#thiefscant

[bolyde]

warm. warm. warm. || A Web Weave for the Love of Anais Evernight

@thiefscant

Linnea Paskow

Richard Siken A Primer for the Small Weird Loves

Mitski Nobody

Kaveh Akbar Calling a Wolf a Wolf

J. Bailey Hutchinson Gut

Jen Mazza

June Jordan Intifada Incantation: Poem 38 for b.b.L.

[clawsextended]

@thiefscant asked : [ push ] in the midst of a dangerous situation, the sender pushes the receiver out of harm's way

you don’t know fear. you’ve never known doubt. you’ve never known what terror is, never known that cold dagger of fright. you have, that’s the thing. but it doesn’t matter because every single time you’ve been afraid you’ve consumed that sensation — chosen to devour it whole. fear to you is just a thing, a tool.

you hit the floor with a hard crash, avoiding the magic missile that’s slinging your way, biting down on your lip so hard you feel teeth dent in. your body shakes with the impact, the smoking crater in the ground feet away from you.

you swipe your dagger up from where you’ve been knocked, leaping off your back foot to shoot lightning quick at the creature daring to target you. the sussur dagger gleams moonlight-touched with the glow of the underdark.

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THAT!”

[weavewilled]

❛Does your god have nothing else to offer you?❜ anais getting angry abt mystra charging gale w/ suicide? more likely than u think!!!

↳ magic worlds prompts ( accepting ) / @thiefscant

FOR A MOMENT, HE HAD BELIEVED THERE WAS HOPE. He had believed there was hope for redemption, hope for forgiveness — there had been hope. But it had crumbled swiftly, rapidly, disintegrated into a distant numbness that is somehow far worse than all the grief, anger, desperation, and despair that he’s faced the last year. 

He’s settled before the fire, and he splays hands before him — steady hands, confident hands, hands that once plucked the strings of the weave and molded it skillfully and deftly and with awe and wonder. The only outward sign of his distress is that they tremble, ever so slightly, and his brows pinch tightly. 

❝ She wouldn’t ask this without good reason, ❞ he utters, the words —— tight. Desperate. Straining to find some reason, reaching to find justification. ❝ She —— if she saw any other way forward, I’m sure she would —— she’s not —— ❞  [ Do you remember how she left you? How utter silence met your ruin? Do you remember how you prayed and screamed to the heavens until you lost your voice and tasted blood, and only heard silence? ] He swallows. ❝ —— cruel. ❞

[powerfought]

Hello friend. I notice we have the same name. I think this means we have to kiss? Or fight. I’m sure it’s one of those, probably. 😂☺️💜

or, hear me out: we merge to become the amorphous blob known only as the ultimate bean.

[crosaidi]

@thiefscant  inquired:  ❝  Not  exactly  the  fight  I  was  expecting  when  we  got  here.  At  least  we  got  the  job  done.  ❞  /  da:i  party  banter

A hand’s braced against the stone wall, the grit of it rough and grounding against his fingers a vicious wave of cramping nausea curls through his gut — it’s a valiant war he fights, but his will is mighty and he forces it to settle. " Fuck gettin’ the fuckin’ shit job done, I would have sooner got fucked by a fucking sword than fucking do that again. "

That’s hissed through his teeth, grousing, but the truth is that they got through that damned place on word alone, and he’s glad for it. Thisobold Thorm — his spine crawls again with it all, sour and grim, and he’ll be better able to respect it all once he has distance from everything that happened in that hells-damned tavern.

He spits off to the side, trying to rid himself of the foul taste in his mouth, and eyes them sideways; he hadn’t followed when they went to the back, wanting a minute to recover. Unfortunately, the outside is as grim as the inside in these cursed lands, but at least it doesn’t reek of undead. " What was back there, anyhow? "

[highaver]

@thiefscant asked: “it’s the hope that kills you.”

"Yeah, well, no offence but I don't really want anything to do with that outlook on life." Balfour's tone was all the more stern for their surroundings. These shadow-lands, they were taking their toll on him. What grip he had left on his hope was desperate and weaker than he would like to admit.

For a few moments more, he said nothing. Balfour simply remained crouched by the fire, sharpening the tip of his spear in the only light they were granted here. Finally, he looked up again.

"Why are you even here if you're hopeless?"

[stormlit]

starter call. accepting @thiefscant

❝ i am going to that inn. my friends might have made it there. ❞ if they live -- and she has to believe they do, or else all of this has been for nothing -- then they'd have been making their way to the city, and they'd have had to pass through these lands to make it. what in light's name has happened here? people lived here, once; nynaeve imagines they are long gone, and her heart twists, knowing what a rural life was like. would she have been able to help? she can radiate starlight, without a doubt...but not at will. not yet, but it's getting easier to call forth the stronger magic, as she gets stronger. ❝ you can wander off into the bloody shadows if you like. i've no taste for exploration. ❞

[remaimed]

@thiefscant // lyric starter

"Maybe we're just having too much fun."

[infernalbarbarian]

@thiefscant — cont’d from here.

as soon as bright, yellow orbs caught sight of the piece of infernal iron as anais pulled it from her pack, karlach became ecstatic. taloned, red digits grasp the iron and she stares at it longingly, a fanged grin spread wide across her face from pointed ear to pointed ear before hugging it close to her chest as they continued to move forward on their journey, much father ahead than the others. “oh gods, i’m so happy i could just kiss ya right on the mouth,” she blurts excitedly, though she isn’t really serious — not unless of course, anais wanted to, but karlach hasn’t picked up a vibe either way, so — anais is incredibly difficult to read, “i won’t do that, obviously, because for one : i’d incinerate your entire bloody face, and we can’t have that, now, can we? and two : you might stab me. but just know, i’m giving ya the biggest hug telepathically right now. thank you. i mean it.”

[dreadgrace-a]

"you did well." she's settled closer to Anais than ever before, though still out of reach. a suitable flat rock becomes her seat, and there lark inspects her weapons one by one, keeping her gaze fixed on her task rather than glancing their way. her spare dagger had caught the edge of another blade (she'd felt the edge give) and... there's the nick.

fuck.

lark sighs, pushing aside her irritation at the damage to more carefully examine it in the firelight. "to manipulate thorm to agree to his own death was... a stroke of genius."

@thiefscant / starter call.

[bolyde]

Anais does not betray much, Shadowheart knows this from just the brief time they've spent together. There is a facade that @thiefscant keeps up and there is an ease to their theatrics that Shadowheart wishes she could emulate. It might be easier on her if she could claim any truth for her own, and she finds herself envying the way masks slide on and off with no issues at all from Anais' face.

"Some thing is wrong..." Shadowheart whispers to herself as her gaze follows the way Anais makes way quickly from the room. The shake of their hands is the only thing that gives Shadowheart a push to follow after Anais.

Anais is already sliding to the ground by the time Shadowheart approaches, only stopping her approach when ordered by the rouge, but the proximity is enough to spark to life that connection wrought between them.

Shadowheart could handle this much.

Just as soon as the visions started they were over and Shadowheart moved closer anyway. She kept her hands to herself before squatting beside the other, waterskin held out. "I know you're... tired," Shadowheart avoids stating the panic evident or talking about the memories, "The others will be out soon and we'll have to move forward. You're going to have to stand back up," there's a suggestion of her holding her hand out, easily ignored if Anais wished it, but there should she want otherwise.

[clawsextended]

“hmf. this is —“ pause. cat’s eyes scan the surface of wood grain and she pauses, takes a step back. a freckled nose scrunches in annoyed distaste. nails tap against her palm in irritation. fucker. “— you happen to have a disarm kit on you?” she doesn’t even flinch, but hums musically, exchanging her the lockpick in her hand to patiently wait to receive the remedy. “—a goddamn unsatisfactory bitch of a situation.”

@thiefscant

[weavewilled]

@thiefscant queried: i mean it. i like you. but my life is complicated enough. / body heat

COMPLICATION IS EVER WHAT DEFINES THEIR LIVES. Now, certainly — but, as he’s come to learn, for much of their lives. And —— if he’s disappointed by the answer, he doesn’t show it plainly. He understands it, to a degree; adding personal complication to the reality of their lives is just adding another layer that feels — well. Complicated.

" And far be it for me to add to your complication. " He smiles faintly, warmly, but —— accepting, also. " I do understand. Our lives, our situation — it’s an impossible weight to bear, and yet bear it we all must. " He sighs, slow and weighted, and pushes his weight back a little where he’s seated on the ground so he can prop his knees up, drape elbows over them, his hands loosely linked. " It’s fortunate, I think, that we have so many to help shoulder it. "

He’s quiet for a heartbeat, and then he adds: " Understand that when I say I’ve come to care for you — for all of you, in different ways — that I mean that also in that I will do everything in my power to help all of us through this journey, because you have all given me reason to do so. More than I have had in a long time. And that alone holds far more value to me than I can properly describe. "

[crimesoughtarchive]

@thiefscant asked:

❝ What’s wrong with this place? Why don’t they have one decent regular lock to pick. No, it’s got to be all magic and blowy lights. ❞

Dragon Age II Starters

"Want me to give you some regular locks? I think I have some in my pack."

[sanguinir]

𝙷𝙴   𝙷𝙰𝙳   𝙽𝙾   𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙾𝚁𝚈   𝙾𝙵   𝙲𝙰𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙴𝙵.   Time   and   trauma   had   robbed   him   of   a   great   many   things      —      his   childhood,   his   mother’s   scent,   the   sound   of   his   father’s   laugh,   the   memory   of   his   own   facial   features.   The   elf   knew   enough,   having   mapped   the   planes   of   his   face   with   his   fingers   from   the   cut   of   his   jaw   to   the   arch   of   his   brows   to   where   his   lashes   kissed   his   cheekbones.   But   mischief?   Playing   games   with   friends   and   light-hearted   tricks   and   then   fleeing   from   the   chaos   in   a   maelstrom   of   breathless   giggles?

So   Astarion   was   making   up   for   the   holes   in   his   memory   now,   lifting   things   out   of   his   companions’   pockets   for   his   own   petty   amusement.     

❝      All   of   this   trouble,   for   something   so   ugly?      ❞      His   mouth   was   pulled   into   a   disgusted   sneer   as   he   held   up   the   gaudy   enchanted   necklace   up   to   the   light.   It   was   still   warm   from   being   stashed   in   Anais’   pockets,   having   taken   it   and   a   delightful   piece   of   jade   from   their   pockets.   ❝      I   hope   we’re   at   least   going   to   be   paid   well   for   this,   to   make   it   worth   our   while.      ❞

@thiefscant s.c.

[astaricn]

do you want to tell me the truth , this time ?

"NO? WHY WOULD I EVER WANT TO DO THAT?" His tone suggested he was thoroughly amused by the mere THOUGHT of being honest. Lips curling into a smirk, he tilted his head back slightly as he observed them. "You'll have to try a LOT harder to learn all my deep, dark secrets, darling."