#suffcring: darcy
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@suffcring
"Ah, Ms. Lewis. How nice to see you under considerably less dire circumstances than usual."
#ivan: ic#ivan: v. like the funny pages#suffcring#suffcring: darcy#ivan: suffcring#ivan: suffcring darcy#ivan: suffcring darcy 1#i have many long thing in the works#so have a smol thing for the now
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What’s this? Darcy is also pressing kisses to Flint’s cheek. Deal with it.
Somewhere far away, the sea resounds. He feels it even here, tugging at what's left of his soul: come back to me.
Come back to me, and all the horrors I entail.
Darcy kisses his cheek, startling him from the reverie he's fallen into. He flinches, sucking air through his teeth in a kind of snarl, the black rot in his chest aching as it so often does when she comes close enough. Like it longs to sink into her. Pull her in, become one again. Fix whatever's so broken inside him that his soul can't pass on.
"What," he starts to growl, and means to follow it with the fuck are you doing, but another kiss follows, leaving red lipstick on his cheek. And another. Another. The sea a little farther away, the ache a little less intense, and he's shoving Darcy's face away from his with a snorting laugh.
"Stop."
#ic.#ic: flint#[ i cannot for the LIFE of me remember what my verse tag was for this AU... ]#suffcring: darcy#suffcring
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@suffcring sent: [TEXT:] Hey doc listen I have a very important question to ask you (Darcy, of course)
Stephen is just about to meditate his soul into a made-up private dimension consisting of peace and quiet (and pizza) when the phone inside the pocket of his pants starts to beep and buzz.
---He should have put that thing on fucking silent mode before getting comfortable, really.
He considers to ignore the existence of what must be a text message, but since he's already been kicked out of his almost-reached inner peace, Stephen binks his eyes open and then lets out a deep sigh, one hand moving to pull the device out of his pocket, thumb swiping across the screen---
Darcy.
For some reason Strange suspects that this question might either not be as important as she makes it seem... or so fucking important that he's going to be off to save the world in a few minutes.
Both possibilities he does not like, not at all.
Being a master of the mystic arts sucks sometimes...
[Text - Darcy] Cannot decide whether I want this question to be truly important or not.
[Text - Darcy] There's ups and downs to both possibilities.
[Text - Darcy] Anyways, what is it?
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❛ guess what i’m wearing right now. ❜
Darcy's practically giggling into the phone -- hopefully Rogue can understand her.
@suffcring
𝑩𝑼𝑰𝑳𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.
"Ah..."
Why is there laughter?
"Is this a trick question? Do Ah get a hint? You're either in a ridiculous costume...or your birthday suit."
She either way she probably wants to see, let's be real.
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@suffcring, continued from X:
Jaw clenched, Tao tries not to stare daggers at the head of-- well, whatever it is she’s head of. Whether or not he is successful is up for debate.
It feels oddly patronizing for her to be comparing a movie franchise to this real life government overreach. This stall in film production that is threatening to be much, much more to him in particular.
He’d covered this up. Or, at the very least, he’d tried to. Thought he had.
With all appropriate hands on deck, Tao had had money had dropped into the right palms; untraceable threats of blackmail had been whispered into a few ears; a few high-stakes gambling debts had been erased; and some good old-fashioned Hollywood scandals had popped up in the press cycle, effectively silencing the whisperings about the incident before they could grow any louder.
Tao had nearly forgotten about it himself after hearing nothing but the latest juicy drama about some other misfortunate stars for the past four days. It’s felt like much longer, with everything that’s spilled out into the public’s knowledge.
Davidson is less forgetful, it seems, and is more compelled to speak to the figure of authority who stands right in front of him than he is to keep what he’d seen to himself. He steps forward.
“Mr. Song missed the airbag on a jump.”
“I didn’t, though,” Tao chimes in, inserting himself between the two of them. “It was a near miss. Rattled me pretty good, and looked like a miss from across the set, but obviously--”
He gestures at himself, looking hale and hearty, if a little dehydrated to better show off muscle definition in one of the other scenes they were set to film before this aggravating interruption.
Davidson frowns, opening his mouth to speak, but can't counter the fact that the man in front of him has no visible injuries.
“--I’m fine. Everything on set is fine. Or it was, until you got here.”
He lets his eyes wander following a roll, hoping to look petulant. Entitled even. But they land on a catering table laden with picked over snacks and a bevy of beverages, and they soften with desire for even a lukewarm drink.
"How long will this take? If you just-- Let them hunt for whatever the fuck you're looking for? Is our schedule shot? is what I'm asking, because if it is, I'd like to go back to my trailer."
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[ a warm beverage ]
Darcy brought a second coffee. That’s her love language.
[Give my muse something]
For someone born with instincts honed for constant vigilance, ever-wary of attack or danger, it takes Thor several distracted seconds to take note of the proffered mug. Perhaps it is testament to how at home he is on the planet he has come to love so dearly; perhaps it is how secure he feels in the company of Darcy, that he allows his guard to relax so that his mind can wander where it will.
At length he turns his gaze from the infinite tapestry of stars above their heads to the mortal beside him, regards her with a soft smile. Thor notes that in her attentiveness she has brought another coffee: it reminds him of that first morning at the diner and the impression he had made – and the subsequent patience they had extended to him.
Now he’s reminded himself of the diner it’s an inevitable jump to the nostalgia for those early days on Midgard. He recalls long hours scanning the stars above, learning so much of Midgardian culture; humbled by the span of his ignorance at the depth and breadth of life he had, until then, seen as so beneath himself. He’s forever humbled by such simple acts of kindness and love: it is here, with Darcy, he is reminded of why he fights with such ferocity. The berserkr in him was never born for conquest as he had believed for so long, but rather for protection.
“Thank you,” he murmurs with all sincerity, breath misting in the crisp air before he takes a gulp which drains half the mug. “They always make these things so small.” The Asgardian raises his free arm to open the same side of his coat, a silent gesture to offer Darcy additional protection against the cold of the night as his eyes drift skyward once again. “You know, I am glad that for all the things which have changed of late, some things still remain. There was a time I thought we would never get nights such as these on Midgard again.”
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When the message is just delivered to him, he doesn’t believe it. Darcy. How long has it been? Can’t be too long. He disappeared off her radar about a week after their last parting, because Impel Down got his ass. The conditions there called for regular, robust escapism, what with his flesh burned and twisted every day. So he lived on memories, the most pleasant ones he ever had – of her. Their nights of wild, relentless fucking were nice, but what he mostly thought about was just… Darcy. Her face, her laugh, the way her quips didn’t hurt.
And he is long past the point of no return, where he admitted – yes, he is down bad for her. So bad, in fact, that after the battle of Marineford he sent out search parties for her. And, guess, Thor and Jane. But the planet was just too big, perhaps, for there has been no sign of their ship whatsoever. Buggy would order his men to ask for a small, cute lady that may or may not be spotted near a huge blond…whatever Thor was. No success.
And so Buggy took to grief. But there was hardly any surprise in that. Everyone he ever loved had abandoned him. It’s okay. It’s okay, he kept telling himself.
But then she’s brought into his palace-tent, and he sees her small figure approaching. She hardly earns any head turns, with people so preoccupied with revelry, but to Buggy she becomes the only person present.
For the first time in two years, the Emperor stands to meet the guest.
“Darcy…”
@suffcring
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@suffcring sent:
She's late meeting him, and when she stumbles into the restaurant, she almost zooms past him in her hurry. Almost. Spotting Tony at the last moment, her painted lips quirk up mischievously, and when she speaks, it is loud. Very loud in the quiet, fancy place.
"Hey, who's husband is this?" She points to him. "Who's scrumptious ass husband is here, unattended, looking ready to be snatched up and get his ass ate, huh? Who's so irresponsible they're just leaving their hot older man husband around for just anyone to take him?"
A pause, faux expression of guilt coming over her face.
"Oh, shit, that's me, huh?"
People definitely look up. People look at the pair of them and they're treated to the sight, just as Darcy is, of Tony looking at his wife with a combination of very mild embarrassment and very open and all-consuming adoration.
"Sure is, honey. Big mistake there. I think we're all lucky you got here in time to prevent disaster." He makes no attempt to be any quieter than she is. "I take a little bit of offense to being called an older man, but given that it's factual and you sandwiched it between 'hot' and 'husband,' I think I can look past it.
"Is that your plan for tonight? Gonna snatch me up and eat my ass? Because I've gotta say--I'd let you eat anything you wanted, dear, but my ass is a national treasure. Might want to make sure you leave some for everyone else to stare longingly at."
He grins. "Speaking of which, I ordered you some risotto, but if you want something else, we'll change it. Whatever you like."
#me? answering stuff from a full year ago?#actually doing something about my emotional lil pity party yesterday?#apparently#answered#new thread#c. tony#v.tony. main
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@suffcring asked: Anytime Dean speaks, Darcy is making mouthfart sounds in his direction. it is unclear if this is affectionate or not.
He's trying so hard to continue the conversation, but every time he starts, so does she, and funny as it is, he's losing the point he was trying to make.
He gives up entirely after another minute and dismisses the other, arranging to talk to them later.
Looking over his shoulder, he spares her a look that's less exasperated than he was going for.
"Just you remember, Lewis, turnabout is fair play and I know where you give lectures."
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Trick or treat for Darcy :)
@suffcring
"Here's ya own Café Du Monde kit. Wid de promise of me makin' ya beignets in de mornin' cuz gotta be sure dey perfect." That is his very nice way of saying he will not allow beignets to be burned not even by someone he likes. "Seein' as how Halloween usually lead t'late nights and all." He did not say doing what though...
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@suffcring :
“Forgetting him. Moving on. I’m okay with being your rebound. I’ve already said that I want you.”
He is laid out on the bed like an offering to gods, his eyes turned skywards. One may indeed mistake his quiet mutterings for prayers. But those are words of adoration, seeping into the silence that rings after her words. Those are words that bind them together, tighter than ever.
The blue of his locks fanned out like a halo, he looks up at her without a hint of the man he presents as in the world. With her, he is altogether different. He's wide open for her.
How he regrets that it is not her very flesh that is inside him but a mere tool of pleasure. His chest rising and falling, he looks down at the point where they meet, her tool and his body.
But Darcy herself is here, fully, and he knows that her heart is here too. It's what keeps him grounded in reality. She is kind, she is strong, she can make his pain go away. His hands come up to hold her face like a lily on a pad.
"I love you, Darcy. Darcy, I love you."
He says it barely above the sound of their bodies sliding against each other, the slick noise of the shaft coming in and out of him.
His eyes wide open, he looks at her in wordless awe. They took each other in as strays, with no shore to anchor at, no master to cling to. And here they are.
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💐
Darcy sidles into the office with two bouquets -- one for Vasily, one for Anatoly, and a single Daisy for Vitaly along with a plethora of insults.
The trio are
The trio are sternly discussing something in their first tongue when Darcy enters the room, though all serious business comes to a screeching halt with Anatoly being the first to notice her. "милый!" His face lights up and he hastily moves to meet her halfway, leaving behind a routinely stoic Vasily and a somewhat amused Vitaly to stand by the desk. It's only when she holds out the first bouquet that Anatoly even realizes any are meant for him, and his heart about melts. He clutches the gift tightly to his chest and swoons exaggeratedly; complete with loud, wistful sigh and collapsing to the floor in a heap.
Vitaly is next, stepping in front of the desk with a laugh at Anatoly's antics. When she hands him the daisy, he's nearly about to remark on his disappointment for only getting the one, but then he clocks its meaning and his typical smug grin settles into something smaller, and quiet, and just a bit more sincere.When Darcy finally reaches
Vasily, he does not immediately move to receive his offering. He instead takes a moment to silently stare as he examines each choice in the arrangement and recall the statement they make. It only takes a moment to identify them all before his gaze shifts to Darcy's face as he reads it just as coolly and easily. Only then does he at last reach out; hand brushing against hers on its way to gently grip the batch by the stems. "These will need vase," is his only response, but if she looks deep enough perhaps she can see hint of appreciation in his eyes and the threat of a smile at the edges of his lips.
#suffcring#vitaly: ic#vasily: ic#anatoly: ic#suffcring: darcy#suffcring: ask response#ask meme response
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i had a weird convoluted dream about frank and @suffcring's darcy and woke up disappointed that there ISN'T an entire tv show about them like there was in my dream. smh.
#( ooc. )#[ i dont remember much anymore except frank was working for shield (??). got possessed by a weird monster thing and slurped someone's#brains out of their skull. and darcy was like the only one of their team that didn't get possessed because for some reason the aliens or#whatever couldnt 'fit' in her.#also frank got his leg amputated and his wife died KFFJFLFJFN he's fine i'm sure. ]
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@suffcring
EX-FUCKING-CUSE ME
(but also I am dying)
#OOC;#TBD.#suffcring#(this made me choke on my water.)#(darcy bullying stephen pls send help :( )#Crack#Suggestive;
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Oops. Darcy caught, staring dreamily at Wanda? More likely than you think.
@suffcring
It's hard to blame her.
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xoxo Darcy
@suffcring
“Three bingos? And four if Ah wanna take creative license? Guess that means Ah got three reasons t’kiss ya, huh?”
#suffcring#;little asks are made of gunpowder and lead#oh so we’re just bold faced flirting now rogue? okay whatever I give up
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