#Deedoo original

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

Cheering and screaming and yelling like an excited sports fan but it's just me looking at drawings of people's blorbos and OCs bound, gagged, and going through absolute hell

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My partner when I slip away to go write my horrific little stories:

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Late night mush-brained I-really-need-to-edit-this-draft-because-this-is-probably-all-way-too-much-irrelevant-information late night thoughts

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O-oops...

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

We Are TroubleD – The Advisory (Pre-capture)

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“We Are TroubleD” Masterpost | Previous | Next

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Content warnings: Attempted kidnapping, difficulty breathing (panting), environmental whump (thunderstorms), fear, paranoia, self-doubt, stalking, swearing, uneasy feelings

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                ‘April showers bring May flowers.’ That’s how the saying went. Seasonal storms were supposed to be a good thing, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t also be scary. Intimidating thunderheads were on the horizon, bubbling up higher and higher as they towered into the heavens.

                Winter’s biting cold had finally backed off and slid into more pleasant temperatures, making Tristan eager to let the fresh air in as he tackled some spring cleaning. His bedroom window had been open all afternoon to enjoy the lovely warm breeze, but as sunset approached, he couldn’t ignore the clouds in the distance. They grew thicker each passing minute, though for the moment they were a radiant orangey-pink in the fading light- a brilliant pop of color before the night swallowed the world in its dark blanket.

                He stood idly staring out over the apartment’s parking lot. It was eerily quiet, a literal calm before the storm. Curiously his vision drifted over to some of the trees lining the property as he noticed the distinct lack of birds chirping. They had been singing their little avian hearts out all day, but in the evening glow they had grown starkly silent. That wasn’t a good sign- it meant that the oncoming front was probably going to get nasty. Sure enough, the radio station that he had playing in the background rolled over to the local weather forecast.

                “Looks like it’s gonna be a wet one out there tonight. Storms are moving into the area, and we’re under a severe thunderstorm watch until about 11:30 this evening. Be careful if you’ve got somewhere to be and stay tuned to our station for the most up-to-date weather information!” The DJ rattled off the advisory quickly, clearly trying to keep things snappy so they could get to the all-important commercial break as quickly as possible.

                Rummmmmmmbbbbb….

                As if on cue, the first deep low rumble of thunder made itself known. With a sigh Tristan reached up and slid the windowpane shut.

                Something caught his eye as he sealed the weather lock: A glint of light reflected off a cellphone screen. Down below a white utility van sat parked in front of their unit, the single maintenance worker inside lounging in the driver’s seat and swiping through something on his device. He was there late; Contracted workers like him should have gone home hours ago. Every now and then his eyes would dart up expectantly as if he was waiting for someone to appear to join him in his lonely vehicle. Hopefully his coworker was wrapping up whatever they were working on.

                … What were they working on? That van had been around a lot recently, though Tristan hadn’t been informed of anything that needed to be done either in his and Darius’ apartment or with any of their neighbors. It must have been a renovation project for some other building in the complex given the dust mask and protective gear the guy constantly wore.

                … But if the job was so big, why couldn’t Tristan recall ever seeing people coming to and from the vehicle, carrying supplies, or anything?

                That guy was always just sitting there…

                The man must have felt Tristan’s gaze upon him, because with a confused frown his vision flicked up to see the boy watching through the window. Flustered and embarrassed to have been caught staring, Tristan quickly reached for the pull cord and dropped the blinds down, hiding himself from view. Well, at least if things went south with the weather or the power got knocked out that guy would be around to fix things quickly… unless whoever he was waiting for got there first.

                Another rumble growled through the walls.

                “Ugh, was that thunder?!” Darius piped up from the living room. Tristan made his way out to chat.

                “Yeah. Storm’s coming.”

                Darius peeked back at him from the couch, his attention temporarily pulled from the same tv show he watched every week at this time. “How long do I have? Can I finish this episode?”

                “What, before it gets here? Probably. Why?”

                “Gotta take the trash out. I don’t want to get rained on, but it can’t wait until the morning.” Darius’ nose scrunched up in disgust, and Tristan knew exactly why. Even from where he was standing, a faint whiff of the horrible stench of rotting meat was in the air. Tristan had only cooked the meal for them the night before, but the container that the fish came in had been sitting in the bin stinking up the place, even with the lid on.

                “Yeah, please get that out of here!” Tristan agreed.

                Tomorrow was trash day anyway. Darius had developed a bit of a routine for Tuesday nights over the last few months- come home from class, eat dinner, watch an episode or two of tv to unwind, take out the trash, then get to work on his projects and homework. A creature of habit. It was nice to see him finally trying to work some structure into his life, though. Tristan had encouraged it when he saw how “just winging things” was working (or more not working) out for him. With a plan for his nights, Darius was more productive now, and that was fantastic, especially with finals looming on the horizon.

                The show ended on a cliffhanger, causing Darius to throw up his hands and groan over the thought of waiting another whole week to find out the conclusion. The motion turned into a stretch, but he continued to sit on the couch, his face looking far from amused.

                “I don’t wanna…” he pouted.

                “Dair, if I have to keep smelling that fish every time I want to throw something away…”

                “I know, I know…” Darius rose and flipped his dark bangs out of his face as he approached the kitchen.

                RRRRRRRMMMMBBBBBB…

                “Fuck!” Darius pulled his shirt collar up over his nose as he swung open the lid of the trash can. It was a twinge dramatic, but he’d do what he needed to do to avoid as much of the odor as possible. “Is it raining yet?”

                “Uh…” Tristan scampered back over to his bedroom window and peeked through the blinds. It was dark outside now, so the best way for him to check was to see if he could spot any drops shining through the streetlights. They seemed to be in the clear.

                “No, you’re good…” he trailed off when something moved in his peripheral vision: a blob? No, a human clad in a dark jumpsuit. The maintenance worker. Hold on, he was still there?!

                The man was standing outside of his vehicle now, leaning nonchalantly against the driver’s side door. He adjusted his baseball cap and bowed his head to hide his face when a woman and her dog walked by. Once the pair was gone, he carefully swept his gaze over the sidewalk. Not another soul in the entire complex was around. Maybe he liked it that way.

                An uneasiness settled over Tristan.

                RRRRRRRMMMMBBBBBB…

                That guy never seemed very social. In fact, he kind of gave Tristan the creeps. He kept to himself, but in a way that made it seem like he was trying to blend into the shadows. Breaks were spent alone in his van silently observing anything that moved, especially Tristan and Darius if they happened to pass by. He often regarded them with a heavy and calculating stare that made Tristan uncomfortable. Darius drew the most attention from him, though that wasn’t much of a surprise given his striking goth appearance. Loads of people gawked at him, but the gaze of the maintenance man felt… different.  

                Something seemed really off about the guy tonight though, more so than normal. Impatiently he tapped the toe of his boot against the ground, broadcasting an inner nervousness to the world. Was he worried that his boss would reprimand him for sticking around so late at the job site? Who did he work for, anyway?

                Tristan squinted, straining to see what company name was on the side of the van, but it was completely unmarked.

                His gut didn’t like that.

                RRMMMMMMBBBBBBBBBBBBBB…

                The man’s concentration locked onto the breezeway to their unit. The only thing that broke his focus was checking the time on his phone.

                … Wait, their unit? There was nothing happening in their unit. No equipment to be loaded up. No coworker to wait on.

                A sinking feeling gripped Tristan as he watched the man’s eyes trace up the stairs, creep beyond the landing, then fall on their front door.

                Was he waiting… for them?

                A sudden lightning flash caused Tristan to jump back and yelp. The thunderclap that followed rattled his bones.

                “FUCK!” Darius shouted from the other room. “Okay, I’m making a run for it!”

                Tristan’s heart beat faster, but not from fear of the weather.

                “Wait!” he called, barging out to the entryway. Darius had the cinched kitchen and living room garbage bags in one hand, the other one reaching up for the front doorknob.

                “What?” Darius asked.

                “Don’t go!” Tristan said. Something was weird... But that was crazy… right?

                “What?”

                “Don’t go.” Tristan repeated.

                “There’s no time, Tris. The storm—”

                “Please! I just have a feeling—”

                Darius pulled open the front door anyway, then stepped out into the hall. “I’ll just be a second. It’ll be fine.” he insisted.

                Tristan ripped a hoodie down from their coat rack, threw it on, hastily slipped into his sandals, then rushed after him. Frantically he peered over the second floor railing out into the parking lot, the strange sense of dread squeezing him tighter and tighter… until he saw that the van was no longer parked in front of their building. Momentarily his tension subsided.

                “Just come with me if you’re so scared, sweater thief.” Darius snarked, and Tristan scoffed indignantly, only just then realizing that he had accidentally grabbed one of Darius’ outer layers, not his.

                “I’m not scared!” Tristan barked, though three steps from their doorway, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He felt eyes on them. Where? Where?! His head snapped up and he locked onto the same unmarked van in the distance now idling in front of the dumpster and blocking it from view.

                Something was more than weird. Something was wrong.

                Unconsciously, Tristan’s arm shot out and blocked Darius’ path.

                “What the fuck?” Darius questioned. “What’s up with you?”

                “Uh…” Tristan wavered, trying to think of any way to distract his best friend. Would Darius even listen if he tried to explain himself? He’d probably blame his paranoia on the storm.

                “You forgot the bathroom trash.” Tristan said. That wasn’t a lie. Darius hadn’t gotten it, though it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

                “Really? For fuck’s sake…” Darius grumbled.

                “Just grab it really quick. I’ll hold onto these for you.” Without waiting for a response, Tristan snatched the bags from Darius’ hand and forced a small reassuring smile despite the anxiety twisting in his stomach.

                With a roll of his eyes, Darius swiveled back toward their apartment as another rumble of thunder echoed through the breezeway.

                “If we get caught in the rain because you made me turn around…” he complained, but headed back inside regardless.

                “Grab an umbrella, then!” Tristan called after him, but he knew they wouldn’t need it. The second Darius was back inside, Tristan pulled the hood up over his head for protection, hefted both bags, and made a mad dash into the parking lot. If he hurried, he could make it to the far end of the complex and back before Darius returned.

                Lightning streaked across the sky, hiding behind the clouds but still illuminating the whole neighborhood. Thunder rang out, swallowing the sound of Tristan’s flip-flops pounding against the pavement. That nagging feeling wouldn’t leave him alone- the one telling him that it wasn’t safe out here. He needed to be the one to brave the oncoming storm, not Darius.

                Another blinding flare lit up the night, this time closer.

                VRRMMMMMMBBBBBBBBBBBBBB!

                The white van sat stationary in its unconventional parking spot as the trees on the curb began to sway in the wind. The front was coming in fast. Tristan ran past, his chest tight. It was nothing. It was nothing. He was being paranoid.

                In the blink of an eye, Tristan was at the bin. A bolt of lightning exploded nearby right as he threw open the lid.

                Ka-BOOM!

                From behind him, a gloved hand shot out of the darkness, narrowly missing his wrist. Tristan gasped in horror and jerked away, dropping the trash bags in the process. He wheeled around and found the masked maintenance worker standing right behind him, way too close for comfort.

                Upon seeing his face under the hood, the man lurched back, brows arched in surprise beneath his hat. He swiftly stuffed what looked to be a handkerchief in his pocket.

                “Sorry, young man!” he exclaimed, his voice heavy with a country drawl. “Didn’t mean t’frighten you! These lids are so heavy, I thought you’d want help since your arms were full and the storm’s comin’.”

                Tristan took a fearful step backwards, trapped between the man and the cold metal trash container. Where the fuck had he come from? He hadn’t seen him get out of the van.

                “It’s okay!” Tristan said quickly, not wanting to linger in the encounter. “Guess I just got there first.” He collected the bags from the ground and chucked them into the receptacle.

                Not a good night to be out.” the worker observed. “It’s dangerous.” He still seemed agitated. Guess Tristan wasn’t the only one on edge.

                Tristan nodded lightly and moved to make his escape, though he hesitated when he noticed that the van’s back door was ajar. Warm light spilled from within and shone on an open toolbox with various supplies loosely scattered on the floor in front of it: duct tape, zip ties, rope… His eyes widened.

                We just finished unloadin’ our mess and are headin’ home.” The worker explained, clearly trying to quash Tristan’s curiosity. “Lots of fixes ‘round the property today. You know how it is.” He slid the door shut.

                Tristan cut his gaze to the side. “Uh huh…”

                There was no ‘we’. That van was completely empty. The man was alone.

                Every instinct he had told him to run.

                “Have a good night.” Tristan said, dipping his head in a polite nod. He stole a glance at the man’s uniform as he did so, searching for a nametag, logo, or any other identifying information, but there was nothing.

                “Be careful.” The worker advised darkly, sensing Tristan’s scrutiny. Lightning flashed ominously in his eyes. The sentiment sounded like a warning, not a well-wish for the evening.

                Tristan bristled as the wind picked up. The storm was right on them now. In a panic, he turned on his heel and sprinted away from the dumpster, fully breaking into a run for his life the second he was on the other side of the van.

                Another flash of lightning tore across the heavens as raindrops careened to the ground around him. Tristan flew across the lot, his heart crashing in his chest. Right as he reached his building, the sky fully opened up, barely catching him in the downpour.

                He vaulted under the breezeway just in time for Darius to reach the bottom floor, the bathroom trash bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other. The goth’s features twisted into a sour expression at the sight of the deluge, and he flinched when stray water droplets blew in and hit his cheeks.

                Tristan doubled over, panting.

                “No.” he breathed, not looking up at his roommate.

                Darius lifted his boot to move back up the staircase. “No.” he agreed.

                Tristan followed him back to the second story and nearly collapsed against the door once they were back inside their apartment.

                “Yeah, so that’s going out tomorrow.” Darius tossed the bag next to the catch-all table. “Thanks for getting the other stuff out at least.” He peered back at Tristan, who was struggling to catch his breath. “Uh, you okay?”

                As coolly as he could, Tristan wiped away the water dripping down his forehead. Whether it was sweat or rain, he couldn’t tell.

                “Yeah.” he lied. “Just a close call.”

                Darius breathed out a small hum.

                “Could’ve beaten it if you had just let me go.”

                Tristan shook his head and tried to hide the fact that his hands were trembling.

                “Not a good night to be out.” he uttered, deadbolting the front door. “It’s dangerous.”

                Vrrrrmmm…

                Through the walls of their home, the thunder sounded more distant and far less threatening. Darius took his leave, making his way to the kitchen to brew his nightly pot of tea. He seemed content to carry on with his evening as normal, blissfully unaware of just how perilous the conditions outside were.

                Wearily, Tristan slunk off to his bedroom to chance one last look out of the window. It appeared that the van was gone, but it was hard to tell for sure; rain streaked down the pane in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see what lay beyond. Lightly he raised a fist and rested it against the wall, leaning into it and slipping his eyes shut as he took in the sound of the tapping drops.

                What was that? His nerves over the bad weather must have addled his brain and caused him to overthink things. How stupid to spiral over a random stranger and a simple chore. It was nothing. That had been nothing.

                That was just some awkward introverted employee stuck doing his job late, and Tristan had villainized him for no reason. Hell, the guy had even tried to help him. It wasn't his fault that the storm made things scarier than they really were.

                It was nothing. It was nothing. He had made a big deal out of nothing.

                … Right?

                He took a deep breath in, then let it out. The smell of Darius’ hoodie filled his nostrils and helped him calm down.

                Well… Whatever that was, it was over now.

                The electric kettle beeped, summoning him back out to the breakfast nook. Darius brought over a mug of steaming chamomile tea for him, and Tristan stirred in a spoonful of honey, pensively watching it dissolve into the liquid.

                “You sure you’re okay?” Darius asked, plopping down into the seat at his worktable.

                “I’m fine. Weather just freaked me out.”

                Darius softened. “You’re safe.” he reminded him.

                Tristan nodded halfheartedly then took a sip of his drink. The liquid spread through his insides like a warm, reassuring hug.

                Darius was right. The storm couldn’t get them in here.

                No one could get them in here.

                They were safe.

                Those May flowers better be worth it.

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Previous | Next

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Thank you to @risahraun for beta-reading and helping me figure out the tougher parts of this one! <3

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Tag list:

@gala1981, @melpomenelamusa, @phoenixpromptsandstuff, @risahraun, @generic-whumperz,

@morning-star-whump, @dutifullykrispyland, @fleur-a-whump, @defire, @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@whump-and-other-things

If you want to be added to the tag list for the series, please let me know here!

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

My supportive partner trying to get me to leave the room so they can go to sleep: Go whump your boys! Go whump your boys!!! GO WHUMP YOUR BOYS!!!!

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

Me: *A whump enjoyer who occasionally reads pet whump*

Tumblr: Hey, here's an ad.

Me: *squinting suspiciously at my screen* Mmmhm... "furry friend"...

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

Oopsie poopsie

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*rubbing everyone's whump creations all over my face and skin*

Mmmm, so nourishing and moisturizing

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

Not sponsored in any way, but I just had this shirt advertised to me and thought it was was hilarious and very targeted as both a whump creator and enjoyer.

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

We Are TroubleD – “Try to Forget Him” (Pre-capture)

Written as a part of whumperofworlds' WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

Day 7 and 12 (my chosen prompts are bolded) - Bloodied knuckles / Wounded / "Is that blood?!", Magic exhaustion / Collapsed / "So tired..." / Alternate prompt: Poison

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Event page | My event participation masterpost | “We Are TroubleD” Masterpost | Previous | Next

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Content warnings: Alcohol, blood, drinking, emotional whump, heartache from breakups, injuries, jealousy, off-screen homophobia mention, pining after unrequited love, self-loathing, smoking, swearing

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                Tonight was going to be hard. There was no other choice though, Tristan had to do it. Only about a week had passed since his latest boyfriend, Spencer, had broken up with him, and Tristan needed help to move on. When Darius had first suggested the night out at Dorothy’s, Tristan wasn’t too sure… he hadn’t visited the LGBTQ+ nightclub in months, but Darius insisted that getting back out into the scene would be healthy and good for him.

                “It’ll bolster your confidence!” Darius had said. “You need to be reminded that you’re one hot son of a bitch. One stupid boy can’t take that away from you.”

                “And what if no one there wants me?”

                “Then you’ll still have a great night hanging out with me, and that’s worth something, right?”

                Tristan had mulled it over a bit, but Darius was right; he normally had pretty good intuition about these things. What was the worst that could happen? Maybe there was someone new and better out there for him. Either way, he was relieved that Darius committed to go with him. Tristan felt fragile, emotional, and raw, and having his best friend by his side would surely help to ease his aching heart.

                The night of the outing arrived, and Tristan found himself fretting over his outfit in his bedroom mirror. He was sporting a teal Hawaiian shirt with a tasteful tropical leaf pattern on it, chartreuse shorts, and brightly colored socks sticking out of red high-top converse. He wasn’t going to win a “best dressed” competition by any means, but for him it was a lot of effort.

                He had never been a super fashionable guy—that was definitely Darius’ realm— but he hoped that he looked alright for the evening. It was as much peacocking as he could bring himself to do. The outfit hopefully said “Hey, I’m a fun guy! Super chill and laid back, just like someone on a tropical beach vacation! Please talk to me!”.

                The trick was figuring out how risqué he wanted to be. For him, such a decision came in the form of an obscenely scandalous choice of either buttoning up the top button of his shirt or leaving it open to expose some of his chest. He did and undid the thing several times, but simply couldn’t decide on the look. With a sigh, he gave up. It’s not like it’d make much of a difference, anyway.

                Tristan glanced down at his watch and made a noise of discontentment; it was later than he wanted it to be. Hastily he decided on leaving the shirt buttoned, then headed off down the hall toward their bathroom to collect Darius.

                Something small, circular, and black startled him on the floor, and he flinched back in surprise thinking that it was a spider. Quickly he realized that it was nothing more than one of Darius’ many elastic hair ties. Once his heart stopped racing, Tristan bent down and scooped it up. He figured he’d just toss it into the drawer by the bathroom sink, but something stopped him.

                He twirled the little band between his fingers and was reminded of the time that he had come back from class completely exhausted and down in the dumps. Things really hadn’t gone his way that day- he had multiple projects due that week, one of his professors had added onto that heap by giving him yet another tough assignment, and things in his personal life… weren’t great.

                He had flopped down on the living room couch and given up on the world for the night when something small hit and bounced off his shoulder- a hair tie. Across the room was Darius, leaning against the doorframe trying to play it cool and appear innocent.

                “You looked sad.” Darius observed. Tristan vented the situation to him, and Darius patiently listened, but after the fact he shot another hair tie at him. And another. And another. Apparently, he had squirreled away an entire handful.

                At first Tristan was irritated, and he almost snapped at Darius until he saw the playful smirk creeping across his friend’s face. Darius was playing with him, trying to get him to loosen up a bit and blow off steam. Tristan relented… Laughter was pretty good medicine.

                It wasn’t long before they were engaged in a full-on war in their apartment, complete with furniture flipped over to hide behind as shields as they flung elastic hair ties and rubber bands at each other. It was stupid, but it was fun, and it did in fact melt away Tristan’s stress, making it easier for him to later focus and buckle down to get through that hellish week of work.   

                He needed that now- extra strength to get through the night. It sucked to be on your own again. It’s not like he had dated Spencer for long, and he wasn’t really vibing with him much anyway, but it was the thought of being alone that scared Tristan. He wanted that safety. That stress relief. That companionship…

                Tristan slipped the hair tie around his wrist and quietly decided that it was a good luck charm for the night… A simple reminder that it was okay to let loose and have fun, even when things seemed hard. He was glad that Darius took the time to assure him of things like that.

                … Plus, Darius had a million hair ties anyway. He wouldn’t miss this one. Tristan could probably collect a whole sleeve of them if he picked up every one he randomly found around their house.

                The bathroom door was still shut. Really? Darius was still getting ready? They were going to the club, not the Met Gala. Tristan knocked.

                “Almost done!” Darius called.

                “Hurry up!” Tristan barked.

                The door lazily creaked open, revealing Darius messing with his eyeliner in the mirror.

                “Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know. Being beautiful takes time.”

                Tristan cocked his head to the side. Darius was hopeless. “The universe has given you all the time you needed and then some.” he said, and he meant it, especially when Darius turned around with a flattered twinkle in his eye.

                “Awww, thanks!” he chirped. He probably thought that Tristan was just being nice, but really, truly, Tristan thought that Darius Astor was one of the most beautiful boys he had ever laid eyes on.

                Tonight Darius looked like he would fit in at any goth-themed event in town, which really wasn’t too far from his normal MO aside from looking a little more rave-ready. He wore a cropped black tanktop that hugged his chest in all the right ways and showed off where defined abs would be if he exercised more. Fishnet sleeves trailed down his arms and ended at his black-painted nails. Tripp pants made for a striking silhouette that Darius didn’t often flaunt (he tended to be a skinny jeans guy most of the time), especially with all the bits and bobs dangling down. Those pants always cracked Tristan up- they were so over the top with their straps and chains. On the bright side, with all the resulting jingling, Darius would be hard to lose in a crowd.

                Darius really had nailed the look, right down to his accessories- a matching studded belt and bracelet, a spiked choker, a face full of tastefully spooky makeup, and of course his signature platform leather boots.

                As per usual, he was a vision. A gorgeous sight to behold. Every inch of him was flawless.

                Tristan stared. Man, maybe his stiffest competition for the night would be Darius. With looks like that, everyone would fall for him. After all, he certainly had Tristan’s attention.

                … Wait— O-oh… no… No. Not like that.

                No.

                No.

                Not again…

                Tristan tossed his head, physically shaking the thought away as if he hadn’t considered it a million times before. Fuck. No. He shouldn’t think about Darius that way. He shouldn’t.

                Luckily he was interrupted by Darius studying his look.

                “Ooh, tropical? That’s fun.” he said. “I love it, but why so conservative?”

                “Huh?”

                Darius tapped at his sternum, indicating the top button of Tristan’s shirt.

                Tristan shifted. “I wasn’t sure if I should open it or not. What do you think?”

                “Definitely unbutton it. Show off a little!”

                There really wasn’t much to show off, but Tristan didn’t need to be told twice. If Darius thought that was the better style, he’d listen. He undid his top, and the two were off.

                                              ***

                Even before getting inside, Tristan could tell that Dorothy’s was hopping. It was to be expected though, as almost any club on a Saturday night would be bustling. All the same, it really had been a while since Tristan had been there… he had forgotten just how crazy the crowds could be. Thankfully he knew that soon things would settle down as the masses split up either to sit and watch the drag show downstairs, or to head up to the club’s second story to dance. He and Darius hadn’t even gotten to the front door when he heard someone calling their names.

                “Tristan! Darius! Hey!!” he perked up at the sound of the familiar voice. Was that—?            

                A girl about Darius’ age bounded up to them, and the boys recognized her immediately: Cici, one of their closest friends, and Darius’ ex-girlfriend. Her long brilliant red hair popped against her sparkly lavender crop top and y2k-chic denim bellbottoms adorned with a stenciled-on star pattern.              

                “Oh hey!” Darius’ eyes lit up at the sight of her and he reached out and pulled her into a hello hug, then kissed her on the cheek in greeting. It was just a quick little peck, but all the same, Tristan pretended not to notice. Despite the two having broken up from their romantic relationship not too long ago, Darius and Cici were still close. Very close. That was fine… But like… did he have to kiss her?

                Cici didn’t seem to mind. She laughed and gave Darius a gentle shove back in response.

                “Careful,” she warned, though her tone was sarcastic and playful. “If you act like that then people will think we’re still together... Or worse: straight.”

                Darius flashed a cheeky grin, a mischievous look that could get him into trouble just as easily as it could get him out of it.

                “That’s bi-erasure.” he joked, and Cici shook her head fondly. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

                “Same as you, Lover Boy.” Cici replied. “I’m looking for my rebound. You can’t distract me. I’m the pan with a plan.” They both snickered.

                “Me? Looking for a rebound?” Darius scoffed. “Babe, there’s simply no replacing you.”

                Ah. They were flirting. They were broken up, yet they were still flirting with each other…

                Tristan instantly felt like a third wheel. His shoulders sank and he stared at the two of them, though he didn’t mean to watch so intently.

                Cici was a beautiful, loving girl, and he never was surprised that Darius had fallen so hard for her. She had only been a positive influence on him, and Lord did Darius need that when she first came into their lives. By some miracle, she had managed to mostly calm him down from his rebellious streak and really bring him out of his shell in a way that Tristan had never fully been able to. She was a bright light in Darius’ weird—and at the time, morose—world, and undoubtedly she had changed him for the better.

                Their relationship had been solid for ages, but over time cracks began to form. Small issues compounded, and after a while it became clear that they both had aspects of themselves that they wanted to improve upon or explore. Darius still didn’t fully have a handle on some of his self-destructive habits, and Cici began to realize just how much she was attracted to other women.

                There was no falling out or blowup that ended things, the two just decided that it was best to go at it alone for a while as they figured themselves out and grew up a bit. Maybe once they had lived a little more, they would find their way back together, but only time would tell.

                Despite the split being mutual, it wound up being a lot harder on Darius than he anticipated. Cici had been his longest romantic partner to date, lasting a few years. He missed her company in that respect but was thankful to still have her friendship and support. It was a relief that they were still so close, because Tristan figured that things would get super weird and awkward in the friend group if one or both of them suddenly decided to leave. Cici had been the one to bring them together in the first place; it wouldn’t be right to have her or Darius duck out over personal issues.  

                …

                But again, did he have to kiss her?

                Tristan’s ears felt hot, and he finally came to his senses enough to realize that he was still looking at the pair. He snapped back to reality just in time, because Cici turned her attention to him and stepped around Darius to give Tristan a hug as well. She always wanted to make sure that everyone felt welcome and seen.

                As he hugged her back and said his hellos, he prayed that she missed how flustered he was. And like… why? It made no sense for him to be so out of sorts, especially around her, but tonight he felt caught off guard by her presence. He really hoped it would just be him and Darius, but… the more the merrier he supposed…?

                The three of them headed inside, and it wasn’t long before they decided to go upstairs to check out the bar and dance area. Cici came and went, occasionally striking up chats with lonely-looking girls, but she and Darius kept meeting back up and getting lost in conversation. It was bugging Tristan, and he couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was how he felt like he disappeared when the two started talking, as if the wall swallowed him up and he was nothing more than a decoration in the background- ever present, but ultimately ignored. He really didn’t need that tonight.

                Eventually he gave up, resigned to the fact that Darius had been lost to the land of the ex. Whatever, they could catch up if they wanted to. Tristan had nothing against Cici, but he had his own priorities tonight and really didn’t feel like hanging around her. He hoped he wasn’t being rude when he excused himself to go grab a drink from the bar.

                “What would you like?” The bartender asked him.

                “A White Russian.” Tristan said bitterly, and the irony wasn’t lost on him. Frankly he also would have enjoyed Sex on the Beach. 

                Stop it, Tris. Stop it.

                The server slid his drink over. Maybe Tristan was going a little hard right out of the gate, but he didn’t care.

                As he sipped the cocktail, he scoped out the other clubgoers. There were plenty of cute guys around, but no one really struck his fancy or seemed like they were open to talking. To be honest, Tristan didn’t really know if he was, either.

                His vision kept finding its way back over to Cici and Darius, who were standing close together by the stairwell. Cici beamed and played with her hair while Darius busted up laughing at whatever she had just said.

                Tristan had seen them like that a thousand times before. Afterall, they had been together for years. Why, why, why then was it simply eating him alive tonight? It was so much easier to keep his feelings in check when Darius and Cici were dating, but Darius didn’t belong to her anymore.

                He didn’t belong to anybody.

                That was the problem.

                A song started playing from the DJ booth- something with an industrial sound as heavy as the thoughts pounding in Tristan’s mind.

                I don't wanna share this space                 I don't wanna force a smile                 This one girl taps my insecurities                 Don't know if it's real or if I'm spiraling

                Charlie XCX. Great music, great album. Horrible time for that particular song to play. Tristan forced himself to tear away his gaze and took a large swig of his drink. He needed to forget it. All of it. He needed to forget about the relationship that he so desperately wanted. He needed to forget how lonely he was. He really needed to forget—

                “Hey bud, how you doing?”

                Darius. While Tristan was lost in thought, he must have come over. The boy hopped up on the stool beside him, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous sparkle that implied that he had just said something cheeky and maybe a pinch irreverent. He must have sent Cici off with some smart aleck remark or groan-worthy pun. He was alone now, though.

                Tristan couldn’t look at him. “I’m fine.” he replied, not peering up from the glass in his hand.

                “Are you?” God, Darius was good. It was hard to hide anything from him. That was to be expected from your best friend, though, especially when Tristan was so horrible at masking. Darius leaned in a bit, studying him a little more intensely.

                Tristan ran his hand down his face hoping to wipe his expression clear of any sort of outward turmoil, then turned to look at him finally.

                “Yeah, I just…” he wasn’t quite sure where he was going with that sentence, trailing off and ending it with a sigh.

                Darius softened and gave him an understanding look. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

                What was he apologizing for? There was no way he could know that Tristan was thinking about—

                “But screw Spencer. You don’t need him.” 

                Right… Spencer… That was who Tristan was supposed to be upset about tonight. That was who he was supposed to be mourning. That was who he was supposed to want. It was so stupid and fake. So disingenuous…

                He took another sip of his drink, then nodded halfheartedly.

                “You’re right.” Tristan said “I don’t need him. I don’t— I dunno what I need.”

                'Cause I couldn't even be her if I tried                 I'm opposite, I'm on the other side                 I feel all these feelings I can't control                 Oh no, don't know why

                Darius reached out and lightly tapped the back of his knuckle against Tristan’s free hand, sending a tingling spark through him.

                “You can start with a friend.” Darius said, a gentle smile touching his lips.

                Fuck that smile. Fuck that confidence. Fuck that tenderness. It just made Tristan want him more.

                All this sympathy is just a knife                 Why I can't even grit my teeth and lie?                 I feel all these feelings I can't control                 Oh no, don't know

                Tristan was transfixed by Darius’ gaze. Those warm chocolate eyes held him captive, silently telling him that everything was going to be okay… or at least that’s what Tristan wanted to believe.

                “Y-yeah.” Tristan said at last, breaking eye contact. “Thanks.” he chugged the rest of his drink and set the glass down on the counter with a clink.

                “Any time, Tris. I’m here for you.”

                The two sat in silence for a minute or two, Darius peoplewatching and Tristan waiting for some sort of buzz. The song switched to something bouncier and fun, and Tristan noticed Darius nodding along to it absentmindedly.

                Fuck it. He’d shoot his shot.

                “Do you wanna dance?” Tristan asked timidly.

                Darius swiveled back around and regarded him fondly. He wasn’t much one for dancing on his own, but he’d indulge almost any of Tristan’s requests if he asked. He’d do a lot of things for Tristan that he wouldn’t do for anyone else.

                “You coming with me?” he asked.

                “Of course!” Tristan hopped up from his seat and reached out for Darius. His friend took hold of his hands and slid down after him, then they made their way over to the dance floor.

                The crowd’s energy was vivacious and undeniably electric- beautiful people were throwing their arms up in the air and shaking their cares away. It would be impossible to be sad in such company.

                The boys squeezed through the sea of dancers and made their way back to a corner of the room near the video screens. Tristan had intentionally led Darius away from the view of the bar and lounge area, so they’d be relatively hidden and hard to spot.

                Every thump of the bass from the speakers shook Tristan right through his chest, consuming his very being. It didn’t take long at all for him to lose himself in the beat, and his other senses were quickly hijacked as well between the lights spinning dizzyingly overhead, the fog machines, the blinking colors on the ground, the videos on the wall, the disco ball hanging from the ceiling…

                It was overwhelming. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t process anything. He couldn’t feel.

                It was perfect. Maybe he didn’t need that drink after all. Maybe he just needed to be here.

                A blast of the delicately scented fog belched from one of the machines and momentarily swallowed Tristan’s vision. The rest of the club disappeared entirely aside from the flashing colors in the mist. He was alone, but only for a second. Darius emerged, positioned right before him. He grinned as he shimmied back and forth to the music, an expectant look on his face waiting for Tristan to join him.

                Together they jumped, rocked, and hopped from side-to-side to the club classics being spun. During a more trancey song Darius closed his eyes and blissfully brought his head back, clearly enchanted by the rhythm. He was fully relaxed, something he rarely tended to ever be in public spaces. It was a lovely, dreamy scene.

                Another puff of fog hissed from the machine, enveloping the area where the boys were dancing. Once more the rest of the crowd faded away as a song that Tristan recognized came on. He had heard it once before and remembered liking it enough to Shazam it. He tried to recall the title. “Jenny” by… gosh, what was the band… “Studio Killers” or something?  

                Jenny darling, you’re my best friend                 But there’s a few things that you don’t know of                 Why I borrow your lipstick so often                 I’m using your shirt as a pillowcase

                Darius had opened his eyes and was peering at Tristan now, swaying back and forth and bobbing his shoulders up and down to the beat. Did he know the song, too? Their vision connected, and Darius took that as an invitation to move closer. He danced his way up to Tristan with a goofy expression clearly meant to make him laugh, especially when paired with his silly, exaggerated dance moves. It worked, Tristan cracked up during the chorus, entirely missing the words as he twirled in a circle and made his own wacky motions, trying to get Darius to laugh back.

                Jenny, darling, you're my best friend                 I've been doing bad things that you don't know about                 Stealing your stuff now and then                 Nothing you'd miss, but it means the world to me

                During the second verse they were so wrapped up in their lighthearted dance battle that neither was fully aware of just how close they were getting. Before they knew it, they were touching each other. It started with Darius making a very serious expression, grabbing Tristan’s hand and lacing his fingers through his, bringing it up, and staring deeply into his eyes.

                “Dance with me, Lyubimyy.” he purred in a deep, overly dramatic tone. In the blink of an eye Darius’ other hand was on the small of Tristan’s back, and he dipped him backwards like they were entangled in a passionate tango. Tristan yelped in surprise but trusted that Darius wouldn’t drop him. They both were laughing as Darius hauled him back up. The boy was ridiculous.

                Another blast of fog hid the rest of the club from view. It was just the two of them again, or so it seemed. Tristan and Darius. The only two people in the club. The only two people in the entire world.

                Tristan answered Darius’ moves by grabbing his hips and pulling him in close. Darius’ face lit up with a playful glee, and he took the hint, wrapping his arms around the back of Tristan’s neck. They swayed and grinded against each other as the chorus played once again.

                I wanna ruin our friendship                 We should be lovers instead                 I don’t know how to say this                 ‘Cause you’re really my dearest friend

                Tristan heard the words that time, and his eyes went wide. Oh shit. That was why he remembered liking this song. Darius didn’t seem to notice his panic though- his eyes slipped shut and he pressed his forehead against Tristan’s to catch his breath, knowing that he wouldn’t mind.

                Darius was hot and sweaty, but he was right; Tristan didn’t mind. Not one bit.

                Gingerly Tristan raised a hand up and cupped the side of Darius’ face in a gentle action that he could have easily played off as a caring caress to comfort his winded friend. Darius leaned into the touch with a pleasant grin.

                The blonde held his breath. He wanted to kiss him so badly.

                Jenny, take my hand                 'Cause we are more than friends                 I will follow you until the end                 Jenny, take my hand                 I cannot pretend                 Why I never like your new boyfriends                 Oh, your love for them won’t last long

                Darius’ arms had returned to his sides, and Tristan grabbed one of his hands, then brought it up to spin Darius out and away from him. Darius followed the motion, fully into their continued masquerade game.

                Forget those amigos                 Oh, your love for them won't last long

                Darius wound himself back in and spun into Tristan’s embrace.

                Forget those amigos                 Forget those amigos

                The beat picked up again and Tristan let go, then the two fully broke apart and gave each other some space again, jumping and going all out for the end of the song.

                I wanna ruin our friendship                 We should be lovers instead                 I don't know how to say this                 'Cause you're really my dearest friend                 Oh, your love for them won't last long                 We should be lovers instead                 Oh, your love for them won't last long                 'Cause you really are my dearest friend

                The song faded out and blended into Chappell Roan’s “Good Luck, Babe!”, a welcome break from the higher BPM stuff the DJ had been blasting for the last 10 or 15 minutes. Darius fanned himself with his palms and took a step back, that wonderful blissful look still plastered on his face.

                “Phew! Thanks Tris, that was fun! I think I need a breather, though.” He pulled a water bottle from one of his deep cargo pockets and guzzled it down, then checked his text messages. “Cici’s outside. I’m gonna join her to cool off. You wanna come?”

                Of course she was. Of course he’d be going to see her. Back to reality.

                “You go ahead, I’ll be there in a bit.” Tristan answered. “I’ve just gotta…” he pointed to the bathroom, and Darius nodded in understanding and gave him a friendly pat on the back.

                “Okay man, see you out there.”

                Darius turned and made his way to the stairs and once again Tristan caught himself staring, watching him leave as if he hadn’t seen him walk away a thousand times before.

                You can kiss a hundred boys in bars                 Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling                 You can say it's just the way you are                 Make a new excuse, another stupid reason

                There was a pang in his heart, and he felt like such a damn fool. He hated himself. He really did. He finally broke from his trance and made his way to the bathroom, silently cursing the Midwest Princess’ words as he blinked hard, trying to force back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t keep doing this. Something eventually had to give.

                Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe                 (well, good luck)                 You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

                                              ***

                Tristan descended the staircase down to the main floor and shuffled outside, figuring that Darius and Cici were most likely on the patio. As he rounded the corner, he spotted them, Darius lounging on one of the railings and Cici seated beside him at a table.

                The two were engaged in a conversation with one of the club’s drag performers, Steeple Towers- a very tall queen decked out in a gorgeous sparkly hot pink number, complete with a comically oversized bow on the back of her dress. Her cotton candy-esque wig was so poofy and enormous that it probably should have had a blinking light on top to warn airplanes to steer clear. 

                For a second, Tristan was too shy to approach. He had met several of the local drag performers before when they were their normal selves. Darius knew some of them from school and had even invited them over for dinner a time or two. They were all very kind, sweet guys and loved trading makeup tips and tricks. But man, when they put on their drag personas it was like they were different people. Fierce, confident, scary… not frightening, just scary in how incredible and otherworldly they were. It blew Tristan away how someone could be so well put together and perfect that they were intimidating.

                How cool it would be to have even a shred of that fun, unapologetically outgoing personality…

                He took a step forward but spotted something that he really didn’t like- between Darius’ fingers was a lit cigarette. With utter disdain, Tristan watched as the smoke curled up toward the sky. Ugh. Darius hadn’t indulged in that vice for quite a while.

                Cici had an equally disapproving look on her face, watching judgmentally as Darius took a long drag of it. She had been the one to spearhead the campaign to make him quit, and all of their friends had joined in the journey to help him along the path.

                Darius saw her staring and grinned innocently with the stupid object between his teeth.

                “I love you!” He tried, but Cici shook her head. He withdrew the cigarette and blew the smoke straight up into the air like a chimney, then snuffed the thing out on the railing without it even being half spent. “Fine, fine. Don’t give me that look…”

                Cici’s face melted into a satisfied expression, but she turned to Steeple and crossed her arms.

                “I told you not to enable him, damnit!” she chided. Steeple threw her hands up as if being accosted by a cop, but she was still playing her saucy character.

                “Arrest me then, officer! I’m only guilty of giving this cutie pie what he wants.”

                It was a funny scene. Tristan should have wanted to join in and play along. He should have wanted to take a seat and chat with them in the nice evening air. He should have been enjoying himself tonight… but he couldn’t get up the nerve to go over.

                He felt that same pang in his heart and tried to figure out why. Was it the pain of seeing Darius hurt himself again by smoking? Or was it once again seeing him with her…?

                ‘I love you!’ Darius had said in that cutesy voice that begged “Don’t be mad at me!”. He said stuff like that all the time to get out of trouble.

                But he had said it to Cici, and once, he did love her.

                … God, was he ever gonna stop?

                Tristan clenched his fists. This wasn’t healthy. He shouldn’t be thinking about Cici like that, like she was “the other woman” or something. Competition. She wasn’t.

                No… he wasn’t.

                There wasn’t a contest. He wasn’t in the running. He never had been in the running. Darius had been hers for years. Tristan had been fine with it then. Why was it now that he was suddenly so…

                So…

                … so fucking jealous?

                With a frustrated noise in the back of his throat he spun on his heel, turning and making his way back inside. He had to get out of there. He didn’t want to hate Cici. He didn’t hate her. He couldn’t. He hated himself. He hated himself and his stupid fucking crush and how he couldn’t ever, ever let it go. Why was it flaring up so badly tonight?! Jesus!!

                As he reentered the building, he heard that “Mr. Brightside” was playing. Of course it was. Tristan wished that it all would fucking end.

                If Darius could indulge in one of his unhealthy vices, Tristan would, too. He plopped down at the bar and ordered two Skittle shots. At least that was one surefire way to taste the rainbow tonight. He slammed the drinks back and shuddered at the vodka's sting, then took a long deep inhale through his nose and buried his face in his hands, trying to get a grip on himself.

                “Boyfriend trouble, eh?”

                Tristan peeked out and over to where the voice came from, a little way down the bar. A man sat there, a big burly guy jacked to all smithereens with close cropped salt-and-pepper hair and a sort of military look going: a tank top, camo pants, and big heavy combat boots. Man, what did this random older guy care? … But Tristan supposed he could chat with a stranger for a bit anyway. Maybe it’d help him calm down.

                “Something like that.” Tristan said miserably. “He’s not my boyfriend, though, just—” he sighed and lowered his head again, eyeing the menu on the table in search of his next drink selection.

                “Ya wish he was.” The man said knowingly.

                Tristan sat silently, now staring at nothing, but eventually he nodded smally.

                “Hey, it’s rough.” The man said. He had a country drawl that somehow disarmed Tristan. The guy could be spewing pure bullshit, but with an accent like that, it was hard to believe that he would be capable of saying anything unkind. “Some guys ain’t worth the heartache.”

                “I feel like he is.” Tristan picked at the hair tie on his wrist. “It’s stupid, but I’d go to the ends of the Earth for him if he needed me to.” He took a beat, his dewy-eyed expression dissolving back into full on sorrow. “Love is stupid. It’s so fucking stupid and unfair. I hate it.”

                “You should stay away from him.”

                “What?” Tristan couldn’t help but look back up at the guy. That advice felt like it came out of left field.

                “You're only gonna get hurt if ya don’t.” The man said.

                Tristan frowned. “He wouldn’t do that intentionally.”

                “Of course not. But is he tryin' to hurt you now?”

                “… Well, no…”

                “And are ya feelin' hurt anyway?”

                Tristan dropped his gaze.

                “Trust me kid, cut ties now for your own good. It’ll be a lot easier on you that way when he’s not around anymore.”

                ‘When he’s not around anymore’? Geez, that was pessimistic. The drawl didn’t cover up bleak sounding things after all. This dude must have seriously been burned by past relationships to instantly assume that someone would leave, not could. Darius wouldn’t just up and disappear someday… right? Their friendship was solid. Even if things got awkward, they could work it out.

                Perhaps the guy meant something else though… Darius not being around in the future… it hurt to think about, but they were nearing the end of college. Despite both being from the same town, they probably would have to part ways eventually for their careers. That didn’t mean the friendship needed to end, but things weren’t going to be the same once they moved out and were no longer roommates.

                ‘When he’s not around anymore’… Ugh… How would Tristan handle that? It would be a sad goodbye, that’s for sure. He hoped that they’d keep in touch and maybe see each other a few times a year if they were lucky.

                Tristan scrunched up his nose, not wanting to think about it anymore. Hopefully that was a long way off in the future still… No need to dwell on it now. Darius wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. They’d just have to make the most of whatever time they had left together… to live it up while they still could.  

                The man seemed to notice Tristan wrestling with that idea; his face gave it away.

                “Look, you're an innocent, nice fella.” The guy said. “You don’t deserve to be hurt.”

                Tristan lightly chuckled at that. This stranger didn’t know him at all, but it was nice that he still wanted the best for him.

                “Thanks.” Tristan said quietly. He had no intention of cutting Darius out of his life, but hey, free advice was free advice, even if he wasn’t going to follow it. The guy only seemed to mean well.

                The man tipped his head and went back to nursing his beer. Tristan sat quietly and stewed in thought.

                Suddenly there was a commotion from outside: a high-pitched shriek, a loud and angry yell, the sound of a scuffle, then more shouting and screaming. Tristan sat up and craned his neck to get a look, moving to hop off the barstool when Darius stormed through the front door clutching his face with one hand and waving Cici and Steeple off dismissively with the other.

                “Are you fucking insane?!” Steeple shrieked, her heels clicking loudly against the wood floor as she followed him. “You could’ve been killed!”

                “I got your fucking bow back, didn’t I?!” Darius snapped.

                “He was an asshole, Dair! Just some fucking loser! I much rather would have preferred for him to walk off with it than for you to get hurt! How could you be so stupid?!”

                Cici ran over to the counter and frantically asked the bartender for a first aid kit.

                “What’s going on?!” Tristan exclaimed. Cici turned and relief flooded her face when she noticed him.

                “Tris! Oh, thank God! Darius, he… Stupid idiot! There was this guy—”

                “Is that blood?!” Darius had finally gotten close enough for Tristan to see him in the dim light. His roommate blew past on the way to the bathroom, too distracted to see him.

                “Some jerk on the street was harassing us… Darius went after him and there was a fight, and, and—” Cici was tearing up, the fright suddenly catching up to her. “I didn’t know what to do! It all happened so fast, I—”

                Tristan caressed her upper arms and tried to calm her down.

                “Hey, shh, hey, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, Cici. I’ll go help him.”

                Cici threw her arms around him, and Tristan felt like a complete idiot. All night he had been vilifying her and feeling horribly jealous as if she wasn’t like a sister to him. She loved and trusted him, and now she was vulnerable and scared and chose to come to him for comfort.

                How could he have been so heartless?

                She was trembling. Tristan returned her embrace and gently rubbed her back, lingering in the hug for longer than he originally intended, hoping that she’d feel better. She needed this. Maybe he did, too.

                Cici straightened with a sniffle and handed him the first aid kit that the bartender had slid over.

                “Thanks Tris… You know how he is… I just—”

                She worried. So did he. They had this conversation before as two of the people who knew Darius the best. The guy could be bullheaded and impulsive, rushing into almost anything—even something dangerous—to help someone that he thought needed it. A self-sacrificing dumbass who occasionally leaped before he looked.

                Again, Tristan felt so foolish. He had shared many late nights with Cici where they had deep, heartfelt talks, even without Darius around. She was one of his closest friends, too; that was how he knew exactly what she was feeling and thinking in the moment. Boy did he feel terrible.

                “It has to be you. I can’t go in there.” Cici sobbed. Almost on cue, Darius shut the men’s room door behind him.

                Tristan stood and the world swayed. Fuck, the shots! Not now… not now! What a horrible time for them to kick in! He steadied himself against the barstool and flashed Cici as confident of a smile as he could muster, praying that he looked sober enough that she wouldn’t worry. He focused extra hard on walking straight and hoped that he was nailing it.

                In the bathroom Darius sat on the sink counter looking pissed off and ill-tempered as Steeple patted at his wounds with a wet paper towel. Darius shoved her hand away.

                “Knock it off! I’m fine. You’re gonna get blood on your outfit.” he complained.

                “I don’t give a shit, Darius. Shut up and let me help you.” she pulled the bloody paper towel away and tossed it in the trashcan.

                “I’ve got a first aid kit.” Tristan announced, holding up the supplies. Steeple gave him the same look of relief that Cici had. Darius must have been giving her a rough time.

                “Oh, thank God! I think it looks worse than it actually is, but still, let’s get him cleaned up.” Long manicured nails be damned, the queen dug into the box and ripped open a hand wipe, then reached for Darius’ face again, dabbing at a cut. Darius flinched away.   

                “Fucking stop it! That hurts!”

                Steeple looked exasperated and opened her mouth to snap back at him, but her thought was cut off by a tinkling melodic alarm.

                “Shit!” She reached between her fake bosoms and pulled out a cellphone, then shut off the alarm and checked the time.

                “The show’s about to start. I’ve gotta run… will you be okay?”

                Darius looked terrifying with the streams of red trickling down his face, even more so when he fixed Steeple with a deathly serious stare.

                “Get out there and be fabulous.” It was a threat. An encouraging one, but hostile all the same. “Do it for me.”

                Tristan gave the queen a proper answer. “I’ve got him. Thanks Steeple.”

                “Thank you Tristan.” Steeple turned and punched Darius lightly in the arm. “Don’t. be. stupid! And don’t be mean to this nice boy! He loves you just as much as I do! We’re your friends, you dick!” She rinsed her hands and grabbed her bow.

                Tristan’s throat bobbed. Just as much as Steeple loved him? Oh, no. No. Tristan loved him more. Far, far more.

                “Good luck. He’s still riled up.” Steeple whispered to Tristan, then set off to head backstage.

                Once she was gone, Darius deflated and bent forward, his defensive walls tumbling down. It was just him and Tristan now. He didn’t have to act tough and put up a brave front anymore.

                “Motherfucker…” he groaned. “Fuck, that hurt.”

                Tristan put a comforting hand on Darius’ knee.

                “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

                Darius peered up at Tristan, his face ragged and tired, though he forced a wry smile.

                “You should see the other guy.” He laughed darkly.

                Tristan scoffed, then took a moment to assess Darius’ condition. He was pretty roughed up. Blood trickled down his face and cemented clumps of his flowing black mane to his temple. Gently Tristan swept those out of the way, but the strands flopped back down again.

                “Here,” Tristan said, slipping the hair tie from his wrist. “put your hair up.”

                “My friend the Boy Scout.” Darius teased, taking the elastic and pulling his hair into a ponytail. “Always prepared…”

                “Shut up.” Tristan lifted a towelette, then carefully reached up to go over the cuts on Darius’ face and hands. Judging by the injuries, it seemed like he had been forced to the ground either from being pushed or punched.

                “What happened anyway?” Tristan asked.

                “We were sitting outside talking and some homophobic asshole came by and started slinging slurs.” Darius sucked in a sharp hiss with the sting of the wipe, but didn’t pull away. “He ripped Steeple’s bow off and started running, and I went after him. I don’t know who threw the first punch. It’s kind of a blur…”

                Tristan finished cleaning Darius’ wounds and pulled out a few band-aids. Luckily Steeple had been right: he wasn’t as bad as he looked, head wounds just tended to bleed a lot and look really dramatic.

                Darius watched Tristan studying him when he took a step back.

                “Is it bad?” Darius asked warily.

                Tristan tsked, his voice gentle.

                “I think you’ll live, idiot.”

                ‘Idiot’. He didn’t have to say anything more. The corners of Darius’ mouth pulled up slightly in a tiny, knowing smile. That one word expressed everything that Tristan was feeling regarding the whole situation. Darius knew him well enough to figure that out. ‘Idiot’, meaning something more along the lines of ‘How could you be so reckless? You care too much. You shouldn’t have put yourself in harm’s way, even if it was the noble thing to do for a friend.’

                Tristan was slow with bandaging up Darius’ hands, his movements a little unsteady. Darius took notice, especially when Tristan started swaying.

                “Are you okay?” he asked.

                “Yeah, I just… alcohol…” Tristan admitted. The multiple drinks were finally fully hitting him.

                Darius’ thick dark brows pulled into a frown. “How much more did you have?”

                “Two more shots… I’m fine…”

                “Yeah, okay. Come up here and have a seat with me.”

                The blonde finished dressing the wounds and sloppily tucked the remaining supplies back into the first aid kit. Clumsily he hopped onto the countertop next to Darius.

                “Thanks Tris.” Darius said, a pinch of embarrassment in his otherwise grateful tone.

                Tristan nodded heavily. “I agree with Steeple.” he replied. “Don’t be stupid.”

                Darius chuckled. “I try not to be as a general rule.” but they both knew that wasn’t always the case.

                Without looking at him, Darius leaned over wearily and rested his head on Tristan’s shoulder in an appreciative gesture. He must have been crashing from the adrenaline rush. Tristan tried to keep cool and bite his tongue, but the liquid courage in his system was making him… well, courageous.

                What would he even say in a moment like this? 'I love you, don’t you ever scare me like that again!'? 'Hey, could you stop flirting with your ex? You’re kind of killing me.'? 'Please promise you won’t ever leave me.'?

                Instead, he pressed his lips together and simply rested his head on top of Darius’. The two of them sat there for a moment in silence to recover from the chaos.

                The moment lingered on.

                And on…

                It was weirdly peaceful.

                “You know we can’t stay like this forever…” Darius finally mumbled.

                Tristan didn’t realize that he had closed his eyes until they were open again. Had he just taken a three second nap? His heart beat faster, his half-asleep, alcohol impaired mind trying to figure out what Darius meant. They couldn’t stay like this forever? What was he saying? Darius must be about to dump him as a friend. That was the only explanation. The guy at the bar was right. Tristan was convinced. In the span of a millisecond, Tristan spiraled. It was over. Their entire friendship was over. It had to be.

                “I’m not staying the night in a dirty club bathroom.”

                The flurry of paranoia swirling in Tristan’s brain stopped on a dime and his panic dissolved. Darius was right, this place wasn’t fit for them to stay in at all.

                “Mm…” Tristan nodded in agreement and groggily sat back up.

                “I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve had enough clubbing for tonight. You wanna head home?” Darius asked.

                “Uh huh.” Tristan was woozy. It was a nice buzz, and his heart wasn’t aching as badly, but he was definitely done with the evening. Darius hopped off the counter, then helped him down, supporting him until he could stand better. Tristan collected the first aid kit and they moved toward the bathroom door.

                “You’ve gotta tell Cici you’re ok.” Tristan uttered. “She was really worried about you.”

                Darius' face fell. “Yeah… Well, that’s partially why she left me... Too scrappy. I sure did a great job of proving her point tonight.” His tone was bitter as he reflected on his own actions. Perhaps the breakup hadn’t been as mutual as Tristan initially thought.

                “You still love each other.” Tristan said. It was a statement, not a question.

                “Yeah, as friends.” Darius answered.

                “You mean you’re not trying to get back together?”

                “No. Of course not. What makes you think—”

                “Flirting.” Tristan blurted out. “You’ve been flirting with her all night.”

                Darius looked perplexed. “I’ve been flirting with everyone all night. Even you.”

                What little shred of sanity Tristan had left broke at those words, and temporarily he was speechless. His dumbstruck expression must have read, because Darius gave him a weird look. 

                Tristan wanted to ask a thousand questions- ‘How seriously were you flirting?’, ‘Was it just for fun, or are you actually romantically interested in me?’, ‘Is this a joke to you?’, ‘Are you trying to lead me on?’, ‘Do you know how badly something like that could destroy me?’ but all that came out was one simple word:

                “Why?”

                Darius shrugged.

                “Because I love you, Tris.” he said it so nonchalantly, like it was simply a matter of fact. There was no sense of gravity to the thought. It was light. Airy. Easy.

                Tristan was silent. Dead freaking silent.

                As a friend. Darius didn’t say it, but somehow, Tristan knew that was what he meant. Darius loved him as a friend. Nothing more. Clearly, he was still completely clueless as to how Tristan felt. He had to be. He wouldn’t just speak that sentiment so casually otherwise.

                All the same, Tristan’s insides felt warm.

                “I—”

                ‘I want to be with you.’, ‘I need you to know just how much I care about you.’, ‘I don’t ever want to leave your side.’, ‘I wanna ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead.’

                … Careful, Tris.

                “I love you, too, Dair.” Not even Tristan knew what level of intensity he was putting behind those words. He would never force something on Darius like that, no matter how badly he wanted it. It felt nice just to voice the thought out loud either way… to officially release it into the universe. 

                They loved each other. It didn’t matter in what capacity. At least now they both knew. 

                Darius beamed and wrapped an arm around Tristan’s shoulders to keep him steady.

                “I’m glad. Now let’s go home.”

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Previous | Next

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Thank you as always to risahraun for beta-reading! <3

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

🎬 &🧣 for Darius and Tristan, if they're whumped together they should also be comforted together

From this game

We Are TroubleD – Extras (ask game edition!) – “Bittersweet Chocolate” (Pre-Capture)

Comfort my characters ask game! | "We Are TroubleD" Masterpost

Prompts:

🎬 An uninterrupted movie night

🧣 – A fluffy blanket

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Content warnings: Crying, emotional whump, fear of a loved one getting sicker, fear of memory loss due to an illness, long-term illness, loss of control of a vehicle due to weather (mentioned, not shown), mystery illness, sick loved one (parent)

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                Holy Hell it was cold outside. Well, okay, it was the opposite of Hell. Hell would be warm. Maybe Darius would’ve preferred Hell.

                His teeth were chattering when he entered the apartment, his nose as bright red and windblown as Rudolph the reindeer. With a shudder, he kicked off his boots and brushed away the snow that decorated his hair and coat.

                “It’s getting nasty out there.” he reported, unwinding his scarf and draping it over a hook on the coat rack. “I just made it out of the parking lot before I saw someone sliding in my rearview mirror. They haven’t treated the roads yet.”

                A pajama-clad Tristan stepped out of the kitchen to greet him, his face a mixture of concerned judgement and relieved amusement. At least Darius had made it home safely.

                “Was it worth it?” he asked, watching as his friend briskly rubbed his hands together to warm them up. “Risking your life to get some marshmallows?”

                Darius smirked, then victoriously pulled the bag of fluffy treats from his tote and held them aloft for Tristan to see.

                “Absolutely. Again, you can’t just tell me we’re having a hot chocolate night and then not have marshmallows. Come on Tris, that’s sacrilege.”

                It had been an honest mistake. Tristan had gotten the idea for a hot chocolate bar from a video he saw online and became obsessed with the concept. During an excited trip to the grocery store for supplies, he found himself so caught up in grabbing fancy fixings for the drinks that he completely forgot about perhaps the most simple and obvious one of all- the marshmallows. In his defense though, that hadn’t fully been his fault. He swore they had a half-full bag at home, but apparently Darius had been snacking.

                Darius tossed the marshmallow bag onto the countertop, where it landed with a ‘fwhumph’.

                “Yeah, okay, fine… Maybe it was a little stupid to go out there.” he admitted. “Even my car had trouble in the snow.” He stated the observation with such confidence, as if he expected his luxury car designed for city driving to operate like a rugged off-roading vehicle. Still, it was scary to have shaky control over anything in bad weather.

                “I’m just glad to be home. Let’s hunker down for a while.”

                Tristan peered around him curiously, eyeing a decently sized package that Darius had plopped on the floor on his way in.

                “What’s that?” he asked. “You order something?”

                Darius’ eyes flashed in realization. “Oh, no, that’s for you. It was waiting outside. Lucky the mailman was still able to deliver it.” he hefted the brown cardboard box up onto the breakfast table and Tristan wandered over. When he read the return address on the label, he cocked his head to the side.  

                “It’s from my mom and aunt.” he said softly. “Why didn’t they just wait to give this to me in person? I’m going over there next week…” It really didn’t make sense; they lived in the same town. There was no need to waste the postage.

                Tristan turned to search for a pair of scissors to cut the box open, but Darius was on top of it. He pulled a pocketknife from his black jeans and sliced through the packing tape like it was nothing. Tristan nodded in appreciation, then lifted the flaps and pulled out a handwritten letter.

Hey kiddo, I hope school’s going well. We thought we’d send a care package your way to help you get through the winter blues. Yes, it’s silly, but it feels more special when it arrives through the mail, doesn’t it? Your mom spent months on these but raced to finish them when she saw that it was going to snow. One’s for you and the other’s for Darius. Give him our hellos. I know life’s been tough recently, but you’ve been a real trooper. Keep your head up, even during the dark days when it feels like the light will never return. Believe in yourself. You’re a strong, capable, smart young man, and you’ll do great things. Remember, everything shall eventually come to pass, and one day the sun will shine again. We’re proud of you, Tristan. All of us. You’re always in our thoughts and in our hearts. Your family loves you. Don’t ever forget that. Phew! Maybe that was a little too serious, but it’s always a good reminder! Please hurry to come see us again! At the time of writing this, you just stepped out the door from your most recent visit, but already your mother is asking when you’re coming back. Honestly, it’s only been five minutes! Good luck with classes. See you soon. All our love, - Aunt Brenda and Mom 

                The letter alone was enough to make Tristan emotional. To have a whole care package attached to it as well… God that was thoughtful. What nice surprise! Such a thing wasn’t typical for his family, especially so late into his college career. Things had been tight financially for years, so for them to be able to get him anything outside of a holiday or birthday made for an extra special treat. He was happy to be thought of at all, really.

                A decently sized collection of items sat in the box, and Tristan started by reaching for the food: There were several bags of microwavable popcorn, an assortment of his favorite candies, and a small envelope containing two gift cards - one to the pizzeria by their apartment and one to the local coffee shop that he frequented. Next came what looked to be wellness supplies: Packets of orange flavored vitamin c drink powder, hand sanitizer, a tube of lip balm, and a bottle of hand cream. Finally, he pulled out one last gift: a small Lego set. It was nothing particular, just a box full of bricks so he could let his imagination run wild and build whatever he wanted.

                Tristan’s insides felt mushy as he looked at it all. How did he get to be so lucky? It was a simple, yet thoughtful care package and he was so thankful for it. His family wanted him to stay happy and healthy, and sentiments like that meant so much. He couldn’t wait to enjoy everything that they had sent him.  

                However, that wasn’t the end of it. Something larger sat at the bottom of the parcel, covered by a strip of kraft paper. Gingerly he lifted the dividing sheet and gasped at what he found beneath it.

                “What?! Oh my God— she didn’t!” Suddenly Aunt Brenda’s note made sense. ‘Your mom spent months on these but raced to finish them when she saw that it was going to snow.’

                Neatly folded in the box were two crocheted blankets. Tristan stood stunned for a moment before he carefully lifted the first one out. It was long and weighty, made up of soft black yarn patterned into granny squares that centered elegant, maroon roses. It must have taken ages to make. A handwritten tag was safety pinned to the corner that read “Darius” on it. The goth looked equally as taken aback when Tristan handed the bundle to him.

                “Wait, this is for me?” Darius asked in disbelief. Reverently, he held the blanket in his hands and ran his fingers over the velvety material. It was stunning.

                “Yeah. Mom made it.” Tristan’s voice was quavering. He was trying not to break down right then and there but seeing the level of care and craftsmanship in the present was making it hard not to. Such a piece would be an incredible gift coming from anyone, but to come from Tristan’s mom specifically… that was something miraculous. What an immense undertaking to make one blanket… but two? It was no easy feat for her.

                Tristan’s mother had been crocheting her whole life, long before she got sick and needed to be looked after. Her health journey had been a rollercoaster, and sadly it often felt like their family was left with more questions than answers from the doctors. There were times when it was hard for her to do much of anything – to sit up, to speak, to express herself in any way. Like with many diseases, she had her good days and her bad ones, but through it all she kept crocheting, trying to keep her mind sharp and her hands busy.

                It was her one constant, even on the days when she found it difficult to get out of bed.

                Even on the days when all she could do was communicate through a smile rather than through words.

                Even on the days when Tristan could tell that she was trying to hide her pain and keep up a brave face for the duration of his visit.

                Even on the days when Tristan spiraled and worried that things could get worse. What if one day she wasn’t able to recognize him anymore?

                Despite it all, she kept up her craft.

                Tristan lifted the second blanket from the box – the yarn was a gorgeous flow of different shades of blue, teal, and seafoam green. All his favorite colors. Occasional white streaks broke up the gradient, making him realize that the pattern was meant to be waves of the ocean. The bottom was a sandy color, where the water met the shore.

                He stared at the object, mystified and moved as his eyes involuntarily filled with tears. Silently he wrapped it around himself and hugged it against his form. It smelled like her. Milk and honey. A light, gentle scent. Familiar. Calming.

                His eyes slipped shut and he exhaled wet and shakily.

                “Mom…” was all he could manage to whisper.

                Darius gave him a knowing and sympathetic look.

                “These are beautiful.” he said, and Tristan nodded, snuggling into his blanket as meaningfully as if he was embracing his mother in person. Light glittered off the tears clinging to his lashes.

                Tristan buried his face in the cover, trying and failing to get a grip on himself. He knew he didn’t have to hide his emotions, but all the same he wanted a moment to process them privately. Thankfully there was no need to say anything or to try to excuse it. Darius knew and understood. He had been there through years of tests, treatments, ups, and downs in Tristan’s family. He too realized the amount of work that Tristan’s mom had put into the treasures that they now held in their hands. Darius would be lying if he said he wasn’t also deeply touched by it.

                As he stroked his blanket, Tristan’s fingers brushed against something poking up off the surface. Curiously he pulled it back a bit to see what the shape was.  

                A crocheted starfish sat in the sand. A little purple starfish. His parents’ nickname for him when he was a kid.

                In elementary school a much younger Tristan had gotten obsessed with space. He had gone all in, visiting the planetarium, getting a backyard telescope, building model space shuttles, and even choking down novelty packets of dehydrated ice cream so he “could eat like the astronauts do”. There were glow in the dark stars on his bedroom ceiling, mobiles of the solar system hanging above his desk, star charts on his wall…

                That was why he found a particular sea creature so fascinating when they vacationed on the coast one year. His family had stopped into a marine lab and visitor’s center at the beach, and while his parents were busy getting information about the area, Tristan had become engrossed with an aquarium tank displaying some of the local sea life. Kid Tristan lost his mind with excitement when he discovered a specific echinoderm.

                “Mom! Dad! You’ll never believe this! There’s a fish over here that’s shaped like a star! A starfish! A star fish!” to him, that was the coolest thing ever, even after one of the researchers had to break it to him that the animals weren’t from the cosmos.

                Like most things Tristan found intriguing, he wanted to learn all about them and wound up not only getting a book from the gift shop, but a color-changing mood necklace featuring a sea star as well. Most of the trip the thing stayed purple, which, according to the slip of paper that came with the jewelry, meant that he was happy. It was right; he was.  

                Because of his new accessory, his parents joked that he had become their little purple starfish. Tristan didn’t mind and gladly wore the necklace for ages until eventually his next special interest grabbed hold of him and took over. The nickname stuck, however, even after the souvenir had found its way into a drawer somewhere in Tristan’s room.

                Tristan’s hand once again drifted over the crocheted embellishment as he recalled the memory. Their starfish. Their little purple starfish…

                That was when he finally broke. His face screwed up and he fully pulled the blanket over his head, noiselessly loosing a few tears. Despite what she was going through, his mom still cared so much and had worked so hard on this gift for him. For both of them. Even in her state, all she wanted to do was to keep her son and his best friend safe and warm, to let them know that they were loved.

                Darius reached out a hand and lightly placed it on Tristan’s arm as a quiet reminder that he was there for support, even when words failed him. After a moment he retreated and wrapped his own blanket around himself, breathing out a content sigh at feeling of the plush material against his cold skin. God did that feel comforting after being out in the snow.  

                Tristan sniffled, taking a moment to collect himself before he slipped the cover back down around his shoulders.

                “S-sorry.”

                How absurd, he didn’t need to apologize for anything, especially given the circumstances.

                “I'll tell her thank you..." he uttered, wiping away his tears. With quaking breath, Tristan peered over to the clock on the oven, then made a move toward the kitchen. "Ah, but let’s get to the hot chocolate bar before it gets any later. If we wait too much longer to start the movie then it’ll be too late tonight.”

                He didn’t want to talk about things further. Not right now at least. That was fine.

                Darius assessed his friend delicately, but his concern dissipated when Tristan’s smile —though wobbly and fragile— returned. Sporting his new flowery blanket cape, Darius followed Tristan, willing to carry on with the night like normal if that’s what he wanted. Whatever Tristan needed to do to cope with those heavy emotions for the time being.

                “So, what do we have here?” Darius questioned. His eyes widened in wonder as he scanned the grandiose selection of toppings and mix-ins that lined the counter. Tristan had carefully laid out a myriad of treats and flavor enhancers in ramekins and on a charcuterie board.

                He had gone overboard, really. There was far too much spread out before them. Some of the options included caramels, sprinkles (both rainbow and chocolate), cinnamon, raspberries, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, strawberry sauce, toasted coconut, peppermint, white chocolate chips, and crushed up pretzels. Tristan had even considered snacks to dunk into the drinks – pirouettes and shortbread cookies. Oh, and the marshmallows that Darius had run out to get, of course. Couldn’t forget those.

                If they consumed even half of what was on the counter, they’d both probably slip into sweet, sugary comas, if their blood didn’t turn into pure sucrose or chocolate first.

                Darius huffed out an amused laugh.

                “Holy crap... You do know we’re just two people, right?”

                Tristan flicked on the stove and pulled out a saucepan, prepping to warm up whatever drink combination Darius chose.

                “Of course.” he said. “This is just a test run. We can have the rest of the gang over next week for an actual party if you want.”

                That sounded like a good idea… A much healthier one, too. Darius poured over his choices and got to work on his chocolatey concoction.

                                              ***

                Damn Tristan could make a good cup of hot chocolate. Sure, part of the incredible flavor came from the ingredients they each had meticulously picked out for themselves, but combining them into a smooth drink so masterfully? That was a talent. No, an art.

                The movie had started- “Willow”, a fantasy flick from the 80’s. Darius had argued for “Labyrinth”, but Tristan rightfully said that’d be more fun to watch with their friends. They could all sing along together that way.

                Both boys sat on the living room couch enjoying their hot chocolate creations, with every sip seeming to warm their bodies and souls. Outside the window snow continued to gently fall, and with luck maybe the next day’s obligations would be cancelled. It would be great to simply relax and have a full day at home.  

                Throughout the movie, Tristan remained warmly tucked under his dreamy ocean wave blanket. He looked so calm and at ease there, a longing yet blissful look playing on his features. When his hands weren’t cradling his mug, he unconsciously drifted up to run his fingers over the starfish, positioned right over his heart.

                Nights like this were so peaceful and meaningful... a way to appreciate little joys. Together the friends were cozy and content, and for the moment, life was good.

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Tag list: @risahraun, @phoenixpromptsandstuff, @gala1981, @melpomenelamusa, @generic-whumperz, @morning-star-whump

Wanna be added to the tag list for ask game responses and other extras outside of the main story chapters? Please let me know here!

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

Okay, stupid whump confession time.

When I was first getting into whumplr and figuring out the terminology the fandom used, I saw "environmental whump" and thought it was the strangest, silliest thing ever. Y'know why?

I had no idea what it was.

For some reason, I thought "environmental whump" meant one of two things:

A whumper who loves to actively destroy the planet IE: their whole thing is polluting the environment, cutting down trees, poisoning the water, littering, etc and getting their jollies from that. Think any cartoonish, irredeemable evil business tycoon from a 90's save-the-planet kids movie, but like, on steroids. I thought that nature was the whumpee.

Nature comes alive and is the whumper. I'm talking trees growing limbs and smacking people around, ensnaring people with vines, sentient forest fires making calculated decisions on whose homes to burn, mountains ordering rock slides to take out hikers, etc

Now I realize that environmental whump is more along the lines of "I left my coat at home and got trapped outside during a snowstorm" or "Man, I got water in my shoe and now I'm uncomfortable" and that makes a LOT more sense.

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

Bullet Point Tag Game

The rules: Summarize your story in fifteen 2-5 word bullet points (as though you were trying to summarize it in fifteen seconds).

Tagged by @generic-whumperz! Thank you pal! :3

Five tags (no need to participate if you don't want to or if you already have! It's just for fun): @writinglittlepains @brainrotlesbian @befuddled-calico-whump @whumperofworlds @melpomenelamusa

For my OC whump fic We Are TroubleD:

Best friends and college roommates

One's rich, the other's not

Trouble's afoot

Kidnapper gets more than planned

Two captives, one basement

Bound and gagged

Ransom complications

Unwilling product models

Escape attempt

Unknown status and fear

Recapture and consequences

Forced participation in torture

Pain and comfort

A brief reprieve

Cloudiness and confusion

An unclear, but hopeful future

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

"We Are TroubleD" Tag List!

Welcome to the official fic tag list! Please comment below on what you would like to be tagged in. I don't wanna bug people with tags if they're not interested in seeing the extras, y'know?

Here are your options for what you could be tagged in (feel free to mix and match!):

Just the main story/chapters

AU entries

One shots and drabbles

Art

Ask game responses

WIP snippets

Picrews

Character profiles

Misc. other

All of it

Alternatively, if you would NOT like me to tag you for things anymore please let me know!

Thank you, friends! 😊❤️

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Tag list (all WRT posts):

@gala1981, @melpomenelamusa, @phoenixpromptsandstuff, @risahraun, @generic-whumperz,

@morning-star-whump, @dutifullykrispyland, @fleur-a-whump, @defire, @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

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Tag list (only certain WRT posts, as specified in comments): @whump-and-other-things,

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

Have another WIP snippet for funsies

(because I've been absolutely crawling on getting anything written or posted and I feel bad about it!)

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                “What are you doing to him?! DAR— GET OFF OF ME! DARIUS!!”

                Darius’ heart was pounding in unbridled terror as he heard Tristan desperately calling out for him from the storeroom. No. NO! God, Tristan, please don’t come in here! Please!!

                “Darius! I’m— STOP! … I’m coming!” Tristan’s voice drew nearer, and it was clear that he was running from their captor. Apparently, Darius’ screams had caused him to panic. That made sense, but Darius didn’t want to be rescued. Not right now.

                A pathetic whimper escaped him, and with tears welling up in his vision, he peered up above him. Hopelessly he jerked against the restraints that kept him tethered to the spot. His face seared red hot with shame and embarrassment. 

                As the footfalls pounded closer, he made one final effort to hide or conceal himself, but doing so was impossible with his legs spread out as they were.

                “No… please…” Darius begged, but he was so emotional that the sound came out as nothing more than a wet squeak, barely audible.

                The door flew open and Tristan burst into the room, panting and frantic. When his eyes landed on Darius, they flashed in recognition merely for a second before the color drained from his face.

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Tag list: @phoenixpromptsandstuff, @gala1981, @melpomenelamusa, @risahraun, @generic-whumperz

Tag list (continued): @morning-star-whump