#d.interactions

[polcrity]

open to: table 19 && any adjacent [ your discretion ] || darcy

darcy’s fingers-- cuticles dry and cracking-- trace the edge of a wine glass, thin and made thinner with some intricate design that anybody without glasses couldn’t make out. with every revolution, the wine pools further and further into the smooth bowl of the glass, threatening each person at the table with a spill.

boredom has always spelled trouble for darcy, but at this table lies another temptation: a certain guy who ordered his goons to set fire to a certain house.

the glass slips from his feather light touch and-- oops--

“Aw, shit--”

[polcrity]

closed starter || @crimsonfaux​ || darcy & oliver || southern transport

for once in his life, a meeting doesn’t sound so bad. darcy’s strolled past the doors of southern transport with a sort of ease about him that hearkens back to a time before his record was marred track marks and emptied syringes. the hints have been dropped, the nudges have been placed in what he believes has been a masterfully subtle approach. 

he’s leaning on, uh-- something-- arms crossed over his chest. a quick glance confirms that it’s the front desk, covered in all the usual front desk materials: he sees a sticky note dispenser in the shape of a dinosaur, an all metal stapler, a calendar with a different kitten for each month-- commonplace to most, foreign to a thirty-one year old who hasn’t worked a real job a day in his life.

“Place looks nice-- I mean like always, I guess.” eyes wander aimlessly.

“People work like nine to five here, right? Like a normal job?”

[polcrity]

open starter || the roarin’ 20s || darcy

the thing the cool guys at that weird suit store in the mini mall don’t tell you is that velvet gets fucking hot. darcy could swear that the sweat on his forehead stands out in beads, but in reality it’s something closer to a healthy glow ( at least under the unnatural light of the hall ). he’s taking a wild guess and assuming that he doesn’t smell too great right about now--- but who fucking cares, anyway? tonight’s the night for a party. 

never mind the lingering stares at the bar that he’s been unable to control, or that drifting thought of something a little stronger. he wonders if teddy would be carrying anything fun right about now, but the thought is cut short by the notice of another sort of lingering stare. this one, from a stranger.

“It’s the dagger, isn’t it?” he asks, making a loose pointing gesture to his face. “It’s pretty cool. I know.”

[polcrity]

closed starter || @wtcddy​ || darcy 

weird? yes. wrong? probably. is that going to stop darcy from making his way down the hall and directly into teddy’s room? absolutely not. question: what incredibly stupid decision is darcy faust going to make tonight? a. shoot up again, b. kill himself, c. suck teddy’s dick, or d. send a nude to the family group chat. the shirt he pulled on before locking in his final answer ( if you, audience member, guessed C. SUCK TEDDY’S DICK give yourself a pat on the back !! ) is frayed at the bottom seam and so faded that the godfather logo wouldn’t even show if it was on right side out.

the backs of his knuckles rap against teddy’s door once, twice, and pause before he reaches for the doorknob. “Open up, Teds ---” 

“--- I’m sorry about your weed, okay--??”

[polcrity]

29. A discounted tattoo shop sits along the art walk and is charging only $20 for a small tattoo. [ ANDREA 'ANDY'PEREZ ] says they’ll pay for it—and dinner—if [ DARCY FAUST ] lets them choose the tattoo. [ DARCY FAUST ] agrees but is horrified to find [ UP TO PLAYER DISCRETION ] permanently engraved on their skin.

@alexiexalthea​ 

“Is this, like, your go to pick up line, or did you see all the tattoos and think I’d go for it?” 

“More important-- do I get to choose where we eat?”

[polcrity]

sentence meme darcy>>>ira

"He looks like a poorly taxidermied cat at all times." - @bodyxprison​ 

“Yeah, okay, okay-- he looks like a deer saying hi to a semi.” 

“But he’s a nice guy. He might be able to help you out. His name’s Peter-- he’s just a little rough around the edges, okay--??”

[polcrity]

open starter || roarin’ 20s ( part 2 ) || darcy

what’s worse than a psycho family of irish alcoholics who murder people for fun--?? a psycho family of russian alcoholics who go full messiah on the city. darcy’s pretty sure that the crucifixion was something like this, though... maybe sans shooting everybody who didn’t convert when he crawled out of his grave. alright, so in this whole mess of shit there’s at least one upside: darcy has his hand wrapped firmly around the top of BOWIE’S collar. the downside is that his owner is nowhere in sight and now there are two yuppies strung up and looking pretty fucking nasty. 

he feels the phone in his pocket buzzing. it could be teddy making dumb jokes, or hell, maybe breaking the news to the group chat: i found oliver’s dead body, matty’s dead too. 

at least darcy found the fucking dog. 

“I need you to get the fuck out of the way --- “ he doesn’t stop for a moment, not even to question who’s on the receiving end of the demand. then, a pause. 

“Okay, I’m sorry, that was rude-- “

[polcrity]

closed starter || @evaxclarke​ || darcy 

“Eva, I’m telling you ---” he’s almost laughing, but really--?? he’s mostly just smiling, because after a whole five fucking days locked up so close to the enemy that you could fuck them, she’s still just got one thing on her mind. maybe this is why teddy calls her mom. the ash ass of his cigarette is flicked out to the side, careful to avoid her shoes. 

 “--- My nose is fine.”