#thieved

[sirjacobthomaskiszka]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE COULDVE HAD TOPLESS JAKE

[brujaroja]

@thieved

❝ It's NOT worth anything, if that's what you're wondering. ❞ dark eyes drift towards a discarded canvas of a rose garden; acrylic brushstrokes of stylized impressionism. the same hands acquainted with brutality―quietly bring forth beauty and form.

[saintplanet-old]

It's late, district thirteen feels empty in the moonlight as they sit by an abandoned bench on the grass. [ Of course, they should be underground. Any place could explode like a powder keg around here in a second. ] But when he spends hours below ground Gale starts to notice the smell of gas, a flicker of footsteps, the crash and screaming of the mines. Sometimes, it's better outside. In the danger. He takes a seat beside her, pulling out a bagged cookie, a little smushed, definitely stale, but it's something. Gale nudges Olympia, looking past her tired eyes. ❛ You should eat something. You've been on watch for hours. ❜ @thieved

[artistikill]

he's finishing painting for the night, adding his final touches when someone approaches him from behind. they compliment his art and express an interest in him. are you muse!? his lips quirk, pleased by the interaction — and then in one quick movement, the man is unconscious, draped over muse's form. the artist huffs, readjusting his grasp on the individual so that they're hanging over his shoulder. he begins the lengthy trip back to his lair, utilising his powers to remain hidden from cameras.

another lost soul for him to take apart and make beautiful. he's giddy, and he's struggling to maintain his composure because of it. alas, his imperceptibility means no one casts a double take in his direction as he carries his victim. he blends in, like a shadow on the wall. when he reaches the deserted track, he begins his way down it, too fixated on the man in his arms to notice he's being pursued. with an exhale, he lowers his victim down onto his table and takes a good look. oh yes. he's going to make something incredibly special. glove-clad hands begin the process, and within seconds he's about to force needle deep into femoral artery when a sound has him grinding to a halt.

the artist hesitates, lowering the item as his brows furrow. he turns to the source of the noise. it came from the train track. muse reaches for his blade and secures it in his hold, approaching the nearby corner. the weapon is held out, his voice low and cautious. " come into the light. " / @thieved.

[nutsos]

@thieved ♡'d !

smoke  slithered  from  the  charred  remains  of  her  clothes,  unfurling  in  polished  pirouettes  &  mocking  the  graceless  way  she’d  crash - landed  here.  she  let  herself  drop  beside  the  other  woman,  ignoring  the  sea  of  empty  seats  as  if  they  weren’t  even  an  option,  like  the  floor  was  the  only  place  that  made  sense  at  this  moment.  exhaustion  had  dulled  the  usual  spark  in  her  mien,  dragging  at  her  features,  enough  that  she  barely  acknowledged  the  company  she’d  just  imposed  on. 

“ hi—  got  a  smoke ? ”   questioned  through  ragged  breaths,  swiping  the  back  of  her  hand  across  her  cheek  to  smear  away  grime  that  had  settled  on  her  skin.  a  lopsided  grin  followed,  finally  facing  her.   “ i’ll  trade  ya  for  whatever’s  jigglin’  in  my  pocket,  if’cher  feeling  lucky. ”

[freezegirl]

@thieved / continued from here

part of her thinks she ought to warn olympia. tell her to steer clear of gwen grayson and maybe penny lent, too.

(the latter is a little full of herself but harmless as far as things go; it's gwen that shouldn't be trusted, pretty and proper and perfect in pink and yet, there's something sharp behind her eyes, something calculating.)

"not a precog, but i was raised by one. does that count?" probably not, but khione is going to go ahead and count it, anyway. "i like to think i'm good at people-watching."

"what? don't tell me you're about to say that i'm the first one to tell you that you strike me as the type of person capable of landing on your feet?"

would you look at that? there is a first time for everything, isn't there?

then coach boomer blows his whistle and yells out the next name and khione cringes visibly, then lowers her voice so - hopefully - she won't be overheard. "you're up. please stuff his stupid whistle. that thing is about to give me a migraine."

[mortivivens]

@thieved answers the first toll.

laughter  rang  out,  wholehearted,  untouched  by  ridicule.  there  was  no  mirth  at  the  woman’s  expense,  devoid  of  any  underlying  cruelty.  how  could  there  be ?  she  didn’t  blame  her  for  the  misunderstanding,  for  even  after  all  these  long  years,  she  herself  did  not  know.  the  cards  remained  an  enigma,  their  power  a  thing  beyond  comprehension,  their  call  something  she  obeyed  without  ever  truly  grasping  its  source.

“ oh,  if  only.  but  no,  i  cannot  use  the  cards  for  that. ”   she  spoke  the  truth,  &  the  proof  of  it  lay  in  her  eyes,  where  an  unvoiced  apology  loomed.