#c: darci
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endless gifs of my ocs: darci
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would you happen to have intro posts for your tavs/durges or anywhere you've posted their backstories? i'd love to learn about them!
Apart from my rp blogs, i havenât really spoken about them anywhere! I def want to do up posts talking about them and their backstories and plots more in depth. They've been rattling around in my brain for a while.
But for now, Iâll summarise them a bit here! I have waaaaaaay more than these ones but these three are kind of my âmainâ ones right now and the ones I make the most edits of.
First up we got my babe, Ryn.Â
Sheâs my BG1 / BG2 protagonist who I picked up and dumped into BG3 because she had a 100 year vacation, its time for more suffering.
Sheâs a Sorcerer (Draconic) but she has some wizard training here and there and Warrior training too. Instead of a staff she uses a glaive.
Basically with her in the setting, the Durge that existed died from Orinâs attack (and looked a lot like ryn due to bg2 related shenanigans)
Bhaal decided to yeet all that Bhaalspawn essence back into Ryn bc heâs an ass who wants to punish her.
Iâm VEEERY slowly writing fanfic about her. Iâve got a BG1 retelling in progress and iâve written scenes for her being in bg3 but nothing substantial enough to post yet.
In her first bg3 run, I romanced Gale with her but on her second, Iâm eyeing off Shadowheart. In bg1/2 she romanced a monk named Rasaad but that... uh. didn't end well. I'm planning on doing a bg2 replay with a mod that lets her romance Viconia.
My psd/colouring kinda hides it but she has scars and scales over her body which i made myself and im super proud of them.
Then there's Darci, my actual Durge.
she chose the name darci because someone asked what her name is and she panicked and said "the dar-" (franticly looks around for something, sees the chionthar) "-sea. darci."
she didn't know it was a river at the time. probably for the best. 'dariver' doesn't quite have the same ring to it.
She doesnât exist in the same universe as Ryn, unless i decide i want them to meet in an au.
Sheâs your pretty average resist!durge. Rebelling against daddy dearest and killing her enemies!
I've also written some general fic stuff for her but not a lot.
She's actually mildly hilarious, unintentionally. She does nice things for people out of spite.
Sheâs a Wild Magic Sorcerer and Assassin Rogue
She likes to run around without what could be called a proper shirt.
She romanced Astarion in my first run. Unsure who I'm going to romance with her next.
When fighting Harleep in Hell, she had a wild magic surge and accidentally summoned a hostile cambion. Twice. I just wanted to mention that one because I'm still scarred by it.
And then there's Jeremy! I'm making the most edits of him at the moment because his is the game I'm actively playing.
Jeremy isnât technically my OC, I just put him down as one on my edit blog cos its easier than fully explaining:
Heâs technically a character from the book series âwomen of the otherworldâ by kelley armstrong. A urban fantasy werewolf series. Heâs my fave character in the series and Iâve been rping him over on my rp blogs for a while now, and heâs somewhat canon divergent (i gave him a husband. its what he deserves.) When I got into BG3 i made him a bg3 verse and its sorta become my main verse to write him in lol. So heâs an AU of a canon character based on my canon divergence and headcanons. (Iâve also made more characters connected to him in bg3 but havenât posted any edits of them yet.)
Explanation aside, Jeremy is a Half-elf Lythari (werewolf).
Heâs a Ranger who lives in the woods with his (also lythari/werewolf) family.
Heâs a bit of a homebody, doesnât really like going into civilisation, or meeting new people.
So being abducted by mindflayers and forced to interact with a bunch of strangers really is the worst thing.
Except its fine (kinda) because Jer is The Ultimate Dad⊠so once everyone stops flirting with him, he just adopts them.
Astarion didn't like him to start with because he thought that Jeremy might have been one of the werewolves Cazador controls, but they work through that eventually.
Sometime during Act 1 he sends a letter to his family, delivered via Birds, to let them know he's alive and he's going to make his way to Baldur's Gate.
By the time he reunites with his husband in act 3 heâs like âmeet our new adult kids iâve adopted.â
But yeah heâs a werewolf but the tadpole is interfering with that to stop the full transformation
i've written some fic snippets about him too but haven't posted them anywhere because i genuinely don't know how to explain 'its not really a crossover but kind of!' đ
honorable mention:
reese, she's actually my oc from an original novel i'm writing. in my novel, she can go to different universes. her bg3 verse is basically that. she got abducted by mindflayers while in another world, got stuck with a tadpole and is like "well shit." in faerun she is a bard. i got up to act 2 with her but then my mods killed my game in ... patch 7, i think? and i simply restarted her lol so i haven't gone very far in her run this time
#my tavs#i need to post about them here more i love them#i post about them on my rp blogs but the rp versions of them are *slightly* different to how i envision their story going in my head#i def need to make up proper intro posts for them though#c: ryn#c: jeremy#c: darci#c: reese#god this is a longass post im sorry about that
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After knowing that C and MC were in the same high school, I'm rooting even more for them. I'm also guessing C's confusing feelings for us in their route is them liking us since school? That's so freaking cute đ„°đ„ș
Can I ask for a scenario where they have a group project with other people and one of them gets very flirty with MC? Will C let that slide, I wonder đ«€
the diner sat on the corner of a street that tried its hardest to look charming but failed, the neon sign buzzing faintly against the rain-streaked window.
it was one of those places that seemed plucked from a movie set: vinyl booths, chrome napkin dispensers, and a jukebox in the corner that hadnât worked since the last century. the smell of grease hung heavy in the atmosphere, mixing with the faint sweetness of syrup from the breakfast specials they served all day.
you sat in the booth, tapping your pen against the edge of your notebook, watching the door with mild dread. when C walked in, you knew the meeting was about to get infinitely more complicated.
C spotted you immediately, their sharp chalcedony green eyes narrowing like theyâd been assigned a particularly irritating math problem. they werenât dressed for the rain, but their aldervale prep blazer was immaculate, not a drop of water on it, as though the universe had conspired to shield them from the rain outside. although, you guessed it was most probably because of the black umbrella that they were carrying.
C slid into the booth across from you without a word, placing a pristine leather notebook on the table. their penâsilver, of courseâclicked once. twice. a quick rhythm that made your teeth itch.
âyouâre late,â you said.
âiâm exactly on time,â C replied, their voice clipped like the word âtimeâ had too many syllables and they were doing you a favor by saying it quickly.
your two other group membersâdarcy and loweâarrived moments later, looking both nervous and excited, as though theyâd stumbled into the VIP lounge of a club they didnât belong to.
darcy, her backpack practically bursting with highlighters, was vibrating with energy. lowe looked more like theyâd been dragged here against their will, though their eyes lit up when they spotted the milkshake menu.
you exchanged pleasantries, ordered drinks, and got down to business.
the topic was seattle, your city, and you were supposed to collectively dissect and analyze for the sake of some interdisciplinary project that combined geography, economics, and, for reasons you still didnât understand, poetry.
âseattle,â you began, flipping open your notebook, âhas many layers to it. you have the tech billionaires building spaceships on one side and grunge bands writing songs about the end of the world on the other. i think we should focus on how those contradictions make it unique.â
âthatâs pretty reductive,â C cut in, not bothering to look up from their notebook. âseattleâs economy is primarily driven by tech, aviation, and trade. if weâre going to present a meaningful analysis, we should focus on its economic impact on washington state as a whole.â
darcy and lowe exchanged nervous glances. you clenched your jaw.
ânot everything has to be about numbers, lacroix,â you said. âpeople care about stories, not spreadsheets. we can talk about the economy, sure, but we should start with what makes the city feel alive. the art, the cultureââ
âand completely ignore the practical context?â Câs gaze lifted then, their expression somewhere between exasperation and boredom. âthatâs like writing about a chess game and leaving out the strategy. completely pointless.â
âitâs not exactly pointless if it makes people care,â you shot back.
the argument spiraled from there, gaining momentum like a runaway train. darcy and lowe sat frozen, their eyes darting between you like spectators at a particularly intense boxing match.
âmaybe we should, uh, toss a coin?â darcy offered weakly, her voice barely audible over your bickering.
C smirked, pulling a coin from their pocket as though theyâd been waiting for this moment to occur this whole time. you selected tails and they flipped it, caught it, and slapped it onto the back of their hand.
âheads,â they announced, triumphant.
you groaned. âof course.â
âdonât be a sore loser, starkid,â C said, their tone practically dripping with smugness. âweâll just have to do it my way this time.â
âfine,â you muttered, slumping back against the booth.
the tension eased slightly as the waitress arrived with your foodâburgers, fries, and milkshakes that lowe declared were âthe best in the neighbourhoodâ despite never having tried any others.
you talked about school, about the upcoming math test and the cafeteria food which had reduced in quality after some new kitchen staff got employed. darcy was surprisingly funny, and lowe had a good bank of knowledge on obscure sports trivia.
C, however, remained quiet. they ate slowly, like each bite was a boring task to be completed. their posture was rigid, their eyes rarely leaving their plate.
it wasnât until the conversation turned to favorite places in washington that you noticed something shift. darcy was talking about summers spent hiking in olympic national park, her voice full of nostalgia. lowe mentioned a family road trip to mount rainier.
âso, lacroix,â you said, turning towards the grumpy brunette. âpenny for your thoughts?â
they blinked, clearly startled that youâd addressed them directly. âi... iâve never been to any of those places.â
the table fell silent. even darcy looked surprised.
âseriously?â you asked before you could stop yourself.
they shrugged, their gaze fixed on the condensation dripping down the water glass. âi havenât lived in washington as long as you all have. besides, iâm not exactly the adventurous type. i just⊠donât see the point of, you know, wandering around aimlessly. itâs not like the cityâs going anywhere.â
darcy, being the idealist she was, tried to lift the mood. âwell, maybe you should visit some of those places one day! olympicâs amazingâespecially the hoh rainforest.â
C didnât respond. they just nodded, their lips pressed into a thin line.
for a moment, you felt something almost like sympathy. C, the untouchable perfectionist, didnât seem know how to belong in places like thisâin diners that smelled like burnt coffee, in conversations that meandered without purpose. they were as out of place here as a chessboard at a football game.
you then frowned, something tugging at the edges of your chest. you remembered hearing something onceâmaybe in passing, maybe during some rare moment of C opening up in classâthat their parents had divorced when they were ten. that theyâd moved to seattle from rochester, new york, with their mother, who worked long hours and didnât have time for much else.
you didnât know why you said it. maybe it was the way their voice had dipped, the way their composure seemed dulled. but the words came anyway. âmaybe we could all go somewhere. for the project, i mean.â
Câs head snapped up, their green eyes narrowing like they were trying to decipher a riddle. for a moment, you thought they were going to say something cruelâan insult thatâd have you getting angry again. but then their gaze softened, just a fraction.
âwhy?â they asked, the word almost inaudible.
you shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. âi donât know. it might help. plus, you canât live like a hermit forever while youâre at washington.â
they stared at you for what felt like a long time, their expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, they nodded. wordlessly, awkwardly.
you thought you saw something flicker across their face thenâsomething like a smile, small and fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it came.
for the rest of the meeting, C avoided your gaze. and as you all filed out of the diner, the rain starting up again in soft patters against the window, you found yourself wondering why youâd even offered.
but the truth was, you already knew. sometimes, your heart reached out before your brain could catch up. and for reasons you didnât fully understand at the moment, it had reached for them.
the day began under a gauzy layer of mist that hung low over seattle. the clouds seemed reluctant to rise and the air carried a faint, damp chill.
loweâs BMW 5 smelled faintly of peppermint gum and an air freshener that promised âocean breezeâ but delivered something closer to what youâd find at a more eccentric section of bath & body works.
you sat on the passenger seat, your elbow resting against the door, the window cracked open to let in the air. darcy and C were in the backseat, the former preoccupied with her camera, snapping pictures of the dashboard, the sky, and the brunette beside her, who looked like they were already regretting agreeing to this trip.
the car wove its way through the city, past coffee shops with hand-painted signs and streets lined with rain-slicked trees.
lowe, ever the conversationalist, started talking about the destinationâa landmark tucked away in one of seattleâs greener corners. but at some point, the conversation shifted, becoming less about the destination and more about you.
âyâknow,â lowe said, their voice taking on a teasing lilt as they glanced at you, âiâm really happy weâre doing this. i was always curious about how itâd be to hang out with you outside of schoolâ
you blinked, caught off guard. âum, thanks? thatâs nice of you to say.â you gave them a polite smile, the kind you might offer a friendly cashier.
C, sitting stiffly in the backseat, was less amused. they had been glaring at the back of loweâs head for the past ten minutes, their jaw tight, their arms crossed. every tap of loweâs fingers, every casual joke, seemed to grate on them like nails on a chalkboard.
darcy, oblivious, was busy snapping pictures with her camera, capturing the rain-slick streets and the way the trees blurred as the car sped past. she hummed under her breath, the shutter clicking steadily, her energy so light and cheerful it was almost its own soundtrack.
finally, C, who had been silent up until now, shifted in their seat with a sharp huff.
âlowe,â they spoke up, their tone clipped, âmaybe focus on the road instead of hitting on that idiot right in front of us.â
you squawked in indignation at being called an âidiot,â not exactly getting what else they were implying.
meanwhile, lowe startled, their hands tightening on the steering wheel. âwhat? i wasnâtââ they caught Câs glare in the rearview mirror and quickly relented. âright. sorry. road. eyes on the road.â
you glanced back at C, confused by the sudden shift in the mood. their jaw was tight, their arms crossed over their chest, and they avoided your gaze entirely. you thought about asking what their problem was but decided against it. the day was too early, and you didnât want to start bickering already.
the destination turned out to be kerry park. you stepped out of the car and stretched, looking around with a grin. your group followed suit and, after taking your backpacks, trudged up the steep streets of queen anne.
the park was small, unassumingâjust a sliver of land carved into the hill, a place where the city stretched out beneath you like a quilt stitched together by architects, lovers of symmetry, and disarray alike.
from here, seattle wasnât a city so much as a panorama, framed by the wide arms of the sound and the occasional, fleeting glimpses of mount rainier, pale and insubstantial like the ghost of a mountain in the distance.
the rain hadnât yet started, though the air smelled of wet concrete and petrichor, gave you an indication that it wouldnât hold off for long.
darcy had already pulled her camera out, its strap slung around her neck as she wandered a few feet ahead, her voice rising and falling as she described the perfect angles for her shots. lowe was by your side, gesturing dramatically at the view as if they were a tour guide instead of a co-conspirator.
C, who had followed at a distance and was now leaning against a nearby rail, their arms crossed and their face set in a scowl.
âlacroix,â you called over your shoulder, your tone light, inviting. âyou should come and look around with us. itâs cool.â
they raised an eyebrow, their expression unimpressed. âthrilling, iâm sure.â
lowe shot them a weird look but said nothing, their attention soon snapping to follow darcy on her photoshoots.
you turned fully to face C. âyou donât have to be so grumpy, you know.â
âiâm not grumpy,â they snapped grumpily.
you sighed, letting it go for now. instead, you wandered over to the railing where they stood, resting your elbows on the cool metal as you gazed out at the view.
âthis place means a lot to me,â you began, glancing at C. they didnât respond, but they didnât walk away either, so you took that as permission to continue.
âwhen i was little, my dad used to bring me here. weâd spend hours looking at the birds. he had this old, beat-up field guide he carried everywhere. i still remember the smell of itâold paper and leather. heâd flip through it so fast, trying to identify every bird we saw. i think he liked the challenge of it.â
Câs features softened, almost imperceptibly, as they listened.
âthere was this one time,â you said, your voice growing warm with the memory, âwe saw a bald eagle perched on one of the trees. it was so close, you could see the feathers on its chest ruffling in the wind. my dad was so excited, he nearly dropped his binoculars in a muddy puddle.â
you laughed. C smiled. it was not their usual arrogant smirk, but something too genuine to be described without it being an understatement.
even darcy noticed as she was snapping pictures of passers-by under the railing where you and C were leaning against.
from behind her camera, she whispered, âi think i just saw a miracle,â before snapping a picture.
in the photo, you were looking up at the sky, your face alight with wonder. and beside you, C was looking at youânot the sky, not the birds, but you. their expression was so unguarded, so tender, it made darcy pause, her finger hovering over the shutter button.
âand itâs not just the view or the birds,â you continued, your voice picking up momentum as you spoke. âthereâs this whole history to it. did you know the park was named after albert sperry kerry? he was this big real estate guy in the early 1900s. probably bulldozed a lot of land to make a fortune. but this place? this tiny slice of the city? he gave it back. said he wanted people to have a place to breathe, to see things differently.â
you glanced over at C, expecting the usual sardonic remark, but they were watching you with an expression you didnât expectâsoft, almost eager, like they could never get tired of you talking about things like these.
âi guess i just like thinking about that,â you said, your voice trailing off as you turned back to the horizon. âhow even someone who takes and takes can give something so beautiful.â
for a long moment, neither of you spoke. then, quietly, C said, âyou really are a nerd, arenât you?â
you laughed, the sound bright and unexpected, and while you didnât have C laughing alongside you, you had a distinct feeling that they were too distracted by a certain someone to do so.
lunch was a quiet affair. you all sat on a damp wooden bench overlooking the trees. you plopped down beside C without a second thought, your shoulder brushing theirs as you unwrapped your sandwich.
C stiffened, their gaze flicking to you in surprise.
âyou donât mind, do you?â you asked, already halfway through your first bite.
they shook their head, though they looked puzzled, as if trying to understand why youâd willingly sit next to them when lowe was right there, still buzzing with laughter after a joke darcy shared with them.
âthanks for listening to me earlier,â you said softly.
C cleared their throat, their voice rough when they replied, âno problem.â
you still gave them a smile despite their (apparent) surly mood before turning back to your sandwich.
C looked down at their own food, their expression unreadable, but there was a faint hint of pink dusting the tip of their ears.
maybe, C concluded, the whole practical aspects of the project could take a backseat for now. it seemed like they didnât mind focusing on the people of the city after allâor maybe it was just this infuriatingly intelligent seattle native that they couldnât stop smiling for.
you wondered if the extreme makeover crew ever came to take darcyâs house as an inspiration for a lot of their renovations. it was a gleaming two-storey in a neighborhood where the lawns were manicured to within an inch of their lives and the houses all had names like âbirchwoodâ or âcĂŽte dâazur.â
her parents were insanely successful real estate agents and it showed in every detail, from the perfectly symmetrical hydrangeas flanking the front door to the wrought-iron chandelier hanging in the entryway.
her room was a microcosm of the house itself: spacious and spotless. honestly, it made you want to take your shoes off just to avoid dirtying the carpet.
the walls were painted a muted teal, lined with shelves holding an army of books and a smattering of knick-knacks from trips abroad. there was a citrus-like scent around, and her plush white comforter made her bed look like a stratocumulus cloud.
you all sat cross-legged on her floor, laptops and papers spread out in a semi-circle as you planned out your presentation. âsorenâ by beabadoobee was playing from darcyâs bluetooth speaker and the conversation was punctuated with bursts of laughterâmostly loweâs loud, carefree chuckles and darcyâs softer, chiming giggles.
C, true to form, sat slightly apart, their long legs folded under them, their expression guarded but not unkind. they were listening more than talking, as always, their gaze darting between everyone like they were trying to keep up without wanting to look too interested.
âokay, but what if we start with the history of seattle, like the gold rush and all that, and then connect it to how the city evolved into this tech hub?â you suggested, glancing at C for approval.
the green-eyed brunette nodded once, their expression unreadable. âthat works. it gives us a narrative to build on.â
lowe sidled up to you with an encouraging smile. âyouâre always full of good ideas. i swear weâre going to ace this project at this rate.â
you laughed lightly, not catching the undertone. âitâs a group effort, lowe.â
âyeah, lowe,â darcy said, rolling her eyes in an annoyed manner from her spot near the window. âyouâre really laying it on thick.â
you tried to smile it off but you couldnât help but notice that she seemed almost... angry at lowe about something. the latter, on the other hand, was not meeting her eyes at all.
as if that wasnât weird enough, you caught C stiffening out of the corner of your eye, their fingers tightening around their pen.
the awkwardness simmered quietly for a while, manifesting only in the way Câs responses grew shorter, their gaze darting less toward the group and more toward the window, where the rain streaked against the glass.
it wasnât until lowe leaned closer to you, their voice dropping just enough to feel pointed, that the tension finally broke. âyâknow, if you ever want to grab coffee or something after all this, i know a great place near pike place. itâs got this cozy corner thatâd be perfect forââ
âiâm getting some water,â C announced abruptly, standing so quickly their chair scraped loudly against the floor.
the room fell silent for a beat as C walked away, their footsteps echoing down the hall. darcy glanced at you, then at lowe, and then back at you.
âyou should go talk to them,â she said softly.
âwhat?â you asked, surprised.
âjust... go,â she urged, nodding toward the door. âi think they need to hear from you.â
you hesitated, your gaze flicking between the door and the others. but there was something in the way darcy looked at you, a quiet insistence that made you realise the urgency she was feeling. besides, with the way she turned her attention to lowe with a scathing glare, you did not want to get in between whatever they had going on.
so you stood, mumbling something about being right back, and headed for the kitchen.
you found C by the sink, their back to you, their hands braced against the counter. the faucet was running, though the glass they were holding was still empty.
âhey,â you said tentatively, stepping into the room.
they didnât turn around. âwhat do you want?â
âi just... wanted to check on you,â you said, your voice faltering. âyou looked kind of... i donât know, upset?â
C finally turned, their chalcedony green gaze indecipherable and cagey. âiâm fine. you can go back to lowe now. you two were having such a great time.â
their tone was harsh, and it made you blink in surprise.
âwhat are you talking about?â you asked, genuinely confused.
C rolled their eyes, the motion exaggerated, almost theatrical. âdonât play dumb. it was obvious you two were flirting.â
you sighed, caught between disbelief and frustration. âwe werenât flirting. thatâs probably just how lowe is. they were just being friendly.â
C let out a short, humorless laugh, the sound more of a bark. âyouâre an absolute dunderhead if you believe that. lowe wasnât just flirting for funâthey meant it.â
you felt heat rising to your face, your irritation bubbling over. âokay, first of all, stop insulting me. and second, would you please stop ruining everything with your assumptions.â
C flinched, just barely, but it was enough to make you pause. their voice dropped, colder now. âmaybe i shouldâve asked the teacher to switch groups. if my presence bothers you that muchââ
âmaybe you should have,â you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them. âthen maybe we wouldnât have to deal with you being a burden all the time.â
for a moment, the kitchen was deathly silent except for the faint patter of rain against the window. Câs face twisted, not with anger but with something closer to hurt, and you immediately regretted what youâd said.
âokay,â they said quietly, their voice flat. âiâll let myself out then.â
before you could say anything, before you could take it back, they were already walking up to the front door and reaching for their umbrella, their movements mechanical as they stepped toward the door. the rain outside had picked up, a relentless downpour that blurred the edges of the world.
you wanted to say something, to fix the fracture youâd caused, but the words wouldnât come out on time.
C stepped into the rain without hesitation, the door clicking shut behind them. you stood frozen, the echo of their retreating footsteps mingling with the sound of the storm.
your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides as you stared at the front door. you wanted to curse. to rewind the last five minutes and unsay every single word.
you ran a hand through your hair, muttering something unintelligible under your breath as you paced. your foot caught on the corner of the coffee table, and in your aggravation, you stumbled forward, knocking over the pile of photographs darcy had laid out so carefully.
âgreat,â you muttered, crouching down to gather the scattered pictures.
they were glossy and vibrant, capturing moments from your trip to kerry park just two days ago. you hadnât paid much attention to them before, but now, as you picked up photo after photo, a pattern began to emerge.
in nearly every image, C was looking at you.
your fingers froze on a picture where their smile was so open, so completely unlike their usual self, that it felt almost like intruding on a scene you werenât supposed to see. their dimples were unmistakable, softening the sharpness of their features in a way that made your heart skip a beat.
in another photo, they were standing slightly behind you, their chalcedony green eyes focused entirely on you as you pointed out something in the distance, completely oblivious to their adoring attention.
for a moment, you just sat there on the floor, staring at the pictures, the edges of the glossy paper dampening under your trembling fingers. then, as if pulled by an invisible string, you stood.
darcy had made her way to the living room and said something as you made for the door, but her words were lost to the roaring in your ears.
the rain hit you like a wall as you stepped outside, cold and relentless, soaking through your clothes in seconds. but you didnât care. your feet moved on instinct, splashing through puddles as you ran down the street. it was a foolish thing to do, running in a storm like this, but every step felt like it was carrying you closer to something you couldnât name but desperately needed to reach.
you didnât know which way C went exactly, but you had a feeling.
and then, through the curtain of rain, you saw them.
C was standing under their umbrella, their posture stiff as they glanced down the street. the soft glow of their phone screen illuminated their face, but they werenât scrolling or texting. they were waiting for an uber, probably. or maybe just waiting for the storm to pass.
you skidded to a stop, breathless and drenched. when they turned and spotted you, their eyes widened incredulously like youâd just teleported there.
âwhat the hell are you doing?â they demanded, their voice rising over the rain as they speed-walked up to you, umbrella in hand. they immediately held it over both of you, shielding you from the worst of the downpour. âhave you finally lost your mind? youâre going to catch a cold!â
you were out of breath, your chest heaving as the water dripped from your lashes, but you didnât care. âiâm sorry.â
C blinked, their mouth opening slightly as if they were going to argue, but you kept going. âiâm sorry for what i said. i didnât mean it. youâre not a burden, C. iâve never ever thought of you like that. the truth isââ
your words caught in your throat, the weight of them almost too much. but you forced them out. âthe truth is, iâve had a great time doing this project with you. i really didnât mean any of itâabout switching groups, about ruining things, you being a burden. iâm glad we got paired together, even if you drive me completely insane sometimes.â
âare you done?â they asked gruffly, though their tone lacked its usual edge.
you nodded sheepishly, your heart hammering against your ribs.
they sighed, lowering their gaze for a moment before meeting yours again. âi had a great time too. you... you made me see the city in a way i never had before. you made me appreciate it. i...â they sighed, âi was being too stubborn and i shouldnât have given you a hard time with everything. and... i donât mind your company, even if youâre way too dense sometimes to see whatâs in front of you the whole time.â
the sincerity in their voice made your breath catch. right now, all you could do was stare at them and bask in the warmth they made you feel.
you admired the way their dark brown hair curled slightly at the edges, damp and clinging to their skin. the way the rain caught in their lashes, making their chalcedony green eyes glow as though a thousand hues were shifting like sunlight through sea glass. the way their fair skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, the sharpness of their cheekbones, the curve of their lips, soft and slightly parted.
they shifted under your gaze, their cheeks suddenly flushing pink.
âwhat?â they snapped. âwhy are you ogling me?â
but you didnât answer. at least not with words.
before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped forward, leaning in until your lips brushed against theirs in a kiss that felt as inevitable as the rain falling around you.
C froze, their eyes wide in shock and disbelief before they pulled back, their fingers flying to their lips.
âiâm so sorry,â you blurted out, the heat rising to your face as you realized what youâd just done. your heart was sinking in absolute shame. âiââ
but before you could finish, C let the umbrella drop to the ground with a soft clatter. rain cascaded over both of you as they grabbed your face with trembling hands as they surged forward, their lips crashing against yours in a kiss that left no room for doubt.
the world seemed to fall away in that moment, leaving only the two of you, your hands tangling in the fabric of their rain-soaked sweater as their fingers threaded themselves in your wet hair. it was cold, sure, but their kiss was warm, searing, as if it had been waiting to catch sparks all along.
your clothes were drenched and your hair was practically plastered to your face, but it didnât matter. nothing else mattered.
it wasnât until the honk of a car horn shattered the moment that you finally broke apart, both of you panting as you turned to see the waiting uber that C had previously booked.
Câs face turned crimson as they also turned to look at the car, their expression mortified and exasperated at the same time.
âputain,â they muttered under their breath before grabbing your arm and their umbrella. they then shut it quickly and tugged you toward the vehicle.
the uber driver, to his credit, said nothing as you both slid into the backseat, though the faint twitch of his lips and the knowing look he gave you two in the rearview mirror didnât go unnoticed.
âcould this day get any more embarrassing?â C asked as they crossed their arms over their chest, staring determinedly out the window.
âuh huh,â you mumbled, still in a daze from what just happened.
âthat was my first kiss, you know,â C muttered.
you turned to them, still not registering their words. âyouâre so gorgeous.â
C scowled, their blush deepening. âshut up, you dolt. youâre not even listening to me.â
but when their hand crept over to cover yours, you couldnât stop the goofy smile that spread across your face.
#i ended up making this too long heLP đ#this was gonna be even longer but i had to pump the breaks âđ»#and yes darcy and lowe are dating in the canon story#if: the ballad of the young gods#interactive fiction#interactive novel#interactive story#twine wip#ro: c lacroix#ro scenarios
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got more colors down for my ocs!
#art#digital art#illustration#artists on tumblr#artist on tumblr#character design#icebitez#furry#oc#hazle#hazle baysin#darcy#dar-c#shine#shine lievesely#seaslug#sea slug#seaslug oc#sea slug oc#robot#robot oc#moth#moth oc#cute furry#furry anthro#furry sfw#oc art#oc artist
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Speaking of the social context of P&P and Austen in general, and also just literature of that era, I'm always interested in how things like precisely formulated hierarchies of precedence and tables of ranked social classes interact with the more complex and nuanced details of class-based status and consequence on a pragmatic day-to-day level. I remembered reading a social historian discussing the pragmatics of class wrt eighteenth-century English life many years ago and finally tracked down the source:
"In spite of the number of people who got their living from manufacture or trade, fundamentally it was a society in which the ownership of land alone conveyed social prestige and full political rights. ... The apex of this society was the nobility. In the eyes of the Law only members of the House of Lords, the peerage in the strictest use of the word, were a class apart, enjoying special privileges and composing one of the estates of the realm. Their families were commoners: even the eldest sons of peers could sit in the House of Commons. It was therefore in the social rather than in the legal sense of the word that English society was a class society. Before the law all English people except the peers were in theory equal. Legal concept and social practice were, however, very different. When men spoke of the nobility, they meant the sons and daughters, the brothers and sisters, the uncles and aunts and cousins of the peers. They were an extremely influential and wealthy group.
"The peers and their near relations almost monopolized high political office. From these great families came the wealthiest Church dignitaries, the higher ranks in the army and navy. Many of them found a career in law; some even did not disdain the money to be made in trade. What gave this class its particular importance in the political life of the day was the way in which it was organized on a basis of family and connection ... in eighteenth-century politics men rarely acted as isolated individuals. A man came into Parliament supported by his friends and relations who expected, in return for this support, that he would further their interests to the extent of his parliamentary influence.
"Next in both political and social importance came the gentry. Again it is not easy to define exactly who were covered by this term. The Law knew nothing of gentle birth but Society recognized it. Like the nobility this group too was as a class closely connected with land. Indeed, the border line between the two classes is at times almost impossible to define ... Often these men are described as the squirearchy, this term being used to cover the major landowning families in every county who were not connected by birth with the aristocracy. Between them and the local nobility there was often considerable jealousy. The country gentleman considered himself well qualified to manage the affairs of his county without aristocratic interference.
"...The next great layer in society is perhaps best described the contemporary term 'the Middling Sort'. As with all eighteenth-century groups it is difficult to draw a clear line of demarcation between them and their social superiors and inferiors. No economic line is possible, for a man with no pretensions to gentility might well be more prosperous than many a small squire. There was even on the fringe between the two classes some overlapping of activities ... The ambitious upstart who bought an estate and spent his income as a gentleman, might be either cold-shouldered by his better-born neighbours or treated by them with a certain contemptuous politeness. If however his daughters were presentable and well dowered, and if his sons received the education considered suitable for gentlemen, the next generation would see the obliteration of whatever distinction still remained. The solid mass of the middling sort had however no such aspirations, or considered them beyond their reach.
"...This term [the poor] was widely used to designate the great mass of the manual workers. Within their ranks differences of income and of outlook were as varied as those that characterized the middle class. Once again the line of demarcation is hard to draw..."
âDorothy Marshall, Eighteenth Century England (29-34)
(There's plenty more interesting information in the full chapter, especially regarding "the poor," and the chapter itself is contracted from a lengthier version published earlier.)
#anghraine babbles#long post#dorothy marshall#eighteenth century england#austen blogging#eighteenth century blogging#also thinking about this in terms of elizabeth spending so much of pride and prejudice /acutely/ conscious of a social divide#between her family (as in the bennets and mr collins) and darcy's status - so her claim to equality with him w/ lady catherine is- well#not a dry sociological statement but an important character moment for elizabeth (and lady catherine!)#realistically darcy's lifestyle politics and interests ARE far more allied with ppl like the fitzwilliams than ppl like the bennets#and elizabeth is not at all ignorant of that - it's why she initially thinks he's too much of a great man to be interested in her#even before she knows of his close connections to literal nobility#and that is probably the more ... normative? understanding of their respective positions.#so her later claim to equality with him - in a way that forces ly c to acknowledge elizabeth's own status - is not a simple neutral truth#but weighted in a way that's important thematically and for elizabeth's development - something that the pure sociological take misses imo#anghraine's meta#austen fanwank#sorta
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#alice oseman#osemanverse#heartstopper#heartstopper alice oseman#heartstopper comic#solitaire#bugs bunny meme#mothers day#motherâs day#amanda olsson#darcy olsson#am*nda olsson#carol last#aled last#carys last#c*rol last#jane spring#charlie spring#tori spring#sarah nelson#nick nelson#yan xu#tao xu#mariam argent#elle argent#lana janvier#frances janvier#radio silence#osemanverse memes
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Nothing like Heartstopper S2E8 removing some of Taylor Swift's "seven" lyrics just so that the singing can specifically come back in at "Or hide in the closet" while Isaac is processing difficult emotions related to the book he's reading (i.e., Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen).
Did I mention "Or hide in the closet" hits just as the camera focus finishes shifting away from Isaac?
This is fine
#This is not fine#Warning: Long tags ahead (2 topics)#TOPIC 1:#I'm glad Isaac feels safe enough to be reading this book and processing emotions around his friends#That's the positive spin on âhe's quietly dealing with a lot while next to his friends and they're not noticing and he's not sharing" right#The contrast of this with the happy friend-bonding montage time feels purposeful and sad (esp. with lyrics about staying in the closet)#but on the bright side this is in the midst of happy friend-bonding montage time so we also see them having happy bonding times together#- showing the friendship is still strong even if right now Isaac isn't wholly known or fully fitting#Hopefully this is leading to Isaac telling his friends what he's going through in S3 and the friendships adapting to fit him better#TOPIC 2:#Also - don't think it's unintentional that where the camera focus shifts to is Nick with his arms around Charlie and then kissing his head#I think we're being purposefully distracted from Isaac with allo 'cuteness'#Because what the other characters often get swept up in - especially as they all couple up in S2 - is alloromantic/allosexual interactions#And that's frequently what the world prioritises or cares more about too#I think the show is intentionally calling everyone - from the characters to us watching them to the whole world - out#So that hopefully we (general) can all be more aware and do better#[In case you were wondering this N&C/Isaac scene is also right after we see short clips of Elle & Tao and Tara & Darcy cuddling -#which also seems very intentional: Isaac - sandwiched in between views of cuddling couples - alone in more ways than one]#CONCLUSION:#I think everything is working together to highlight the contrast between what N&C and Isaac are respectively experiencing in this moment#Did I mention this is not fine?#It is well done though#heartstopper mini moment#isaac henderson#aroace#aromantic asexual#lgbtqia+#queer#taylor swift#seven
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I am probably way too proud of this. kate beaton you will always be famous
this lineart was hand drawn, not a digital edit
#if this flops i won't even care this was just fun to make#my art#btw this was hand drawn not just an edit#dream smp#sally the salmon#c!wilbur#salbur#ooh mister darcy
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stop calling c//a an enemies to lovers trope challenge. it's an abuser x victim relationship.
#like if you wanted enemies to lovers glimmadora was RIGHT THERE#spop critical#spop salt#spop#spop criticism#spop discourse#she ra#anti catra#anti spop#anti catradora#anti c//a#antic//a#anticatra#anticatradora#anti stans#also all these other ships are amazing too#(for anyone who wants to know the ships in order:#caitlyn x vi from arcaneâ rayla x callum from tdpâ nina x matthias from soc#darcy x elizabeth from pride & prejudiceâ janai and amaya from tdp)#(and ofc glimmadora)
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Pride and Prejudice
cr: lacasadimary90 via ig
#pride and prejudice#pride and prejudice 2005#mr darcy#elizabeth bennet#jane austen#elizabeth and darcy#aesthetic#a e s t h e t i c
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endless gifs of my ocs: darci
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#justsiblingthings
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Books of 2024: NEVER WHISTLE AT NIGHT: An Indigenous Dark Fiction Anthology, ed. by Shane Hawk and Theodore C. Van Alst Jr.
This has a bunch of authors I already love in it (Stephen Graham Jones, Darcie Little Badger, Waubgeshig Rice, and Rebecca Roanhorse!!), and several authors I've been meaning to try (like Tommy Orange, Nick Medina, and Kelli Jo Ford, to name a few), so I'm really hyped for them all to be together in one volume! Plus dark fiction is very much my jam (especially when it comes in a bright and colorful package).
#books of 2024#books#book photography#never whistle at night#never whistle at night: an indigenous dark fiction anthology#shane hawk#theodore c. van alst jr.#stephen graham jones#rebecca roanhorse#darcie little badger#waubgeshig rice#i'm sorry i'm not tagging ALL of them lol there are twenty-six (26) stories in here and i do not have the attention span for that many name#i love all the details on the cover too!!#the longer i look at it the more i find#full disclosure: i did in fact used to whistle at night because i don't want to startle creachers directly into my face when i take out--#--the trash or nocturnally shovel snow but uh. i have stopped doing that. since this book hit my shelf lol#(also sorry i just now noticed that the detached human eyeball is PURPLE of all things)#(driscoll posting)#(yeah this was vaguely in the driscoll lineup too#that's where it's been living on my shelf in the meantime)#(right next to OTHER TERRORS lol)#driscoll#in btw#anyway ignore this next text post i'm about to make pretend i'm reading this#and/or doing my damn taxes
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source
#look at them! so beautiful#trix#winx club fanart#winx trix#winx icy#winx darcy#winx stormy#not by me#c goes to Pinterest user tirrrex02
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overgrown darcy sketch i mustered up today
#art#digital art#illustration#artists on tumblr#artist on tumblr#character design#furry#icebitez#oc#robot#dar-c#darcy#overgrown robot#overgrown#moss#plane oc#plane#robotics#robot oc
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I just stumbled upon comforts and consequences, of course I had to re read at least a little bit, and can I just say I love how you write Darcy with children. It's been a hard week, and I must sleep now, but I am ever so glad I read this little snippet. It is a very delightful image to have before trying to sleep.
But . . . but if it was me, I should not want to marry someone so much prettier than I was!â
...
âI beg your pardon,â Darcy managed. âI â I am very flattered.â
âYou should have married Jane. Then you would still be my cousin â and Lizzy could have married Mr Bingley! After all, he is only so pretty as she is, so you would all match.â
Your pnp stories and meta were my comfort reads and rereads, and now all your posts on star trek are compelling me to watch TOS at a time when i do not want to invest in a new series.
And while I'm here, I've been wondering about Darcy. Did he know that Caroline Bingley wanted to marry him, say, backwhen they first arrived at Netherfield? If so, how would this have affected his behaviour towards her?
Hi anonâthanks! LOL, that scene is from many years ago, and iirc was originally in a still-earlier fic of mine that I'd decided to overhaul, so I'm glad it's still entertaining.
And I definitely do still enjoy the idea of Darcy as someone who gets on with children rather better than Other Adults He Must Speak To At Parties. (He's raised a child but he's never been good company at a party :P)
And yes, TOS is an investment (nearly 80 episodes, I think), but I do appreciate hearing that you've enjoyed the many years of P&P fic and meta, as well!
I think Darcy certainly knew that Caroline wanted to marry him before they ever arrived at Netherfield, likely well before. Certainly she wouldn't have pursued him the way she did without marriage in mind, IMO, and by age 27, he's intensely familiar with that kind of pursuit. Attempts at flirtation from women who regard him as less a person than a walking Ancestry.com tree with attached land, wealth, and power are not new to him. And what she's doing is highly visible; it's later, but I think her obviousness is clearly indicated by Elizabeth's thoughts about it:
âYou know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr Darcy.â âNo, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherineâs connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before yesterday.â âHer daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates.â This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor Miss Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless her affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were already self-destined to another.
Later, Elizabeth tells Jane:
No one who has ever seen you together can doubt his affection; Miss Bingley, I am sure, cannot: she is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr Darcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes.
I think the Caroline situation in particular is complicated from the outset by the fact that she's Bingley's sister, and they're inevitably thrown together as a result (if she weren't Bingley's sister, I doubt Darcy would tolerate her at all). That's all the more of a concern at Netherfield; Darcy is not only Bingley's friend but his guest, and Caroline is primarily acting as hostess. It would be not just inconsiderate but actively rude and inappropriate (in a way he usually is notâhe tends to cool civility most of the time and gets icier when he's pushed) to make a big deal out of her behavior, though he does get progressively more annoyed with her over time.
I've seen the argument that Darcy initially likes her, at least as a fellow hater, and the relationship only gradually freezes over as he himself develops away from where she's at. I don't agree. She is a fellow hater, and since he has to put up with her anyway, I think he finds what mild entertainment there is in this, but I don't think he's ever interested in her or ignorant of her motives or basic character. As the novel opens, he's already aware that she's not especially discriminating or clever about her grievances, IMO, and I don't think his behavior towards her rises much above empty courtesy. I think he understands and dislikes her flirty "teasing" of him from day 1, but initially, it's just grating rather than a real affront. As she escalates to worse and pushier behavior, his annoyance gets sharper and more apparent, though still within the forms of basic decorum (and of course, when he does really make himself clear, they're at Pemberley and he is in a better position to do it).
#i always wished i had the wherewithal to do more with c&c tbh! i had a lot of pretty clear ideas for it but not discipline#anon replies#respuestas#austen blogging#austen fanwank#star peace#nice things people say to me#fitzwilliam darcy#lady anne blogging#caroline bingley critical#long post#pride and prejudice#jane austen#fic talk#fic talk: comforts and consequences#anghraine's headcanons
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