#wrigglyglitches

[royalshackles]

> Chronomancer: Give part of your mortal lifespan.

> The void had never been inviting to you, not even once, but you have gone there this night regardless. You know you should be more at home; your destined lusus was Gl’bgolyb, but your Lady had murdered her, or better said, her servant Doc Scratch had.

> You hover in the darkness, as your energy gets sucked out of you. Gradually you can feel more and more being drained of you, and as your muscles constrict, trying to deal with the otherworldly thievery of your life force, you gasp in pain, and would fall to your knees, if you were to stand on solid ground.

Suddenly you feel very dry, and your need for water grows more and more, rapidly with every second. You grow hungry, thirsty, tired, exhausted, it feels like something solid is getting ripped out of you, but you keep on. Delphine needs you, and you’d rather go to hell than not help her.

You hadn’t expected this to be this painful, but here you are, your semi-omniscience failing you and leaving you both aghast at the pain and determined at the prospect of helping your girlfriend.

May that bastard that possessed her leave her. Hopefully he felt pain.

[ @caedisetmare @wrigglyglitches

Correct me if anything in this is incorrect! ]

[ultraviolentdiamonds]

@wrigglyglitches Mortuuuuuuuu!!! :)

[rosallorart]

The Letters

@spitefulspades

The note was left in Spades’ nightstand. How long it’s been there? Who knows.

Jack Noir-

You treated me like shit for the longest time. I gave you all the time I could give to you. I tried to give you love. You gave me nothing. You gave me empty attempts. You gave me mess after mess to clean up. I missed doing things with you. Still, I find myself missing Derse. Those nights. The smoke, the jazz. The sting of your teeth.

That’s gone now.

You’re a stick of dynamite with a double fuse, and you just kept blowing yourself up over and over again. And I was too close. I ended up getting fucked over as well.

So.

I’m not doing this again.

Don’t look for me. I’m not here anymore. Not in the desert. Not in the city. I’m somewhere else. Before you ask, Dem doesn’t know. Mortu’s charms and magics have done many things for me. Just don’t try. I don’t want you to find me.

Fuck you. And fuck you for making me think someday you’d love me back.

-Droog

@hedonistichearts

The letter is folded and tucked in the corner of the bedroom like a leftover. Something so easily passed by.

Hearts-

I didn’t know you for very long. I know you had big hopes. I’m sorry for letting you down on those, you didn’t deserve it, or what happened to you. You don’t deserve what’s happening now, and I recognize that. But this isn’t personal. It isn’t business, either. It’s just me, being an asshole, and leaving.

You’re free to use the ties left in my wardrobe. Some of the thicker ones will suit you just fine. Please take care of FR, my cat. Do not let Spades eat her.

The nights I spent with you were very tender. I’ll carry those moments forever.

Apologetically and with regrets, Droog

@shiftingdunes

The letter is carried by a strange young prospitian to the oasis. It’s handed off, when one camp member comes by. It’s passed off to Boss, when it arrives.

Boss.

Catch me now, motherfucker.

-DD

@wrigglyglitches

There is no way to truly send a letter to a terror. The Demoness, however, makes a good enough messenger. She passes it off in a timely and professional manner.

Noodle,

There’s a group of carapacians tied up in the sands hooked to quite a bit of dynamite. it’ll detonate, soon. Some one hundred souls for your taking. Delicious. I’m compensating, because I’ll be gone, soon. Perhaps out of your reach entirely, though when I die, I intend to make good on the vow I’ve made.

I need solitude. I need time alone, to think. This is me asking you not to seek me out.  You have been nothing but good to me, and this isn’t fair. Maybe I can dream of you, once and a while. But this... this isn’t right. Not you, but me. All of this, all of these thoughts. And I hope that the sacrifice is good enough to put me in your good graces, because the last thing I want to do is anger you, or frustrate you.

...If this is the last time I get to tell you. Get the fuck away from Iscari, as soon as you can. He doesn’t have your best interests at heart.

I love you as much as a ward can love his patron.

Affectionately, Diamonds Droog.

[rosallorart]

Dream

@wrigglyglitches

A present is something to look forward to. Droog settles into bed, peaceful as can be wearing his two-piece silk nightwear. Spades would make fun of him if he could see him now, he’s sure of it. But he isn’t seeing Spades tonight. He’s going to see his Patron - to receive a gift. If he’s lucky, it won’t be a gift from Iscari. He knows that Mortu wouldn’t like to give him anything that Iscari passed along, but he was pressed into the terror’s service. It wouldn’t be optional. 

So Droog just has to trust, for now. Mortu hasn’t ever betrayed him before. So as he slips into sleep, he’s relaxed. It’ll be alright.

[midnightsleuth-blog]

@wrigglyglitches started following you

Uh.

Hey?

[rosallorart]

Morning

@wrigglyglitches

Droog rises, and makes breakfast. Scrambled eggs, sausage links, a few pancakes with syrup so sweet it makes him cringe. He knows Mortu will like that. The carapaces arranges the knife and fork carefully on the plate, and carries a glass of orange juice in his other hand. He knocks on the door quietly, thinking that Mortu might be awake, or half-askleep. “Mortu?” His voice is calm, but probing. “You awake?” Droog reaches with his spare fingers, turning the knob of the bedroom door slowly, and opening it. “I made you breakfast.”

[rosallorart]

Noodle

@wrigglyglitches

There are some things in life that you simply can’t plan for. Like a mad Horrorterror being turned into a mortal and being dumped in your lap for no reason at all. But luckily, Droog was Droog. And it doesn’t take long to find the graveyard - one of the bigger ones - and trawl through it to find his rather displaced patron.

It’s getting colder as the sun sets and the night crawls and sneaks across the stones in long shadows. “Mortu!” Droog calls out. It’s facing away from him, dressed in a raggedy looking cloak with green edging. Green. Strange. Mortu was definitely the kind of terror who favored purple, but green... was more of Iscari’s color. Or maybe it was just the color of madness, and Iscari had claimed it too thoroughly for Droog’s tastes. “Mortu, noodle, I’m here.” Droog weaves through the grave plots, ready to recieve his patron into his arms.

[snoopingscout]

scooooooot omg scootscooot hiii im v v v sad :C but ur nice and cool do u kno where iscari is???? hes GONE and im :CCCC

I... don’t think I know who Iscari is.