#Thanks!Darcy <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[thatfandomshit]

Shoutout to Heartstopper for not having Darcy forgive or have any sort of relationship with their abusive mother

[dutifullylazybread]

HEAR ME OUT: the first time Rolan tells his partner "I love you," is while his partner is giving him the most mind blowing blowjob in the world.

Rolan is falling apart at the seams, moaning and gasping, and as he comes, he chokes out those three little words.

It takes him a solid thirty seconds to register what he said.

[virgolioness]

Looks like the 2020s is the decade where your fave cartoon characters gets possessed by fucking colonizers (updated)

[strangeasf]

I'm living cute queer teenage experience vicariously through Heartstopper and you not allowed to judge me

[violant-apologia]

Checkup

or; an Introduction to Marian Agnes Cook

featuring @waterlogged-detective's wonderful darcy doe!

words: ~1k

give it a read on AO3 or below the cut!

The surgery is out of the way. Discreet, one might call it, if the words “DOE CLINIC for those with ECLECTIC TASTES, INTERESTING DEFORMITIES or TOO MANY LIMBS” weren’t emblazoned on the door in dramatic boldface. She doesn’t bother the bartender as she makes towards the door to his erstwhile cellar. He, in turn, keeps his eyes down and continues cleaning glasses. A simple tomb-colonist  is surely one of the least odd visitors to a clinic such as this. Or she would appear the least odd, at least.

She takes the handle in her bandaged hand (her left, though she’s practised enough that she feels almost ambidextrous) and pushes it open, revealing a damp stone stairwell. Snippets of conversation echo from below: half in posh English, half in burbles. When Marian reaches the bottom of the stairs, a Tentacular Surgeoness is waiting for her.

“Thotharoorithee!” she welcomes. Marian nods, distracted by the clinics interior.

An operating table takes centre stage: rich wood accented with flecks of amber and blood. Behind it there are cabinets upon cabinets, with labels ranging from the expected (“TOURNIQUETS”) to the worrying (“AMBER LEECHES”) to the worryingly vague (“EMERGENCY TOOLS”). On top of the cabinets are myriad jars, contents variously still, bobbing, beating and blinking. Marian’s always had a strong stomach, but curiosity is not nearly enough for her to examine the jars in detail. Instead, she turns her attention to the other figure in the room — a fellow bandaged individual in an apron and gloves. He washes a bonesaw over a sink.

“Dr Doe,” Marian says.

“Just a moment,” the surgeon replies. “My previous patient had the most fascinating blood. While I’m sure it would further the plight of Science to test its reaction with your own humours, I have an inkling that you’d prefer my implements clean.”

Marian doesn’t respond, simply waiting with tapping feet and ignoring the eyeballs which scrutinise her from their prisons of glass and cork. At last, the doctor turns to her.

“Ah, a fellow tomb-dweller!” he says. “What do you need, my darling? A cure for rotting? A spare set of ears? Or perhaps,” he mutters, scrutinising Mariam’s arm, “it has something to do with this—”

“Don’t,” Mariam says, snatching her arm away from Doe. He shrugs.

“I was only asking,” he says, nonchalantly. “It doesn’t take the Honey-Addled Detective to notice the lumps beneath those bandages.”

Marian maintains a straight face and unbunched fists.

“But where are my manners?” the doctor says with mock concern. “I’m speculating about your horrifying deformities when I’ve yet to even introduce myself. Doctor Darcy Doe, at your service.”

“Rithoree!” comes a burble from behind Marian.

“And you’ve met my assistant already,” Darcy adds.

“Marian Cook,” Marian replies. “You’ll pardon me for not offering you my hand.”

“I was right, was I?” Darcy cackles. “Well, let me have a look at it.”

“Prepare yourself,” Marian warns, beginning to unwrap the bandages on her arm.

“Whatever it is, my dear, I’m sure I’ve seen something an order of magnitude more gruesome.”

The final layer comes off, revealing a dark green mass beneath. A tangle of stems, thorns and leaves that rustle as she unwraps. They keep the form of an arm and hand, but the cut stems are clearly visible: pruning, to keep the bramble in line.

“Ah,” Darcy nods, “You’re a veteran. I never did get involved in that ghastly campaign myself – the whole ‘fighting for one’s religion’ thing is all rather gauche, wouldn’t you agree?”

Marian suppresses a sigh and stops unwrapping.

“I don’t see the issue, though,” says Darcy. “I hear these growths have a tendency to return when clipped. And you seem to be keeping the whole thing quite adequately under wraps. Ha-ha.”

There’s a pause before Marian speaks.

“My condition isn’t typical, even for a vet,” she says. “Their stems are painful, but they’re more like brands. They’re static. Mine…”

“Yours…?” Darcy prompts.

“The Law-Furnace that got my patrol left the others as topiaries. I thought I’d escaped with only my arm as casualty, but soon learned otherwise.” She peels back bandages on her hip, revealing leaves and the beginning of a bud. “When I bleed, I scab over in bark. When it falls away, there’s plant-flesh beneath.”

Darcy ponders for a moment, stroking his chin for effect. “I may have a solution for you. It might seem outlandish at first, but I bid you hear me out. Have you considered… not getting injured?”

“That’s what I’ve been doing for forty years!” Marian retorts, “and I am bloody sick of it. I joined the army to see the Neath, for chrissakes. I can’t spend the rest of my life cooped up in some old mausoleum, never risking a scratch or bruise. I will get injured, thank-you-kindly, I’d just like to heal instead of turning into a damned rosebush!”

Marian’s outburst over, she calms herself. The thorns on her arms turn back inward, having jutted themselves out when her anger flared. Darcy, who was waiting patiently for her to finish, speaks again.

“There’s no need for theatrics. I’ll cut to the chase: I’m not able to help you. But I know some people who might be.” He turns and rummages through a draw for a moment, before producing three business cards. “They’re rather far afield, but given your stated aim to explore, that shouldn’t trouble you overmuch.”

Marian takes the cards. Some list places she’s never heard of; some are in languages she does not understand.

“…Thanks,” she says, moving to leave the clinic.

“And I’ll offer you an echo for some cuttings.”

Marian rolls her eyes.

“Make it two.”

[trolliworms]

Guys I finished heartstopper!!!!!

I loved it so so much I don’t understand how Charlie and Nick are so amazing I literally love them so much <333

Tao’s my favorite though I would die for that man

I would also die for Darcy

And Tori

And Isaac

Actually nevermind I would die for all of them

[letters-of-fire]

🎲 (if youre still doing these) for Darcy? @waterlogged-detective

10 - A kiss along the jawline

[the-insouciant-scientist]

2 for Darcy and Doe if youre still taking them? 👉👈

Ah, the delights of cat ownership: any tender moments Must Include Them :-)

[donethedevilspedicure]

I still need to catch up on Constance but I recently rewatched the 1995 Pride and Prejudice and Bridgerton, and I am so in the mood to give it a reread. Quick question, what's Ford's thoughts on Lord Byron? Is he a fan of the Romantics in any way?

Wow, thank you! Both for the ask and for following Constance, it really means a lot to me. <3

Without wanting to give away any spoilers, or marinate myself too hard, I think we're at a point in the story where a reread could be beneficial for your enjoyment of the latest chapter, absolutely. The plot has thickened. And if you do, I would be very honoured. Heck, I already am, hahaha.

I think Ford would bitch and snark about Manfred's broodiness and drama, possibly tear him to pieces, and fail utterly at seeing that each of his critique points is just self-projection and self-criticism. On the other hand it would be interesting, however, if he read Manfred and did see himself in the sister toucher and harrowing guilt element. I think that could lead to some truly unhinged, detached from reality, ironically Byronic behaviour. I'm not a Byron aficionado by any means, not out of dislike but out of illiteracy, so take my answer with a grain of salt.

And the shortest of answers is that Ford doesn't mention Byron because I didn't want to lock myself into a specific year for Constance, because I also didn't want to kneecap myself with too many historical inaccuracies, so I decided to only use Sappho for him. I feel very confident that he's living later than antiquity.

Again, thank you so much for the ask! It brightened my day. I hope very much to have you grace Constance with your readership.

[sneebl]

Can I maybe request daisy and lily of the valley perhaps....? :3

yes of course !! :D

daisy— magic by one direction, super graphic ultra modern girl by chappell roan, and uptown girl by billy joel !

lily of the valley— HELP you already have apinterest board so here you go!

https://pin.it/4FPsqPKrG

[supermentaleyeliner]

"I know… I know you don't want me to try and fix you. But I love you so much. And I couldn't help but try."

HEARTSTOPPER S3 E3 "Talk"

[dutifullylazybread]

WIP Whenever Tag ✍️

Thank you for the tags @darkurgetrash and @lemonsrosesandlavender!! 💖💖💖

SO I am fighting with Deeply and Immovably So, and to keep the writing flowing, I *did* start a little Halsin x Tav one-shot. It's not to take away from the long fic so much as to keep my writing sharp while I keep working away at my main WIP (I also haven't introduced a short story series I am playing with right now that I think you'll all love).

SO here is some of what I have written thus far (content warning for mentions of blood and some violence):

Tagging @voloslobotomyservice @commander-krios @kimberbohwrites @savriea @barbwillbrb and whoever else would like to tackle this!

“Get up!”

She was hoisted up by two of her guards and taken down a short flight of stairs, the tips of her boots trailing behind her as they dragged her. Prior to fifteen minutes ago, had anyone told her that she could be overpowered by a group of goblins, she would have scoffed at them.

Then again… she’d also set the scene rather nicely so that she would be captured. Now, she wanted to make sure she gave them a good performance. They’d done all the hard work, after all.

All they needed to do now was toss her into the empty prison cell to the right of the staircase…

…except they trudged past it and went straight ahead…

…towards the cell that held a rather large, rather incensed cave bear.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

The bear bristled, its lips peeling back into a snarl as Tav and her goblin entourage approached.

She didn’t need any additional encouragement. Tav forced her feet forward, planted them onto the floor, before pushing back, fighting to throw the goblins off kilter. This hadn’t been the plan. She was supposed to land in an empty cell or, had luck been with her, in the same cell as the archdruid—not some half-starved bear.

Three of her guards detached from the cluster surrounding her to prod the bear through the bars of its prison with their spears—they didn’t even have the decency to use the blunted ends of their weapons. No, they stabbed at it with their chipped and tarnished points.

The bear lurched away from the bars, its snarl burning away to a roar. It swiped at one of the spears, splintering its shaft and sending half of it skittering into the shadows behind it. The fur on its left front leg started to mat with blood and its large brown eyes were feral with rage. It slammed against the bars in an attempt to grab at the goblin that caused it injury, clawing at empty air as the creature bounded back, grinning delightedly.

Had Tav been reluctant to get in the cell before, she was downright opposed now. She thrashed against the goblins holding her—only to be promptly reminded that one of the camp’s bugbears had accompanied them into the worg pens. She was reminded with a swift strike to the side of her head.

Her vision swam. Her arms were released and she slumped to the stone floor. She was vaguely aware of the grit biting into her cheek and the tacky pull of the drying blood puddle on her skin and clothes. Its rusty stink was only enhanced by the clinging stench of old piss and shit.

“He’s all ready for you,” one goblin said to her before turning to the others standing idly by. “What are you waiting for? Get that fur ball away from the door! Now!”

Oh, of course they wanted to rile the beast up before tossing her into its den. The mauling to follow would only be inevitable. Hopefully it would steer clear of her skull when it supped on her—she was none too sure how a tadpoled cave bear would pan out. Nor did she want to learn. Then again, would a mind flayer tadpole survive a bear’s digestive system?

She didn’t have time to consider before a sickly crack cut through the bear’s roar, dragging it out into an agonized whimper.

[whenthegoldrays]

I don’t know what it is about the Jane Austen adaptations I’ve seen recently, but they just have so much trouble sticking the landing.

[sezja]

52% Darcy?

Battery Percentage OC Asks

52%. If they could stay at one age forever, which age would they choose and why?

Honestly, I'm not sure they'd want to stay at one age forever - maybe if they could pick any age and stay that way for a while, but not forever. Sooner or later they'd get bored and restless and want to start the clock again, you know?

[lolacouldnotcareless]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers 💛 (I may not be sending this to 10 people for the record).

oh thanks darcy!!! <3

my pets

the people i love

this local homemade rhubarb jar i bought a few days ago and that will not see the end of the week

focusing on learning some vocabulary (and thus relearning to love learning)

PlottingTM

[jennystahl]

Darcy’s thoughts during either the mirror room OR tent in TWC. I need to know. 😳

OKAY so i don't remember if darcy researching adam's family comes before or after the carnival, but i'm gonna go with before. in that case, she's been deeply curious about him even moreso than before, and the scene in the house of mirrors just makes her even more confused and curious. the scene of him surrounded by battle and fire—clearly, he was a warrior, but he was not as honorable as he should have been, given the guilty verdict. darcy stopped researching out of respect for him (i would have kept reading idc!) so she doesn't know the full story but by god she tries to piece it together in her mind... when he's captivated by the mirror she demands to know what's going on because she suddenly feels protective over him (something that hasn't happened before, since he's never seemed to need that sort of care).