vanishing cat

anonymous asked:

someone: wof is kinda like wc me: shut your hell up wof is way better written, more thought out, has EXTREMELY complex characters and villians, deals with dark themes and isnt afraid to push canon lgbt characters with schoolastic's uptightness. its nothing like warriors


If Cat was there instead...
  • Mxyzptlk: *appears*
  • Mxyzptlk: First let's set the mood.
  • Mxyzptlk: Candles. *Conjures candles*
  • Kara: Who are you?
  • Mxyzptlk: Then Music. *Conjures a band*
  • Kara: What the hell?
  • Mxyzptlk: Next, flowers. *Conjures flowers*
  • Mxyzptlk: And for the pièce de résistance, the ring. Kara, sweetest, it's like I said. I'm your one true love, your soulmate, your one true pairing as the kids say. My name is Mxyzptlk, and I love you Kara Zor-El.
  • Kara: I... uh...
  • Mxyzptlk: Tell me, will you marry me?
  • Kara: *gives a disbelieving laugh*
  • Mxyzptlk: *sings* I can show you the world-
  • Cat: Okay, Midichlorians, that's enough. This is not a Karaoke bar.
  • Mxyzptlk: Oh. Yes, the mentor. *strands* Forgive me, my lady. I-
  • Cat: You are wasting your time. Kara is mine, so you can just run along back to Camelot or Avalon, or the Shire, or where ever it is you came from.
  • Mxyzptlk: Madam, I am Mxyzptlk, a being from the fifth dimension.
  • Cat: Yes, yes, well, say hello to Buckaroo Banzai next time he passes through. Now shoo.
  • Mxyzptlk: I see. I've offended you. You have my most sincere apologies. I see that I should have secured your permission-
  • Cat: You are not listening. Kara is mine. She promised me her complete devotion, and I do not share what is mine. Now, go away.
  • Kara: Miss Grant, be-
  • Cat: Not now, Kara.
  • Mxyzptlk: She's given you her devotion as a student of course, but surely you can see that I'm here to seek her hand in marriage.
  • Cat: *rolling her eyes* I didn't say she was my student. I said she was mine.
  • Cat: *turns, and slips an arm around Kara's waist, pulling their bodies together, then lays a kiss on Kara's lips, bending forward and dipping Kara as if they're dancing while continuing to kiss her, drawing a long, deep moan of pleasure from Kara before standing them both up again.*
  • Kara: *whimpers*
  • Cat: See? Mine. Now, run along.
  • Mxyzptlk: I- see. My apologies. *vanishes*
  • Cat: *looks at Kara*
  • Cat: How do you get yourself into these situations.

Bias Moodboard ; Cheshire Cat!Jimin

“These things do not happen in dreams, dear girl,’

the Cat said, vanishing up to his neck. ‘They happen only in nightmares.” 

I’ve been tagged by my beautiful ladies @inktae and @sugajpg, thank you girls, because this gave me the possibility to play with a concept that has been haunting me for the past weeks <3

I’m tagging everyone who wants to do it (but shout out to @cyphertrip, @wolfjeon and @leylaaki)

Jungkook version  ; Taehyung version

Down the rabbit hole

Let’s tell another story where Voldemort, snippets of prophecy in hand, went after the Longbottoms instead of the Potters–

Neville Longbottom didn’t do magic until he was nearly eight (and even then it was just bouncing down the stairs after he had tripped), but his grandmother beamed proudly all the same. 

“Used up eight years of it slaying dark wizards,” she told her other society ladies over tea. 

But Neville, in any ‘verse, was not a stupid boy. When people praised him for things that weren’t his fault, he knew better than to believe they were looking at him. Overlooking the stammering, pudgy kid in the corner isn’t that much different from seeing the scar and not the boy. 

His grandmother smiled at him and Neville gulped, tried to will magic into being, because one day she would expect him to be done recuperating from his toddling heroism. 

This was a Neville who stepped onto Platform 9 ¾ with all eyes on him– the Remerberall clutched tight in one sweaty fist, the sleek black cat his uncle had bought him under the other arm. He did not ask for Hufflepuff, even though he wanted to, because he was supposed to be brave. 

Let’s tell this story: if Voldemort went after the Longbottoms, then the Lestranges went after the Potters. 

Peter still betrayed James and Lily to enemy hands. Sirius still chased him down and laughed when he was arrested on the blasted-apart street. Both of these boys were still raised by families that did not know how to love them. Just the scar exchanged hands. 

Except– I wonder if old Dumbledore would have made Harry go to the Dursleys then, or if that particular condemnation was only for the Boy Who Lived, who needed blood protection. Would Harry get to go to Lupin? Or maybe one of the Order members with a more stable income– Andromeda Tonks, maybe, who already had her own little girl to raise, and who despite all the complications did miss having siblings around. 

Little Nymphadora, who even then demanded to be called Tonks, turned her hair every color and let baby Harry tug on it. Harry grew up loved, in this world, but he still grew up lost. He still studied his reflection like meeting his eyes might mean meeting someone else’s. 

Harry still grew up knowing how to use a telephone, spent Christmases with Muggle grandparents. Andromeda went toe to toe with Dumbledore when she disagreed with him; “If I am to raise this boy, then I am going to. I won’t be your nanny, Albus. I don’t care what half a prophecy this boy once was. I don’t care if you glower. I’m a mother and I am a Black and you can think twice before you think about trying to frighten me.”

Ted told Harry and Tonks the story of Goldilocks (he turned his Metamorphmagus nose to a bear snout whenever appropriate), and Andromeda told them about the Deathly Hollows. 

“Which brother is the baby bear?” asked Tonks, not yet old enough for Hogwarts, a literary critic’s light in her eyes. “Which one is just right?”

When Harry went to St. Mungo’s, clinging to Andromeda’s steady hand, tugging on Lupin’s robe, Lily never quite met her son’s eyes. James stole bottle caps and played catch with shaking hands, tried to sneak them out into Harry’s pockets, grin skittering. 

“I think he thinks they’re snitches,” Lupin said. Harry was eight before he learned his father and Lupin were childhood friends. He was surprised. He’d always thought Lupin was much much older. 

In this world, on the Great Hall stone, there was a boy in the crowd named Ron who would be a Gryffindor, because every Weasley always was; there was a boy named Draco who would be a Slytherin, before the Hat had even barely touched his head. 

In this world, there was a boy in the crowd who would be a Hufflepuff, because his big sister was the best thing in the world and Nymphadora Tonks wore yellow on her sleeve. 

Keep reading

Kaz had far bigger things to worry about than coping with the space left by the Wraith’s absence…and the cat taking up residence on his (the Wraith’s) windowsill.

Kaz drummed his fingers across the table, face turned to the closed door of his room and gloves tucked in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Beyond the walls, the sound of Ketterdam’s obnoxious and oblivious inhabitants boiled and bubbled through the cracked window behind him. Despite winter staking claim on the wet, stone streets, Ketterdam still bustled and business boomed. Not even the moon showed its face but The Crow’s Nest knew not of curfews or stillness.

Before him lay papers and documents for his latest move and most importantly, security against the Tide Makers. The musings were hardly fleshed out but Kaz recognized the beginnings of a masterpiece and could feel the momentum gaining as he followed the threads meticulously. Months had passed since the dethroning of Pekka Rollins and Van Eck but the Bastard of the Barrel knew peace to be two things: fictitious and ephemeral. A bomb with a slow-burning fuse. Contrived only by children and naive city-dwellers that never wandered near dark alleys or gambling dens, peace was a deceitful tale only achieved by those deliriously rich.

Kaz Brekker, however rich he had become, was not delirious and was especially not naive. His days in the streets had made sure of such and it was a lesson he’d hold onto no matter if his hands bled or leg crumbled. Though the Barrel sometimes fell quiet, it never stilled, so neither would he.

An abrupt sound he could’ve only described as plucking diverted his attention and sent a jolt through him that set his spine straight. Kaz twisted his head to look across his shoulder; one hand reached out to his cane at the end of the table and the other for his gloves, and then promptly froze.

There, reaching as far as the windowsill allowed, lay a black cat exaggeratedly stretching its limbs and plucking the side of the window with long white claws. It froze in place, all four sets of claws dug deep and just as alert and wary as Kaz himself. If it weren’t for the small patch of white fur on its chest and the deep, wide amber eyes, it could slip into the shadows as neatly as the Wraith herself. So still and barely visible against the dark sky, tiny wisps of silver and gray were the only indication Kaz had that the creature was not, in fact, his eyes playing tricks.

Neither looked away, primed and waiting for a move to be made, for the other to relent.  

Finally, Kaz released the head of his cane and let it and himself relax but firmly held the feline’s fixed gaze. In return, it loosened its shoulders and retracted all four sets of claws. After a breath, it slowly blinked once then rose to lazily saunter out into the dark night as quietly as it had come.

It took a long moment before Kaz could look away from the open window, the whispers of a memory echoing in his head. I can help you. With an indulgent shrug of the shoulder, he stood and crossed the room to watch its descent but closed the window instead. Peering through the glass suspiciously for a bare moment, he almost thought to reply but let the words die on his tongue. You can’t help me.

The next time the Barrel King spotted the feline, the tip of a tail disappeared past the top of the window and several days after that, Kaz glimpsed two glowing eyes atop the roof as he left for the docks. It was then, though he never spoke it aloud, that he decided to give the vanishing cat a name: Ghoul.

On a night much colder and wetter, Kaz climbed the three flights of stairs leading to his room and tried to pay no mind to the clink of his cane on the steps or the click inside his knee.

Behind him, glasses and cups clattered as cheers carried across a room warmed by spirits and bodies and fires.

A room nearly fit to be an oven welcomed him when he finally entered, chasing away the chill in his bones then the short-lived relief quickly after.

He pulled the gloves off his hands, finger by finger, before setting them on the table and moving to crack the window just enough to grant reprieve from the heat. The moon presented itself in unashamed glory, painting twisted, silver squares across the bare floors and the cold air felt like liquid on his exposed knuckles.

He was nearly asleep, memories and plans turning over in his mind in a rapidly disintegrating order, when he heard a soft thud followed by a scraping sound not unlike the one he heard a few weeks before.

This time, Kaz didn’t flinch or sit up to face the infiltrator. Instead, he just turned his head slightly and caught it half under the window, reaching in as far as it could to pluck and dig while watching Kaz cautiously.

Kaz waited a breath and returned to his original position, occasionally paying attention out of the corner of his eye. He thought about ushering it away and shutting the window to sleep in solitude until it sprawled along the length of the windowsill, half-in and half-out. Kaz lie there, watching out of the corner of his eyes as its ears twitched and twisted at every sound up till they didn’t. Only then did he fall asleep to dreams of phantoms and rolling waters.

He tried to convince himself the dreams had nothing to do with the Wraith – none, whatsoever – and he damn near believed it until his breath caught when he heard a soft thud at his window and found a pair of round, gold eyes studying him on the other side.  He resigned to keeping the window propped open at night to prevent false starts and hopes.

He woke alone one morning to a mouse, ears perfectly round and eyes frozen wide, dead on the floor next to his bed. Peeved, he tossed it out the window and began to envision the many different ways he could kill the cat as he started his day.

Kaz still cracked the window every night.

Three times he caught himself leaving out strips of meat and he even found himself leaning over to scratch its chin on occasion. Twice were done with a gloved hand and not without consequence. Ghoul had turned his head and bit down, claws curling deeply and securely into the leather until Kaz pulled him off by the scruff. After that, Kaz only reached out with bare palms to meet soft paws and purchased a long strip of fine leather as a replacement. Ghoul only ever lay atop it and he briefly contemplated throwing it away out of spite.

Nearly a month and several dead-offerings later, Kaz woke in the small hours of the night to the sensation of being watched. Against the furthest wall of the room, Ghoul sat half-crouched and ears low, waiting. Only its gaze wasn’t on him, it was on the window. Or, rather, through the window as a dark shadow overtook a corner and the smell of sea-spray and gunpowder sifted in. During the months since she’d left, she shed the scent of Ketterdam and adopted the scent of the ocean and her conquests. It didn’t matter, no matter if it was her voice, her smell, her – no matter what form she took, Kaz Brekker would always recognize Inej Ghafa, his kind, willowy Wraith.

Kaz rose and slowly crossed the room to lean against the table, watching as Inej lifted the window and slid in like a leaf drifting effortlessly down a stream. On his other side, Ghoul flattened and slunk lower into the shadows as she stepped into the room. Kaz only saw the delight swell in her smile as her eyes drifted to the furry phantom and only heard the intrusive of his heartbeat as it grew quicker, louder, heavier.

“Kaz Brekker,” she began lowly. “Are you going soft on me?” Even in the pale light of the slimming moon, Kaz could see that her skin was a slight shade darker, her knuckles and fingertips wearing more discolored lines than he remembered. Curiosity simmered in his chest and suddenly, he wished for something he couldn’t yet name, something he wasn’t yet ready to label. She grinned, a smile that reached her eyes and across the distance to his chest. The Wraith knelt on one knee and held out her palm, all in one gentle, fluid motion.

Kaz Brekker cast a look to the ceiling, as if asking the Saints the same question, before turning his attention down to the furry visitor. He considered telling her that he, Kaz “Dirtyhands” Brekker, leader of the Dregs, bastard of the barrel, did in fact have a soft spot for agile creatures that climbed through his window in the middle of the night but instead, he thought it best to just tell her the cat’s name. “Ghoul.”

A grin split across her face and Kaz could see the laughter in her eyes. She repeated him, as if tasting the name on her lips to see if it matched the shadow of fur in front of her. Tentatively “You must be my replacement,” she said, unmoving as he leaned forward to sniff her hand and test her patience. “I must warn you not to sneak up on Dirtyhands. Then again, you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t already.” Her eyes lifted up to his, as dark and beautiful as Kaz remembered. Wisps of hair framed her face, strands falling loose from a messy braid tucked over one shoulder. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but a smile had formed on his face so wide his lips threatened to show teeth.

“No bells,” he conceded with a gesturing nod to the curious fellow below and her head tilted at the answer. He extended a hand to her with a deep breath and shrugged the other shoulder, “less armor.”

Her grin shrunk into a soft smile that gave him a warm feeling in his chest larger and more overwhelming than almost everything he’d ever known. It consumed him nearly as quickly and powerfully as slipping back to the fateful day on the bay, but good. Like ice on bruised knuckles and hot water on sore limbs but it was more than just relief. He wanted to savor the feeling, live with it every day and never let it escape him or become corrupted. Slowly, Inej raised her palm to hover just above his, giving him the power to close the gap. Her voice echoed within him again and he let it ring through his bones like a promise. I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all. For he conquered many enemies and won many battles in Ketterdam, Kaz Brekker had yet to conquer himself and the demons he could not shake. He readied himself for his hardest battle alongside his strongest ally, his confidante, his touchstone. He focused on the crease of her smile, the fullness of the blood flowing through him, and the way she held both her gaze and her hand steady; let it consume him with the fierce sensation of being alive.

He took a deep breath and lifted his hand meet Inej’s, ready for the next battle.

Why Did You Help Him? [prompt by @ghoulsteak]

“Why did you help him, Zacharie?”

It had been at least three weeks, and still every day - almost without fail - Pablo returned to this question. It was as if he was always forgetting, lost in the trance that was his broken state of mind.

He looked sick. Haggard. The smart, quick glint in his sharp eyes had dulled almost to the point of vanishing for good. The cat was draped over the salesman’s bike, uselessly, incidentally rendering the vehicle the same for its owner.

Voice remaining warm and friendly as ever, with it’s ever so slightly sly twist, Zacharie’s heart sank a little.

“I am just the merchant, my friend. The Batter was never the only one to benefit from my sale of fine wares.”

Pablo stared, blankly, through him. Continuing as if the merchant had simply laughed in his face, his voice stacked up with sorrow.

“He killed my dearest brother Valerie. Your friend Valerie. He murdered his family, the child and the Queen. You knew the Queen, did you not? Why do you not care, Zacharie!

“Why did you do it? Why did you help?”

Zacharie bit his tongue. The purifier hadn’t killed Valerie, and Hugo and Vader Eloha had never been his family per se… but the merchant had known the Queen. There wasn’t much to know. She was a simple, flawed entity. Hugo’s first creation.

But he had known her well.

“…Pablo. My small friend and terrible customer. It’s in the past. It’s all in the past. You need to stop blaming yourself for something that was always - out of your control. Your zone is still safe, amigo. You still saved that… little bit of this world.”

“I never professed to consider myself at fault, merchant.”

Zacharie stepped to where the bicycle was propped against the wall beside Pablo’s food bowl, still full. “But you do, Judge. I can see that, even with my poor human eyes.”

He reached out and stroked the feline, who for a while barely responded. And then, he started to yowl. Quietly, at first. But soon the sorrowful crying of the guardian was a sound that echoed its way up throughout Zone 0’s sole tower, escaping into the heavens to be heard by nobody.

The day would repeat itself again, Zacharie knew, holding the broken cat with care and sadness. And there was no end to it in sight.

My cat vanishes

I don’t know where Luna goes sometimes. I know she’s still in the house and still downstairs but that’s about it.
My house isn’t that big. There aren’t many places for her to hide and I check them all. Yet she is in nowhere to be found. So I call her, and she just APPEARS out of nowhere.

Conclusion: my cat goes on adventures with the doctor and/or has an invisibility cloak (collar)

Is anyone else disappointed that Sabrina’s akumatization was used as a sideplot for Chloe’s? Like, she’s come the closest to getting a miraculous. She was literally touching Mari’s earrings. And her akumatization was just kinda brushed aside. Idk I think Sabrina deserves her own episode as far as being akumatized go.

anonymous asked:

i just read what you said about your cat vanishing and my dog did the same thing last year and he was the reason for me to keep living and now im just kinda trying to make him proud by holding on,, just wanted to say i sympathize with you on the loss

:( I’m sorry he disappeared, I’m sure he’d be very proud to know you’re being so brave and still going strong for him <3

Terrible Trio

Notes: Request from celestial-nightlight.  What if Sabo, instead of trying to sail out to sea (and getting shot by a Celestial Dragon), escaped the nobles and went back to Ace and Luffy?

I’m focusing more on pre-leaving-Goa, since the timeframe wasn’t specified.

The fire had raged for hours.  Ace had barely been able to sleep because of the way it lit up the horizon, tricking his brain into thinking it was sunrise.  When sunrise finally came around, Ace was exhausted, dark circles lurking under his young eyes and his bandaged wounds still throbbing with dull pain.

Keep reading

Nickname - Loki - 5

Lokiice pick or snowflake because every time he saw you in the beginning the room would get cold or it would begin to snow.
YouBunny. Because that was the time he found out he loved you.

After you both have come to terms with your feelings for one another, the pranks have almost stopped. At least against you. You look at Steve that hasn’t yet realized the dog tail that is attached to him, and you are not quite sure if you should say something that it is actually kind of cute. Just like the tiger ears on Tony’s head you see when he walks through the living room mumbling about a new suit to himself.
You shortly after realize that is like the avengers have turned into a zoo. Hawkeye have eagle wings, Natasha have four eyes and Thor he’s turned into a frog. Or you at least think is him, when you find a frog with a red cape in the kitchen.
You don’t even want to think of what has happened to Bruce. And the weirdest part of it all, it’s like none of them even realizes it. You find Loki laying in the couch with one of his famous ‘I have done something' smirks on his face. Only when you come closer you realize that he has black cat ears.“Alright snowflake, what are you up to? Are you trying to make the Avengers into the Avenging Pets?” you ask and put your hands on your hips looking down at him, he looks at you and laugh a little.
“Hi bunny, you talked about you loved animals with Thor yesterday so I just taught it would be fun” so now it’s my fault? You shake your head trying to see what a small conversation with Thor could end with him as a frog.
“It doesn’t mean you should turn anyone into someone that look like they just have come from a Comicon” he looks confused at you but the smile is still there.
“I do not know what this Comicon is. But I must say you are cute with bunny ears. Perhaps I should let them be there from now on” you almost don’t believe your ears and quickly put your hands up to your head where to long ears are pointing out, you look behind you and see the little fluffy tail. Before you even have a chance to tell him what you think about the situation he sits up and grab your tail, you whine loud and look at him with big eyes.
“It’s so fluffy” he mumbles and squeeze it. You slap his hand away red all up to your bunny ears.
“Loki I mean it, remove the animal traits from us all” you growl and try to look evil at him. The cat ears falls down and he looks at you like you just have scolded him for no reason. You try not to let it affect you how cute he looks with ears and remain the stare.
“Fine” he claps his hands and the cat ears vanish, you see Thor come into the room looking normal.
He sees you and stops up with a confused look and points at you.
“Lady Y/f/n why do you have bunny ears?”