There's a metaphor in this somewhere

Jul. 27th, 2017 07:48 pm
speed_of_dweeb: (03)
[personal profile] speed_of_dweeb posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
The clang of an incredibly thick skull against metal echoed down the alley, the sound of a body hitting pavement one more subtle. Pietro heard only the cataclysm reverberating within his own head as he lay on the grimy street and clutched at his head.

The dumpster then has more in common with a crushed can of Pepsi than it does anything that can reasonably be expected to hold one’s garbage, but that’s waste management’s business, not his. A declaration Pietro himself might have made had his focus not been narrowed down to the sickening lurch of his stomach and the certainty that any mome-

Only the last second twist of his body, a blur of gray and blue and silver too fast for the eye to catch, getting him onto his hands and knees has him throwing up on the ground and not himself.

What little was left in his stomach after a too long day on too little food is gone within the first lurch. What’s left is an inescapable stretch of dry heaving. A cold sweat breaks out on his forehead and his stomach heaves and heaves, bringing up nothing but a building ache of his ribs against the violence of the action (even where colliding with a standard city dumpster had hurt only about half as bad, and been over much quicker).

When his stomach stills, and he’s left dropping himself back against the brick wall nearby, head leant back and each breath one carefully taken through his nose, the memory of a night suffering through food poisoning floats to the surface.

He can almost see the memory play out on the inside of his eyelids. His mother returning home with what little meat a day spent standing in lines could offer. The sound of his parents’ worried murmuring over the state of their pantry, the stale edge to what little bread they had, the unknown age of the meat that had come wrapped in brown paper and wrapped in twine. Much of those early memories had become lost, fuzzy things, their edges worn away by his return to them time and time again in the desperation to remember.

He might have wished to forget that night, if not for the memory of his mother’s voice as she sung to him. The feel of her fingers cool against the burning heat of his forehead in her attempts to ease something of the misery of that night.

As quickly as the memory had come to him, it faded. Left him with no more than the wisps of time colored by grief and the unconscious action that had him drawing a small, worn photograph from one pocket to hold close. When his eyes opened, it was to look down at it. He allowed himself a long second’s inspection of the faces of the family he had once had, fingers tracing the curve of his mother’s face and lingering over the edges of the image to flatten out something of its battered state.

But time was too precious a thing to allow himself to stay where he was then. The picture was carefully tucked away again and pressed as much out of mind as out of sight as he climbed to his feet. Inspected his surroundings. Found nothing of familiarity in the buildings that stretched up toward the sky on either side of him.

There was a gap in his memory when he searched it for answers, as he wondered how he had come to be in a strange alley when he had been mid-step in his blur forward. Toward the Avenger and little Costel-

The answer would have to wait, he decided. What mattered was finding Wanda. Discovering where he was or how he had come to be there was a distant second as long as the space beside him, the one she had always occupied, was a vacuum.

Determination squared his shoulders, narrowed his eyes. And his exhaustion? That exhaustion he felt down to the marrow of his bones and in every joint between them? That might have explained his walking right into someone, not one step out of the alley.

[Come get knocked into/over by Pietro Maximoff. It's the latest trend. Open!]

(no subject)

Jul. 27th, 2017 07:03 pm
kaitmaree: (kh: get better)
[personal profile] kaitmaree posting in [community profile] citytraffic
So, I came home from work ready to spend the next few days catching up on RP things and being a productive human being and then found out that one of my favourite people, my aunt, is in the world is in hospital again.

SO, I just want to put it out out there that I probably won't... be on top of things again in the coming couple of weeks. One of these days I will be on top of tags again but today is not that day.

I'm really sorry and I will do my best to tag when I can but my head is all over the place right now. It's a major mental setback. I know you'll understand because you are all the best.

for Rebecca Bunch, Aurora Lane and Serena Pemberton

(no subject)

Jul. 27th, 2017 03:02 am
panickedandran: (vlcsnap-00490)
[personal profile] panickedandran posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Dated July 11, 2017:

Things haven't exactly been easy for him lately, either, she knows, but that's all the more reason why the two of them ought to be able to have some fun, and his enthusiasm has a way of being utterly infectious.

No longer reeling quite so much from her unpleasant reminder of home, Michelle takes Jack out for the evening.

[ HERE | ongoing | pg ]

(no subject)

Jul. 27th, 2017 02:01 am
built_hope: (pic#11555808)
[personal profile] built_hope posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Dated late February 22 / early February 23, 2017:

Later, maybe, she'll stop and question it and curse herself for thinking it was a good idea to climb into his bed in the first place. Right now, lying here against him, his heart beating under her hand and his fingers in her hair, even still reeling from a nightmare, she thinks she feels better than she has in years. Safe. Home.

Later, too, she'll blame such a ridiculous thought on exhaustion.

Waking up during the night in the hospital, Jyn and Cassian share a bed and some truths about themselves.

[ HERE | complete | mentions of death and trauma and such ]

Dated February 28, 2017:

At times like this, she's only ever been someone else, and it's only ever been a false name on any partner's lips — Tanith, Kestrel, Nari, Liana. Never Jyn. No one has ever, ever made her name sound like that.

Jyn and Cassian impulsively sleep together after fight club. They somehow manage not to talk about it.

[ HERE | complete | adult ]

Dated March 25, 2017:

She hasn't let anyone this close in a long, long time. Even now, it's like she's got one foot out the door, preparing to run if it becomes too much or if she has to, despite knowing with certainty that she will not leave him.

If she takes what he's offering, though, that promise of a home that she's carried with her since Yavin IV, as dear to her as the crystal that hangs around her neck, what happens next?

Jyn and Cassian keep themselves distracted late at night with strong coffee, a baking show, and jokes about Cassian being attracted to Jabba the Hutt.

[ HERE | complete | more mentions of death and trauma and such ]

(no subject)

Jul. 27th, 2017 01:46 am
outofspace: (vlcsnap-00147)
[personal profile] outofspace posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Dated July 8, 2017:

More than once, she's pulled Chloe's number up on her phone, meaning to call, but unsure of what to say, has never actually worked up to it. The sight of her in the park, then, approaching with a smile, prompts one from Therese in turn, a little less restrained than usual, as she sets her camera in its bag, waiting on the picnic table beside her that she's claimed as her own while she takes pictures. She manages, somehow, to resist the temptation to snap one of Chloe before she puts it away.

Therese and Chloe run into each other in the park. Some (semi-awkward on Therese's part) flirting commences.

[ HERE | ongoing | currently pg ]

(no subject)

Jul. 27th, 2017 01:38 am
hadtheshot: (Default)
[personal profile] hadtheshot posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Dated June 10, 2017:

"Yeah, same," she says with a shrug. "I mean, in a different way, I know. I wasn't off having to learn how to save the world or whatever, but... yeah. Same. You have to learn how to be tough when your parents are fucking nuts."

With impromptu plans to get drunk and go bowling, Chuck and Kate wind up having a conversation that takes a more serious turn.

[ HERE | ongoing | pg ]

(no subject)

Jul. 27th, 2017 01:33 am
notverywise: (sent me skipping my class)
[personal profile] notverywise posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Dated July 5, 2017:

She knows she'd felt that way when she was nearing the end of her time in school, and she knows that Beth has enough else going on that she's had to set that aside. In a way, though she would never know how to voice it, Jenny admires that. Back home, it only ever seemed like there were two paths: go to university, or find a husband and get married. Any sort of middle ground, anything that might be deemed unconventional, is something she can appreciate.

Jenny and Beth catch up.

[ HERE | ongoing | pg ]

I don't want the world to see me

Jul. 26th, 2017 10:18 am
minute_by_minute: pb: henrik holm (dark)
[personal profile] minute_by_minute posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Today is not a good day, which is made more difficult by the fact that the days leading up to it were magnificent, and Even should have suspected that this was coming but, still, somehow, it blindsides him. You would think, living with his head like this for nearly his whole life, he would be able to see the tell-tale signs of the crest and crash of his moods, but somehow it always blindsides him, like if he feels miraculous for long enough the inevitable just won't happen this time. Since arriving in Darrow, it's been a constant up and up and up, with so few backsliding days, and Even just wanted so badly to believe that there wouldn't be that tremendous crushing weight.

So today is not a good day. It starts with something small at first, a little hiccup in his step on his way out the door to head to the Zen Center, Isak sleeping in when Even can't, he wants to but he can't because at least one of them needs to have a job even if they get a stipend, and it breeds, quiet and bitter in his chest. He gets to the Center, and they tell him he's late, but he swears, he swears, they haven't changed his start time in two months because he asked for a regular schedule, something he can keep in mind at all times because it never changes but today, apparently, it's a different one, and when he snarls a swear under his breath, the director asks him to leave for the day instead if he can't keep a good attitude about it.

He walks. His feet carry him and everything feels a little blurry and terrible, that rapid demise into things he can't control, and the noise of English all around him hurts almost because he misses Norway so much, he misses the streets of Oslo and cheap beer and his apartment and the school and he realizes, suddenly, that he's not ready for college, he's not ready, he hasn't been ready this whole time but it's what he ought to be doing because how is he going to become a director if he doesn't go to art school? How is he going to make movies that people actually want to watch if he doesn't find some way to make himself reputable and marketable, when his day to day life is a knife edge of these sorts of fits and the eventually crushing action of his own mind make him worthless?

The park is quiet at least, quiet and still and unoccupied at whatever corner of it he finds and Even tracks down a shady spot to sit and he just--the weight of it sags him down and he covers his mouth and stares into the middle distance. His heart is hammering but he feels so sluggish, so useless, can't even move for the way that the weight bows down on his shoulders and his thighs, pinning him there to that spot and it's worse, it's so much worse than when the police picked him up in Oslo last time because at least he'd still been riding high on all the good in his life when they found him and it took him two more days to crash into this.

He hides in his hands and tries to breathe, tries to reach out to feeling human again, tries to recapture those light, soft feelings of just the night before, just the day before, just last week. They're gone, transported elsewhere, and he has no idea when or if they'll come back this time, when or if they'll start to perk up in his chest, how to breathe.

[Even's having a massive mood swing. He suffers from bipolar disorder and is unmedicated. His thoughts and reactions will be a little dark and scattered, very stream of conscious, and defeatist. It isn't the worst time to meet him, but be aware that he will be very blunt, pessimistic, and potentially angry with new people. ST/LT welcome.]

(no subject)

Jul. 26th, 2017 06:01 pm
andhaveago: (old soul)
[personal profile] andhaveago posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
It's been a long, long time since Tanith had the time to just sit. Even before everything had kicked off in Roarhaven, there'd always been something to do - London was just crawling with creeps who needed to be reminded of their place in things. In Darrow, she's remembered what it feels like to be bored and, honestly, she's not sure that she loves it.

That said, it is giving her plenty of time to catch up.

Lunchtime finds her sprawled on the grass in the park, a pile of secondhand books at her elbow. She's never been a fan of unnecessary layers, but the sun here is warm enough, the humidity high enough, that it's comfortable to be stripped to a bikini top with her short shorts. Tanith would really like something or someone to fight but, at a push, she'll settle for reading and watching the world go by. Right now, it's Catcher in the Rye, her all time favourite. She remembers it new, brand new, the ink still virtually wet. She remembers being not even forty years old, just figuring out what she wanted to be in the world and then there had been this book and, briefly, it had been the only perfect thing.

"Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."

Over the years, it's something she's taken to heart. It's easier if you don't linger; it's a hard life, even if you don't weaken.

So Tanith lets herself got lost in her book and she absolutely, categorically does not think about all of the many, many never spoken of, the ones she's left behind.

ooc: Tanith is sunbathing and reading in Petros Park. ST/LT totally welcome.

(no subject)

Jul. 25th, 2017 06:58 pm
mitsubishievo: PB: Diego Barrueco (Default)
[personal profile] mitsubishievo posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
14 July:
Full of ice cream, and thankfully not unpleasantly so, they returned home. Kavinsky rolled down the windows on the Mitsubishi and turned up the radio. He was in love, gloriously so, and despite his conversation with Jack earlier talking about constantly worrying, or his one with Bull talking about being the things that others defined you as, everything was focused down on the glory of that concept.
[ HERE | on going | R for adult sexual content ]

MEME: Babies

Jul. 25th, 2017 01:53 pm
citycouncil: (Default)
[personal profile] citycouncil posting in [community profile] cityarcade
Because babies.
Tag into this meme with your characters, then respond to each other (or top-level again, if you prefer) listing information about the children they might have with others.

Whether they're the offspring of current pairings, past pairings, ships that will never happen in a million years, ships in the making, even ships with characters who haven't shown up and might never or where one-half of the relationship is an NPC, ships your characters have nothing to do with, anything goes.

Tell us what Darrow's next generation holds: what the kids are like, who they know, what they get up to, what they would look like. Even use one of the creepy morphing sites for a terrifying visual representation! Bonus points for telling us more about what kind of parent your pup would be.

Optional questionnaire to help get the ball rolling!

(no subject)

Jul. 25th, 2017 07:03 pm
literaryimmortality: (pic#11469561)
[personal profile] literaryimmortality posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Early June 2017:

And it's not like Darrow hasn't granted me some good. I've met incredible people. I've been given a chance to reinvent myself as a writer.

To be Aurora and not a ghost of my father.

It's not until one day I'm into my thirteenth lap of my gym's pool, writing paragraphs in my head that I'm sure to forget, that I realize how the hell I'm going to go about that.

While swimming, Aurora decides she's going to write a book. She goes to tell her closest friend.

[ HERE | complete | general ]

(no subject)

Jul. 24th, 2017 06:23 pm
selkiesaoirse: (sick and miserable)
[personal profile] selkiesaoirse posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Saoirse has never broken a bone before, but the moment she hears the snap, she knows that's what it is.

It's a silly thing, that does it. She's in the park, at footie practice with the rest of her team from school. She darts in for the ball, and her foot taps it. Just as she lifts it to step, she feels first one body, then another, strike her. She topples, and throws out her hands to catch herself.


She sucks in a sharp breath, and her face turns pink from the outcry that doesn't sound. She's never felt pain like this before. She curls on her side, clutches her arm to her chest, trying to hold it still. It hurts so much.

The kids playing with her crowd around when she doesn't jump back into the game. Their voices blend together until she can't tell one voice from the next. She feels overwhelmed. Tears stream down her face.

The moment an adult sees the ruckus, she's rushed to hospital. It's a flurry of people talking, and the doctor and nurses seem mad that she can't talk. But eventually, she's got a pretty pink cast around her left wrist, and she has a red juice to drink for the pain, and she's free to go home.

It's such an exciting afternoon that by the time it's over, she's ready for a nap.

[ oh no! Saoirse done gone and broke her left wrist during soccer practice. Be a spectator, the person that brings her to the hospital, or visit her at Green Gardens after she's casted up. I know she has a lot of magical friends, but I'd prefer she not get healed magically. Open until this reads otherwise, ST/LT welcome! ]

(no subject)

Jul. 24th, 2017 11:06 pm
isolemnly_swear: (close)
[personal profile] isolemnly_swear posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
Early June, 2017:

He's not the kind of man who can just do nothing, but James is at a bit of a loss as to what he should do now. Sirius keeps himself busy enough, but other than Apparating into his best mate's house at inappropriate times and bugging Lily, James has nothing to pass his day. Drembleydrop had been fun because it appealed to his sense of nonsense while at the same time letting him do something sport related again, and so when James catches sight of an ad looking for someone to help coordinate sport events at a kid's summer camp, he figures why the hell not?

James gets a job at Jack's summer camp for kids.

[ HERE | ftb | pg ]

July 1, 2017:

Sirius puts the phone back down and James doesn't drop to the floor, but it does take all of his concentration and effort to keep himself standing. His hand reaches out for Sirius unconsciously, to steady himself on his friend's shoulder. He doesn't know what to do next, where he's supposed to go from here. He's checked everywhere he can possibly think of, there's nothing left but to admit that she's gone, and he can't do that. Admitting that means he's lost Harry and Lily both, and that's not an eventuality he's prepared to deal with.

James wakes up and finds Lily gone.

[ HERE | ongoing | pg, sads ]

now the tabloids have the news

Jul. 23rd, 2017 08:07 pm
marthastewart: (hmmm?)
[personal profile] marthastewart posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
I should have known, when I stepped away from the computer, that something was up: a few people that shouldn't have meeting my eyes and a few people who normally would have glancing away. But to tell the truth, I have a thousand thoughts going on in my head, and I didn't stop to think about whatever strange office politics were at hand.

"Stuart," Louis says, our section editor, startling me from my thoughts; it doesn't help that he slings an arm over my shoulder like we're friends. "Do you have a moment?"

Now, lunch or not, someone just isn't too busy for the editor to pull aside, and about a hundred panicked thoughts go through my brain as I down the last of my coffee and toss the cup. "Sure, yeah."

"Look," he says when I step inside his office. "Your work's been great lately. It really has. I had my doubts when you started here, you know, you're kind of old-fashioned about some things, and you can be a real pain in the ass when you want to, but --"

"Is this a compliment or are you firing me, Louis?" I ask, frowning.

"Here's the thing," he says, putting his hands down. "Your job here depends on you writing about entertainment, not being the entertainment."

Be the entertainment. It hits me in the chest, like I'm back at school, and I don't have the faintest what he's talking about. He's still talking.

"--grown man, I don't give a fuck what you do in your free time, but we don't want to come across biased and --" Louis furrows his brow. I must look completely baffled, because he stops. "You don't get on Chirper much , do you." When I shake my head, he sighs and turns his monitor to face me.

It's the website of the Darrow Daily, another thing I don't pay attention to as much as I might. The Reporter? Yeah. Any number of other more independent rags and websites? Sure. But the Daily's one of those newspapers that's basically a tabloid, the kind that publishes headlines like BATSHIT CRAZY: Giant bats back? right next to political updates. I like to assume no one reads it, but that's a fantasy.

Now one of the subheaders on the front page is 'Wild' Musician Tamed By Journalist?? There's a goddamn picture, too, of us about a breath away from kissing on the stoop of an apartment, and I can only imagine the look frozen on my face right now. He clicks away, and it's to Chirper, where the search for "Darrow Times" he probably puts on his alerts is coming up with a thousand rechirps about the Times writer heating things up with Curt Wild, and a thousand more unsolicited opinions on what it all means. For whatever reason, this has blown up.

"Shit," I say. It's not as though we're some sort of bloody secret, and I don't doubt there've been rumors about who the hell I am before, but not this. "Shit."

"Look, I don't give a shit about your personal life, but just. If you're going to fuck a rock star--"


"I'm not kidding. You gotta know that there are people who don't want it to stay personal. It's not news to me, right? But it's not news at all until it is, and it is now, so do with that what you will."


"And Arthur? I'm taking you off the music section until this dies down."

"That's bullshit," I exclaim, startled out of my daze by indignation.

"That's business. Go take a break."

I head out of the office as professionally as I can and rub my face, trying to collect myself. My first instinct is to call you. Have you heard already? What am I even feeling? I've never done the spotlight thing, and my heart is hammering in my chest. Is this what your whole life is like? I want to check Chirper again, some sick part of me wondering what people are saying. I sort of want to punch Louis for thinking this is worth pulling me off music.

I stare at my phone for a moment as my feet take me toward the corner cafe, unsure of what to do with it.

[Find Arthur heading toward lunch, call him on his phone, and/or have read the rumors that he's domesticating Curt. Strangers and friends alike!]

The Dog Prince

Jul. 23rd, 2017 11:14 am
simplesam: (dean)
[personal profile] simplesam posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
July 8, 2017:

Sam's full-moon experience is altered by a cookie from a strange cabin and then the realization that he can't change back into himself.

[ HERE | complete | none ]

July 15, 2017:

Sam has been small, dark, and fuzzy for a week with no signs of that changing. Biffy and Daine offer much-appreciated assistance.

[ HERE | ongoing | none ]

(no subject)

Jul. 22nd, 2017 03:10 pm
osten_des_rhein: PB: Dan Feuerriegel (Default)
[personal profile] osten_des_rhein posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
July 17:
Steve wakes up to Darrow playing tricks on him; neither he nor Agron handle it particularly well from the start.
[ HERE | on going | PG for canon typical swearing ]

July 20:
Agron makes a valiant attempt at physical affection with Steve, even though neither of them know what to do with Steve looking like a woman.
[ HERE | on going | TBD/PG13/Rish for adult sexual situations ]

(no subject)

Jul. 22nd, 2017 03:08 pm
assassinwithahairpin: PB: byung-hun lee (Default)
[personal profile] assassinwithahairpin posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
July 4:
The fireworks at the Killjoy concert trigger Goodnight's PTSD; Billy does his best to calm his man down.
[ HERE | on going | handles PTSD panic; PG13/Rish for drugs and sexuality as coping mechanisms ]

(no subject)

Jul. 22nd, 2017 03:06 pm
shadows_have_offended: pb: robert sean leonard (Default)
[personal profile] shadows_have_offended posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
July 14:
Neil and Gabriel enjoy their ice cream and each other under the pier.
[ HERE | complete | R for sexual situations, semi-public sexual conduct, horny teenage boys ]

I only wanted to begin

Jul. 22nd, 2017 02:22 pm
hitchcockblonde: (the sad face)
[personal profile] hitchcockblonde posting in [community profile] thecityneversleeps
They said that crazy ran in the Cooper family.

The 'they' in question weren't anyone worth listening to, were the same people that would scrawl SERPENT SLUT on a locker in pig's blood. They didn't know what they were talking about. Polly had been at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy because she'd been pregnant, because she'd been a scandal, because what really ran in the Cooper family was secrets.

Another one: The Cooper family of which that pernicious they spoke hadn't existed beyond a generation or two back. Her great-grandfather had been a Blossom, a family that didn't even care that Polly and Jason had been related, had considered that a plus if anything. If there was crazy in the Cooper bloodline at all, maybe it came from there. The Blossoms certainly seemed to have plenty to spare.

But maybe it didn't come from anywhere. Maybe it was just her, just something inside her that didn't come from anywhere else. Maybe the crazy was just all Betty Cooper.

Because as much as she liked to pretend otherwise (and oh, wasn't that hypocrisy, in her railings against the secrets covering over the rot in Riverdale), the facts were these: Betty Cooper had lost time. She sat now on a train she had no recollection of boarding, traveling to a destination she didn't remember seeking. She'd been with Jughead, in his father's trailer -- his, now? She didn't know, now that FP was in prison, now that Jughead was living on the Southside, attending a different school, potentially living a different life -- and then with no gap, no seam she could pick at with the same nails she dug into her palms more and more often, she had been here. On this train.

Cut for length. )

She stabbed at the power button, shoved the phone back in her pocket, and slammed her palm against the glass of the information booth. "Hey!" she said, hammering on it before she had to step back, breathing hard. No help there. She'd help herself. She would have to help herself. She could do it. Someone had left the envelope. There was a thread. She could follow the thread. She would put her hair up in a ponytail, she would march out of the train station, she would ask where she was, she would work out what to do from there.

She would do all of this once she stopped feeling like she was going to unravel.

[Traditional debut style! Find her in the train station or wandering wide-eyed around the city.]
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