thievery corporation.

[shitglasses]

THIEVERY MEME

Nothing gets a thread going like conflict! Someone stole something of yours, and you want it back, huh? Or, wait, are you the thief?

The why's and hows are up to you (though there are some prompt ideas under the cut!), but the basics are the same: One's a thief and one's a mark. What will you do to steal what you want? Or: what will you do to get it back?

Thievery threads can vary in tone and content from gritty back streets to zany adventures. You can go from violence to Robin Hood-- or a mix of both. And there's always the potential for the thief to fall in love with their mark... or is the seduction just more subterfuge? You know, there's no honor among thieves.

Specify in your toplevel if you have any preference whether you're a thief or a mark, and have fun! Likewise, some of these threads can contain violence, so please specify if that's something you'd like to avoid.

PROMPTS

1. PURSE SNATCHING: Doesn't have to be a purse! Could be a wallet! But the details are the usual: You're minding your own business on the street, and some jerk bumps into you. And-- hey! They've got your stuff! Go get 'em.

2. ROBBERY: Stick 'em up! Holding up a bank, a convenience store, a deli, it doesn't matter. The mark's just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Are they gonna try and be a hero?

3. HEIST: Sometimes you don't have to crash in guns blazing. There's hidden jewels, a secret safe, a casino that needs unloading. Maybe the mark is there to guard the treasure. Maybe they are the treasure.

4. ARMORED VAN: Who says car chases aren't exciting? That armored van has the precious goodies you want, and that driver better watch out!

5. WILDCARD: Got a better idea? Go for it!

Comments

[whattaprick]

[ One of the advantages of looking like one of the many scruffy street children running around the place is that while the thieving is certainly frowned upon, it also isn't going to immediately get her the drawn swords, angry shouting, and calls for backup an armed, adult thief might. Like, say, a witcher rifling through a crate with swords on his back, right in plain sight. ]

Get away from there, you little thief. [ The guard's tone is stern and pitiless. Laura's comparatively well-fed and healthy compared to some of the others squatting around the city, and if those aren't enough to inspire pity...

In the meantime, Lambert's finally wrapping up his bargaining -- still a handful of crowns away from what he reckons it out to be worth, but the noble's looking increasingly irritated, so it's time to cut his losses. Unfortunately, he also now seems to be missing one (1) tiny angry mutant. How the hell does this keep happening? ]

[wildhorses]

[Laura, at least, has strength on her side. She rips her hand out of the guard's gauntlet, and jumps forward, landing on the crate in front of them. Having no interest in talking to people who she doesn't know or trust, she screeches at the guard, but doesn't bother to make words or explain. She evidently isn't moving to flee either.]

Vamos! Lambert! Ven aqui!

comes back to this late with starbucks

[whattaprick]

[ Hearing her shout like that -- well, Lambert doesn't need to exactly understand the words, even if he's already picked up a few bits of Spanish here and there, to come running towards the sound of Laura's voice.

Unpleasantly surprised by the strength of what he'd incorrectly understood to be an ordinary orphan, though, the guard releases her and steps back, hand already falling to the handle of his sword as his eyes narrow, preparing to shout for back-up. What kind child is this? ]

its all good eyyy.

[wildhorses]

[Laura, meanwhile, ignores the guards completely. They aren't important. She's very good at blocking out the things she doesn't care about. Laura scrambles up on the boxes and waves Lambert over.]

Ven aqui! The boxes smell wrong. Lambert! They smell dead.

[And if she's not allowed in them, the Witcher might be. She'll be the guard dog, she doesn't care.]

[whattaprick]

[ Smells dead? What the hell does that mean? Laura's nose has always been sharper than his own, but now that she's drawn his attention to it, cracked the crate open enough to waft out the scent of what's inside, his frown can't help getting deeper. Like Laura, he can also ignore the guards' shouting, because they're slow. There's plenty of time for Lambert to shove his fingers under the edge of the one Laura was prying open earlier and finish the job, wood splintering to reveal what's underneath.

Which is--

A strange mix of snakes (some live, some dead) and very dead rabbit corpses in some stage of decay, all packed around a giant egg. An egg that's already half-cracked, cracking as a tiny clawed limb breaks through. Lambert recoils instinctively with a hiss, hand to the sword on his back. ]

[wildhorses]

[Laura hops down to peer over at the box, shoving her face forward to sniff and poke. She pulls her finger away with a tiny smudge of blood and dirt on the tip, before glaring at the guards.] You're welcome. [It's a word-for-word repeat of something Lambert said a while back, possibly while drunk, after winning an argument. He's certainly nurturing her spitefulness.]

[She turns back to Lambert, and raises a tiny fist. No claws, but she's asking permission. Can we kill it?]