one   week,   five   days)   .   .   .

It   was   impossible   to   tell   if   it   was   a   snarl   or   a   sob   that   tore   from   her   throat,   clawed   hands   reaching   for   whatever   was   nearby   to   throw      —      a   lamp,   followed   by   a   vase   full   of   artfully   arranged   fake   flowers,   then   book   after   book   after   book.   𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓   𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅   𝐖𝐀𝐒   𝐀𝐍   𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓   𝐅𝐔𝐄𝐋,   for   the   winter   haired   woman   didn’t   stop   throwing   items   in   his   general   direction   until   she   had   collapsed   to   the   floor,   vision   blurred   and   cheeks   wet   and   throat   hoarse   from   what   she   could   only   guess   to   be   screams   or   sobs   or   both.

❝      Y-you   piece   of   fuckin’   shit!   S-swear   to   God   if   this   is   another   d-dream,   ‘m   reviving   your   dead   ass   and   killin’   you   again!      ❞

𝙷𝙴  𝙷𝙰𝙳  𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂  𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽  𝙰  𝙼𝙰𝙽  𝙾𝙵  𝙵𝙴𝚆  𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳𝚂  ,  but  even  with  what  little  he  had  ,  nothing  seemed  as  though  it  would  suffice  in  this  situation  .  He  was  a  victim  of  his  own  fear  ,  his  own  mind  –  but  sometimes  ,  it  paid  to  be  paranoid  .  𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐓𝐎  𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑  𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓  𝐀  𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄  .  It  had  been  a  long  two  years  ,  little  to  no  contact  with  the  external  world  ,  and  the  people  he  cared  about  most  had  been  caught  in  the  crossfire.    (  𝙁𝙀𝙇𝙄𝘾𝙄𝘼  𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙇𝙐𝘿𝙀𝘿  ) He’d  never  quite  mastered  the  art  of  facing  his  past  –  let  alone  when  the  past  had  a  face  he  so  adored  .  Nevermind  when  the  sound  of  a  door  opening  triggered  reflexes  he  couldn’t  seem  to  tame  ,  and  sure  ,  old  habits  die  hard  ,  but  the  solitude  only  seemed  to  amplify  them  further  .  He  lowered  the  barrel  . “  .  .  .  𝐖𝐇𝐎  𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃  𝐈𝐓’𝐒  𝐀  𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓  ?  ”    is  what  he  settled  on  ;  playful  ,  and  stupidly  so  .  Geez  ,  maybe  an  apology    (  𝑶𝑹  𝑺𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳  )    would  be  a  good  idea  right  about  now  ,  genius  .  He  was  biting  his  tongue  ,  trying  to  gauge  a  reaction  .      “  You  know  ,  you  really  should  up  the  security  on  this  place  ,  last  I  heard  ,  there  was  a  thief  on  the  loose  ,  𝗮𝗻𝗱  𝘀𝗵𝗲’𝘀  𝗼𝗻𝗲  𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗹  𝗼𝗳  𝗮  𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵  𝗰𝗮𝘁  .  ”

The  air  in  his  lungs  grew  stale  ,  trapped  –  he  was  holding  his  breath  ,  gaze  softening  with  his  focus  .  𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦  𝗛𝗔𝗗  𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗡  𝗔  𝗕𝗔𝗗  𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗔  .    𝗬𝗢𝗨  𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗’𝗩𝗘  𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗬𝗘𝗗  𝗔  𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗧  .                                       “  .  .  .  I’m  sorry  .  ”    𝑭𝒐𝒓  𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈  . 

[felinoir-a]

𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝙰𝙽𝙳   𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙳𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝚆𝙰𝚂   𝙽𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙰𝙻   𝚃𝙾   𝙱𝙾𝚃𝙷   𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚁   𝙰𝙽𝙳   𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙴𝙵.   Both   needed   to   study   their   prey,   needed   to   cling   to   shadows   and   various   camouflages   to   creep   close,   and   needed   to   time   their   strikes   for   the   precise   moment   that   their   quarry   was   the   most   unguarded.   Self   preservation   was   one   of   the   most   important   survival   skills,   but   the   felid   was   not   about   to   give   up   her   prize   and   potentially   her   place   on   the   food   chain   so   easily   to   a   schmuck   in   an   oversized   red   helmet.

𝐁𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄,   𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘   𝐂𝐀𝐓   𝐇𝐀𝐒   𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒.

❝      .   .   .   is   this   your   first   time,   sweet   cheeks?      ❞   The   native   Queens   accent   that   was   so   carefully   masked   slipped   through   in   her   irritation,   citrine   eyes   narrowed   from   her   position   in   the   vents.   Few   in   Gotham   had   the   talent   or   the   fortitude   to   take   a   job   ripping   off   the   Falcone's   under   the   old   man's   roof,   all   of   whom   the   Cat   would   have   recognized   on   sight,   but   this   was   a   newcomer   and   she   was   not   impressed   with   what   she   had   seen   so   far.     ❝      Popping   your   cherry   with   something   this   big   is   gonna   hurt.      ❞  

♡ @riselazarus

[felinoir-a]

𝙰   𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙷   𝙵𝚄𝙻𝙻   𝙾𝙵   𝚁𝙰𝚉𝙾𝚁𝚂   𝙰𝙽𝙳   𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙲𝙻𝙸𝙲𝙺   𝙾𝙵   𝙰   𝙷𝙰𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁   𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴   𝙷𝙸𝚂   𝙰𝙽𝚂𝚆𝙴𝚁.   Cats   are   an   elegant   species   that   often   preferred   the   neatest   solutions   to   their   problems,   but   certain   situations   called   for   examples   to   be   made.   Something   about   Gotham's   smog   thick   air   heated   her   blood   to   boiling,   drawing   out   a   viciousness   that   didn't   exist   on   the   other   side   of   the   river   in   New   York.   On   edge,   short   on   patience,   temper   frayed—  

𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃   𝐘𝐎𝐔   𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓   𝐀   𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅   𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋   𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘   𝐂𝐀𝐓?

❝      You   really   wanna   make   that   bet,   Red?      ❞   Slitted   pupils   blown   wide   and   head   cocked   to   the   side,   the   Black   Cat   was   nothing   but   taut,   lethal   lines   and   malicious   intent.   The   explosion   had   seared   her   skin   through   the   suit,   leather   clinging   painfully   to   rapidly   welting   skin,   but   the   grip   on   the   .44   Magnum   didn't   waiver.   She'd   risked   her   skin   for   this   damn   job   and   she   sure   as   shit   wouldn't   be   letting   a   cocky   upstart   in   a   stupid   helmet   separate   her   from   her   prize.     ❝      Because   I   can   guarantee,   you   aren't   lucky   enough   to survive   playing   with   me.      ❞     

@batagonist asked : you're not going to shoot me.

[felinoir-a]

@saintedevil cont.

𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙱𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙳 𝙳𝙴𝙴𝙳 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁. The thing she whipped out to push back on accusations from the Spider that she’s the bad girl that others make her out to be, that proves that she’s more than just a greedy, selfish, self-serving thief. It wasn’t something she normally allowed herself to get involved in, the run of the mill dealings of organized crime if there wasn’t something in it for her. But something tugged at her heart strings, eavesdropping as she pilfered the contents of their wall safe —— pocketing the sole USB drive as plans were discussed to disappear a local lawyer.

The Cat was practically playing hero  [  it made her want to gag  ]  .

❝  Rumor has it that you’re representing a witness to a crime allegedly committed by a particularly nasty little Russian crew. And allegedly . . .  ❞  The blonde thief reaches to tangle her fingers with his, clandestinely pressing the USB drive into the palm of his hand with a firm squeeze. It was easy to keep her words quiet when she was leaning heavily into his side, pressing close like they were lovers instead of two strangers on the street. ❝  They think that they can convince you to talk.  ❞

She nudged him closer to the center of the bustling sidewalk, ignoring the glares of other pedestrians. Her hand slid back up to the crux of his elbow, turning to beam at the lawyer she had accosted. ❝  Spend much time in Queens lately, babe? I think it might be more your speed than the Kitchen is these days.  ❞

[felinoir-a]

❝      𝚈𝙾𝚄   𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳   𝙱𝙴   𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴   𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙴𝙵𝚄𝙻.      ❞      Though   she   felt   a   strange,   deep-seated   connection   with   felines   [      it   was   almost   concerning,   truly      ],   the   Black   Cat   couldn’t   actually   speak   with   them.   Based   on   the   lushness   of   the   little   Siberian’s   coat,   she   knew   he   had   to   belong   to   someone   and   wasn’t   one   of   the   skittish,   battle   scarred   alley   cats   that   stalked   the   shadows   in   Gotham.  

Turns   out   the   poor   thing   just   needed   someone   to   open   a   window,   and   who   better   than   a   thief?

She’d   invited   herself   inside,   nose   wrinkling   at   the   lack   of   valuable   items,   before   allowing   herself   to   be   herded   to   armchair   by   the   bossy   feline.   It   was   with   a   lapful   of   a   purring   puffball,   that   the   door   to   the   residence   opened      —      the   entryway   light   stretching   only   far   enough   to   illuminate   her   boots.

❝      Never   know   what   your   kitty   cat   could   be   dragging   in   after   he   sneaks   out.      ❞

@fearthanked meow meow meow

[felinoir-a]

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴'𝚂   𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝚃𝙾   𝙱𝙴   𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳   𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃   𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝙰   𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺   𝙲𝙰𝚃'𝚂   𝙿𝙰𝚃𝙷,   but   willingly   choosing   to   do   so   knowing   the   consequences   only   spoke   to   foolhardiness   at   best   and   hubris   at   worst.   But   what   else   could   Felicia   Hardy   expect   from   the   spawn   of   Zeus   if   not   for   𝐇𝐔𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐒?   Wonder   Woman   may   outclass   the   Black   Cat   in   terms   of   strength,   speed,   and   agility,   but   there   was   no   competition   between   them   when   it   came   to   sheer   unpredictability.   Wintry   head   cocked   to   the   side,   she   casually   let   her   eyes   roll   over   the   length   of   the   heroine’s   body   –   slow   enough   to   be   both   obvious   and   𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔. 

❝      Now   what’s   a   nice   lady   like   you,   doin’   in   a   place   like   this?      ❞

She   knew   –   those   museum   exhibits   on   Ancient   Greece   didn’t   rob   themselves   after   all   –   but   the   game   of   cat   and   mouse   was   all   too   tempting   to   be   played,   even   when   she   was   out   of   costume.   A   well   manicured   nail   trailed   the   stained   rim   of   her   coffee   cup,   smugness   and   self   satisfaction   wrapped   tight   around   the   blonde   like   a   second   skin.   ❝      Take   a   seat,   you’re   drawing   attention.      ❞

pspspsps @shelassos pspspsps

[felinoir-a]

𝙶𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙼   𝚆𝙰𝚂   𝙰   𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙾𝙻   𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝙰𝚂   𝙰   𝙲𝙸𝚃𝚈.   Even   with   the   glitter   coating   everything   the   resident   billionaire   touched,   it   was   still   so   dark,   filthy,   and   rank   that   any   appeal   of   those   riches   dimmed.   Besides,   Cats   were   notoriously   territorial   and   straying   so   far   into   another's   stomping   grounds   was   a   recipe   for   trouble.

    𝐓𝐎𝐎   𝐁𝐀𝐃   𝐇𝐄𝐑   𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃   𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄   𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇   𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓   𝐖𝐀𝐒   𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

    ❝      Whatever   it   is,   it   wasn't   me.      ❞   The   wintry   haired   thief   didn't   look   up   from   her   book,   a   saucy   bodice   ripper,   as   her   nails   tapped   against   her   coffee   cup.   The   weight   of   an   accusing   stare   was   the   same   the   world   over   and   she   was   not   trying   to   get   tangled   into   whatever   horrifying   mess   the   freaks   of   the   city   were   capable   of.   A   moment   passed,   before   she   signed   and   looked   up   with   a   severely   arched   brow.  

    ❝      Gonna   pull   a   rabbit   out   of   a   hat   for   me,   sweetie?      ❞

♡ @zataraa

[felinoir-a]

𝙰   𝙿𝙴𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙳   𝙵𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙴   𝙸𝚂   𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙽𝙴   𝚃𝙾   𝙻𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝙾𝚄𝚃   —   it   was   just   bad   luck   that   had   placed   the   mutant   in   the   path   of   of   her   claws.   On   a   normal   evening,   the   thief   would   have   had   a   witty   rejoinder   and   an   even   more   awful   cat   pun   flun   into   the   air   before   she   could   have   blinked,   but   this   wasn't   a   normal   evening.   Someone   had   stolen   her   prize   out   from   under   her   and   had   seemingly   left   no   trace,   leaving   the   man   underneath   her   claws   as   the   chief   suspect.   Clawed   fingers   flexed,   a   razor   thin   thread   of   control   keeping   her   from   sinking   them   into   tender   skin.

𝐍𝐎𝐖   𝐖𝐇𝐘   𝐃𝐈𝐃   𝐇𝐄   𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋   𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑   .   .   .

❝      Be   good   and   answer   my   question,   and   I   just   might   let   you   walk.      ❞      Her   lips   were   curled   into   a   snarl,   eyes   slitted,   but   she   relented   nonetheless   and   eased   the   pressure   on   his   throat   but   did   not   remove   her   hand   entirely.   The   Cat   leaned   in,   nose   brushing   against   nose   and   adrenaline   beginning   to   thrum   through   her   veins.   She   could   hear   the   security   guards   on   their   patrol   route,   heavy   booted   feet   ringing   in   the   hallway   like   gunshots   in   her   ears,   and   if   they   kept   to   their   pattern?   They   had   less   than   a   minute.

❝      𝑾𝒂𝒔   𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔   𝒚𝒐𝒖,   𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚   𝒃𝒐𝒚?      ❞

@felinoir sent a meme: [ throat ]   your muse wrapping a hand around mine’s throat.

Okay. So maybe Felicia heard that cat pun before. He just wouldn't have guessed she'd be that touchy about it.

"Those are some sharp --" Daken wheezes, fingers scrabbling at the clawed hand at his throat. Is he bleeding? Probably. But he knows that she knows that he can take it. After all -- she knows his dad.

Even with half the blood trapped out of his head, he still has the sense to sniff the air. The fact of the matter is, while he might've shoved himself into her little heist, this is still a well-patrolled, high security archive.

"Someone's coming. Let me -- ckh -- go."

[felinoir-a]

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴'𝚂   𝙰   𝙵𝙸𝙴𝚁𝙲𝙴   𝙹𝙾𝚈   𝙸𝙽   𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂   𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴   𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴   —   the   taunts,   the   skirmishes,   the   chases.   The   life   of   crime   provided   a   potent   high   that   the   Cat   pursued   with   a   single   minded   usually   reserved   for   zealots   and   addicts.   The   hero   was   only   playing   into   her   clawed   hands,   placing   himself   into   her   path   of   chaos   and   breathing   a   second   wind   into   the   twilight   hours   of   the   thief's   excursion   into   Gotham.   Cats   were   often   malicious   in   their   playfulness   and   her   nailbeds   itched,   lithe   muscles   quivering   in   anticipation.  

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒   𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄   𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘   𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃   𝐀𝐍𝐃   𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄   𝐒𝐎   𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘.

❝      Or   what?   What   are   you   going   to   do   about   it?      ❞   She   loved   secrets,   loved   the   little   kernels   of   knowledge   tucked   into   the   gossip   and   rumors   that   were   the   lifeblood   of   the   criminal   element.   And   the   fact   that   a   hero   like   Nightwing   took   interest   in   her   knowledge   of   a   secret   filled   her   with   a   half-feral   glee,   berry   stained   lips   pulling   into   a   wide   and   toothy   grin.   The   Cat   was   poised   into   a   crouch,   poised   to   spring,   to   flee,   to   pounce   depending   on   the   state   of   her   capricious   moods   from   second   to   second.     ❝      Better   men   than   you   have   tried   to   give   me   advice   before   and   let   me   tell   you,     𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓   𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒚   𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔   𝒂𝒓𝒆   𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅.      ❞

@borealist asked : “I’d be very, very careful who you talk to about that.”

[felinoir-a]

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝙳   𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙻𝚂   𝙱𝙸𝚃𝙴   —   self   preservation   always   proving   to   be   dominant   over   reason,   doomed   to   end   in   flashed   fangs   and   the   promise   of   more   pain.   Flesh   was   easy   to   rend,   as   proven   by   the   .22   that   split   skin   and   muscle   while   running   along   rooftops.   Pain   only   could   serve   to   cloud   judgement   and   shorten   tempers   and   Felicia's   was   sitting   on   a   hair   trigger.

𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓   𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘   𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃   𝐇𝐄𝐑   𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇.

❝      Watch   what   you're   doing,   Katniss!      ❞   The   growl   rumbled   through   the   Cat's   chest,   razor   sharp   claws   slicing   easily   through   the   fabric   and   plush   of   hotel   furniture   as   hydrogen   peroxide   seared   the   open   wound   with   a   hiss.   Copper   bloomed   in   her   mouth   as   the   irritation   of   a   job   interrupted   festered   in   her   chest,   waiting   for   the   opportune   moment   to   burst   forth   with   it's   toxicity.   The   job   had   been   going   as   smooth   as   could   be,   before   the   other   woman   had   burst   through   doors   with   an   army   of   gunmen   at   her   heels.   The   enemy   of   your   enemy   is   your   friend,   but   alliances   of   convenience   were   always   the   first   to   fall   apart   and   the   thief   could   promise   that   this   one   would   be     𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓.

    ❝      Considering   this   is   your   fault,   try   to   work   on   the   tender   bedside   manner,   yeah?      ❞

@antithetica asked (for helena) : ❛   patch .   help  my  muse  patch  up  a  wound .

[felinoir-a]

𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙲𝙸𝚃𝚈   𝚆𝙰𝚂   𝙰   𝚂𝙰𝚅𝙰𝙶𝙴   𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙲𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙴   𝙴𝙲𝙾𝚂𝚈𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙼,   polluted   with   violent   freaks   in   spandex   and   the   soft-hearted   fools   with   capes   who   chased   them.   Survival   in   the   city   required   self-awareness   of   one's   place   in   the   food   chain     —     something   the   Cat   had   in   𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒔.   Despite   her   proximity   to   the   Spider,   she   did   her   best   to   avoid   world-eaters   and   their   ilk   with   a   preternatural   ease   and   kept   to   stalking   the   bountiful   prey   on   the   forest   floor.

𝐇𝐎𝐖   𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐘   𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑   𝐂𝐀𝐍   𝐁𝐄��𝐎𝐌𝐄   𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐘.

❝      I   suppose   you're   the   VIP   that   has   the   embassy   in   a   fit?      ❞   The   thief   could   scent   the   other   before   the   silvery   hairs   at   the   back   of   her   neck   could   stand,   not   needing   to   turn   and   stare   into   the   rooftop   shadows   to   confirm   the   presence.   Sudden   movements   could   spell     𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛,   so   she   kept   still       —   sinewy   muscle   grew   taut   and   sheathed   claws   slipped   free   with   a   soft   metallic   whisper.

    ❝      Free   tip   to   a   𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕   then:   don't   bother   with   rooftops   that   are   already   occupied.   ❞

♡ @pistoiet

[felinoir-a]

𝙹𝙾𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃𝚂   𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴   𝙰   𝙲𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚂𝙸𝚃𝚈   𝚃𝙾   𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙲𝙰𝚃.   Tenacious   and   almost   bullish   in   their   pursuit   of   a   story,   their   keen   minds   examining   every   angle   of   a   potential   story,   their   constantly   sticking   their   noses   where   it   didn't   belong   .   .   .   She   would   be   more   amused   if   it   wasn't   her   business   that   was   being   investigated   and   rather   well,   if   the   copious   notes   on   the   desk   and   the   corkboard   filled   with   surveillance   photos   and   articles   were   any   indication.   Slitted   eyes   studied   the   series   of   clippings   with   irritated   interest,   a   wintry   brow   arching   higher   and   higher   with   each   passing   moment.

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊   𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓   𝐇𝐀𝐒   𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍   𝐀   𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐘   𝐌𝐀𝐍   𝐀𝐍𝐃   𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓   𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃   𝐁𝐄   𝐀   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌.

❝      Love   what   you've   done   with   the   place.      ❞   She'd   made   sure   that   the   Daily   Planet's   offices   were   empty   for   the   night,   to   avoid   and   unneccesary   confrontations,   but   the   thief   prided   herself   on   being   able   to   roll   with   the   punches.   The   fine   hairs   stood   at   the   back   of   her   neck,   the   faint   buzz   of   bad   luck   that   clung   to   her   as   a   second   skin   increased   to   an   angry   thrum,   and   her   nail   beds   itched   to   the   point   of   pain.   She   turned   then,   citrine   hues   glowing   in   the   shadows,   and   painted   lips   twitched   into   a   mocking   facsimile   of   a   smile.  

    ❝      I   imagine   my   invitation   for   a   sit   down   interview   was   lost   in   the   mail,   right?      ❞

♡ @herodreamt + clark kent

[felinoir-a]

𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳   𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳   𝙼𝙰𝚈   𝙰𝚂   𝚆𝙴𝙻𝙻   𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴   𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽   𝙰   𝙱𝙾𝙼𝙱   —   fertilizer,   gunpowder,   and   buckshot   all   wrapped   into   a   painfully   earnest   gesture.   There   was   nothing   deceitful   in   the   classic   lines   of   the   hero's   face   and   her   traitorous,   fawning   heart   urged   her   to   reach   out   a   gloved   hand,   but   only   a   foolish   thief   would   place   their   trust   so   easily   in   the   unknown.   The   Cat   did   her   best   to   avoid   the   notice   of   more   than   a   handful   of   street-level   vigilantes   and   attracting   the   interest   of   Metropolis'   Man   of   Steel   spelled   disaster   for   her   felonious   ambitions   in   the   city.  

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓   𝐁𝐄   𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓   𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇   𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓   𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍   𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑,   𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓?

❝      I   don't   think   so   handsome.   Who   knows   where   that   hand   has   been.      ❞   Her   words   are   sharpened   by   the   wide,   feral   grin     —   the   thrill   of   an   impending   chase   warming   her   blood   and   claws   digging   further   into   the   brick   of   the   rooftop's   edge.   Mischief   practically   crackled   in   the   air   around   her,   citrine   eyes   preternaturally   bright,   chaos   creeping   closer   to   the   hero's   caped   back.  

    ❝      Besides,   you   got   bigger   problems   coming   your   way.     𝑪𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉   𝒚𝒐𝒖   𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓,   baby   boy.      ❞

Claws   retracted   and   the   Cat   dropped   into   the   dark.

@capeline + ❛   hand .   hold  out  a  hand  for  my  muse  to  take .