ofcatalysis

[ofcatalysis]

i think we should just be able to use counterfeit money. like who cares

[ofcatalysis]

[ofcatalysis]

thewatchdcg‌:

thea stretched her arms over her head after indie let go of her hand, letting the night air cool her down. she looked at her friend with wide, confused eyes as she went through her description. “that was…” she paused, working her alcohol-addled brain on overtime as she tried to find the right words. “super specific. like, crazy specific. i don’t know if i’ve thought about that happening in actual years.” she grinned, skipping a little as they walked back towards their apartment. home. “this guy just kept like, sending drinks to me, and how was i supposed to say no, y’know? they were free!” she laughed. “have i mentioned lately that i think you’re awesome? ‘cause i think you’re awesome.” she turned around the corner and started fumbling for the key in her pocket with her free hand. “stupid girl pants pockets…”

she had already forgotten what she had said to make thea look so confused, but she was sure it was something wild and fanciful. that was just was alcohol and late nights and her roommate brought out of her. as the night wind breezed past them, she basked in the breeze, letting it whip through her hair. this was the life, being free and happy and successful. she had never known where she would end up in life, but she was beyond happy to be here. she laughed. “i get it, it’s gotta be the best perk of being us, never having to pay for our drinks. however,” she said, dropping her hand so that thea could have both available to dig for her keys, “i think that having the shittiest pants pockets ever might balance things out a bit. need help searching? did your keys fall into a void?”

[ofcatalysis]

plutomade‌:

another successful heist down meant another night of celebration with percy’s favorite black hat hacker. indie had already spent much of their heist objectifying him via comms, but percy hadn’t had the privilege of being able to see her until the all rendezvoused at their temporary headquarters hours later, seeking to be inconspicuous. he was almost relieved to hear the knock on the door. embarrassingly enough, percy actually spent several minutes each day looking at himself in the mirror, assuring himself that he was still sexy. his heavy commitment to his job didn’t necessarily help his sex life, or any affirmations of his attractiveness.

he pulled the door open slowly, almost as if he thought it would add to the tension that already clouded his room. smirking, he lowered his hand down to hers, grabbing the glasses from her gingerly. “another successful heist down, huh?” he spoke, the corners of his mouth folding upwards in a smile. percy then used his other hand to lead indie into the room, closing the door behind her quickly. “did you prepare a toast?”

she followed him into the room, a grin on her face, the type of grin that only appears when you’re up to something and you’re mere moments before you finally get to see the payoff of your hard work. she walked past him, turning around once she heard the door close. “as a matter of fact, i did,” she said coyly, putting the glasses on the nearest flat surface for a moment before opening the bottle and pouring two glasses. “tonight,” she followed up, handing one to him, “we drink to success, we drink to money, we drink to fucking over the people who deserve to be fucked over, and we drink to fucking the people who deserve to be fucked.” she lifted her glass and took a sip, maintaining eye contact with him as she did.

“if you want me to stop complimenting you over comms while we’re working, i’m gonna need you to stop wearing those pants. it’s not my fault, i’m an observant person, and i have to communicate the things i see to you, that’s, like, my whole job.”

[ofcatalysis]

thewatchdcg‌:

life with the team can sometimes feel a little insular. thea loves them all – that isn’t an issue – but it’s good to remember that there are people who exist outside of that world, sometimes. the club is like an overload of reminders, a complete immersion in a place that feels significantly different from what’s become her life. and it’s fun. thea lets loose on the dance floor, even more so after a couple of drinks (which she does occasionally accept from strangers), allowing herself to be jostled about by the crowd. she glanced over when she feels indie’s hand and gives her a big smile. “I’M GREAT!” she calls back, still swaying her hips to the music as she speaks. okay, so the club isn’t a total escape from heist life, but thea doesn’t want it to be. she marks moving in with indie as one of the best choices she’s ever made, and almost feels like their “home life” is a step removed from their slightly less legal activities. “i’m good with whatever, we can go!” she turned and gave an apologetic shrug and smile to a girl she’d been dancing with before taking indie’s hand and pulling her out towards the door. this was easier said than done, since thea felt like she was considerably shorter than most of the people there. as they moved further away from the speakers, her ears rang. “jesus, i forget how loud it gets in there!” she said, still speaking at an elevated volume.

indie allows herself to be pulled by thea, running after her to keep up with her strides, pausing for a moment outside of the club to catch her breath. she laughs as the doors close behind them, a light and airy chuckle, full of love and appreciation for the person who seems to never get tired of hanging out with her. with a squeeze of the other girl’s hand, she lets it go, using her hands to pull her hair down from the messy bun it got put in about twenty minutes ago when she started overheating. “i know, i feel like i just got my ears cleaned at the doctor. you know, when they put super high pressure water into your ear and then all the gross shit comes out and you feel like you’ve been born again. that’s how i feel.” she stops for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, running over what she just said. “i also feel drunk, let’s go home,” she says, and without another word, grabs thea’s hand again and starts walking in the direction of their apartment.

[ofcatalysis]

ofstrikcrs‌:

*   ♔   —     - ̗̀   @ofcatalysis​ !

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒.  everyone knows bits and pieces, certain parts of his identity but not all of it.  sure, it’s a little lonely, but it’s also safer that way. it’s as though everyone in his life is constantly trying to paint a portrait of him entirely from  MEMORY  —  some people get close, some replicate the person they want him to be more than anything else, and some paint an image that can only loosely be described as HIM.  sometimes he thinks that out of everyone, INDIE is the person who can probably pin him down the closest. she’s known him from a young age, her parents and his grandfather working so closely for most of their lives. she knew him as a teenager, as a college student, and she knows him now. his life back in new york falls in her blind spot, as it does with most people, but a part of striker wishes that he actually COULD be the version of himself that indie knows rather than the version that he truly is. he likes that one better.

the version of himself that indie knows is the one who used to get birthday sundaes every year. it’s been a long time since they’ve been able to engage in that particular tradition, but striker can’t say that he hasn’t missed it. he HAS. it’s hard to celebrate a birthday when each one feels like it could be his last, but indie texting him directions to an ice cream parlor makes it easier. he isn’t surprised to see that she’s already at a table when he walks in, even though he’s not late, and he points a warning finger at her as he approaches her.  “ don’t make a scene. PLEASE, i’ll pass away. i’m not kidding. ”

birthdays were never a big thing for indie’s family growing up. sure, they were celebrated, but her parents were often too busy with work to plan her a party and by the time she got around to the age where she was competent enough to plan them for herself, birthday parties were less about balloons and cake and more about drinking and playing seven minutes in heaven and indie didn’t want to have one anymore. she fills this void in her life by going all out for other people’s birthdays. she’s decorated her and thea’s apartment so much that she’s still finding confetti in places she didn’t even know confetti could get. 

the only person she doesn’t do this for is striker. striker, who would rather die than be sung to by a bunch of strangers in a friendly’s. striker, who she knows struggles with the circumstances around his birth and would rather not celebrate it. striker, who she loves and cares for and sometimes, loving and caring for someone is shown not in what you choose to do, but what you choose not to do. she stands to hug him before sitting back down in her seat. “no scene, i promise. i won’t say a word to the waiter, i left your g-i-f-t in my car so that no one would get any ideas, i won’t even mention the b-word, i promise.” she holds out her pinky for him to interlock with his own. “pinky.”

[ofcatalysis]

hotwirings‌:

╰   ‹    @ofcatalysis​.

     ── he’s been doing his best to keep his mind off it. there are so many BETTER things to focus on after the heist— the success, the money, the revelry, the look on the guards’ faces as they had a fake waved at them like a lure. and yet he can’t help himself, sometimes, when his distractions aren’t loud enough, and his thoughts drift back to that note.  ‘ we certainly enjoyed watching you all work today ’ — jace likes mysteries. just only the ones that are his OWN.

rarely does he venture back to indie’s desk at headquarters. he doesn’t understand much of what she does, and is bad at PRETENDING to. her area of expertise is a whole other world compared to his own, and so for the most part he doesn’t cross the two— but if anyone’s going to find out more about what’s going on, he figures it’ll be indie. jace plays up his nonchalance as he approaches, leaning against a wall nearby, clearing his throat to signal his presence. he’s terrible at this, asking about anything with some real weight to it, and so he can’t help himself but start with something inane—  “ what are you up to ?  scoping out our next place already ? ”  from where he stands he can’t see the screen of indie’s computer very clearly, though doubts it would matter much regardless. none of this is a language he speaks well.  “ i vote we rob a bank, real vintage style. ski masks and everything. maybe some classical music playing, for the AMBIANCE. ”

it doesn’t take long after they’ve returned back to new orleans for indie to start working on the next heist. she’s one of the first people who’s told the plans, she’s got the most prep work she has to do, and currently, she’s working on creating her own blueprint of the mansion from surveillance footage, stolen videos and livestreams of the inside of the club. she doesn’t know what room the exchange is going to take place in. she wants to be ready.

jace’s words cause her to look up from her computer screen for the first time in––minutes? hours? who knows. she nods, holding up her notebook for a split second before putting it back down. her handwriting is illegible anyway, he won’t be able to decipher more than a couple of words. “take it up with the boss man, but last time i checked, banks were more prepared for stuff like this and we’ll probably get caught if we target one. however, we are going on a trip! to kentucky, but it’s still a trip! that’s fun!”

[ofcatalysis]

chvmberlain‌:

𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 their virtual conversations, monty has always preferred having indie here, live and in the flesh. he’s a tactile person, always reaching out, bumping her hip as she approaches to smell the dinner he’s making or flicking the side of her head if he’s feeling like annoying her. monty turns his head slightly to gauge her reaction, grinning over his shoulder at her as he lifts a spoonful of paella to his mouth. he blows on it, waiting for a moment before he takes a bite, followed quickly by an enthusiastic nod. “ qué rico, ” he murmurs, patting himself on the back for the hell of it. “ just a little more… ” he reaches for the paprika, adding a few quick dashes to the pot as a final. “ plates, indie ? ” he prompts.

she nods, practically running towards the cabinet to get two plates out of it, grabbing forks and knives from the drawer beneath the cabinet as she does and setting them all next to the stovetop. “i think you may have missed your true calling, sir,” she says playfully, waiting for him to give his final stamp of approval on the dish before she demands food to be put on her plate right that instant. “if this heist thing ever stops working out for us and we’re not in jail, you should consider culinary school. i’ll even code your restaurant’s website for you. at a discounted rate nonetheless. i’m so nice, aren’t i?”

[ofcatalysis]

in a shoebox at the back of her closet, hidden under clothes and bags and extra blankets, indie keeps assorted keepsakes from the years. she keeps old tickets from every movie she’s ever seen, playbills and programs from various school performances, polaroid pictures and old birthday cards, and in a sealed envelope, there is a letter, written to herself when she was eighteen to be read ten years later on her 28th birthday. she has forgotten about it, but when her birthday rolls around, her senior year english teacher will send a reminder email to her and she will look for it for three days before finding it, pulling it out, opening the envelope, and reading it.

this is what the letter says.

my dearest, indiana,

remember me? i can’t decide if i hope you do or if i hope you don’t, but i have some other hopes for you. knowing you, this is probably something you’re going to forget about or lose or accidentally spill a huge glass of iced coffee on top of and smear the ink to the point where you can only make out half of the words. it’s okay if you did, i don’t think i have that much important to say anyway. this is a stupid assignment and i’m mostly writing this so that robert johnson will stop making eyes at me every time i try and stare out the window in our english classroom.

i hope you decided to fuck what your parents think and go to m.i.t. you’ve got a future in coding or hacking or programming or whatever you set your mind to, i couldn’t give less of a shit about the ~movie business~.

i hope you don’t let yourself get wrapped up in someone who doesn’t deserve you again. garrett’s a piece of shit, we’ve know this, we’ve known this, and you deserve so much more than a liar and a cheater. you’ll find your perfect match, i know you will.

i hope you haven’t softened any of your edges. people keep telling me to be nicer, isn’t that stupid? why do we have to be nice to people who don’t deserve it? answer: we don’t. i hope you agree with me.

i hope you have friends who love you, friends who feel like family, friends who you can rely on and lean on. i keep hearing these girls in class talk about sleepovers and staying up late together and i feel like i’m listening through the inside of an aquarium exhibit. they talk to me, tell me how cool i am, and then go back to their own conversations. i can’t help but feel like everyone likes to be around me but no one likes me for more than a fun party trick. you’re more than a fun party trick, you’re the whole damn party, and i hope you’re surrounding yourself with people who agree. if they don’t, this is your reminder to get rid of them and find new friends.

i hope you’re happy. (is that stupid? it might be stupid, but i hope it regardless.) i don’t know what you’re going to do, where you’re going to be, but i know that you’re doing something amazing. i hope you make me jealous.  

i’m not ready to be grown up, to live on my own and pay my own bills and buy my own groceries. i’m not ready to find a job and live on my own. i’m not ready, but i hope you are, and i hope know that you’re nailing it.

stay sharp, stay excellent, stay you.

- indie

[ofcatalysis]

∘ * ϟ starter for @thewatchdcg​

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐄’𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄. every time she is out in a club, she finds her groove instantaneously, as if she was built to be there in that moment. she dances with strangers, finding attention and MOMENTARY affection, refusing offers of free drinks and meeting people in the bathroom. it’s routine, someone like her draws attention, it’s why she wears wigs on heists (and honestly, the attention is part of why she dyed her hair in the first place). she loves it all––the colorful lights, the feeling of the bass settling in her stomach, the smell of liquor and sweat and youth filling the air. she loves it, and she could very easily get lost in it all if it weren’t for her companion. speaking of, she turns to thea with a gracious smile, placing a hand gently on the girl’s shoulder. “how are you doing?” she YELLS over the sound of the music. “we can leave whenever you’re ready, just let me know.”

[ofcatalysis]

∘ * ϟ starter for @plutomade​

𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘’𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌. that’s a benefit of being privy to all sorts of confidential information, and having the means to find it when you’re not told it outright, and something she tries not to take for granted. sometimes she forgets that there are people who don’t just have the WORLD at their fingertips, who can’t squeeze their way into places they shouldn’t be. this is her normal, and while it is not at all where she thought she would end up, she can’t complain.

she holds a bottle of champagne in her right hand, two glasses in her left, and she lightly taps her knuckles against his door, whispering “honey, i’m home” into the crack between the door and the wall quietly, sarcastic words of affection meant just for him. maybe one day she’ll say it to someone and mean it in a different way than the way she says it to thea when she bursts into their apartment late at night, a GUST of adrenaline and energy drinks and weed, but that day is far in her future, and it’s sure as hell not going to be with him.

for now, she puts the fantasy aside, tapping her toes lightly against the floor and waiting for him to let her into his room.

[ofcatalysis]

[ofcatalysis]

thewatchdcg‌:

@ofcatalysis​

“honey, i’m hooooome!” thea called as she nudged the door to their apartment closed with her hip. her arms were full of paper grocery bags and she held a takeout box precariously in one hand. the guy at the store had offered to help her carry everything, even when she thanked him and insisted she was fine. the look on his face when she’d lifted them with very little issue? it was sort of priceless.

thea set her load down in the kitchen and stretched her arms over her head. truth be told, she never learned to drive, so she walked or took the bus most places when she was on her own. “i got us stuff for pasta, tacos, curry, and i think i’m gonna make chocolate chip cookies,” she continued. maybe her grocery shopping partially had to do with nerves about the upcoming mission, but she couldn’t imagine anyone complaining. as far as coping mechanisms went, food wasn’t so bad. “plus dinner for tonight! we’re set until we go to vegas, at least.” 

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀’𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒, she rolled over onto her back from the position she was in, half-asleep with the tv on an episode of arrested development that she had seen a million times before, two episodes later than she remembered watching the last time she was awake. she groaned, running her fingers through her hair and getting it out of her eyes. “sweetheart, there’s nothing like waking up to your HONEY-FILLED voice.” she sat up slowly, investigating the food situation.

when she noticed the scope of the food, she rose begrudgingly, pulling her blanket around her shoulders and moved to stand at the kitchen island. “i’m literally in love you,” she said, placing a soft kiss to the other girl’s forehead before starting to put away the groceries. “are you excited? i’ve never been to las vegas before, i hope we get time to look around and we don’t have to do...HEIST things the entire time we’re there.”

[ofcatalysis]

mcsterminds·:

a café in downtown new orleans / featuring; ( @ofcatalysis·. )

it’s normal to want to check in with your team members. that’s what bishop has to keep telling himself to stop from feeling like some sort of predator boss who comes up behind his employees and gives them shoulder rubs while asking for the quarterly reports. bishop is a fun, hip boss. let’s them come and go as they please and get into trouble as long as it doesn’t interfere with the job they’re trying to do. maybe he’s a little too friendly with everyone, but bishop can’t imagine running this operation any other way. but if there’s anyone on his team that he’s probably the most… emotionally distant with, it’s indie. maybe it’s because she’d been added so early on in the operation when bishop still had no idea what he had been doing. maybe he’s just a dumb shrinking violet who still gets shy around women who are far cooler than him. it’s fine, it doesn’t really interfere with their lives. it just makes bishop feel like a fool.

so he’s trying to mend that in as casual a way as he can. team bonding and what not. the two of them alone at some cute, old-school cafe probably isn’t the best way to get his point across, but he’s a sucker for the mochaccinos at this place so sue him. “right, so. things are good? how’s the wifi at headquarters? you know i’ve been having trouble getting my emails to send so i’m worried it’s not strong enough for your…” he waves his hand in indiana’s direction. “tech stuff.” he takes a sip from his drink, careful not to get any of the whipped cream on his nose. it’s the skill of a true gentleman. “do you need me to upgrade anything? i’ve heard about this 5g thing, would that help?”

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌. she starts each day with a fresh brewed cup from the keurig she keeps on her bedside table, the one she loads with a fresh k-cup and a new mug each night before she goes to bed so that all she needs to do when she wakes up in the morning is press the button. she doesn’t even need to make the joke about not talking to her until she’s had her morning coffee, she doesn’t even get out of bed before she’s had her morning coffee. the next step is pulling on pants (only sometimes, her and thea have gotten to the point where she doesn’t need pants every day) and making a second cup from the keurig in the kitchen. most of the time, she stops in the starbucks drive thru on the way to work for her third cup.

okay, so she DEFINITELY has a caffeine problem, and bishop isn’t helping with the lunch meeting and offering to pay for her fourth cup of the day and her bagel and her cake pop. he’s a big spender, he spares no expense for his team. she l-she appreciates that about him.

she takes a bite of her bagel and lifts an eyebrow at his question. “you’re having problems? let me take a look at your computer when we’re done here, i don’t think you should be having any sort of issues. but if you upgrade our wifi to make it even faster, it’ll make my life so much easier, i’ll literally marry you on the spot.” she quirks her eyebrows at him, before taking a piece of her bagel, dipping it in her coffee, and eating it.

[ofcatalysis]

[ofcatalysis]

ofstrikcrs·:

𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐄’𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐖 𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐘.  it’s a skill that not many people have  —  the ability to make striker act  ( and feel )  like an actual human being. “ you know what, junior ?  that one hurts. you WOUND me, ”  he says, clutching a hand over over his chest like her words have sent actual pains through his chest. she’s not wrong though. where everyone else sees someone cold and apathetic and detached, she sees the striker that’s a little closer to someone REAL. he doesn’t feel like he has to hide so much when it comes to her  —  if there’s anyone who can hold their own, it’s indie. he doesn’t need to worry about protecting her. “ LISTEN, i think it’ll look good. right in front of the window, you know ?  it’ll look nice with the crown molding. and i just think it would be kind of cool, especially with throw pillows. ”

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓, half to communicate as if she’s feeling his pain with him and half to mock his dramatics. sometimes, she feels like it’s her responsibility to keep him in check. no one else gets close enough to him to be able to do so, she knows this, and so she finds her own ways to do so. she gets closer to him in her own ways––through T E A S I N G and poking fun and furniture shopping. “i’m listening,” she says closing her eyes as he speaks to try and picture the room in her head. despite not being able to see anything, visualization has never been her strong suit, she smiles when she opens her eyes. “i can see it, i know what throw pillows you need, follow me.”

[ofcatalysis]

agentwang·:

𝐈𝐕𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐃, a smile spreading all over her face. it had been a long time since she was around this much youthful, joyful energy and she was genuinely enjoying it. “all i’m doing is sitting here, but i’m glad to be of service.” she winked, watching the other intently. so fascinating what you could do with just some lines of code. she had watched some of the cyber crime unit work before, of course, but she had never seen someone work with such finesse and grace. it was almost like art. “i hope we can!” her ears pricked at the noise. “does that mean you did it again?!” 

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, sending bright light out of the screen and on to indie’s face. this was her favorite part of it all, when weeks and weeks of trial and error came together, when she had something to show off, when she outdid herself once again. “that’s exactly what that means, querido, and it means that we’re in good shape for this weekend.” with that, she sat back down at her desk, picked up her wine glass, and CHUGGED the remaining amount of liquid left inside of it. “this is great, this is wonderful, this made my day. how are you?”