#diamondsandcuesticks

[boozebimbosandbreezers]

Oh, well this is just my lucky day.

Two fine young sheiks.

Name's Doxy. Yourselves~?

[sevenlivesnotnine]

==> Go meet up with your Diamonds.

>You're on your way, damn it! Literally running because you only have ten minutes left to run across the city after speeding through your preparations.  Honestly, you had no idea how this was going to go, but hopefully he wouldn't be too angry with you.  You're not even really sure why he got all pissy over and an alternate of his, but it it really bothers him, then you'll let the other Droog go. Yours was much more important to you, after all.

You aren't even sure how much time you've got left at this point, only that your lungs are on fire and the meeting place is dead ahead. Fuck, who the hell gives you a half-an-hour time limit to meet them?

Douchebags, that's who.

[sevenlivesnotnine]

⊗

It’s four in the morning when you get a text. Although you’re angry, it’s not all that uncommon an occurrence. You’re expecting it just to be Itchy or Eggs telling you that they’ve gotten themselves in shit again, but instead it’s a lot worse then that.

It’s Droog. Your Dylan. The text merely has a location, and you stare at the screen of your phone for a few moments. You’re not sure what it means, but since the location is nowhere near your usual meeting place, you think you’re right to assume it isn’t good. Thoughts, ideas of what could’ve happened swirl in your head as you’re suddenly up, dressed, and out the door. Submachine gun in one hand, crowbar in the other. You don’t have time to answer, but you do see that he resends the same text three times. You’re getting nervous now, feet picking up more speed, completely ignoring how you’re nearly run over twice because you don’t have goddamn time for those stoplights. It’s just around the corner. Your lungs are on fire and your heart is beating at least three times it’s optimal speed, but Droog’s just around the corner as you get the sixth text of the same location and you’re almost there, you’re right there, you’re-

You see it. You see his head twist sharply to the side, see the life drain from his eyes, and you see the saw moving to cut off his head. They want it for a trophy, surely. The gang who finally killed Diamonds Droog.A choked sound escapes your throat, revealing your position. You chest heaves, your shoulders rise and fall, your hands shake.

They’ll want his head for a trophy.But none of them are making it out alive. 

[sevenlivesnotnine]

ce n'est pas une bonne idée

>You're on your way to meet up with Droog in the first time in WEEKS. And he's okay now, no broken jaw and no 'just realizing that his husband has a terminal disease'. This would be real nice if he wasn't a trickster.

But you seem to have trouble saying no to him, the bastard's got you practically wrapped around his finger. And still, you're smiling to yourself. Batshit or not, this was still your Droog {somewhat}.

You shuffle a little faster as you head towards the usual meeting place, and you're trying not to be late for once. Key word- trying. It's still a little later then acceptable when you finally do step into the abandoned hotel. Of course, it's not any warmer in here then it is outside, and you rub your hands to keep warm as you make your way to the usual room.

[trac3]

[sevenlivesnotnine]

@diamondsandcuesticks

im not posting either of those but holy shit

you need some sleep

why the hell are you drinking

[sevenlivesnotnine]

diamondsandcuesticks replied to your post: Do you have any new years resolutions?

You mean always

drunk, diamonds dong.

not tipsy