Drew a heart for you in the sand...

Jul. 20th, 2017 05:14 pm
arrowofthegod: (Leannan's son)
[personal profile] arrowofthegod posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Paul has limited experience of swimming in the sea. In Canada it had rarely been warm enough; in Fionavar, there hadn't been time before he'd gone to the Godwood and the Summer Tree. In Darrow, though, now the days are warmer and longer, Paul's been spending more time at the beach. He runs on the sand and then he strips off his sneakers and shirt and he wades into the water. He swims until his muscles ache, until he can feel his heartbeat throbbing through him. In dreams, he sometimes speaks with gods, with Dana in the moonlight or Leannan in the waves.

He wonders whether a call would be heard, from so distant a shore. He wonders if the thunder in his blood might find an answer.

He pushes both hands back through his dark, wet hair. The months after Rachel died had left him thinner than he'd ever been, wasted and wasting away. Now, now that he's seen how he can be forgiven, now that he's healthy, he's putting on muscle again, back to being that lean, rangy boy who played basketball so well that, sometimes, it had felt like he was flying.

There are things to regret about Darrow, things to miss about both Toronto and Fionavar, but Paul is happy more days than he has sad. He has work that he enjoys, friends, something that's starting to feel like a relationship.

Things have definitely been worse...

He's breathing hard when he comes out of the water and, for once, the god's voice is quiet, nothing in his ear but the loud and regular beating of his own human heart.

ooc: half-naked, dripping wet, excellent time to meet The Lord of the Summer Tree. ST/LT welcome.

they're coming up no matter what

Jul. 19th, 2017 01:54 pm
high_warlock: (094)
[personal profile] high_warlock posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
July 12, 2017:

He remembered. He remembered so much.

Now that he knew, Alec found that he wanted to give everything back.


Alec receives all his memories up to his final moments in Edom.

[ HERE | complete | spoilers for The Mortal Instruments ]


July 18, 2017:

They'd been forcing normalcy. They'd been trying to go on about their lives despite the new knowledge in Alec's head and the information he'd shared with Magnus. They'd been trying to go on as if nothing was wrong, as if their wedding was the only thing to focus on.

But, Alec knew they were both lying.


Magnus finally breaks down over the news of the future that Alec shared with him.

[ HERE | complete | spoilers for The Mortal Instruments ]

(no subject)

Jul. 17th, 2017 12:23 pm
notonemoment: ([ genderswap ])
[personal profile] notonemoment posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
It's not the fact that it's happened that bothers him. He'd been waiting for it, if he's being honest with himself. Of all of the weird things Darrow does, this is hardly the most dangerous. He can deal with the fact that his body is different.

The thing that bothers him is that now he's not sure what to do with himself. He's not going to work, not like this. At least not for the first day. And he can't go for his usual morning run. He needs proper clothes first, that much is obvious. He definitely needs a bra, because he's suddenly stacked, and he had no idea breasts were so . . . cumbersome. How do women deal with these things?

He layers some shirts together, but it's still pretty obvious that there's nothing between the cotton and his skin. He tries not to blush, tightens his belt, then sighs and slips out the door.

It doesn't help that Agron seems to have no idea what to do or how to take this. It's an uncomfortable switch for Steve, seeing him at a loss like this. So Steve gives him a break, pushes his fingers into suddenly long, thick, curly hair, and makes his way in too-big flip flops to the nearest store.

After some awkward conversations and a little fumbling around in the bathroom after checking out, Steve is dressed in clothes that fit. He feels a lot better, at least. He has no idea if he's hot, but he thinks he probably is.

And the bra makes a big difference.

The clothes he'd worn out of the house are in one of his shopping bags, mixed in with some new things to tide him over for however long this lasts.

He texts Thomas and his coworkers to let them know he won't be in today, then texts Agron to see how he's doing. He shoots one last text to Lito, which simply says, My turn, before tucking his phone into his new, snug jeans and stepping into a cafe for a much needed dose of caffeine.

[ Genderswap! Find Steve looking banging with Gina Torres's face before, during, or after he hunts down new clothes and some coffee! Open until this reads otherwise, st/lt welcome! ]

slow it down, slow it down

Jul. 17th, 2017 09:10 am
gayest_crew: (j016)
[personal profile] gayest_crew posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Everything felt a bit shit lately. Jake couldn't really put his finger on it but waking up had been hard, getting through his shifts had been difficult, and he hadn't been going out as much as he tended to at night. All in all, he'd gotten really bloody boring and decided that he couldn't be having that anymore.

So, after his shift, he'd gone home, showered and changed, before immediately heading out to find something to do. Going out to a club was his first choice but he figured it'd be crowded and hot and Jake had dealt with enough sweaty people wanting to hang off him during work.

Maybe he'd go a bit low key tonight. Get out of his flat but not throw himself right back into things. The sun had drooped below the horizon a few minutes ago, leaving the city in that hazy limbo between sunlight and moonlight. Jake liked it. The air was warm but not stifling.

On his way to the beach, Jake stopped by the marijuana dispensary and picked up a few cigarettes to smoke and he popped into a convenience store to get some liquor. A few people coming into the store gave him a look and Jake just smiled sweetly at them. If a man wanted to get high and drunk on his own, it was his God given right, wasn't it?

The beach was, blissfully, empty when he padded his way there. He took off his socks and boots, digging his toes into the warm sand. There were a few people wandering around the area but most everyone had gone home, leaving Jake alone with his thoughts and the sounds of waves lapping onto the shore.

Lighting the joint, Jake dug the bottle of liquor into the sand to keep it upright before he lay back and peered up at the darkening sky. Maybe this wasn't exactly breaking the streak of keeping to himself but it was better than staying in his flat, watching old telly and eating chips.

He closed his eyes and briefly thought of Simon. It was never going to work out, Jake realized, but it had been nice while it lasted. It had been nice to feel like he was wanted, desired.

But, it had been false. Fake. Jake opened his eyes again. He took the joint out of his mouth, letting it burn between two fingers while he played a lazy game of connect the stars with himself.

[Find Jake on the beach at any point after dusk. He's a little high and maybe drunk but friendly and easy to talk to. ST/LT always welcome. Currently: open]

(no subject)

Jul. 16th, 2017 07:45 pm
ssrsousa: (bogart impression)
[personal profile] ssrsousa posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
June 10, 2017:

The morning after Peggy and Daniel's first night together is both adorable and honest.

[ HERE | complete | pg-13 ]

(no subject)

Jul. 16th, 2017 06:38 pm
sicparvasmagna: (thinky)
[personal profile] sicparvasmagna posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
March 9, 2017:

"Little seems wrong, now," he points out. It's still something of a shock every time he looks at Sam and sees his eighteen year old face staring back, as though he's daring Nate - or anyone for that matter - to say anything. He's used to Sam's bravado though, especially at this age. When he was a kid he thought Sam was the coolest guy around, and he's always going to be his brother, but Nate's old enough now to know that for the most part they were just a couple of scared kids.

Sam is eighteen and Nate finds it hilarious.

[ HERE | wrapped | pg ]

Mid May, 2017

Sam's got a pair of cute plastic earplugs around his neck, like he's come prepared. Nate looks over at him with the beginnings of a smile, giving him a little wave. He's got them a good little corner, barricaded away from most of the other lanes. He'd wanted to have a day with just his brother, without any kind of interruptions, but he also doesn't want anybody asking questions he'd rather not answer.

Grown up again Sam and Nate go shooting.

[ HERE | wrapped | pg ]

[meme] test drive

Jul. 14th, 2017 08:02 pm
citycouncil: (Default)
[personal profile] citycouncil posting in [community profile] cityarcade
Tag into this post with characters you're thinking of apping to the game (characters who are not currently in-game or currently reserved by someone else). It can be just a tag, a brief EP, whatever you want. You can be new to the game, or simply want to test out a fresh pup. Tag each other with these characters or those already in game, and have fun.

Also, please include the name of their canon somewhere in or on the comment or on their profile page.
high_warlock: (Default)
[personal profile] high_warlock posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Surprising no one, Darrow had more than its fair share of odd little holidays that it liked to celebrate. Today’s festival was no different, taking its inspiration from ice cream of all things, but at least it fit in the season. Though cloudy, the day was warm and humid, with the sun peaking through at intervals, generating a great need for something sweet and cool and relaxing.

The boardwalk and the pier were set up with all sorts of entertainments and food stalls. A great number of artisanal ice cream shops had staked their claim, taking advantage of the crowds who might finally give their habanero pepper ice cream or tomato water olive oil flavors a chance. More traditional flavors were offered from the carts set up in between, along with ice cream sandwiches made from cookies and ding dongs and pop tarts. Milk shakes, both alcoholic and not, were on offer from the food shake at the end of the pier, as well as a sundae making station filled with every topping imaginable.

The festivities didn’t stop at food. There was an ice cream eating competition that left its competitors moaning on the floor from massive brain freezes, a sight which was probably more entertaining than the ice cream eating itself. A bouncy castle in the shape of an ice cream sundae was in place for the kids, as well as a ball pit where all the balls were in the shape and design of sundae toppings -- cherries and sprinkles and M&Ms and peanuts. There was of course a competition for the best ice cream, with the surprising winner being sweet avocado cayenne.

But most people seemed to enjoy the simple pleasure of eating ice cream at the beach, lounging with their flavor and item of choice and trying to get some relief from the summer heat.

(no subject)

Jul. 14th, 2017 09:47 am
lil_lion: (pensive)
[personal profile] lil_lion posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Browsing Nile was both an excellent idea and utterly over-stimulating. Anduin was there, ostensibly, to pick up a few things: namely a journal. He had been a regular chronicler, even as a boy. Almost as soon as he had walked in, the list of essential items grew. He had learned, unbeknownst to his father, how to cook a few Pandaren recipes. Once he saw that there were an array of books with recipes... he knew he had to acquire a handbook, or he would practically starve alone. A Florbert's Guide to Darrow proclaimed to offer the traveler details of landmarks, history, and attractions in the city.

That's when he picked up one of the red baskets other shoppers were carrying. Occasionally, he caught shoppers giving him strange looks as he took in the bewildering variety of topics. He was fully aware that he was gawking, despite himself. He actually started walking with his free hand behind his back, to fight the impulse to examine them all. He would come back later... And, besides, why shouldn't a city of this size not have a library?

Anduin walks up a short flight stairs into the history and philosophy sections. His eyes scan across names of places and wars he has never heard of. One of the books is turned outward to display its cover. It is a slim volume, and- like most of the books- poorly bound with glue. But he pauses over it and hesitantly picks it up. All of these books have descriptions either on the inside or the back summarizing their subject.

Conflict is an inevitable part of life, according to this ancient Chinese classic of strategy, but everything necessary to deal with conflict wisely, honorably, victoriously, is already present within us. Compiled more than two thousand years ago by a mysterious warrior-philosopher, The Art of War is still perhaps the most prestigious and influential book of strategy in the world, as eagerly studied in Asia by modern politicians and executives as it has been by military leaders since ancient times. As a study of the anatomy of organizations in conflict, The Art of War applies to competition and conflict in general, on every level from the interpersonal to the international. Its aim is invincibility, victory without battle, and unassailable strength through understanding the physics, politics, and psychology of conflict.

"Victory... without battle," he whispers. He rereads the blurb, then slips the book into his basket. Just knowing it is there makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. He moves on to the Religion and Spirituality section. Eagerly, he looks for any reference to the Light. Before long he spots it- "Camford Companion to the History of the Church." Finally! He knew there must be some form of the Church here. He cracks it open and reads. He sees dates, names, places he has never heard of. There is an index, he turns to it. There is a listing for 'Light' but it is worryingly small, like a footnote. The page it references quotes strange texts about a god in the void. Confusion turns to disgust. He turns back to the index. 'Priest.'

"None of this makes sense..." Women can't be priests? And there is nothing here about healing. He does find one reference to resurrection- but it seems to be practically unheard of- except that apparently the church looked forward to a mass resurrection of all dead humans--

"You gonna buy that?" Anduin closed the book. He had read enough.

"No, it's not what I need at all."

[Find Anduin wandering Nile, or on his way home post-book buying binge.]

MEME: Kink/Sex Meme

Jul. 12th, 2017 05:12 pm
light_of_the_world: (Default)
[personal profile] light_of_the_world posting in [community profile] cityarcade
Adapted from here.


How To Play:
- Comment with your character. DON'T LEAVE YOUR COMMENT BLANK. Include what kinks your character might be into. If you have no idea, say as much and describe the kind of sex they do like.

- Be as specific or as vague as you want. You can put a kink and the definition (i.e., paizuri), or go all out with a scenario description ("I want my character to get fucked by his brother, who is an alien octopus"). Include pictures to serve as prompts if you'd like, but please link to anything that could be considered triggering instead of embedding it. Otherwise, all ideas, kinks, AUs, prompts, and scenarios welcome.

- Comment to people with your ideas on what their pups might be interested in or, if you feel like it, give them a drabble fulfilling the prompt/ideas given.

- Be respectful and have fun.
ghost_holder: (Rabbit hearted girl)
[personal profile] ghost_holder posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
July 8, 2017:

Aggie pauses and turns, looking at Nicaise and then past him. She smiles vaguely at her friend but something is buzzing through her, calling at her power, at her soul. It's in the river, the ground, the trees.

Aggie walks into a fairytale cottage, goes into a trance, and summons the ghost of a pop star. Just teenage girl things.

[ HERE | Ongoing | necromancy, musical instruments made of murder victims, teenagers]

(no subject)

Jul. 12th, 2017 09:50 am
onlythebranch: (014)
[personal profile] onlythebranch posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Four days, three full bottles of Southern Comfort, five hangovers -- he's exceptionally talented in that regard -- three fights, including the one he'd gotten in right off the fucking bat, only one night spent in the apartment he's been so graciously gifted by this cursed fucking place, one night spent in the drunk tank, and two near death experiences, neither of them his own. And a fucking partridge in a pear tree.

That's how Mad Sweeney is measuring his time in Darrow.

All in all, he'd consider the past four days a rousing success, if not for the fact that he's supposed to be on his fucking way to fucking Wisconsin and the fucking House on the Rock. And if not for the fact that he still doesn't have his bloody coin, which accounts for the two near death experiences. Even in a magical goddamn city he's never heard of before -- and being magical himself, he's heard of a lot of fucking magical cities in his time -- being too close to him for too long doesn't end well for some folks.

All that bad luck is still rubbing off on them. At least he hasn't managed to impale anyone this go around. Not yet.

But he's still here. No amount of walking or driving cars or riding bloody bicycles has gotten him anywhere but exactly here and here isn't fucking Wisconsin. It's the sort of thing he ought to be able to let go, it's not as if Wednesday hasn't been yanking his chain hard enough to annoy him for ages now, but Sweeney knows what he owes. A battle. A death. It's time to cash in.

Only he bloody well can't, because he's still here.

None of this is what he wants. If he's dead, if somehow that dead bitch killed him, he thought at least he might get to go home, get to see the moors one last time, but he knows he isn't dead and he isn't going home.

Instead he's in a bloody park. The sun is too bright and he's not drunk enough or sober enough to deal with any of this. The sun, the singing birds, the children running back and forth, screeching at the top of their lungs, and it's not that Sweeney doesn't like kids -- doesn't like birds, though -- it's just that he's not cut out for this. Not for any of this. Not today. Not until he gets his fucking coin back.

Which isn't going to happen. Dead Wife isn't here. Dead Wife's still in Kentucky and she's still got his fucking coin in her rotten chest.

Nearby, two of the screaming children suddenly run straight into each other on their bikes, crashing hard enough that they both go tumbling to the ground, one with his bike square on top of him, and the delighted shrieks turn into pained wails as one kid realizes two of his teeth are no longer in his mouth, but on the sidewalk in front of him. There's a fair bit of blood and then two worried mothers swoop in and Sweeney knows it's his fault, his proximity to them, but he barely spares them a glance. They're not the worst casualties of his bad fucking luck.

What he needs is another drink and another cigarette and he trudges across the park in search of a corner store and a liquor store, hopefully all rolled into one, but he only gets a few steps before a little dog crosses his path and sits down in front of him, yapping shrilly.

"Fuck off," he mutters, moving to go around. Were it a kid, he'd just punt the fucker, but dogs are helpless in ways humans aren't. The dog just moves with him, though, his tag wagging furiously, that same irritating yapping spilling out of its tiny, stupid mouth and Sweeney growls at it, wishing it would just go away.

"Don't fuck with me today," he says. "You're no Xolotl and I'm not fuckin' interested. Now beat it."

Ten more seconds and he's going to kick the damn thing, helpless or not.

[Forgot to mention in his intro post: Sweeney's luck is REALLY BAD right now because he accidentally gave away his lucky coin, which means bad things happen in his vicinity. :D Closed unless we've already spoken.]

(no subject)

Jul. 11th, 2017 08:31 pm
onlythebranch: (012)
[personal profile] onlythebranch posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
July 9, 2017:

Coming to Darrow...

"I need to get to Wisconsin," he says, rising from his crouch, leaning one elbow on the top of the car. "So I need the fuckin' car. Is it yours?" He lifts his other hand, plucks a coin from the air and displays the heavy, shining gold from between two fingers. "It's a shit heap, you ask me, but if your panties are in a twist, I'll pay you for it. Can't be worth more than two or three o'these."


Mad Sweeney arrives in Darrow without anyone having brought him and immediately tries to steal a car and makes a new friend.

[HERE | ongoing | r for language, violence, and warning for spoilers]
nothingmorehorrifying: (Anguish)
[personal profile] nothingmorehorrifying posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
 Wanda likes to think she's doing all right. She misses Clint terribly, which makes her miss all the other Avengers, but at least she's not entirely alone in Darrow. There's Tony Stark, when he's not being maddening. There's Lucky, who misses Clint as much as she does, poor dog, but who makes good company. She has no reason to suspect the turn things will take when she finds a package slip from the post office in her mailbox. There's a package she needs to pick up, which strikes her as odd since she hasn't ordered anything but supposes Tony could be in a generous mood. 

She does mark it as strange that the box only says 'Maximoff' though. It's why she procrastinates, walking to the park, getting a cup of coffee before she opens it. 

The first layer of the box makes her heart speed up. It's a little photo album that Pietro kept, full of photographs of the two of them, their friends, the things they'd loved. She starts to smile, ready to look at the photos until she sees what's resting beneath. Friction-resistant pants, top of the line (stolen) running shoes. A blue and silver shirt, ragged with bullet holes, the edges stained and rusty.

That's when the box falls from her fingers and Wanda follows after, knees hitting the ground as she tries not to scream. All of the emotions rise up through her, the same fear, horror, and denial that she took three years to learn to live with. Only now it hits her like a shockwave and she has to covered her mouth, cover a sob. 

Her power screams for her, surrounding her in all directions for ten feet. Distantly she registers the alarm of a car going off, the new gash in the trunk of a tree, a street lamp whose bulb explodes. 

But all she can think about is the shirt in the box that belonged to her brother.

[[Wanda has just received her item, a box of her twin brother's personal effects. She's not in a GREAT place but she will definitely need people so please, tag her.]]

And I would understand.

Jul. 9th, 2017 08:45 am
no_voice: (Thoughtful)
[personal profile] no_voice posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Cut for description of suicide and references to drug use as well as length )

Darkness surrounds him. For how long, he doesn’t know. But suddenly, Jason finds himself gasping awake, his eyes fluttering open. The feeling of motion stirs beneath his feet and bright lights shine in his face.

“What?” He asks, his voice coming out like a croak more than anything else. He glances around to find himself on a train, though where it’s heading, he can’t really say; he doesn’t recognize the shapes and colors passing him by outside the window next to him.

The man next to him scoffs. Jason turns to find a middle-aged man who could be a ringer for his father as he pulls his young daughter close to his side, fixing him with a dirty look, as though he’d just stepped in dog crap. Glancing down at himself, and catching the way he smells, Jason can’t entirely blame him.

Dirt falls off of his least favorite suit, which seems more faded and worn than the last time Jason saw it. He doesn’t recognize the fragrance drifting from him like a bad perfume, but he thinks it must be a chemical something or other; he smells like a funeral home.

So this must be the afterlife, then, he tells himself. Even as a feeling of déjà vu creeps in like so much unwanted fog; even as something in the back of his thoughts recognizes something in the way the train slows down as it pulls into the station.

Jason is still confused. He is certainly meant to be dead; he took enough drugs to make sure of that. He remembers fading away. They must have put him in the ground.

Soon enough, an announcement informs the passengers that this is the last stop and they all must exit the train now, please and thank you; have a nice day. Jason follows the crowd as they all step off the train, though he receives more than one dirty look for it.

Glancing around the train station, Jason has so many questions, not the least of which is why this station, and in particular, the information booth looming in the center of it, seems so familiar.

So, aware of his appearance and smell, and past the point of caring currently, Jason approaches the first person he sees, hoping he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels.

“Excuse me, but where are we? I don’t remember getting on a train.”

[OOC: Semi-traditional debut; first one to tag can reexplain Darrow to Jason/help him obtain his welcome packet. Everyone else can find him either wandering the train station, looking for a bite to eat, or trying to find his apartment at Ocean View. Set to this morning. Please see this post here before tagging in. ST/LT always welcome. CLOSED unless we've spoken, thank you!]

(no subject)

Jul. 8th, 2017 02:27 pm
thedreamthief: (Default)
[personal profile] thedreamthief posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Hours later, Ronan still had a hard time piecing it all together.

They'd told him he'd been unconscious for days and the look in Gansey's eye, the stubble on Adam's jaw, and the worried lines of Noah's face were all Ronan needed to know they weren't fucking around. His body felt it too, his back and legs sore in a ways he never imagined possible and, even now, he carried a grogginess he couldn't explain.

But there was more to it than even that.

When he woke up, it was to a familiar face, but one he hadn't seen in over two years. One he hadn't let himself believe he would ever see again.

Her golden hair hung down in a curtain, a hood that did little to hide the warm glow of her blue eyes. She smiled at him, as kind and comforting as ever, and Ronan felt like, for the first time in over two years, he was home. "Hello, my son," she said, her voice a windchime as she pressed a cool hand to his face.

Gansey was the first to speak and Ronan jolted at the sound, the familiar timber knocking him back into the present. Or maybe it was the past. His brain was suddenly flooded with memories that seemed fresh and old both at once.

He remembered. )

As he looked at her now, it all made sense. And none of it made sense. There was so much more. She was here and he was home. But this was not Henrietta and everything he knew about Henrietta was changed. The sofa under his back was the one he'd dreamt for the Farms, the art on the walls all Noah's.

And, somehow, he'd brought his mother out of his dreams.

Now, after all the commotion and fuss and explanations, Ronan was outside in the quiet. The trees whispered above him, welcoming him back though Ronan insisted he hadn't fucking gone anywhere. Cinnamon grazed while Betty and Veronica wandered, blinking at him with their huge, dark eyes suspiciously and Hercules nibbled at his fingertips.

Above him, Chainsaw flew in dizzying circles, occasionally squawking out his name as though to make sure Ronan was still really there.

There was a snap of a twig behind him, a footstep, and Ronan jerked slightly and let out a huff.

"Christ, I'm not fucking dead," he insisted as he turned to greet whomever it was who'd come to join him.


[OOC: Massive TRC spoilers lie behind that cut tag so beware! EP open to any and all who might be wandering into Cabeswater Farms right now. Aurora is around, but just inside so she may pop into a thread or two. Also, it's worth noting that Ronan's also been canon updated at this point so he may seem a little... off for a bit.]
most_peculiar: (Song as old as rhyme)
[personal profile] most_peculiar posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
It's her birthday today. It doesn't feel much like it, Belle concedes, without her father surprising her with a special music box and a rose plucked from seemingly out of nowhere. (When, in fact, he had likely gone hunting for it a day or two before, taking Philippe and returning before she could notice.) She misses her father most of anyone from back home; she wishes she could see him, wishes she could check in on him and make sure he escaped from the carriage.

Instead, she is alone, but Belle can cope. She's strong; she's survived imprisonment not just once, but twice. If she can make her way around a cursed castle and charge after a ravenous hunter, she can certainly make it on her own in a strange city, years away from her small village.

She thinks she'll take Philippe out for a ride today; the weather seems perfect for it, after all. But first, she'll buy herself a cupcake and a drink. Who says she can't treat herself on her own birthday?

In the wake of her birthday snack and drink, she makes her way down the street, hoping to catch a bus to the countryside. A glimmer of yellow catches the corner of her eyes from one of the shops she passes, and she abruptly halts. Her breath catches in her throat.

"That's my dress!" She exclaims, shocked by the sight of it hanging in the front window of some overly decorated boutique. All at once, she's taken back to that night, the dinner and the dancing. She can still feel the Beasts' hands in hers, if she closes her eyes. She can hear the music and feel the echoes of her heartbeat from the night; the moment when she felt as if she might, in fact, be falling. If people stop and stare at her on the sidewalk, she doesn't notice.

She opens her eyes again to find that there's a price tag attached to her dress, the one made especially for her by Madame Garderobe. She doesn't let herself get irritated; instead, she marches right into the store, muddied boots and skirt and all, and asks to speak to the cashier about buying that dress.

"But it's out of your price range!" A clerk with her nose turned up, sneers at her and her outfit. "And we have a very important client coming in who will more than likely want it for her collection."

Belle meets her gaze coolly, eyes like steel. "And I have the money now. Not to mention that it's my dress and I'm doing you a favor in buying it back from you. Please ring me up, or take me to someone who can."

The clerk balks at her for a good moment before grumbling under her breath. In all honesty, Belle pities her. She likely doesn't receive the pay she ought to in working to make customers happy. Still. She's looking forward to getting her dress and leaving.

Inwardly, Belle winces at how much she's spending just to get her dress back. She'll have to stick to those Ramen noodles for meals for awhile because of this. Still, it's worth it as the clerk hands her the dress, balking again when Belle insists that she doesn't need a bag.

"Thank you and have a good day!" She calls back, waving as much as she can with the dress in her hands. The bell above the door rings out as she leaves, a wide smile on her face.

And if she does a little skip as she exits the shop, well. Who can blame her? It is her birthday, after all, and she's just received the best present.

[OOC: It's Belle's birthday and she's just gotten her first item, the iconic yellow dress as can be seen in her icon. As the dress is so much a part of Belle's story, I am okay with canon puncturing. Feel free to have run into her during the confrontation with the clerk in the store or after. Set to midmorning to early afternoon. ST/LT always welcome. OPEN unless this says otherwise.]

(no subject)

Jul. 8th, 2017 07:30 pm
saumensch: (Default)
[personal profile] saumensch posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Mid June, 2017

Liesel gets caught sneaking into the kitchens at night. Demelza is a ray of sunshine.

[ HERE | ftb | g for cutes ]

Lovecraft in Brooklyn

Jul. 7th, 2017 05:27 pm
high_warlock: (091)
[personal profile] high_warlock posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
It was late when Magnus arrived at the Necropolis. There was no best time for a summoning, but generally speaking Alec wasn't a fan of demons in the apartment and Magnus could respect that. Demons in the middle of the park or any public place were a bit of a no-no, too. But there was no way in hell that Magnus was going to truck through the countryside in these suede ankle boots just to do a practice summons. The fact that he had to do a practice summons at all infuriated him. But the description that the client had given him had been lacking: a vague description and a roughly drawn sketch.

No name. What did people think he did, drew demons out of a hat? There were millions of them. You didn't just call one up out of the blue and hope for the best. You used a damn name.

So Magnus had done his research and come up with a short list of three demons that sort of matched up with the information that the client had given him. The night before he'd raised one and been thoroughly disappointed. Not only was it not the proper demon in question, but it was a singing demon which would just no shut up.

The ritual itself took very little time. Magnus had done too many to count, could draw a pentagram with eyes shut and both hands tied behind his back. A few candles for ambiance and general vision concerns, some Latin with a bit of Purgatic thrown in, and viola, you had a summoning.

The demon that arrived looked... unimpressive, to say the least. Most of the time, you could count on a demon to look terrifying or imposing. This one just looked like Santa Claus.

"Oh, uh, you've caught me at a bad time," the demon boomed. At least it had an imposing voice. Magnus had to give him that.

"They all say that. Look, I've only got a few questions for you and then we can both be--"

"No, it's a really bad time," he insisted, sounding less imposing now and more worried.

Magnus gave him a look. "Furcas, we don't have time for this. I, especially, don't have time for this--"

A resounding boom filed the graveyard, echoing out into the surrounding environs. The force of it was enough to knock Magnus back on his ass, blinking, bewildered. The candles only stayed lit for the sake of their magic origin. Somewhere, a car alarm was going off.

"What do you think you're-- Oh, God." Then the smell hit.

Hastily, Magnus covered his mouth with a handkerchief and began to wave a hand around wildly, spraying magic about like Febreeze.

"DID YOU JUST LET OUT A DEMONIC FART?"

"I told you it was a bad time, warlock."

[Catch him on his way into the graveyard, in the middle of the summoning, or feeling the aftermath. Currently: Closed.]

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Jul. 6th, 2017 11:08 pm
myfavoritedream: (074)
[personal profile] myfavoritedream posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
"Come on, baby. Don't do this to me."

I drew in a calming breath. Shut my eyes, said a silent prayer, and turned the key again. My Skylark's engine sputtered, the dash lights flickering, and coughed weakly, before going silent with a metallic click.

"God, fuck you, you fucking piece of shit," I hissed from between my teeth, shifting from cooing, soft-spoken pleading to venomous anger in the span of one useless crank. There was no goddamn reason for the battery to be shot, or anything else. Most people wouldn't have guessed it by looking at me, but I usually took care of my shit.

The old Buick wasn't much to look at, but she was a good little car. Usually.

It was late. I'd stayed at the shop to close up, and the lot where I'd parked was in a quiet, mostly dead area a few blocks down. Street parking was a bitch to come by, and this lot was cheap. I'd been cranking the engine for a while, and hadn't seen a single other soul.

Dropping my head back against my head rest, I heaved out a sigh. "Fuck."

I sat like that for a moment or two, letting my boiling blood calm down. Pulling my keys out of the ignition, I gathered up my shit and got out. There was a subway station a few blocks over. Locking up my car, I tapped out a cigarette, dragging in a deep, calming lungful of smoke before heading out of the lot on foot. I was paid up for the next 24 hours, so at least they wouldn't fucking tow me before I could get it out to a garage in the morning.

The night was quiet. It didn't feel eerie or strange, but a part of me had forgotten how comfortable I'd once felt during this liminal, witching hour. On a street corner, I crossed paths with a group of young guys. A few of them met my eyes, but we didn't speak. I knew them, at least by their faces, from when I'd worked out of bars and street corners that first year or so in Darrow. I nodded and they seemed to look away in unison, something like harsh resentment in their eyes.

I wasn't one of them anymore. I couldn't be trusted.

Descending into the underground station, I pulled out my phone before I lost signal completely, and texted Edgar to let him know what was up. There were a few other people loitering around. The sterile, florescent lights gave the station a strange, timeless quality, like it could've been day or night. When the train pulled up, I boarded the car and was lucky enough to find a seat. Collapsing onto it with a sigh, I leaned against the support rail, my eyelids drooping as we started to move.

We got two stations before the train slowed to a stop.

At first, no one really paid much attention, but after a minute or two of not moving, we all started murmuring and squirming in our seats. Finally, a voice came over the intercom.

WE ARE EXPERIENCING AN UNEXPECTED DELAY. DARROW TRANSIT APOLOGIZES FOR THE INCONVENIENCE. TRAIN WILL RESUME ROUTE SHORTLY.

A wave of groans and angry muttering swept through the train car.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I said, to no one in particular. "Fuck."

Shortly wasn't fucking shortly. It was forty-five minutes before the train moved. I road it for one more stop after that, then when the lights flickered ominously, I decided to take it as a fucking sign and walk the rest of the way home.

On the street again, another cigarette pinched between my lips, I checked my phone. It was almost dead. Fuck it, I only had a few more blocks to go.




[Find Neil at any point during his late night trek home, from the east side of the city to the west (near the Necropolis). It started around midnight, but he wouldn't have gotten home until after two. Be stuck with him on the train, encounter him on the street, your choice. No limits.]

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