#aversive racism

[odinsblog]

If you're a white guy and you have good scores and good grades, you can absolutely get in to school.

You see, white people are acting like it's a zero sum game, like there's one spot and 18 people are fighting for it, and only the Black people get in. No, that's not at all how it happens.

You can, of course, get into school regardless of your race, color, or creed.

What Affirmative Action does is that it allows the universities to look at their class as a whole, alright?

And you think about it.

Universities do this all the time, right?

The universities will say, okay, we've got 18 kids from New York. We should probably get one kid from Iowa in there, right?

And so if you're kind of choosing between kind of the 19th kid from New York or the first kid from Iowa, maybe you give the kid from Iowa a shot because you don't have a lot of people from Iowa in your class already, right? Nobody seems to have a problem with that. The Supreme Court certainly doesn't have a problem with that.

We see this all the time with gender admissions, right?

If you have a class that's like 60/40 men, historically, white women have been the biggest beneficiaries of Affirmative Action when schools say, you know what? We don't want a sausage fest, and so we're going to throw in some women, right? Right.

Now, if you look at the elite universities, they're given that bump to male applicants because in the modern context, it's men whose grades and test scores and standardized tests or whatever haven't kept pace with women, right?

So now if you're looking at a class that would otherwise be 60/40 women, you're like, you know what? We're going to throw in some extra guys here to make sure the class balances out. That's all Affirmative Action is.

And what the Supreme Court is saying, all of those other things to get somebody in from the Midwest when there's nobody in the mix, or to get somebody in to have a better gender balance is okay, but not race.

Race is the only thing that they can't look at.

So the schools can look at gender, geography, and wealth. They can look at legacy admissions. They can look at athletic accomplishments. They can look at whether or not you're good at chess. They can look at whether or not you're good at playing in the piano, but they can't look at whether or not you're a minority.

That is the incongruity and the hypocrisy of today's Supreme Court ruling.

—Elie Mystal

#scotus #affirmative action #politics #white supremacy #republicans #gop hypocrisy #john roberts #roberts court #colorblind racism #aversive racism

[disastroboy]

i wish the go fandom (or ...even the show) would just abandon whole 'aziraphale hates bepop' thing, it just .. its not that funny + it smells tastes and quacks like racism .. i know hes supposed to be old fashioned and behind the times but i wish like .. specifically Black american art forms werent always the butts of those particular jokes :-) i know its just straight up textual that he doesnt like it, but everytime im reading a fic where 'eugh bepop' is mentioned or one of those clips is included in a compilation of his 'cute' moments i just ..

#:-/ #good omens #aziraphale #just uncomfortable and a bummer to see sometimes #like #idk i know the joke is even the things he thinks are modern are still old #why not make the joke: he hates a niche style of classical music that to non-az ears sounds exactly like all the other music he listens to #also im sorry but his character's aversion to modernity ALONE rides a weird line #the bepop thing is just 1 of the times it goes a bit too far into like .. straight up racism for me to think its cute or charming #also sorry if putting this in the main tag is like .. gauche in tumblr rules or whatever #but im not actually sorry cos i genuinely wish ppl would think abt this particular running joke a lil deeper

[tariah23]

Well, I’m still glad that Gojo was always a character who was growing and learning at least. He’s literally one of my favorite characters of all time now. Like, he’s never been as perfect as how the fans would make him out to be despite canonically being viewed as an absolute nuisance to everyone around him (I don’t think his peers necessarily hate him but a lot of them probably hate to see him coming and the ones who’ve dealt with him long enough to consider him a friend, tolerate him and groan whenever he opens his mouth, too 😭… out of love. He’s extremely childish so there is only sm the other adults around him can take and to an extent, his students. I think the only characters in canon who adore him and their eye’s sparkle whenever he’s around, and being a silly teacher was Yuuji and Miwa (she asked him for his autograph (he’s the most famous sorcerer in the jjk world) and when she was alone, she did a little dance in the empty hallway 🥺…) from what we’ve seen even though the others still care about him, too. They just find him rather annoying, which he most definitely is. And he does it on purpose. He plays too much.)

#I’m also not usually one to get annoyed whenever ppl shit on the things I like #like I’m an adult sorry idc 😵‍💫 #but it’s always annoying seeing ppl who know nothing about the story complaining about it #even just as recently with the Gojo being racist shit 😭.. #like he’s a really great character despite all of that and even though Gege’s #execution of that could’ve been better or didn’t need to happen at all #because idk what gege was doing even though I do strongly believe that he used a moment like this to showcase Gojo’s ignorance and #that how he’s also human and makes mistakes since if you’re familiar with the series Gojo isn’t really treated like person at all #more like a deity and he doesn’t like that #but he’s never been one to voice his personal feelings and talk about his trauma ever #he gets treated like a god and because of this he’s never felt like he could truly connect with other people #so that’s why he puts on that whole act of being overly friendly/ playing with others and even rude to shut others out because of his #aversion to opening his traumatized self To other ppl like he’s so cool #and when he’s friendly he gives the others just enough of his affection so that he wouldn’t be worried about and not have others pry #but he’s incredibly flawed as well #I feel like gege could’ve showed Gojo being ‘humbled’ some other kind of way over the racism tho 😭. But it’s fine lmfao #I’m still so grateful that he had Gojo actually apologize instead of waving Miguel off like he didn’t matter because like I’ve said before #he literally never apologizes (this is probably the first time that I’ve ever seen gojo apologize to anyone in canon I’m so serious 🗿) #that’s literally not part of him #like he feels regret but he never apologies or shows that he actually cares about what others are expressing to him when they’re upset with #him. like this is crazy. but it shows that he did care about the mistake that he made which I appreciate…. like idk how I would’ve felt #about his character if he showed that he could care less when hurting someone like this🗿….. #I adore him so much sorry sorry for taking about anime I’m just 😭…. ❤️❤️❤️ #rambling #I’m glad that everyone is fucking with Miguel now because he is a really interesting character even though we haven’t seen much of him #he’s one of the few ppl who Gojo trusted enough to look after someone who he cared about despite the horrors #because he knew that Miguel would protect yuuta and do right by him #it’s very 😭❤️…

[c1airidryl]

Sometimes I rlly feel like one of those bisexuals who's like "aug I wish I wasn't primarily attracted to men" but then I'm like no that's cringe. PLUS it lets men off the hook and starts to play into that bio/gender essentialilist bullshit that social justice warrior types love so much still to this day. It's frustrating that so many men are shitty but my god there are a LOT of abusive and cruel women/nonmen out there, perhaps nearly as many as there are men, just in different ways and more sneakishly because they are let off the hook more often. I'm picky with who I let in so perhaps its like, "aug I wish I wasn't attracted to...anyone". But I love to be intimate with people. I guess that's just being a human

#btw by sjw i dont mean the kind that 4channers used to say anyone who gave a shit about racism and homophobia and sexism are #i mean like .. virtue signallers #ppl who live their lives like a twitter thread who live on hyperbolic sweeping statements about people #aka ppl with very little real world life experience outside of like their large major citys queer scene #i met many of those in montreal hah. people who were so averse to any actual discomfort or confrontation #but acted as if they were the bastion of social awareness

[rosemaidenvixen]

Dig your eight graves

Part 1

Ao3

Big thank you to @avirxy they were a huge help with this story and it absolutely wouldn't have gotten off the ground without them.

Strong content warning: this story includes gore and graphic, onscreen deaths. Please take note of the rating and look over the tags carefully before you read to make sure this story is ok for you.

That being said, pleasant reading and Happy Halloween

---

“Come on Pepperjack, everyone knows Halloween was invented by the candy companies,”

“It was not! It’s based on the Celtic festival of Samhain!”

Claire rolled her eyes and went back to reclining against the large stone. It was a lovely day and she had a lovely view; perfect fall weather halfway between warm and crisp, the trees around her rustling with autumnal colors; red and orange and gold. Even Steve and Eli’s squabbling couldn’t ruin it.

“Saw-een? You’re making that up,”

Eli bristled “I am not! Samhain was their harvest celebration and when the ancient Celts believed that that gate to the afterlife was–”

“Dude if I wanted a boring history lesson I would have gone straight to the museum with Mr. Strickler, you totally made sew…in or whatever is up, just like you made up seeing those monsters,”

“I did see monsters! Last month I saw two of them fighting under the canal bridge before one crawled into a drainage pipe and escaped,”

“Pics or it didn’t happen, and since there’s no pics, it didn’t happen,”

Eli’s face turned lobster red, but before he could get another word out Shannon spoke up.

“Ignore him Eli,” she said cooly “He’s just baiting you,”

Eli snapped his mouth shut and glared at Steve, who smirked back at him, before folding his arms and staring daggers down at the ground with an indignant pout on his face “Why are we even here again?”

“Steve wanted to show us where his grandpa smoked pot,” Mary said cheekily.

The smug look dropped off of Steve’s face “He did not,”

“Yes he did,” Toby piped up “Source, my Nana came out here to smoke pot with her buddies in the woods back in the seventies,”

“He did not! Grandpa just found this place while he was hiking, and he came up here to commune with nature and become one with the universe and stuff,”

“That’s secret code for smoking pot,” Jim mumbled.

“Either way it doesn’t look like anyone’s been up here for a while,” Darci nervously eyed a rusty beer can.

Claire was inclined to agree. The clearing was only about twenty feet across in any given direction and nestled deep in the woods. The trail leading to it so overgrown that it would be almost impossible to find unless you knew it was here. 

The border was ringed by medium sized rocks, possibly put in place by bored and/or stoned hippies, and there was a fire pit in the middle slightly sunken and surrounded by smaller stones. Little traces of human presence were here; a candy wrapper by that boulder faded beyond recognition, rusty beer cans scattered everywhere, grass poking through the mound of ash in the fire pit, along with the tops of several beer cans. 

People had definitely been here before, but not for a long time.

“Yeah Nana says that when they opened the planetarium in the eighties all the stoners started going there instead,”

Shannon leaned forward “I heard there was a bunch of cult activity in Arcadia back in the twenties,” her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper “They used the woods to perform their rituals, and police had to bust them up again and again before the cults were eventually forced to leave town,”

“Cults?” Darci’s voice was tight and small.

Mary waved her off “That was forever ago,"

"Yeah," Toby said with a shrug "Cults, hippies, po-tay-to, pa-tah-to, and they both smoke pot,”

“Grandpa didn’t just come here to smoke pot!” Steve’s face was nearly as red as Eli’s had been, voice a hair away from a shout.

“Then why did he come up here Steve?” Toby fired back.

“Well just…it’s a really cool place,” Steve spread his arms, gesturing all around them “My grandpa always said he felt like this place was special, he took my mom here a bunch of times, and then she took me, and I…I wanted to show you guys,”

The surprising amount of vulnerability in Steve’s voice gave Claire pause. For as long as she’d known him Steve had basically been a huge jerk. But this year had been different, he didn’t shove Eli in his locker anymore, he actually pulled his weight on group projects, and it was times like this that she saw just how hard he was trying.

She leaned back against the stone and looked around. And besides this place did feel…special. 

The clearing was just rocks and trees and grass, nothing that they couldn’t find in the rest of the woods surrounding town. But there was a peaceful stillness to this clearing, even though she knew that the town was close by, here Claire felt worlds apart.

“You’re right Steve, this place is special,”

Steve practically glowed at the praise.

Darci shifted uncomfortably “Can we head back now, this feels too much like the start of a horror movie for my comfort,”

Mary just shrugged “Nah, we’re fine for a little longer,”

“I mean a group of teenagers alone in the woods on Halloween, talking about cults and–”

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled “Then the chainsaw wielding maniac comes in and starts randomly picking us off one by one,”

Toby rolled his eyes “Get your facts straight Steve, it wouldn’t be random, the ones who sneak off and make out would be killed first, and then there’d be one final girl at the end,”

“So Lake and Nuñez are definitely going first–”

“Go bite a tree Steve,” Jim said with a scowl.

“So who would be the final girl?”

Toby tapped his chin, looking around the clearing at the rest of them “What do you think ladies, who’d be the last woman standing?”

Mary made a big show of thinking it over, then turned over towards Toby with a wide cheshire grin on her face “We’re all getting out and leaving you boys to die,”

He hissed “Ouch, harsh Mare,”

“Except for Claire, she and Jimmy Jam definitely die first,”

Claire glared at her “Hey–”

“Sorry C-Bomb, but since the two of you started dating you’ve had tunnel vision, you’d be so busy making goo goo eyes at each other you wouldn’t see Mr. Chainsaw until he’s already hacking you apart,”

Despite herself Claire felt her cheeks start to burn “I could be a final girl,”

Mary just flashed an infuriating smirk at her.

Shannon shrugged “All I know is I’d definitely survive, I clawed my way to the treasure’s seat, I could take out one dude with a chainsaw,”

Eli cupped his chin thoughtfully “Yeah you’ve got powerful final girl–”

Mary cleared her throat.

“Or girls, energy, you’d survive for sure, at least until dying in the first ten minutes of the se–”

“Can we please go back now,” a desperate pleading, almost a whine, entered Darci’s voice.

Steve held up his hands “Hey we’re just discussing classic horror tropes,”

“Yeah, like the one about how characters that look like me don't live very long!” she spat bitterly, eyes brimming.

Just like that the upbeat mood was gone.

“Sorry,” Mary mumbled.

Claire got to her feet “Let’s head back, it’s about time anyways,”

They all stood and started heading towards the faint trail at the edge of the cleaning. All of a sudden Eli froze and whipped his head around “Did you guys hear that?”

The look Mary shot at him was murderous “Dude that is so not funny,”

“No really I–” 

The loud snap of a twig echoed from the woods in front of them, all of them instantly going dead silent.

Claire felt her heartbeat kick up a notch, there was no way all of them imagined that, so what was–

“There you are!”

They all shrieked and staggered back.

Coach Lawrence stepped out from behind a tree, nostrils flaring “I let you out for a five minute potty break, and you all sneak off to try and get acquainted with your good friend Mary Jane!?”

“Why does everyone think that…” Steve mumbled.

“We weren’t smoking pot Coach!” Eli piped up defensively.

“Nice try,” Coach folded his arms, still glaring at them “But I know exactly what a stoner hang out spot looks like,”

“How do you know that Coach?”

“I– you– Never mind how I know! Now I want to see all your butts in the van on the double!” 

They trooped along the faint trail back towards the main road and the van parked alongside it, Coach Lawrence muttering to himself the entire time. After they all took their seats and buckled in, crammed elbow to elbow, Coach Lawrence settled into the driver’s seat before turning to face them.

“Now I know you all volunteered to help Mr. Fier with his Fall Fair, but that doesn’t mean you can just run wild. I want all of you on your best behavior; no tricks, no hijinks, no nothing. One whiff of shenanigans from any of you and I will turn this van around! You hear me?”

They all nodded enthusiastically at that, Toby making a zipping motion over his lips. 

Coach gave a soft grunt before turning back and pulling out onto the main road. Claire tugged at the edge of her jacket. The idea of sitting silently in the car for another twenty minutes was unbearable, they were already way out of cellphone range, and bringing up horror movies again seemed like a bad idea, but maybe…

“So what do you guys know about this Mr. Fier?”

“Nothing except for the fact he’s doing this Fall Fair,” Shannon replied.

“I think he also does the Christmas market,” Toby leaned forward “And the 4th of July parade,”

“I know a bit more about him. He sets up this Santa’s Village at the hospital every year, my mom’s talked to him a few times,”

They all turned to look at Jim, he squirmed slightly at the attention but continued “He’s super old, and he owns almost all the buildings downtown, all the trendy restaurants and shops and stuff, he inherited them from his dad who got them from his dad, and I think if you go way way back his great great grandpa or something was one of the original town founders,”

“I read about him!” Eli stretched back from the passenger’s seat, seatbelt straining “Solomon Fier, he was part of the first group of settlers who founded the town in 1875. And he was the one who started the city’s anniversary festival, he hosted the very first one to celebrate the town’s first anniversary,”

“So his family has been hosting these fairs and festivals for over a hundred years?” Darci spoke with genuine interest, her anxiety from minutes ago gone “That’s pretty cool,”

“Well you can ask him all about it yourself,” Coach Lawrence’s voice cut in “Because we’re here,”

Claire scooted to the side and craned her head to see out the window. The van had emerged from the tunnel of trees into a large clearing, absolutely massive compared to the one Steve showed them. The gravel road led up to a large red barn, with several smaller buildings and a white clapboard farmhouse set behind it. And on the far side of the clearing there was a squat yellow structure, which as they got closer, Claire realized was a hay maze.

On the opposite side of the road from the barn were two small fenced in areas. Nothing was inside them, but signs posted outside them read ‘Future pony ride’ and ‘Future petting zoo’.

A couple of large wooden posts stood on either side of the road just a little ways away from the main barn and the fences, where an old gate or sign used to be if Claire had to guess. But instead of a huge sign an old rocking chair had been placed in front of one of the posts, sitting in it was a smiling scarecrow wearing overalls and green flannel with a wide straw hat, holding up a wooden sign that read ‘Welcome to Fier Fall Festival’.

Driving past the scarecrow, Coach pulled the van to a stop and killed the engine, turning and fixing them with his trademark stare as they filed out of the van.

“Alright listen up, let’s go over the game plan one more time. We’re here because Mr. Fier wants your feedback on what he has set up so far, and that’s what we’re going to do; no tricks, no monkey business. And once we’re done you’re all getting back in the van to go to the Pumpkin Ball at the museum, understand?”

They all sounded off with ‘Yes Coach’ although Claire caught Toby, Steve, and Mary rolling their eyes.

Shannon glanced around “Wasn’t Mr. Fier supposed to meet us out here?”

For the first time this afternoon Coach Lawrence’s steely expression flickered into uncertainty “Oh, uh…yes he was. I’m not sure why he’s not here yet,”

Eli wave a hand in the air “You should check your phone Coach,”

Coach grumbled but nevertheless pulled out his phone “Pepperjack we’re in a dead zone, if Mr. Fier had texted me it would have to have been nearly an hour agoooo…”

His eyes practically bugged out as he stared at his phone, gaze shooting back up at them with a sheepish look on his face “New plan. Mr. Fier’s car broke down, so I’ll head back into town, pick him up, and come back here,” he scrambled back into the driver’s seat “And because I can’t fit him and you all in the van, you all will wait here until we get back,”

Abruptly his gaze turned narrow again “You kids will wait right here,” he pointed sharply down at the ground just outside the van “You will stay together at all times, and will not touch anything while I’m gone, you got that?”

‘Yes Coach,’ they chimed again.

Coach gave a tight nod, shooting them one more ‘I’m watching you’ with two fingers before shutting the door and heading the van back the way it came.

They all stood there watching as the van vanished into the tunnel of trees, leaving them standing alone in front of the barn. No one said anything.

For about ten seconds.

“Welp, you buttsnacks stay here if you want,” Steve turned on his heel and started walking into the farm “I’m going to check this place out,” 

“Count me in,”

“I’m in to,”

Toby and Mary broke off from the rest and sped up to join him.

Eli’s jaw dropped, eyes going huge behind his glasses “B– but Coach said we have to stay here!”

“I’m not standing in the parking lot for an hour,” Mary waved him off “And what Coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” 

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled “We have this whole place to ourselves, might as well enjoy it,”

Claire, Jim, Darci, and Shannon all glanced at each other, matching giddy looks slowly spreading across their faces, before following after them, leaving Eli gaping in the parking lot.

“Buh– but–”

“Eli it’ll be fine,” Jim called back after him “We’ll just have a look around and be back way before Coach gets back. Besides, sticking together’s the most important thing, right?”

Eli shut his mouth, glancing back and forth between the road where the van disappeared and the rest of them, then dashed to catch up with them.

Jim then turned towards Claire, a shy smile on his face “And maybe before Coach gets back we can have some time to ourselves?”

Claire smiled back at him, reaching out to grasp his hand with her own, feeling a thrill of excitement when his cheeks turned pink as she did.

“I’d like that,”

---

Lawrence let out a sigh of relief as the dirt underneath the van turned to coarse pavement. Then, after quickly checking to make sure he was the only car around, pulled out his phone and dialed.

The other end picked up after just two rings.

“Hello?”

“Hello Mr. Fier, this is Coach Lawrence with Arcadia Oaks,” the words all came out in a rush “I’m so sorry I missed your call earlier, I just dropped the kids off at the farm and I am on my way to pick you up. But don’t worry, they will not touch anythi–”

The voice on the other side of the line let out a hearty laugh ”Oh please don’t worry yourself, let the kids have fun, and my daughter’s in town so don’t worry about keeping me waiting,”

Lawrence held the phone away from his face so his sigh of relief wouldn’t be heard “Really Mr. Fier I can’t thank you enough for being so understanding,”

More laughter “No, thank you, and please call me Sam,”

“Oh, ok…Sam,”

“Really it’s you and the kids doing me a favor, I already have a good idea what the little kids like, but I want to make sure the fair is fun for older kids to. Having your students walk through my trial run and give me their honest feedback is invaluable. I grew up going to harvest festivals all across the east coast, and I want the children of Arcadia Oaks to have the same. And once I get your students’ feedback and make the necessary changes, I can start planning and the Fier Fall Festival will be open to the public next year,”

Lawrence slowly relaxed into his seat, easing up on the gas as the road became twisty, a sure sign that the highway was close “Well I’ll be over as soon as I can to pick you up, and then we can get back out here and get started,”

“Like I said, no reason to break your neck getting here, and the kids can have fun exploring the place by themselves, maybe they’ll even find the surprise I left for them,”

“Surprise?” Lawrence shot up ramrod straight “What kind of surprise?”

The voice on the other end of the phone took on a mischievous lilt “Well if I told you it wouldn’t be much of a surprise now would it?”

He settled back into his seat, keeping his eyes locked on the road. Had to be careful now, there were several sharp turns along some steep inclines here. And with all the trees he couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead at a time “Oh…ok then, I’ll be there soon,”

“See you then,” 

Lawrence hung up the phone, letting out another sigh of relief, turning his focus back to the road. It was really good that Mr. Fier wasn’t upset about Lawrence missing his text, or about the kids having free run of the place for a bit. He might not be on the school board, but it wouldn’t be good to piss off the guy who owned half the town.

Now all he had to do was pick up Fier as quick as he could and head back to where the kids were–

As he rounded a sharp corner he came face to face with a large deer in the road only feet away from him. Lawrence jerked in panic and cranked the wheel hard, he swerved, missing the deer by inches, but sending the van over the side of the road. Lawrence fought to regain control as half the tires went into the dirt, but he’d gone too far off the road and the ground underneath him was too loose. 

The van violently rocked from side to side as it fishtailed along the edge of the road. Leaning far to the side as the tires lost traction against the dirt. 

Abruptly the land on the side of the road dropped off into a steep incline, tires losing purchase and center of gravity giving way, sending the van toppling over the edge of the cliff.

Its momentum shot it forward and down, rolling down the steep hill, rocks and trees tearing at the metal frame, crashing to a stop as it collided with a large tree near the bottom of the embankment in a deafening bang of metal against wood. 

The vehicle lay there crumpled between the hill and the tree, four tires spinning in the air, Lawrence hanging limply from his seat, suspended by his seatbelt, blood dripping from his forehead down onto the windshield. 

Back up on the road the deer hadn’t moved so much as an inch, not even twitching at the near miss from the vehicle.

For a moment things were still, the only movement the slowly rotating tires of the van. Then a figure stepped out of the trees on the opposite side of the road. They walked across the street to the deer, leather boots soft against the pavement, slinging it over their shoulder before turning and going back the way they came. Walking a few yards into the woods, they came to a large black truck and threw the deer shaped archery target in the bed before climbing into the driver's seat. 

Pulling the truck out onto the road from the hidden side street, the driver only spared a brief glance down the embankment before speeding away. Heading back up the road without turning once towards the upturned van, the last of its spinning tires slowly coming to a stop.

---

Claire flicked the switch on the electric tea light, setting it onto the shelf with the others “You know…I don’t think that dog has been house trained,”

“Really?” Jim set down his own candle and stepped over to her “You should report them to the humane society,”

She looked up from the snarling wolf animatronic, stationary without a power source, smirking “You know, I think I will,”

They’d just finished going through the farmhouse, set up as a haunted house. Turning on all the electric candles and giving a running commentary as they went.

Moving towards the door Claire stepped out onto the back porch and into the glow of autumn sunlight, Jim just behind her.

“Let’s go check out the pumpkin canon,” he spoke up “I know Toby said he wanted to figure out how it work,”

“Sounds great,”

They stepped down onto the grass and started walking towards the back of the main barn. As they got closer Claire heard the hiss of compressed air and the ‘thwump’ of it releasing.

She felt a smile slowly stretching across her face “I think he succeeded,” 

Rounding the corner, they came to the main space of the fair. A large clear space ringed with rocks  was slightly off from the center, plastic sign by it reading ‘Future bonfire pit’, directly behind the main barn a massive throne of sorts had been constructed out of hay bales, pumpkins scattered on and around it. Mary occupied the seat, posing and taking selfies with the small pumpkin on her lap. And then on the far edge of the clearing was the pumpkin canon, motor humming, with Darci and Toby standing by it. 

“Pull!” Darci shouted.

Toby yanked a lever, a pumpkin shooting out of the barrel with a ‘fwoom’ arcing over the stretch of clearing before landing with a dull thumb in the distance.

“Hey Tobes, you had enough of tormenting innocent squash?”

“Not even close,”

Mary clutched her pumpkin protectively “You’re prying Penelope out of my cold, dead hands,”

“Hey girls,” Claire smiled at Darci and Mary in turn “You know where everyone else is?”

Darci jerked a thumb behind her towards the double wide trailer “Eli and Shannon are checking out the escape rooms, and Steve’s over at the haunted house,”

“We just came from there, I didn’t see him,”

“Oh,”

“So Shannon and Eli are in the escape room,” Toby called out from where he and Jim were struggling to load a large pumpkin “And none of us have any idea where Steve is,”

“Tobes I don’t think this pumpkin is physically capable of fitting inside the canon,”

“Not with that attitude,”

Mary perched back on her pumpkin throne “Having a good time ladies?”

“Yep,”

“You know it,” Darci glanced towards the front entrance uneasily “But shouldn’t Coach have been back by now?”

That gave Claire pause, a quick glance at her phone told her it had been just over an hour since Coach had left, he should be getting here pretty soon…

Mary waved them off “He probably just stopped to trim his nose hairs or som–”

“Jackpot!”

Claire jumped at the sudden sound of Steve’s voice. Turning to see him walking over dragging a large cooler behind him.

Toby abandoned the large pumpkin, Jim looking all too happy to do so, and walked over to them “What are you talking about?”

“I was checking out some of the concession stands when I found this!” he opened the cooler with a flourish.

Curious, Claire stepped closer to see what was inside.

It looked like a bunch of snacks, which she’d sort of expected with it being a cooler, but this was a lot more than just goldfish and juice boxes. 

Full size candy bars, caramel covered apples, cupcakes, shrink wrapped packages of fudge, even a gallon of apple cider.

 “Yeah I thought about keeping this all to myself,” Steve leaned against the cooler with exaggerated casualness “But this is too much, even more the Palchuk, so I figured why not spread the wealth,”

Darci bounced up and down with barely restrained glee, giddy smile stretched out over her face as she hurried over to kneel in front of the open cooler “Steve you are the best!”

“Totally dude!” Toby joined Darci kneeling in front of the cooler “I take back everything I ever said about you!”

“No big deal I– wait what?” Steve’s smugness flickered as they all gathered in.

Claire rolled her eyes “Thank you Steve, this was really sweet,”

Steve’s smug grin slid back into place.

Jim picked up the gallon of cider out “I’m going to see if I can find some way to heat this up,”

“I’ll go get Eli and Shannon,” Claire and Jim turned and each walked off in opposite directions. Coming up to the double wide, she went around to the side door and gave it a soft knock.

“Shannon, Eli, you in there?”

“Don’t open the door!” Eli’s voice piped up “We have to find our way out ourselves, escape room code!”

“We found fudge and candy apples,”

“....please open the door,”

Claire complied, letting the two of them out, all three of them heading back to where Mary, Darci, and Toby were already divvying up the snacks with Steve standing by.

“I’ll take the white chocolate candy apple,” 

“Ooh gimmie one of the cupcakes with chocolate frosting!”

“Hey save some peanut butter fudge for the rest of us!”

As the three of them came up towards the cooler, Claire saw Jim approaching with his arms full and a big grin on his face.

“Cups, a kettle, and a battery operated hot plate. We have cider,”

Claire settled on the ground as they finished distributing the snacks between all eight of them, Jim getting the cider set up.

Soon they were all sitting on the ground and assorted hay bales, no sounds except for their munching on snacks and occasional sips of cider.

Wiping the fudge crumbs carefully off her face, Mary selected a shiny red candy apple and leaned back to take a selfie with it.

Darci gave her an unimpressed look “Do you have to do that every time we eat out?” 

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,”

Toby looked between the two of them, then pulled out his own phone, slung an arm around Jim’s shoulder, and flashed a gigantic smile.

“Smile for the camera,” Toby said while raising phone and his cider in a cheer “Here’s to our best Halloween ever,”

Jim started for a moment before raising his own cup and flashing a smile as Toby clicked a picture of the two of them.

Claire felt her own lips twitch, grinning and holding her cupcake up to her cheek while she snapped her own picture.

Darci threw her head back and let out an aggravated groan “You guys are literally the worst,”

Mary smirked at her while she took a picture of Steve and Eli ‘dueling’ with their candy apples “Jealous?”

Toby nodded sagely “She’s totally jealous,”

“Ugghhh!”

Shannon smiled and reached into her own pocket, but the second her hand went in the smile dropped off her face.

“Shoot, I lost my phone,”

All of them turned towards her.

“Where’d you see it last?” Eli asked.

Abruptly Shannon sat up bolt upright “I had it in the hay maze, and I took out to take pictures,” she got to her feet “I’ll check for it there,”

Claire set aside her cupcake “Want us to come help you look?”

Shannon waved her off “I got it, the maze wasn’t too hard so I should be quick,”

She turned and jogged off towards the hay maze, the others watching her go until she vanished around the side of the barn.

Coming to a stop at the entrance of the maze, Shannon paused to pull in a deep breath and headed in. She took the maze slow and steady. Keeping a hand on the left wall, surveying the various rows and glancing down corridors on either side of her for any trace of her phone. 

Ten minutes of careful searching passed without any trace of her phone, but she refused to let that worry her.

This maze was big and twisty, and she’d only covered a third of it, she still had a lot left to search before her missing phone became panic worthy.

Shannon glanced left and right as she passed by the different hay aisles.

No phone, no phone, no phone, no pho–

There!

She skidded to a stop, backtracking two steps. Down the aisle to her right there was a small black rectangle that could only be her phone, sitting on a large ‘chair’ of hay bales less than twenty feet away. A small sigh of relief escaped her, Shannon did not want to have to go to her parents about another lost phone, as she turned and headed towards it.

Approaching the hay chair, Shannon leaned down and picked up her phone, and looking closer it was indeed her phone, sliding it back into her pocket with no small amount of satisfaction. 

She raised a foot to turn and go back to the others, when she heard a soft snap from behind her. Shannon gave a little start, foot still poised halfway off the ground. Did one of the other kids follow he–

Something flew in front of her face, crushing pressure enveloping her throat.

Her body reacted faster than her brain. Limbs flailing a blind panic, clawing at her neck and kicking out at anything her feet could reach.

Blood pounded in her ears, lungs burning for air, the unyielding pressure wrapping around her neck tighter and tighter not letting so much as a gasp escape.

Even in her frenzied haze she could see the shadow of a person standing behind her, two hands pulling the cord tighter around her throat.

I’m being strangled, someone’s strangling me–

Shannon fought to regain her bearings even while her body was still in panic mode. Trying to direct her kicks and punches towards the figure behind her. An elbow to the gut, a kick to the shins.

Anything to get them to loosen their grip.

It felt like her head was going to explode, bright spots of light burning in her eyes, lungs aching for air. 

She might as well be fighting back against stone. The person behind her didn’t move, unflinching against her blows, pulling the cord around her neck tighter and tighter.

The pressure in her skull was nearly unbearable, the blazing spots swallowing up all her vision. Any lucidity she had left was burned away in animalistic terror, clawing madly at her neck, desperate to make this stop–

The blinding lights in her eyes began fading away into darkness. Panic flared at what that meant only to be instantly sucked away into the blackness that was claiming all sensation. Shannon was vaguely aware of her hands falling limply away from her neck, legs going slack, static in her ears. 

One final thought bubbled to the surface before her mind was completely consumed by oblivion.

I’m going to die here.

---

Claire bit her lip, amber sunlight filtering through the trees. 

“Maybe we should try calling hi–”

“We’ve tried calling him!” Mary’s voice was a shrill snap, barely masking her panic “In case you’ve forgotten we’re in a dead zone!”

Coach should have been back over an hour ago. The sun was well and truly setting, filtered into a dusky glow by the forest, and Shannon had been gone for a long time. 

She knew in the pit of her gut that something had gone wrong, definitely with Coach,�� and maybe Shannon to.

The jovial mood from earlier was gone, stark tension taking its place. Being alone here wasn’t fun anymore. And Claire couldn’t help but wonder if she was the only one whose mind kept cycling back to their talk of horror movies.

Either way no one was cracking jokes anymore. All flickering their gazes back and forth between the road Coach was supposed to drive up on, and the steadily setting sun. Waiting for something to happen.

Then Jim stood up. 

“Shannon’s been gone too long, we need to go look for her,” 

Mary shot to her feet alongside him, looking relieved at the chance to do something “Agreed,”

Claire was standing next to them less than a second later.

“We should all go together,” Toby added “I don’t think we should be splitting up right now,”

The others all got to their feet and joined them, except for Eli. 

He shot a stubborn glare up at them, folding both arms across his chest and firmly settling into his seat on the hay bale.

“I’m staying right here,”

Claire looked over at the others, the same uncomfortable look bouncing across the six of them. Darci broke away and took half a step towards him “Eli…I really don’t think we should split up like this,”

“Well tough, I’m not going anywhere, so if you guys don’t want to split up, stay here.”

“Shannon could be hurt or stuck somewhere,” Toby fired back, narrowing his gaze at him “And you’re more worried about getting in trouble than helping her?”

“You can tell Coach we made you come with us,” Jim added “But we shouldn’t leave you or Shannon all alone out here,”

Eli’s expression wavered, a shadow of uncertainty passing over his face, before hardening “It’s bad enough I let you guys convince me to wander off in the first palace, and eat the snacks Steve stole. I’m sure Shannon just got lost in the maze, and Coach is going to be back any minute, you guys do what you want, but I’m not going to move from this spot until he gets here!”

By the end Eli was practically shouting at them, all of them staggering back a little. Stunned at the normally meek Eli losing his cool.

Claire was torn, she knew deliberately leaving Eli by himself wasn’t right. But Shannon could be in desperate need of help, while Eli was just being stubborn.

“We’re going to go look for Shannon,” Claire said at last “Wait here and we’ll be right back,”

Her words seemed to give everyone the permission they were waiting for. Turning and heading towards the hay maze, all of them shooting tentative glances back at Eli as they went. But not slowing down.

Eli kept his mouth fixed into a firm frown, glaring at their retreating backs until he disappeared as they went around the barn.

“Yo Shannon, are you in here!” Toby shouted as they came up to the maze.

No reply.

“Well uh…looks like we’re doing this the old fashioned way,” Steve let out a nervous chuckle.

“Let’s stick together in here,” Darci said, tone forcibly light “If we split up things will just get even more confused,”

“Sounds good,”

“Works for me,”

“Definitely,”

“Let’s do it,”

Claire nodded her head, the six of them heading down their first turn into the maze.

They searched the corn maze as methodically as they could, someone going to examine every twist and dead end, without ever leaving the sight of the group, constantly calling out Shannon’s name, but even after almost ten minutes of searching there was no sight or sound of Shannon.  

Steve lingered by a group of haybales stacked into the shape of a chair “You guys think she’s mad at us, she has to, like, just be ignoring us….right?”

Claire tried to tamp down her steadily rising nerves. In theory it was possible that Shannon had slipped out of the maze without them seeing, but where would she go without telling them? And this farm was big but not that big so why wasn’t she answering when they called? 

Mary walked back to the group from the short dead end she was exploring “Let’s go to the beginning, try taking a different tu–”

An ear splitting shriek cut through the air, all of them involuntarily whirling towards the source of the sound.

Steve was scrambling backwards from the hay chair, face deathly pale and trembling all over.

Claire hurried over to him “What is it, what’s wrong?”

Steve didn’t say anything, jaw working up and down, skin chalky, raising a shaking finger to point at the hay chair. Claire stepped over to it to try see what had Steve so–

Her heart stopped.

Steve hadn’t been pointing at the chair, he’d been pointing at what was behind it.

From behind her she heard the others scream and stagger back, Claire herself couldn’t move, paralyzed by the sight in front of her.

Laying crumpled in a heap behind the hay bales was Shannon. Her eyes were blood red, staring sightlessly up at the sky. Deep claw marks had been gouged into her neck, from where she must have tried to tear away at the electrical cord still wrapped tightly around her throat.

“Is she– is she, dead?” Toby squeaked.

Mary shoved Jim forward “Your mom’s a doctor– check her pulse or something!”

Jim stumbled towards Shannon, he hesitated in front of her for a few seconds, before bending down to press two fingers against her neck. He looked up, face grave, and gave a single shake of the head.

That small action set the group a buzz with chatter, voices rising in pitch and intensity.

They all washed over Claire in a haze of noise, eyes still focused on Shannon–

Her dead body

In front of her. Heart pumping icy cold blood through her body with each drum-like beat.

Shannon couldn’t really be dead. This had to be a trick, or a prank or something. She’d been snacking and chatting with them just half an hour ago.

Before she even realized what was doing Claire was stepping around the hay chair to kneel in the dirt right next to Shannon.

This had to be a prank, a hoax, she knew Jim wouldn’t joke like that but he probably just made a mistake. Just because his mom was a doctor didn’t mean he knew exactly how to check for a pulse.

“Shannon?” Claire leaned in close “Get up this isn’t funny any more,”

Shannon didn’t so much as twitch.

The chill beneath her skin dropping a dozen degrees, Claire reached out to grab her wrist.

“C’mon Sha–”

The words shriveled and died in Claire’s throat.

Shannon’s wrist hung limp and lifeless, dead weight in her hand. Her skin cool, far too cool, to the touch.

There wasn’t any way she could be faking this.

Shannon was dead.

She scrambled back from the corpse–

That’s what she was now a corpse

The voices around her come back into focus with a pop.

“There aren’t even any mental hospitals around here!”

“Which is why I’m saying this has to be the guy who owned the farm!”

“But why the fuck would he want to kill us!? What did we do!?”

Claire all but stomped to her feet and whirled on the others “It doesn’t matter!”

They all jerked back, stunned into silence by Claire’s sudden outburst.

“It doesn’t matter who killed Shannon or why. What matters is that they’re here, they killed her, and now we’re all in danger. So what are we going to do about it?”

Everyone glanced around at each other uncertainly.

“We need to find somewhere secure to hunker down,” Darci said at last “Barricade ourselves in one of the buildings until Coach comes back,”

“No, what we need to do is get out of here, now.” Toby said with no small amount of force “The longer we hang around the more chances we have of this psycho finding us,”

“Agreed,” Mary added “We’re close to the woods right here, so I say we tear through the haybales towards the edge and then book it into the forest and head towards town,”

“What!?” Steve squeaked out ”There’s a psycho murderer here and you want to run into the dark spooky woods!?”

“It’s not like we’ve got a lot of options here!” Toby snapped.

“I’m with Steve one hundred percent,” Darci folded her arms “Running off to stumble through miles of dark woods doesn’t seem like a good idea,”

“And waiting here like sitting ducks is!?” Mary spat, face red.

“So your answer is to take us into the woods to get picked off one by one!?” Steve shot back.

“Oh like you–”

“Enough!” Claire shouted the word with enough force that everyone fell silent again.

She shut her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. Running through the different options in her mind “Toby and Mary are right, we need to get into the woods ASAP,”

“But–”

“I know it’s dangerous,” Claire cut Daric off “But staying would be worse. Coach should have been here over an hour ago, something went wrong and we can’t count on anyone coming to help us. Staying here just means that Shannon’s killer knows exactly where we are, and bottom line there’s no where here we can hunker down that the killer couldn’t set on fire,”

Darci shut her mouth, skin going ashy.

“I don’t want to run around the woods in the dark any more than you do, but at least whoever did this will have a harder time finding us there. And I’d rather deal with maybe a murderer in the woods than definately a murderer here,”

Dead silence settled over the six of them, tension crackling in the air.

“You’re right,” Darci’s voice cracked “We need to–”

“Oh my god,” Jim spoke up in a hushed whisper, eyes going wide “Eli!”

A fresh wave of shock rippled through the group.

Darci scrambled towards him, both of them whirling on the rest of them “He’s all alone,” her voice was shrill with panic “We have to go back for him!”

No one moved, Mary and Toby sharing a look.

Jim glanced back and forth between the two of them, clearly picking up on some nonverbal cue “Guys, what are you–”

“I think we need to make a break for it,” Mary said at last “Without Eli,”

Four jaws simultaneously fell open.

“Chances are Eli’s dead already,” Mary said stonily “And if we go back for him we’ll just get killed to,”

“What!?” Darci all but shrieked “We can’t just leave him behind!”

Toby shifted from foot to foot, gaze pointed down at the ground “If there’s a killer on the loose who’s picking us off one by one when we go off alone then Eli’s probably–”

“You don’t know that!” Jim fired back “If there’s a chance that Eli’s hurt and scared and we can still help him we have to try!” 

No one moved, a tense standoff forming, Darci and Jim on one side and Toby and Mary on the other. Steve whipped his head from side to side at each of them, jaw gaping open and shut with no sound coming out.

Claire looked back and forth between the two groups, weighing the decision in her mind, going back and forth before making her choice..

She moved to stand by Jim and Darci “If there’s a chance we can still save Eli we have to try,” she met Mary and Toby’s eyes in turn “We’d do the same for either of you,”

Toby and Mary wavered, glancing at each other.

“Ok…” Mary said softly “We’ll go back for him,”

“But no messing around in the maze,” Toby added “We knock the hay bales over and make straight for the entrance,”

“But….what about Shannon?” Steve’s gaze flickered back over behind the hay chair, face turning green and staggering back “We can’t just…leave her like this?”

“We can’t carry her Steve,” Mary’s voice was hollow “And I didn’t know Shannon too well, but I know she was pragmatic, she wouldn’t want us to risk our necks when she’s already beyond saving,”

Claire couldn’t help but flinch at that.

“But…” Steve eyed the chair again, expression pained.

“I– I got it,” Jim stepped around the stack of hay, reached down, and unwound the electrical cord from her neck, throwing it to the far end of the aisle. He pulled off his jacket, gently laying it over Shannon’s face and torso before standing back upright, face pale and hands shaking “Let’s go,”

Claire nodded at him before looking over to the rest of them “Toby and I will take point, Jim Mary, do you mind bringing up the rear and keeping an eye on our backs?”

“Got it,”

“Can do,”

“Great, Steve Darci, you stay in the middle and be ready for anything,”

Steve managed to squeak out an ‘ok’ while Darci’s only response was a tense nod.

They cut through the hay maze, Claire and Toby tearing bales aside to clear a straight line towards the entrance, Jim and Mary followed in last, constantly looking behind them and occasionally pulling some hay bales aside to cover their trail, with Steve and Darci nestled in the center.

Soon, far too soon, they stood at the entrance of the maze, lingering. The maze wasn’t safe, they’d just proven anyone could knock down the walls, and there was a good chance Shannon’s killer could still be lingering inside. But nothing bad had happened to them in the maze, now there was a sense of security to it, however irrational. No one wanted to leave to pseudosecurity of the maze to face the unknown.

But Eli was out there.

Claire swallowed.

The only way out is forward, dragging your feet is just going to put everyone in more danger. You have to keep going. 

“It’s just a straight shot and then one turn to the front of the barn. We’ll keep the same formation; Toby and I up front, Mary and Jim watching our backs and Steve and Darci keeping an eye on our sides,”

She forced herself to take a step outside the maze, a distance of less than two feet that felt like a thousand miles, then turned back to the others “We go in, grab Eli, and then book it straight into the woods,”

No one moved, all of their faces were pinched with various levels of panic and terror. Then Darci pulled in a deep breath and took a step after her. The others followed.

They moved quickly, a tight knot of people hustling towards the barn constantly surveying their surroundings in every direction. Searching the rapidly growing shadows of the deserted farm for any sign of a threat. It was less than a five minute walk to the front, but it seemed to stretch so much longer. Every step closer to their destination ratcheting Claire’s heartbeat up another notch.

Towards the fire pit, past the pumpkin throne, around the other side of the barn to where it faced the parking lo–

They stopped in their tracks, Claire’s stomach dropping, from behind she heard several soft gasps.

Eli wasn’t here, the hay bale he’d been sitting on, all the hay bales heaped in front of the barn were empty.

“Pepperjack?” Steve called out hesitantly “You here?”

They spread out among the bales, scanning all around them for any sign or trace of Eli.

“Come on out dude,” Toby this time “If you’re trying to get back at us you totally did it,”

Claire fought to keep her breathing under control, even while she couldn’t stop her mind from bracing itself for another sight like Shannon in the maze.

The only reason Eli wouldn’t be here was if something happened. They left him alone and the same person who got Shannon got him and–

She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood.

Stop working herself up and assuming the worst, Eli probably just stepped out to go to the bathroom. They were going to find him and then they would all get out of he–

“Oh– oh god–” Darci let out a strangled sob.

Claire snapped her gaze over towards her, seeing Darci with both hands pressed against her mouth with an expression of abject terror, and followed her line of sight to–

Her heart stopped for the second time today.

Ten feet inside the barn there was a steel tub, despite the thicker shadows inside she could see the glimmer of water filling the tub to the brim. Hanging over the side, face down and completely motionless in the water was Eli. Even through the dusky gloom she could see water dripping from his limp fingertips to land soundlessly on the dirt floor.

All around her the others screamed and shrieked with distress. Claire herself couldn’t make a sound if she wanted to, pulled by some nameless forced to step closer to Eli–

His corpse, another corpse.

She stared down at him, a dull roaring in her ears.

How long ago did this happen, did the killer pounce on him the second we left, could we have saved him if we were just a little faster.

Ears filling with static, she reached out to pull Eli from the tub. Maybe it wasn’t too late to save him, maybe they could still do CPR or something and bring him around. And even if he was dead they couldn’t just leave him like thi–

“Claire look out!”

She snapped her head up, whirling around towards–

The breath was knocked from her lungs.

A figure lurked near the wall of the barn, maybe they’d been there this whole time, with their all black outfit they blended seamlessly into the shadows. Long sleeved black shirt, black jeans tucked into black black boots. Even a pair of black leather gloves. The only color on them was the rubber clown mask they wore, white latex, a rubber fanged grin with a tuft of red polyester hair sticking straight up.

And the shining silver butcher knife they held in their hand. 

Claire knew, knew all the way down to her bones, even while the rest of her mind was screaming in panic, that this was the person who’d killed Shannon and Eli.

And they were going to kill her to.

Clown face stepped towards her, knife raised and ready to be brought down with lethal intent.

Claire couldn’t move, couldn’t breath, frozen in place even while her instincts were screaming at her to run–

Toby didn’t have that problem.

He let out a primal cry of rage, charging the clown face with a large rock in his hand.

Clown face whirled and stabbed down at him, Toby sidestepped at the last second and tackled clown face to the ground, not wasting a second and bringing the rock down hard against the clown’s temple, again and again. 

Seeing Toby rushing in broke the spell and spurred the rest of them into action. 

Jim tackled clown face’s other arm, pinning them completely to the ground while Claire kicked the knife away. Mary ran up and stomped on clown face’s groin as hard as she could again and again, her and Toby pummeling them from either end. Steve and Darci stepped in closer, but otherwise hung back and watched them go to town.

After what seemed like an eternity, Toby stopped pounding at clown face with the rock, the hand holding it still raised and ready to bring down again, panting.

Clown face lay there on the ground unmoving, Toby had been bashing him so hard with the rock that maybe…

Mary took a step back “Is he…”

“I…I think so,” Toby got off of him with shaky steps “But just to be safe let’s find some rope and– hnk”

Something hot and wet hit Claire in the face, hand going to her cheek involuntarily, it came away red.

She spun to the side only to see Toby sinking to the ground, a gaping hole in his neck.

Another clown face was standing behind him, same black pants and shirt, three tufts of green hair and blue diamonds over their rubber eyes.

And a bloody scythe in their hand.

The whites of Jim’s eyes bulged inside of his blood spattered face.

“Toby!”

Claire grabbed Jim by the arm and yanked him back to where the others were clustering up together.

On the ground the first clown face slowly rose to his feet, reaching over to retrieve his knife– 

He was getting up, how was he possibly getting up, even if he wasn’t dead Toby and Mary had beaten him so much he had to be at least a little injured, how could he possibly just get back up?

They’d been so focused on the killer clown in front of them that they hadn’t noticed another one sneaking up behind them. Claire had thought only one person was doing this but she was wrong, there wasn’t just one killer, there were at least two, maybe even–

She whirled around frantically, trying to see if there were any–

There, another clown face outside, fringe of blue hair and a wide red grin on his mask, steadily approaching the barn entrance.

A machete in hand.

Three killers– at the least, maybe even more, laying in wait, boxing them in from all sides. 

This wasn’t a spree, it was a hunt.

“Run,” Claire whispered.

They booked it, Claire pushing her way to the front, dragging the sobbing Jim behind her. Leading them all away from the macheted clown before they could be surrounded “Follow me guys, I’ve got a plan,”

Did she, did she really? Was this really a plan or just a flimsy, half baked idea thrown together with adrenaline and desperation?

But she needed to do something–

Inaction would only get them all killed.

Whether because they believed her or she was the only one giving orders, or maybe they were just acting on instinct now, they followed Claire as she ran towards the haunted farmhouse. Running up the porch steps, tearing open the door, and shoving Jim inside, the rest of them rushing in after. As soon as they were all inside she stepped in and slammed the door shut behind her, grabbing the coat rack and a chair and an end table– throwing whatever she could in front of the door to barricade it. At some point she noticed that Steve had joined her, grabbing the heaviest objects he could and piling them up to try and bar the door. Behind her she was vaguely aware of the sound of Darci consoling Jim.

“Toby would have wanted you to live, you’ve gotta keep going for his sake,”

The image of Toby with his throat slashed open flashed in her mind, a phantom spray of blood on her cheek. The real blood now dry and tacky against her skin.

It had been bad enough, more than bad, terrifying, horrific, to stumble across Shannon and Eli dead. But to actually see Toby being…

A wave of nausea hit her, but instead of crashing it rose higher and higher.

Just a little while ago they’d all been hanging together chatting and laughing, now three of them were de–

The manic fear crescendoed, Claire’s body could barely contain it. 

Who are these people, why are the doing this to us, why are they doing this why are theydoingthiswhyaretheydo

Claire squeezed her eyes shut, studs digging into her palms as she threw the end table against the door. Forcing the panic deep down past her stomach, all the way to the bottoms of her feet, putting herself on top of it.

It didn’t matter who these people were or why they were doing this.

They were here. They were killing them.

That was all that mattered.

As she grounded herself the sounds of the others around her came back into focus.

Steve huffing and puffing as he labored alongside her, Jim and Darci’s sniffles, and Mary’s quiet shushing.

Just like that there was nothing left to throw at the door, Claire and Steve stopped and stepped back. Claire allowing herself one more deep breath.

Claire needed to get it together. Running around in a panic like frightened rabbits was the worst thing to do right now. If they were going to survive she needed to keep a clear head. Calm, controlled, rational. 

Their survival depended on it.

“That’s not going to hold them for long…” Steve said slowly.

“It doesn’t have to, just long enough to slow them down,”

“Uh Claire, I hate to poke holes in your master plan,” the sarcasm Mary’s voice barely masking her terror “But there are only two ways in or out of here, all the killer clowns have to do is have one of them stand outside the exit and we’re trapped,”

“Not exactly,” Claire turned to face them “There’s a root cellar in the basement, saw it from the outside, I think we can get into it through the kitchen, if we can get there we can escape out the basement and book it to the woods before the clowns ever spot us,”

None of them said anything to that, and how could they really. It didn’t matter if it was a good or bad plan, it was their only option.

“Let’s go,” Jim said, cheeks and voice wet “I know the way,”

They moved to the next room, Jim in the lead and Claire right behind him. The first room off the front entrance was the dining room, the majority of the space taken up by a long wooden table, half a dozen chairs set up around it. The table had been set up with props for the ‘food’. Dishes of eyeballs and severed fingers, a bowl of rotting fruit and a severed head on a tray. All made more haunting by the light of the electric candles.

The chairs were occupied by dummies. Most looking like farmers with gruesome injuries, a bashed in skull, a saw blade sticking out of a chest, but there were a few skeletons and zombies mixed in.

But thankfully no clowns.

They crept around the table, keeping their backs to the wall as they edged around the room.

Everything they were looking at was plastic and latex, Claire knew that, she’d seen all of this earlier when she and Jim had gone through the house.. But in the wake of everything that had happened, there was a new sinister edge to the display in front of them.

Worst of all was the chair at the head of the table. Seat empty, pulled out to face them, hanging from the top was a sign written in jagged, sloppy letters.

‘Room for one more’

Her guts gave a painful twist.

They all skirted past the final chair silently, creeping into the next room, Claire forcing herself to turn her back to the dining room and face what was aheaad. 

The next room was the living room. Wine colored couches and chairs, fake cobwebs stretched over every surface, upside down crosses and pentagrams on the walls, tall flickering candles on the tables and mantle, and a portrait of a pale, dour faced man in a black robe hanging over the fireplace.

Just through this room, down the hall, then into the kitchen. From the kitchen they should be able to find a way into the cellar. Then from the cellar they should be able to slip out past the clown faces. Then all they had to do was lose them in the woods, and the–

“Did you guys hear that?”

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks.

“I just…” Darci glanced nervously from side to side “I thought I heard a creak or something,”

No one moved. Completely still and dead silent standing in the gruesome parlor. 

Nothing but silence radiated through the house, not even their breathing, all standing completely still and waiting for something to happen.

After a few more moments of dead quiet Jim hesitantly took half a step forward “I think that was probably just the house set–”

In a blur of motion a figure jumped out from behind the couch, charging towards Jim with a flash of silver. 

Claire’s ears and throat burned as they all screamed, Jim staggering back, both hands pressed to his belly, blood spilling out between his fingers. Clown face charged forward, raising the bloody butcher knife, but before he could bring it down again Steve slammed his shoulder into the clown’s chest and knocked him to the ground.

The two of them wrestled on the ground, Steve kicking the knife away and trying to pin him to the floor “Go!” he shouted, struggling against the squirming clown “I’ll be right behind you!”

Darci and Mary pulled Jim back and slung an arm over each of their shoulders, dragging him with them through the room to the exit. Claire was right on their heels, lingering by the doorway even as the three made their way down the hall. Fingers gripping the edge of the frame, watching Steve struggle against the clown “Come on Steve let’s go!”

He twisted and thrashed, each of them fighting to gain leverage over the other. Then in a surge of strength Steve bodily shoved the clown off of him and staggered to his feet, charging towards Claire.

He sprinted towards the door, but before he could reach her clown face grabbed his ankle and yanked him back with all his might, leaving Claire to helplessly watch in horror as Steve toppled towards the fireplace.

The fireplace was old and cold, there hadn’t been an actual fire in it for over sixty years, maybe even longer.

But the cast iron grate was still there, and the spikes were still very sharp.

Steve’s back hit the grate with a wet, sickening crack. Bent over it at an unnatural angle with two spikes piercing through his chest, blood soaking into the fabric around them. 

“Steve!”

Claire stood there, frozen in horror, Steve twitching on the grate.

A faint groan came from off to the side. She whirled to see clown face slowly but surely getting to his feet. 

She needed to get Steve out of here, take the whole grate if she had to–

But could she carry that much, even just Steve on his own? And even if she could, was Claire capable of moving both of them fast enough?

And even if she could carry him, moving him would make his injury worse, and with a wound like that would he even live long enough to get to a hospital? 

She needed to leave him. 

Steve was dead already.

But she couldn’t just abandon him, this wasn’t like the others. Steve was right here, he was alive and moving, Claire couldn’t just–

From across the room the two locked eyes. Steve coughed, a trickle of blood coming out, then his mouth soundlessly formed the shape of a word.

‘Go’ 

Claire didn't move, jaw working open and shut. She couldn’t– wouldn't leave Steve behind, they’d already lost Shannon and Eli and Toby–

Clown face was on his feet, stepping over to retrieve his knife.

Steve spasmed, hacking up more blood, his expression turned pleading ‘Go’.

Claire’s vision blurred, eyes brimming. 

One way or another Steve was already dead. Leaving him behind was the only option. He knew that and he was telling her it was ok.

But it still tore her up inside.

With a sob Claire turned and sprinted down the hallway after Mary and Darci, leaving Steve to his fate.

---

Steve watched Claire vanish through the door. Relief washing over him, but not enough to drown out the agony. 

His whole chest was a blaze of pain, more stabbing through him with every heartbeat, lungs burning, every little twitch and motion sending fresh bolts of agony through him. But just in his chest, he didn’t feel anything below that. Not just ‘no pain’, nothing, not his feet, not his legs, nothing. He tried to wiggle his toes but nothing happened.

They said that’s how you knew you were hurt really bad.

His body gave another painful spasm, mouth filling with a coppery taste he knew had to be blood.

Steve didn’t want to die, he didn’t want it to be game over at fifteen. There was so much he still hadn’t seen, so much he wanted to do. 

But at least in the end he hadn’t been useless.

The second things had gotten bad, no– his whole life, Steve had just been dead weight for everyone.

He hadn’t done anything to stop Shannon and Eli from going off alone and getting killed. And he’d been a coward and wanted to ditch Eli and make a break for it, Darci and Jim were the ones who made them go back for Eli.

Claire was the one who came up with the ultimate escape plan. The rest of them jumping into action to follow her lead without hesitation while Steve just stood there like a useless lump.

Toby had charged the killer without wasting a second, getting killed because Steve was too stupid to watch their backs….

He heard rather than saw, moving his neck right now or even moving at all, wasn’t going to happen, the killer clown walking over to him. Staring down at Steve with an utterly blank stare, or maybe not, that was a mask, not his actual face.

At least in the end he was able to help the others get away, at least he’d gone out doing something useful and hadn’t dragged anyone else down with him.

He might be a goner, but the others would be ok, they were going to get out of here. That was something, right?

The killer grabbed a fire poker and raised it high above his head.

Steve felt his eyes brimming, even as more blood filled his mouth.

He didn’t want to die.

The poker came down hard against his skull.

---

Claire sprinted down the hallway, choking on her tears, rushing into the kitchen through the entryway.

The others were already here, Mary and Darci were tearing the room apart, shoving aside dummies and props and ripping away faux bloodstained sheets. In contrast Jim was still, leaning against the counter with one hand pressed to his abdomen, face pale and t-shirt stained with red. 

They whirled at Claire rushing into the kitchen, marginally relaxing when they saw it was her.

“Where’s Steve?” Darci asked.

The only sound Claire could manage was a strangled sob.

All three of their faces turned grim as the realization sank in.

Mary shuddered once and then it was back to business “We think that the entrance to the cellar’s in the floor, help us lift up this rug,”

Claire got down on her knees next to Darci and Mary, lifting the thin, stiff carpet to expose shriveled wooden floorboards. They rolled the carpet away, an injured Jim watching from the side, exposing more and more floor, and finally–

“Here,” Darci pushed aside a section of carpet, revealing a wooden square cut into the floor, fixed with a large brass ring.

She and Claire grabbed the ring and pulled. The door opened with an ear splitting creak, a puff of stale, musty air filling the room, below was a rickety ladder propped against the side, descending into the darkness beyond.

Mary grasped Jim’s shoulder and gently tugged him towards the trapdoor “Let’s go,” Claire watched the three of them descend into the cellar one at a time, and once Jim disappeared from her line of sight she followed. Climbing down the ladder and shutting the trapdoor behind her, descending into the darkness below.

She didn’t see any of the clown faces on their immediate heels, but she couldn't assume they weren’t following.

They still had a chance to take them by surprise and give them the slip, but their window was slim and getting narrower by the second. They needed to move fast and get out of here.

She caught a glimpse of Jim, both hands locked against his bleeding belly, her stomach pinching dangerously at the sight.

And get Jim to a hospital.

Unlike the rest of the house the basement was old and decrepit and dusty in an authentic and not intentional way. And because she and Jim hadn’t come through earlier and turned on the electric candles, the only light came from Mary and Darci’s phone flashlights.

Claire pulled her own phone out and turned on the light. Bouncing it around the dark space until she spotted the cellar doors.

“There’s the exit, we may have to bust it open so let’s be ready to–”

“Claire, wait,”

They all turned towards Darci, who was eyeing the cellar doors suspiciously “One of those guys was already in here waiting for us, what if they set up another ambush outside?”

Ice water crashed over Claire, now eyeing the door like she would a nest of poisonous snakes, imagining one of the clowns waiting just on the other side.

“Then…what do we do?” Jim croaked out.

Heartbeat in her throat, Claire frantically bounced her light around the small space. There had to be another way out, a third option, something she just wasn't seeing, there had to–

She froze as her light caught something shiny, and when she realized what it was, hope surged.

“Over there!” Claire pointed towards a small door set high on the wall, metal slide leading up to it “I think it’s an old coal chute, that’s our way out,”

Mary rushed forward to join Claire at the shut, Darci letting Jim lean on her as they stepped up themselves. The light of their phones flashing on the metal as they pointed it up towards the door.

“Darc, C-bomb, you guys head out first so you can pull Jim up while I give him a boost, I’ll follow behind him,”

“I– I can–” Jim spat up a mouthful of blood.

Something cold and heavy sank in Claire’s gut “You just take it easy Jim, we’ll get you to the hospital in no time,”

Jim’s only response was a tight nod.

Claire opened her mouth to ask if Darci wanted to head out first–

What if they set up another ambush outside?

The words shriveled and died in her throat.

“Wh– why don’t I go first,”

Darci’s eyebrows raised, sharing a quizzical look with Mary “Oh…ok,”

Claire knew if she dragged this out she was never going to do it so she got down on her belly and started shimmying up the chute without wasting another second.

She pushed open the metal door, wincing at the load creak, and peeked out. In the brief time they’d been inside the daylight had faded away to almost nothing. But even through the dusk she could see that the area behind the farmhouse was vacant.

“All clear guys,” Claire pulled herself up and out through the metal door, bellycrawling onto the grass, as soon as she was clear she turned and reopened it, extending a hand down “Come on, I’ll pull you up,”

Darci’s ascent was fast, crawling up the chute and out the door to join Claire on the grass in less than ten seconds. 

Through the cracked door Claire could hear Mary’s voice wafting up from the basement.

“Come on Jimmy Jam you’re up,”

Claire and Darci flanked the door, holding it wide open and each of them extending a hand down as far as they could reach. From below Mary helped Jim climb onto the shute, boosting him up to them by a foot, bringing him high enough for Darci and Claire to each grab a hand and pull. 

Something inside her twisted when she spotted Jim’s face. Expression pinched, skin pale and clammy, practically sweating in pain, and maybe she was imagining it but the dark red spot on his belly seemed even bigger.

Claire bit her lip and fought to keep her breathing under control as they pulled him out onto the grass. Jim would be fine, he was still alive and moving, they were almost home free, they were going to get out of here and get Jim to a hospital.

He was going to be fine, they all were.

Jim collapsed onto the ground, she moved to help him up, but he held up a hand.

“I’m….fine….” he pushed the word out past gritted teeth “Get…Mary…out”

She crawled back over to rejoin Darci at the door, reaching a hand down to where Mary was already shimmying up the slide to pull her up through the door.

Now that they were out they needed to get into the woods ASAP, the closest way would be back the way they came, but Claire really didn’t want to be funneled between the barn and the hay maze again. They could go through the empty booths set up behind the house, but with all those little buildings their could easily be another amb–

Something ripped Mary out of her hands.

Mary caught herself on the edge of the edge of the door by her fingertips, face a picture of shock.

Glimpsing past her down into the cellar Claire’s breath caught in her throat.

Down in the basement two figures had grabbed Mary by the ankles. 

Both of them wearing clown masks.

Turning and peeking behind her, the whites of Mary’s eyes bulged.

“Pull me up!” 

Claire and Darci surged forward, grabbing Mary’s forearms and yanking with all their might.

The pull on the other end was unyielding but they didn’t give up, they didn’t dare.

Mary gritted her teeth, her whole body pulled taut “Don’t stop,” she forced out “Keep going,”

She couldn’t let Mary go, not when she was so close, not when they were so close. They’d lost so many, half of them were dead. They couldn’t lose anyone else.

She wouldn’t let that happen.

Claire dug in her heels, tightened her fingers around the flesh of Mary’s hand and forearm, and pulled.

Finally, finally, there was some give. Slowly but steadily Claire and Darci pulled Mary through the door. Tugging and tugging until her shoulders were out, then her waist. 

Buzzing euphoria shot through Claire

They were going to do it, they were going to pull Mary free and book it towards the woods and then–

Out of nowhere the pull dragging Mary back into the basement suddenly became much stronger, before Claire could react Mary was ripped out of their arms, dragged screaming down back into the cellar.

With the killers.

Claire immediately dropped to her knees, scrambling at the small door. Tearing it open, through the basement gloom she saw Mary crumpled on the ground in front of the chute. Behind her stood the two clown faces, one of them had his arm raised. He was holding something shiny, it was too big to be a knife, so what could it–

The machete.

“Mary!”

He swung the machete down hard, landing in Mary’s shoulder with a sickening squelch of blade meeting flesh and a spray of blood, an agonized howl ripping out of Mary’s throat. 

Then he did it again, over and over, more blood spraying out, spattering the metal shute and the pasty clown masks, Mary thrashing on the ground under the relentless hacks of the machete, her cries of pain getting louder and sharper, stretching out into something so pained and twisted that it barely sounded human.

She had to do something, help her, save her, she couldn’t just leave Mary to die–

Something ripped her away from the barn, the sight vanishing but wails of pain and sounds of blade meeting meat persisting. Claire yanked one arm free, spinning around to shove away the force pulling on her other shoulder.

Only to stop dead when she saw it was Jim tugging on her. Face waxy but expression resolute. From off to the side Darci recovered from the harsh shove “C’mon Claire we’ve gotta go,”

“We need to go back for Mary!”

“Claire we…we…” Darci choked up “We can’t help her…”

“So what, we just leave her behind!?” 

“We can’t help Mary without getting ourselves killed…” Darci moved to grab Claire’s shoulder again but Claire shook her off, something breaking in Darci’s expression as she did “Claire we’ve got to go, we’ve got to–”

A blur of motion cut past them, a low grunt escaping Jim. Claire and Darci snapped around, Jim was staggering, the shaft of an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. Fresh panic spiking through her, Claire whirled her gaze upwards. There was another clown face standing on the roof of the farmhouse, staring down at them through the sights of a crossbow.

“Run!” Darci screamed. 

They each grabbed one of Jim’s arms and ran.

They booked it around the side of the house. This wasn’t the fastest way to the woods, in fact there was a large stretch of empty field between the woods and them this way. But an open area meant less opportunities for ambush, and they’d be able to see anyone com–

As they cleared the farmhouse and sprinted towards the clearing, Claire glanced to their side–

The pumpkin canon, which earlier had been pointed down towards the open field, was now aimed directly at them, with a clown standing by it.

Claire staggered to a stop, pulling Darci and Jim to a halt with her.

The tell-tale hiss of compressed air crept across the clearing.

Darci stumbled “Claire wha–”

“Back the other way,”

“What ar–”

“Back the other way!”

Darci’s gaze landed on the pumpkin canon, confusion smoothing out into terrified realization. 

They scrambled back the way they came, pulling a staggering Jim after them. There was a loud whoosh and a rush of air, a large pumpkin shooting past where they’d been standing just seconds ago to splatter against the side of one of the booths.

Claire and Darci rushed back past the haunted house. Couldn’t go through the field, couldn’t go past the booths, their only shot was the gap between the barn and the maze that cut straight up against the woods.

The three of them charged, Claire’s heart threatening to beat out of her chest. The narrow passage to the trees seeming miles away.

Almost there, they were almost there, the woods and the meager protection they offered were right in front of them. They were so close, they just had to make it past the barn and then the–

There was a deafening crash and Claire was knocked to the ground.

Head spinning, Claire pushed herself upright, struggling to regain her bearings. Blinking her vision back into clarity, Claire found herself staring at a large chunk of concrete sitting on the ground in front of her. Jim was off to the side, groaning and pushing smaller chunks of concrete off himself. Darci was–

Her mouth went dry.

Darci wheezed, trying and failing to squirm. While Claire and Jim had just gotten glancing blows from the debris, from the chest down Darci was pinned underneath a gigantic pile of concrete and rebar. 

She looked up, eyes bleary and unfocused, but still softening when they landed on her “Claire….”

Hearing Darci sound so frail shot Claire into action. She scrambled over on her hands and knees, tearing chunks of concrete off of Darci as fast as she could “It’s going to be ok Darc, I’m gonna get you out of here,”

Darci’s only response was a strangled moan.

Blood was rushing in her ears, Claire’s hands were shaking. The concrete was so heavy, some pieces she could barely lift, and there were so many on top of Darci, crushing her, killing her. Claire needed to get her free and get them out of–

In a tremendous crash more concrete rained down on top of them, Claire jerking her arms up to shield her face and Darci letting out a shrill cry as more piled on top of her.

As soon as the hail of concrete ceased Claire’s gaze shot up. Another clown face was standing on the roof of the barn next to them, staring down at them through their mask, holding an empty wheelbarrow.

Claire forced herself to rip her gaze away from the clown, going back to frantically tearing at the pile of concrete on Darci. Her hands were worn raw, blood oozing from her palms, but she didn’t slow down, she didn’t dare.

Darci whimpered, twitching under the concrete.

“I’ve got you Darci, I’ve got–”

Another deafening rain of stone and concrete, sharps chunks bruising and cutting Claire’s face and arms as they descented. And when it finally ended only one of Darci’s hands was visible.

Claire’s galloping heart gave a painful clench. There was no way she could dig her out of this in time, she’d given it her all and barely made a dent, and that clown kept throwing more and more–

Desperate, Claire grabbed the hand sticking out of the concrete and pulled, Darci’s finger’s feebly gripping her own “Come on Darci, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I–”

Glancing off to the side, her blood went cold, frozen with Darci’s hand in her grip, two clown faces steadily approaching them.

Nerves screaming, Claire’s pulling intensified, even while Darci’s grip weakened “I’ve got you I’ve got you I’ve go–”

Another relentless hail of concrete and stone, but this time Claire didn’t let go of Darci’s hand, even all jagged chunks of concrete ripped at her face and arms.

She glared up at the clown on the roof through her tears.

"Leave us alone!"

Darci’s hand barely had any strength left in it, but Claire didn't stop pulling. 

Can't leave her behind, have to get her out of here, have to get all of them out of he–

Jim groaned from behind her, off to the side the clowns were getting closer, butcher knife and bloody machete held at the ready.

And no matter how much she pulled Darci wasn’t budging.

Her hand a limp, heavy thing in Claire’s grip. 

Claire let out a howling sob, dropped Darci’s hand, heart ripping in two, pulled Jim up by the shoulder, and ran.

She sprinted with all her might towards the woods, Jim stumbling beside her with one arm slung over her shoulder, not daring to look behind her. Even when they reached the treeline she didn’t slow down. Stumbling over roots and brambles charging deep into the dark forest with all her might.

---

From atop the roof of the old farmhouse, the lone figure kept their gaze trained and crossbow aimed at the two smaller figures in the distance as they ran towards the forest, barely visible in the dying sunlight. 

The figure held steady, even as the two on the ground vanished into the trees. For a second they continued holding the crossbow up, then slowly lowered it. Unloading and un-notching it. Crossbow lowered, they pulled a small object from their hip and raised it to their face.

"I just spotted the last two heading into the forest by the barn," 

The device crackled in their grip, the static clearing into another voice. 

"Leave them, the last thing we want is to be playing hide and seek in the woods, and the six we already got will be more than enough,"

They reholstered the radio, not bothering to reply, and headed towards the edge of the roof, climbing down the same ladder they’d used to get up.

On the ground near the bottom of the house others in similar garb waited for them.

The figure from the roof looked over them for a moment, all of them standing there silently, then reached up and pulled off her mask.

---

Claire didn’t know how long they’d been running, the woods were pitch black, she had no idea where they were going, they'd nearly tripped countless times in their breakneck sprint over rocks and tree roots. 

But she didn’t dare slow down, for all she knew the clowns could be right behind them. Claire could see it so clearly in her mind, the clowns chasing after them, right on their heels with blades in hand, ready to carve her and Jim apart in an instant. 

So she kept on running, even as her legs and lungs ached, heart threatening to burst, keeping a steely grip on Jim’s arm slung over the back of her neck.

By now she was practically dragging him.

The whole time they’d been running Jim had been getting slower and slower, putting more and more weight on her. Claire struggling to keep up her speed while practically carrying him. 

And while the front of her mind was ablaze with panic, deep down dark worry of what that meant for Jim swirled. 

Claire gritted her teeth, hauled Jim up higher against her shoulder, and pressed on. Emptying her mind of all thoughts except putting one foot in front of the other. 

She had to keep going, no matter how far away it was their only hope was forward, behind them was certain death. Had to press on, couldn’t slow down, their lives depended on it. 

Just keep runni–

Her foot caught against a rock, gravity took control before she could right herself and their momentum turned against them. 

Claire and Jim hurtled towards the ground, dirt and bark tearing into her arms and legs as she tried to break her fall, and landed hard. The air knocked from her already burning lungs and sudden brightness popping into her vision.

Shocked at how bright it was, Claire scrambled upright, ignoring the stinging in her palms and knees, and glanced around. They had stumbled into a clear space in the woods, the moon wasn’t full full but it was pretty big, and now that it wasn’t blocked by the trees it gave her just enough light to see by.

Shaking off the surprise, Claire frantically crawled over to where Jim lay sprawled out on the forest floor. Fortunately he’d fallen on his front, so the bolt hadn’t been forced in deeper. Her fingers twitched, tempted to yank it out, but she knew that would only make the bleeding worse. She grabbed one of his arms and pulled him onto his side.

“C’mon Jim we gotta keep going we gotta–”

Jim spasmed, head jerking to the side, a horrible hacking sound escaping him, blood coming out with it.

Knives twisted in her gut “Jim we have to keep going, we have to get you to the hospital, we–”

“Can’t–” he coughed, more blood flecking on his lips “C– Can’t…”

“Jim you have to, we–”

Claire happened to look down, the chill already racing beneath her skin getting even colder. The front of his shirt was completely soaked with blood, ink black under the moonlight.

She gritted her teeth, if Jim couldn’t walk she would carry him herself. Claire put her feet underneath her and pushed herself upright, only to get knocked back to the ground by a wave of exhaustion. She tried to get up again but her muscles were jello.

Stopping had been a mistake, now the adrenaline that had been keeping her going was gone and she could barely move.

Jim needed a hospital, but neither of them could stand right now, let alone run. She needed to try to slow the bleeding down herself.

Shaking, Claire sank back onto her knees and pulled Jim into her lap, taking care to avoid the bolt. And even while the idea of what she was about to do made her nauseous, Claire put her hand over where the blood was thickest on Jim’s stomach and pressed down. Bile rose in her throat, gagging as warm sticky blood oozed between her fingers and a pained hiss escaped Jim’s teeth “It’s ok, I’ve got you I’ve got you…”

Claire kept pressing down, even as more blood welled up around her hand, stomach pinching dangerously, forcing back the urge to vomit. She didn’t dare let up on the pressure, but if she kept looking she was going to puke.

Tearing her gaze away, Claire forced herself to focus on the far side of the clearing to try and clear her–

An unexpected pop of color stood out against the forest floor. It took a few seconds for her to realize what it was.

A rusty beer can.  

She swept her gaze around the clearing, taking scope of their surroundings. A clearing in the forest surrounded by stones, littered with decades old debris, and a small fire pit full of empty beer cans in the middle. They’d been here, all of them, just a few hours ago. The rock she’d tripped on had been the same one Darci had sat on.

Jim coughed again, Claire’s focus snapping back to him, a low mumble escaping him.

“Don’t try to talk, just hang in there and I–”

“I…I made you slow,” he wheezed “If I hadn’t…then Darci…and Mary…and Steve wouldn’t have had to…” he was cut off by another spasm, shaking him from deep within.

“Don’t talk like that!” Claire snapped, harsher than she intended “It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong, you couldn’t have…”

Jim’s bloody lips twisted in a grimace, he opened his mouth again, only to have it come out as a wheeze that turned into another bloody cough.

Claire’s heart twisted in on itself, squeezing his shoulder as tight as she could, pressing on his stomach as hard as she dared. Her eyes never leaving his.

“It’s gonna be ok Jim, I’ve got you,”

Jim’s shoulders slumped back into her grip, blood pouring out from between his lips, looking up at her with a pained gaze.

“It’s going to be fine, we’re going to get you the the hospital and–”

Jim shuddered again, a low rasp of air escaping him, the back of his head slumping into her arm as his entire body went limp.

The pain in his eyes fading away into an awful emptiness.

“....Ji….Jim?”

He didn’t move, a heaviness to his body that hadn’t been there seconds ago. Face slack, trickle of blood running out of his open mouth, blue eyes staring sightlessly into her own.

She jerked her bloody hand away from his stomach, the world around her spinning to a stop.

Jim was gone, she was holding him right here in her arms, staring into his eyes, but he was gone.

A deep hollowness settled into her gut, even as her ribs constricted around her chest.

She’d pulled him from that basement, dragged him halfway through the woods, and now he was gone.

No it was just her, all alone, clinging to Jim’s dead body.

Everyone was gone. Jim, Mary and Darci, Steve, Toby, Shannon and Eli.

They were all dead, all but her.

Claire couldn’t move, breath picking up faster and faster, pinned in place by the shock and horror of it all, hysteria rising.

Even though she was covered in their blood it almost didn’t feel real. Things like this were only supposed to happen in movies, not in real life, not to them.

Just a few hours ago, it felt like a lifetime, all of them had been sitting here without a care in the world, laughing and joking together.

Then those sick bastards had killed them all.

Leaving just her standing among all the bodies.

I could be a final girl.

Despite everything the edges of her mouth involuntarily curled upwards, panting breaths twisting into a hysterical laugh.

That’s how stories like this were supposed to end right? With one final sole survivor. 

The last woman standing. 

The final girl.

Left alive to walk triumphantly into the sunrise as the end credits rolled. 

Just as quickly as it had come the manic laughter trailed off into gut wrenching sobs.

What a sick fucking joke.

She didn’t feel anything like a survivor. All her friends were dead slaughtered in front of her eyes. She couldn’t save a single one of them, their lives ripped away in front of her eyes.

Weak.

How could she go on after letting all their lives slip through her fingers? 

Useless. 

And the worst part was deep down she knew their killers would never be punished.

By the time Claire made it out of the woods, called the police, and got cops out to the farm, the killers would be long gone.

Her eyes burned, tears running down her cheeks, as she stared into Jim’s sightless ones, more sobs gushing out of her. They’d only been dating for a month, but he was sweet and caring and she loved the time they’d shared together. Now every future kiss, every future dance, every moment they’d never had was stolen from them.

A keening sound escaped the back of her throat as more tears fell.

Mary and Darci, her two best friends, they’d known each other for over a decade. Made plans for senior year and college and adulthood together. Now all that was gone, their lives ripped out of her hands.

More sobs came, rocking her whole body with their force.

And Steve, for almost all the time Claire knew him he’d been a jerk, but he’d been trying so hard to be better, and now he never would.

She’d only known Toby through being Jim’s best friend, but she liked him, he was sweet and funny, and he’d charged at the killer without a second thought. And now he was gone.

Eli hadn’t deserved what had happened to him, dying alone and abandoned.

Even Shannon, someone she barely knew, and now never would.

Claire was barely aware of  Jim’s weight in her arms, an ocean of grief surging through her. Countless emotions crashing into her at once, pinning her in place on the ground while her body quaked with the force of the sobs shaking it.

People she loved, people she knew, people she wanted to know. All gone.

You failed them.

And every time she shut her eyes she saw them dying all over again.

The storm inside her surging to a peak, Claire pulled Jim as tight to her chest as she could, threw back her head, and screamed.

Screamed with grief for what she’d lost, screamed with anguish for what she would never have, and screamed with helpless rage at the killers who would never be punished. 

Claire screamed and screamed until there was no air left inside her, trailing off into a hoarse croak, no emotions left to empty out into the empty forest, absolute silence filling the clearing. 

Sitting there on her knees, panting and trembling, Jim still sprawled across her lap, body too weak to move but still burning with–

A concussive wave blasted through the clearing. 

Wobbling, Claire braced herself on the ground with one hand, the other protectively clutching Jim’s shoulder. Grief eclipsed by fresh panic.

What was that?

The sensation had reminded her of the boom of especially loud bass at concerts, but even that wasn’t quite right, and that sensation had always been more like a push, this had been a pull tugging her towards–

Claire glanced towards the center of the clearing only to stop dead. The firepit was gone. The circle of small stones was still there, but the inside was gone, everything inside the ring of stone a solid void of pitch black. She kept looking and looking and waiting for her eyes to adjust and give her a peek at one of the beer cans inside it, but it remained a bottomless black.

A chill swept over her that had nothing to do with the autumn night or the horrors she had just endured. Hadn’t it been normal when she’d stumbled into this clearing a few minutes ago? She hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to her surroundings, but a pitch black pit like surely would have grabbed her attention so when–

The stones bled.

Claire jerked backwards reflexively, dragging Jim with her, the oily redness around the pit rapidly spreading outwards. Grass and plants withered as the redness touched them, shriveling into burned looking husks. Rusty looking flakes peeling off of them falling–

Claire’s mouth went dry.

Up, they were falling up. Filling the air like flakes of bloody snow ascending to the sky.

For a moment she was so stunned she forgot to be afraid, it was only when the redness was about to touch them did she remember her fear.

She fumbled backwards, trying to get Jim and herself clear, but the redness swept under them, leaving them untouched, continuing its progress along the clearing, only halting when it reached the larger stones at the edge.

Claire just stayed there kneeling in the dirt, swiveling around at the inexplicable scene unfolding around her. So caught up in the sight of the rusty stuff rising from the ground she nearly missed the little flicker of motion.

She stopped and stared, surely she’d just imagi– 

Something moved inside the bottomless blackness of the pit.

Claire froze, breath caught inside her chest. More shadows shifting inside the dark pit, before something emerged. 

It was long and narrow, the top tapered to a sharp point, several more just like it following shortly after all connected to a–

An icy chill crept up her spine.

Those were fingers, that was a hand.

The hand slowly reached over the circle of stones and pressed against the ground, joints cracking as it did. The wrist bent at a sharp angle, releasing more cracking sounds as it did, the hand pushing against the ground to raise a long long arm connected to it out of the pit. Then a second hand emerged with another long arm behind it.

Claire could only watch, heart pounding in her throat, as whatever was in the pit pulled itself free.

A round head emerged first, facing away from her, followed by a spindly neck connected to broad, angular shoulders tapering to a narrow, almost emaciated chest. The…the thing sank low to the ground, crawling the rest of the way out of the pit. Its waist impossibly thin, almost wasp-like over sharp, jutting hip bones, legs just as long and gangly as its arms trailing along after it. 

For a moment it stayed there crouched on its hands and feet on the ground, then it snapped its head straight back, in a move that should have broken its neck, piercing Claire with its gaze.

A sharp gasp of breath escaped her, pinned in place under the thing’s stare. Its head was smooth and featureless; no mouth or nose, not even ears, just eyes. The thing's eyes were solid silver, the only part of its body that wasn’t dark, no pupil or sclera to speak of, staring back at her like twin, gleaming coins. 

Without moving its head, the creature slowly stood and rose to its full height, body snapping and contorting to face her without its eyes ever once leaving her. It was tall, head nearly even with the tree trops, long fingered hands hanging down to its knees. There was something vaguely skeletal about it, the suggestion of hip and shoulder bones in the sharp angles of its waist and shoulders, rib-like ridges lining its chest. Under the moonlight the thing had looked black at first, but now she could see it was actually a dark, almost wet looking red, giving the overall appearance of something that had been skinned. Shining silver gaze still locked onto Claire. 

Her instincts were screaming at her to run, but exhaustion pressing down on her too heavily.

They stared at each other in silence, red ash falling up all around them. 

“Who are you who has summoned me?” 

A voice boomed out, not overly loud, but unfathomably deep, echoing across the clearing.

Claire jerked back out of reflex, was that the–

“You who have called me to this plane,” the thing took a step towards her, speaking somehow despite having no mouth “What would you have of me?”

Her jaw gaped open and shut, struggling to get words out of her petrified throat "Wh– who are you?"

The creature didn't so much as twitch “I have been known by many names across the eons, but the ones who first pulled me through these stones knew me as the crooked one, the god of the bloody mound, Crom Cruach,”

“Cr– Crom Cruach…” 

For the first time the thing’s gaze left her own, going down to Jim in her arms.

“So that is what called to me, your loss,”

Claire scrabbled backwards against the ground, sneakers kicking up dirt, sending more red flakes up in a flurry, dragging Jim away from it “Do– don’t you touch him!” 

She tried to make her voice sound angry, but what came out was a desperate whine.

It– he? Crom, lifted his gaze back up towards her “Tell me child,” he took another step towards her, Claire scooting further back “What would you do, to have your lover returned to you?”

Claire’s jaw dropped open, blinking in surprise.

Did he….did he mean….

Crom slowly raised a long, dagger sharp finger, pointing it down at Jim in her arms

“Ask it of me, and you may hold him, whole and sound, in your arms again this night,”

Her teeth ground together so hard they hurt, fresh burning surging behind her eyes. 

A big scary monster rising out of the ground and offering to bring her dead boyfriend back to life?

Yeah, fuck that.

“No thanks,” she growled.

Crom crooked his head to the side with a painful sounding crack “You speak of denial, but even now I can taste your sorrow, why try to deceive me and yourself when I can grant your deepest wish?” 

All the emotion from the past several hours; rage, grief, fear, exhaustion, surged, boiled over, overriding ever ounce of self preservation in her body “You think I’m stupid!?” she snapped “You say you’ll bring him back, but you're probably just full of it! And even if you could bring Jim back it’d just be as a– a– a zombie or something!”

He cocked his head even further, so far that it almost looked like its neck was broken “Zom…bie?”

Claire pulled a lip up in a growl “A walking corpse! A sick, rotting fake! You say you can bring him back, but I don’t believe you!”

She sat there panting, heart pounding, Crom staring at her with his liquid metal gaze. For a moment Claire was sure he would rip her head off with a single swipe of his hands, then he stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a single breath.

“Lies are a human art,” he bent down towards her in a series of jerking motions “The wolf does not deceive as it slaughters the lamb, nor does the flame as it consumes the forest, so child…” 

His face was only inches away from her now “Look into my eyes, and tell me if you think I am speaking false,”

Alarm bells were screaming in Claire’s head, clutching Jim protectively to her chest–

But there’s nothing to protect, he’s just a corpse now, you’re clinging to a dead lump of meat.

Despite every instinct in her body wailing at her to get away– she couldn’t contain her burning curiosity…and the faint flicker of hope.

Claire squeezed her eyes shut, raised her head until she knew she was facing Crom dead on, and then opened them.

Twin pits of liquid silver started back at her, glowing with unearthly light. As she stared, she found that she was able to pick little flecks out of what she had thought had been solid.

Glimmers, flickers, sparks.

Hundreds of thousands of white hot metal sparks swam in his eyes, burning in an infinite, silver inferno, the head of them heat searing into her eyes.

Brighter, hotter, than anything she’d seen before.

Than anything that had a right to exist.

Claire wanted to look away but found herself mesmerized, even as the horror grew.

These weren’t eyes, they were gates, pits leading down into that merciless white hell, burning and burning.

This fire wasn’t something that deceived, squeezed itself into a different shape and pretended to be something it wasn’t. It would only tear and burn and consume everything that it touched.

Claire finally forced herself to rip her gaze away, staring at the ground, panting with fear, blood rushing in her ears, hearing the creaks as Crom stood back up straight.

She didn’t know what this thing in front of her– Crom, was, but he wasn’t lying, that much she was sure of, but still…

“It can’t be that easy…” she whispered, still looking down at the rusty, peeling ground, Jim clutched protectively against her chest “If bringing people back to life was easy everyone would do it…”

Crom snapped his head up straight “There is truth in what you say. Death takes a tithe that even I cannot deny. Your love’s human life has ended, but I can summon his soul from the otherworld into a new life,”

Claire peeked up at him “You…make it sound like he wouldn’t be human,”

“He would not,”

Her gaze lowering until her eyes met Jim’s sightless ones, heart pounding “If he wouldn’t be human…what would he be?”

“A beast of old, a being of magic reflected from his own essence. But though his flesh will no longer be human, his soul will be untarnished, his memories intact, and his mind his own,” 

Despite herself Claire felt her breathing start to pick up, it sounded too good to be true. But it had to be, whatever he was Crom wouldn’t– couldn’t lie, and Jim wouldn’t be human but he would still be Jim, and tha–

“Then, there is the matter of my payment,”

The glimmer of hope flickered.

There it was, the horrible catch, he’d bring back Jim, but only if Claire paid some kind of terrible price. She knew this was coming, Crom might not be a liar but she knew he was dangerous. If she was smart she’d tell him to go back to whatever hell he crawled out of, but….

She looked down at Jim again, his eyes, once so full of warmth and kindness, now cold and empty, his entire front slick with rapidly cooling blood, the sight twisting a knife in her heart–

Darci and Mary’s fingers wrapped tight around her own, the sickening crack as Steve's spine hit the iron grate, Toby’s blood splattering on her face, water dripping from Eli’s clammy fingertips, Shannon’s crumpled body lying there behind the hay–

She’d failed them, she’d let them all die. But now she had a chance to save them, all of them, and she wouldn’t let that slip through her fingers.

No matter how much it cost her.

“I’ll do it,” her voice was diamond hard “But I want to bring all of my friends back, not just Jim, all seven of them,”

If Crom was pleased or displeased by this he gave no sign “The payment for seven souls will be greater than for one,”

“I don’t care!” Claire snapped “I want them back, All of them!”

Crom stared at her for a moment, studying her with his molten silver gaze, before raising a hand, large enough to wrap around a tree trunk, and holding it out towards her “Very well, now my price,”

Claire swallowed hard but nodded her head.

“You shall serve as my priestess, blessed with unrivaled power and the collective knowledge of all my past shamans, and–”

“No.”

Crom stopped, his stare burning into her.

Claire swallowed but held her ground “I don’t want power, I don’t want revenge, I just want my friends back,”

A shudder rippled across Crom’s body, claw-like fingers curling together over his palm.

Claire shrunk back.

For the first time since she’d seen him, Crom was…displeased.

“There are forces and tithes in these worlds that even I cannot deny,” his voice was no louder than it was before, but now had a jagged edge to it “In order to work my miracles on this plane I need an anchor for my power,”

He raised his other hand, a single sharp finger pointing down at her “A priestess, and I have no use for a weak emissary, the power and knowledge I would give you is not something to be bargained for, but tied to your priestesshood. What you do with that power is entirely your own choice,”

Claire felt herself start to shake but nodded her head “Ok, I– I’ll be your priestess, but you said you needed a priestess just to bring them back, what else do you need?”

Crom’s head twisted to the side with a sharp snap “There is a balance to the worlds that cannot be disrupted, in order to summon seven souls from the otherworld I need seven more to cast down. To give your life new power I need a life to consign to the flame. For the seven souls returned and your own flesh reborn I require eight souls before the sun rises, eight for eight,”

“So…to bring my friends back…you need me to be your priestess to give you an anchor, and you need…you need to…take…eight people, before sunrise, to keep the balance?” 

“Correct, on this night while the veil is thin, all souls may exist on this plane, but if you do not bring me the eight before the sun rises, your power will fade and the souls of your companions will be pulled back to the otherworld.”

“If…if that’s just what you need, then….” Claire’s voice dropped to a low whisper “Then what’s the payment?”

---

Crom kept his hand outstretched towards her “Do we have a bargain?”

Claire bit her lip. This was it, she was so close to bringing them back, all of them, and yet…

“What happens to people whose lives you claim? Do their souls go to…to hell or…”

Crom crooked his head again, by now Claire knew that was the way he showed surprise or curiosity, but for her sake, not his own.

“Just as this world has mountains and deserts, so to does the otherworld have many peaks and valleys. The souls of those who depart this world dwell there, as do I. I can call souls forth or cast them down but I cannot control where they fall,”

Claire’s teeth dug so hard into her skin she tasted blood. That was…still unclear, but it was probably the best she was going to get from him, and it didn’t sound like souls he claimed were instantly condemned to hell. That was good right?

But still, what he wanted in return…

“So child,” Crom again offered her his upturned hand “Do you accept the terms of our compact?”

Claire didn’t answer him, again looking down at Jim’s bloody, dead-eyed body in her arms. Even though the thought of what she was about to do, what she was agreeing to, sickened her, Claire didn’t let herself stop. She reached behind him, grabbed that shaft of the bolt, and yanked it out of his shoulder with a sickening squelch, throwing it to the other side of the clearing. Now free of the protrusion, she gently lowered him to lie flat on the ground, and then forced her own feet underneath her.

This was going to be bad, just the bare minimum of what he needed was almost too much. And then the actual price…

Claire swallowed back her nerves, forcing her trembling arms and legs to steady.

But all the people she failed, her friends, they would be back, all of them. And maybe they wouldn’t be human, but they’d be themselves and they’d be alive. And Claire would be the only one to pay the price, not them. 

She raised her chin, meeting Crom’s gaze without flinching “I do,”

Crom stepped even closer, Claire forcing herself to hold her ground as he approached.

Only a foot away from her now, Crom held out his upturned palm, which as she watched, welled up with oily red fluid. It reminded her a little of blood, but blood wasn’t this dark, or this thick.

“Then accept it,”

Even though every instinct in her body was screaming at her to get away Claire lifted her own hand.

She was going to get them back, all of them. She would save them the way she couldn’t before.

She eyed the dark fluid in his hand, belly churning with dread. Crom remained still the entire time, liquid metal gaze watching her every move.

Then before she could stop herself, Claire plunged her hand into the middle of his. It sank up the wrist, the fluid surrounding it thick and tacky, almost like tar. Even as more dread flooded into her Claire shoved her hand deeper and de–

The fluid clamped around her hand, thousands of needles stabbing into every inch of skin it touched. Lightning shooting up her arm until it hit her spine, crackling through her entire body, every cell wailing in agony. She tried to jerk her hand away but the nerves wouldn’t respond, her entire body spasming as electricity raced through her, hand crushed inside a thousand teeth.

Then, through the agony spotting her vision, Claire saw Crom raising his other hand, lifting a single finger to tap her in the center of her forehead.

Bright light exploded in her vision, head threatening to crack in two even as every inch of her body blazed with pain.

The ground rushed up to meet her, Claire barely noticed hitting the dirt, getting a flash of black veins shooting up her arm as she fell. She lay there helpless, spasming on the ground. Wave after wave of agonizing energy coursing through her, tearing into every inch of her body. From the skin on her fingertips down to her toes all the way into the marrow of her bones, not one part of her escaped, every speck of her flesh searing with pain. 

Her teeth clacked together as she continued to convulse. Lightning crackling through her skull, the white hot stars flashing behind her eyes morphing into images.

A wild storm over an ocean of raging garnet colored waves.

People standing in a circle inside this same stone ring, raising blank, wooden masks to their faces.

Squalling babies thrown into a dark pit.

Countless gaping mouths full of gnashing teeth.

Claire was barely aware of the foam spilling out the corners of her mouth, writhing on the ground as unrelenting waves of pain crashed over again and again. In between the flashes of visions she could see Crom still see Crom’s shining silver eyes watching her.

Men with cords wrapped around their necks and blades stuck in their chests shoved into swamps.

Blood pouring from a slit throat.

Shriveled grains turning green and plump.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, that her body would rip apart under the strain, there was a shift.

The caustic energy shooting through her didn’t abate, but it started to settle. The pain simultaneously getting worse and better as the flesh that had rebelled so violently to the energy’s presence slowly started to let it in.

A man with a white beard down to his feet, raising his hands to the sky as rain fell around him.

People dressed in furs dancing around a massive bonfire, heads thrown back in joyful laughter, lips smeared with milk and honey.

The pain started to drain away as her body hummed with energy, a storm captured beneath her skin..

A woman painted in red from head to toe, only the whites of her eyes visible. Monsters of all shape and size, teeth and claws and fangs, all ran, but not towards her, from her. Fear flashing in their yellow eyes.

The last of the pain faded away, sensation slowly creeping back into Claire’s limbs, feeling the power that thrummed through them.

The storm wasn’t trapped inside her it was her. It swam in her blood, crackled in her nerves, sang in her bones. Buzzing along the contours of her flesh. 

That’s what she was now, a storm in the shape of a girl.

Claire rose to her feet, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm, the crippling agony from moments ago a faded memory. She squared her shoulders and looked Crom dead in the eye. He hadn't moved the entire time, hand still outstretched, palm welling with fluid, watching her expectantly. Without breaking eye contact she flicked her wrist, the storm inside her surging.

Flames burst to life around the edge of the clearing. Circling them in a ring of fire.

Crom let out a satisfied hiss, the flames illuminating the blizzard of red around them, his meat-like skin glistening in the light.

The fluid in his hand bubbled and seethed, threatening to spill over the edge of his palm.

“Our compact is made,” Crom turned and took two steps towards Jim.

Claire watched as he raised his hand over Jim and tilted it, letting some of the deep red fluid dribble on to his face.

“Now let the fallen return,”

She kept her eyes locked on Jim, on the fluid that had landed on his cheek. For a second it sat there stagnant, before sinking into his skin, draining away like water into parched earth until it vanished entirely.

Claire didn’t move, her eyes still locked onto Jim’s blue ones as they stared blankly towards her.

Then Jim blinked.

#tales of arcadia #trollhunters #toahalloween #halloween #fanfic #rmvwrites #horror #gore #dark #slasher movie style deaths #slasher movie tropes #aversion of slasher movie tropes #implied/referenced racism #implied/referenced drug use #misogynistic language #major character death #graphic depictions of violence #dig your eight graves

[optimisticaudience]

Every person who says Xiaolin Showdown didn’t have issues with racism should have to sit down and watch a full episode table read with the white cast. Like, I see people bend over backwards about Omi’s character design but I want people to look at the white lady doing the Charlie Chan voice and tell me with a straight face there’s no racial undercurrent. Also why does the Chinese monastery have a dragon with a Japanese name? Dojo is a Japanese word? Who made the “eh no one will notice” decision there?

#Yes I liked the show as a kid #but i'm not going to act like it did not have any flaws #Yes the creator is Chinese. #She can answer the Dojo name question #xiaolin showdown #tw racist #tw racism #I'm not averse to actual real accents #like Candy from Gravity Falls

[koheletgirl]

Would love to hear about how you became an anti Zionist!

before i get into this, i'd like to direct you to some of @jewishvitya's posts: [x] [x] [x]. i think their perspective is more relevant to the current situation than mine, and they address issues that i won't get into here because they had no personal relevance to me and you asked about me.

so my family is considered left-wing in israel. my parents voted for ha'avoda (israeli labor) in most elections i can remember, my mom even went "as far" as voting for meretz (as far as jewish parties go, they're the furthest to the left. still zionist though. didnt get enough votes to get into the knesset in the last elections). i grew up mourning rabin, hating bibi before i even knew who he was, believing that the settlements are the source of all israeli wrongdoings. in 2005 people would put ribbons on their cars – green if you support dismantling the settlements in gaza, orange if you're against it. we had a green ribbon. my family talks about the two states solution, about going back to the '67 borders. my grandmother jokingly calls herself a "leftist traitor", because that's how the right labels them.

i grew up with these values. i was taught to value human life, i was taught that all people were equal, i was taught that nationalism and imperialism were wrong. we weren't afraid of talking about the occupation. we weren't afraid of calling israeli fascism what it was. you might have heard about the democracy protests that have been happening in israel in the past year; my parents went every week.

i think this is why it took me so long to break out of my zionist worldview. people talk about zionism as if it's explicitly genocidal and built on racial supremacy, and i understand why (and agree with this to an extent), but you have to understand how absurd this idea sounds to people like my parents. they don't think zionism is the issue, they think the israeli right is. they acknowledge the evils of the settlers in the west bank, but they would never consider themselves settlers. it's very easy to see the wrongness of a person going to someone's house and violently kicking a family out of there because they believe it should belong to them (not a hypothetical, this is happening in the west bank as we speak); it's a lot harder to think that maybe everything you were taught to believe about your own right to be here was a lie from the beginning.

and that's the problem, that it is a lie. we are literally taught there was nothing here. swamps and malaria and sand and sand. the zionists built a civilization out of nothing. that's the story, that's the myth.

another aspect of this that's essential to acknowledge is the dehumanization of palestinians in israel, which is still prevalent in leftist circles, despite taking a different form. the israeli left Loves to make the distinction between palestinians and "israeli arabs" - a term that some people that i have met have used for themselves, and i am not the right person to speak on (i'm sure there's nuance here i'm unaware of). these people don't think of themselves as racists. they don't mind arabs in general, they only mind "the arabs who want to harm us". and it's so easy for them to pat themselves on the back because they have plenty of arab friends and they actively oppose the goverment's racism; but they all draw the line when it comes to palestinians. to them, once a person calls themselves a palestinian, it means they believe jews have no right to exist here. it means their existence is at odds with their own. they don't see palestinians as people, they see them as an agenda.

i was going to add a bit about how the israeli left's aversion to religion (which stems from the influence orthodox jews currently have on israeli law) plays into this, but this is getting really long.

anyway. for me, it wasn't a revelation as much as it was a willingness to open my eyes to the fact that everything i had been taught was a lie. it was always there, this doubt, this uneasiness. i knew that there were a lot of people over the world whose opinions i generally agreed with – except when it came to israel. it just took me a really long time to be able to doubt Everything.

because that required tearing down everything my worldview was based on, everything i had believed in, and it was scary. it's a very, very difficult thing to do. not knowing what to believe is horrifying. realizing you have believed in lies your whole life is horrifying.

but at some point i had to ask myself: how can i hate everything this country stands for, and not doubt what it's taught me? how can i know what i know about the idf, and still believe it's acting humanely? and the thing is, i still don't know what to believe a lot of the time. i still doubt everything, all the time. i'm critical of all of my beliefs, and i think it's good to be. but i listen, and i look, and i feel, and above all i try to be compassionate. and there's only one stance you can take here if you value human life above all else.

here are some israel-based organizations that influenced my political views and i recommend checking out (even though i have my disagreements with them): b'tselem, standing together, breaking the silence, mesarvot

#ask #anon #israel #mmm idk what else to tag this #i had to stop myself at some point but know that obviously there's a lot more to it than what i sad

[interesting-interludes]

the comforts of creatures (5)

creature comforts:

↳ material/bodily comforts, such as food, warmth, or special accommodations, that contribute to physical ease and well-being

→ pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

→ genre: supernatural!au, soulmate!au, hurt + comfort + recovery, angst with a happy ending, fluff, eventual smut

→ word count: 4.8k

→ summary: you learn what you are, and your reaction is far from what they expected. as they try to help you feel safe, the boys learn about your triggers, and they try their hardest to help in any way they can.

→ trigger/content warnings: PTSD (self-loathing, mistrust, flashbacks/nightmares) effects of brainwashing, lil’ bit of lore, overt and internalized racism/species-ism (?), vomiting, anxiety, mentions of starvation/food poisoning, mentions of physical abuse, dissociation, mentions of torture, aversion to touch, mc pushes jimin but he’s okay, jimin is an angel, facial/body scars, body dysmorphia/repulsion

→ a/n: thank y’all for your patience :) here’s some more hurt before the comfort lol

past part ← series masterlist → next part

part 5: scars and soothers

“This is you.”

The man is pointing at a detailed image drawn in faded ink. The rest of the page is filled with scripted text and anatomical diagrams.

You can’t look at first, scared of what you’ll find.

When you finally do, you don’t know what to think. There’s the thought that he’s kidding, he’s lying. He can’t be serious.

The drawing is of a creature with tawny-feathered wings extending magnificently in the air. It has the body of a powerful big cat, muscular yet elegant. Its four legs end in sharp-taloned feet. Its neck is framed by a golden mane, looking like a big frilly collar. The mane’s trail travels down the creature’s chest and back, ending in a flowing tail. It has the face of a lion, with white whiskers and deep yellow eyes, yet the regal posture of an eagle.

A diagram off to the left shows the inside of its mouth, lined with row upon row of sharp teeth and protruding fangs.

Looking back up, you search the faces of the men around you. None of them appear to be joking.

You can’t speak.

You’re one of them, one of the creatures they all despised. The creatures that roam the wild lands for easy prey, spreading carnage wherever they go.

No wonder they hated you so much. You’re not even human.

A few silent, involuntary tears fall from your eyes, which are locked back on the page. You wipe them away hastily.

The boys don’t know how to react, all looking at each other with concern.

“What...” you squeak out, voice choked. “What is it?”

“A gryffin,” Yoongi replies. “You’re a shifter.”

Something gurgles in your stomach. You clench your teeth, nails digging deep into the meat of your thighs.

You believe him. You don’t want to, but you believe him. You’ve always felt less than human, like something wasn’t right about you. Like something was just beneath the surface, clawing its way up.

Now you know why.

Jungkook, who’s sitting closest to you, slowly, cautiously puts his hand on your shoulder in an effort to comfort you.

But you flinch at his touch, jerking away.

You don’t catch the look of hurt that flits across his face. He knows you can’t help it, but it still stings to think that his touch physically repels you.

“What did they tell you about atypicals?” Namjoon presses, trying to shift your attention so you won’t look so disheartened by the reality of what you are.

From the way you look at him, he knows that you’ve never heard that word before. Or at least you don’t remember it.

“Atypicals are anything that falls out of the humanic species,” he explains patiently.

Your face scrunches in confusion.

“Humanic as in human,” he elaborates.

You don’t understand why he’s talking like that. You’ve never heard these terms before. In the place you came from, the “facility,” anything that wasn’t human was an abomination, a mistake in the eyes of nature.

Simple as that.

But here, things seem to be a bit more complicated.

Nausea is starting to bubble in your gut. You breathe carefully through your nose as you consider Namjoon’s question.

“They said...” you begin hesitantly.

They’re all on the edge of their seats, desperately wondering what those bastards brainwashed you to believe about their kind, your own kind.

“They said that they were monsters.”

Another pang of hurt thrums through their hearts.

“That...that they deserved to be hunted down like dogs.”

They can hear the pain in your own voice, either from witnessing their cruel behavior, or from realizing that you’ve been the target of it this whole time.

Your stomach churns.

“They said I wasn’t even worthy to lick the ground they walked on.”

They can all hear you choking on your tears, despite your attempts to hide it.

Jimin and Jungkook feel like their chests are going to burst from holding it in, both the sorrow they feel for you and the urge to rush forward and drown you in affection.

Jin and Namjoon have storms raging inside their heads. Namjoon is calculating, trying to decode what exactly their motive was and how to use it to track down the ones in charge of it all. Jin’s mind is reeling with ways to undo the damage they’ve done, mentally and physically.

Yoongi is swimming waist-deep in despair. He can’t help but think of what’s to come. You’ll have to relearn everything. How to shift, how to fight, how to cast. That is, if you even want to.

You feel the newly strung tension in the air, looking like you just realized you said all of those things out loud.

One look around the room, and your newly found voice retreats deep into your throat.

The man called Namjoon, his eyes have darkened, jaw clenched and ticking like he’s grinding his teeth.

The one who tended to your wounds is sitting stiffly in his chair, staring ahead with a new sharpness in his face.

The small dark-haired man has his hands clenched, prominent veins crawling up his arms.

You duck your head down, body stiff with nerves.

“You have to know,” Yoongi begins, voice calm as ever despite the rage just below the surface. “That’s not how most people think. Especially not here.”

Here in the North Regions, atypicals make up the majority of the population. Law enforcement, government, and public works are largely run by them, and prejudice is rarely an issue.

But how could you know that now?

They can all see the change. It’s almost instantaneous, the way your face shifts and loses all semblance of emotion. Just like that, the mask is back up.

Then there’s something else. A slight twitch from your nose, a well-hidden shudder. They can see your throat bobbing.

For a few seconds, it looks like you’re about to say something. Your tongue is moving inside your mouth, and you’re blinking rapidly.

Namjoon is about to utter some gentle encouragement, but a jolt racks through your body, making you hunch over.

All of a sudden you’re vomiting up everything you just ate.

Hoseok, Jungkook and Jimin can’t help but jump to their feet, panicked noises filling the air.

Taehyung’s eyes widen. All his limbs go rigid, paralyzing him in his seat. He feels sick himself.

Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi all look at each other.

Yoongi thrusts into action, heading to the kitchen with Jungkook in tow since he isn’t good around pungent-smelling things.

Namjoon starts giving instructions. Jimin, paper towels. Hobi, get the mop. Said men jolt into action, scrambling to do whatever they can to help.

Jin’s eyes have been fixed on you for some time now, catching your every move, including all the suppressed flinches and tremors.

He’s at your side in an instant, on his knees to try to catch your eyes. But it’s no use, you’re squeezing your eyes shut like you’re expecting to be hit.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he mutters in his gentlest voice. “It’s no big deal. No one is upset with you.”

As much as he wants to, he refrains from touching you right away.

Eyes still tightly shut, you flinch away from the sound of his voice, twitching with anxiety.

Jin can see you start to spiral, so he does the only thing he knows will work.

“Hey,” he begins, voice firmer than it was before. “Look at me.”

Your eyes snap open, shining with moisture.

“That’s my girl,” Jin says before he can help it. “You’re going to calm down for me, yeah?”

Your eyes desperately search his face, looking for any sign of anger or deception. You find none, not even a hint of disgust, and your breathing starts to slow.

All that’s there is the man who tended to your wounds, watching you with those patient eyes. His handsome face is calm, attentively anticipating whatever you need right now.

Sweat gathers on your skin. That same sensation crawls up your throat, saliva pooling in your mouth.

Jin notices the signs immediately.

“Come with me,” he orders softly, putting a light hand on your back and leading you to the nearest bathroom.

You don’t know what to do with yourself.

You remember vomiting a few times at the facility. Once from eating a rotten vegetable, the mold making it impossible to identify. And once when a handful of keepers had held you down, repeatedly punching you in the stomach, until you gave in and called yourself a mutt.

Both times you were severely punished for making a mess. You learned to hold it in your mouth and swallow it down after that.

Jin guides you to kneel over the toilet. He keeps talking to you, but you only process half of what he’s saying.

“Go ahead, let it out,”

You can feel it creeping up, burning and sour. But something deeper, something almost instinctual, tells you to keep it down.

“Stop holding it in, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s not good for you. It’s okay to let go.”

Before you can think to suppress it, another wave of nausea surges through your body. The crescendo of it makes you wretch, emptying the last of your stomach’s contents.

“Good, good, just get it all out,” he encourages instead of beating you until you can’t breathe.

The bile is bitter in your mouth, but not more bitter than the dread clinging to your entire being.

He’s not going to punish me, you finally realize. It’s almost an impossible thought.

For a moment, you stay hunched over, frozen. Not sure what to do next.

“Here, come wash your mouth out,” Jin says, helping you stand up on shaky legs.

The sound of running water rings in your ears. You feel the coolness against your tongue, but barely register that you’re the one cupping it to your lips. Numb. You feel like you’re controlling your body from the outside rather than the inside.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

You look up at him for the first time in a while. His face is as kind as it was before, with the same full-lipped smile and warm brown eyes.

The man starts to lead you out of the room, that same gentle hand resting on your back.

It isn’t until then that you realize you’re still in the grimy clothes they found you in. And now the entire front of your shirt is stained with even more filth.

You glance into the living room as you pass through the hallway.

The other men are diligently cleaning the area you just soiled. The small dark-haired man and the muscular man are missing, though you can hear rustling from the kitchen.

The one with the jet black hair and bright face catches your eye, flashing a reassuring smile. It makes you rip your eyes away.

Jin guides you into the living room, and everyone immediately looks your way.

Shrinking, you’re shrinking into yourself as much as your body will allow.

“Someone run a bath,” Jin announces. “I think it’s time our little guest got some sleep in clean clothes.”

The fair-haired one steps forward and exchanges a subtle look with Jin, who’s standing slightly behind you.

“Would you follow me?” the shorter man says, holding out his hand.

It’s the one with the silver-gray hair and warm eyes. You think his name is Jimin. His face is soft and friendly. It asks a silent question: will you trust me?

You don’t take his hand, but you do take a step up the stairs in the direction he’s leading you.

You don’t catch it, but Jimin and Jin exchange a heartfelt glance, nearly ecstatic at the fact that you’re beginning to trust them.

Jimin leads you up the stairs as the rest of them settle things downstairs.

When you reach the top, he guides you down a spacious hallway that’s filled with potted plants and window light.

Every single door, down to the very end of the hall, is open. Whether it’s open wide or just a crack, not one of them is closed or locked. You’re not used to it.

The man, Jimin, stops at a door halfway down the hall and looks back to check if you’re still following him.

You stop a few feet away from him, still keeping your distance, but your expression is open and neutral, waiting on his next move.

He gives you a calm smile, and continues into the room with you behind him.

This room is just as bright and inviting as the rest of the house. White walls and clean tile floors, but this time with a large porcelain tub and a sink with marble countertops.

The man turns to look at you with a question in his eyes.

“Shower or bath?” he asks.

It’s a harmless question, a considerate question. But your mind is yanked back to that place.

Shower. A torrent of fire raining down on you, vision blinded by steam. It comes from every angle, unrelenting no matter how much you scream.

They would strip you down and lock you in a metal stall the size of a coffin. Then the dotted ceiling would unleash a downpour of near-boiling water.

You would bang on the walls, but the water made the metal surface just as hot, the floor burning the bottom of your feet. Minutes or hours they kept you in there, not letting you out until your body was covered in burn marks.

Bath. The most intense cold you’ve ever felt. It’s everywhere, submerging you up to the neck, seeping down to your very bones.

They would chain you down in a tub full of ice, nothing but your head poking out of the frigid water. The cold chains cut into your skin the more you struggled. Your lungs would heave from the shock of it, your whole body shivering violently.

Then they would hold your head underwater until you were bucking like a stuck pig. This went on until you were utterly exhausted, falling limp against the freezing porcelain with nothing but the tight chains holding you up.

You’re snapped back to reality when the man takes a step closer. He’s watching you closely, trying to read your face.

Finally remembering that he asked you a question, you shrug your shoulders and shake your head.

You don’t want either. You don’t want to be anywhere near that tub. You want him to leave you alone.

Jimin guesses that the gesture means you don’t care which one. He figures you’re most likely still weak from malnourishment, and he doesn’t want you fainting and hitting your head.

So he opts for a bath, turning on the faucet. He sits on the edge of the tub, hand under the spout to monitor the temperature.

The sound of running water makes every muscle in your body tense up. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It’s going to hurt, it’s going to hurt. The fire, the ice, it’s going to burn and sting and cut into your flesh. You won’t be able to escape it.

Jimin doesn’t notice it at first, too focused on adjusting the knobs to get the water not too hot and not too cold, but your breathing has picked up again.

You can already feel it filling your ears, your mouth, rushing down your throat as your head is held down. Your skin prickles from the heat, it quivers from the cold.

The water in the tub continues to rise, and you can’t move. Your body is frozen, feet rooted to the floor as the sound of sloshing roars louder and louder in your ears.

Halfway full, now. It’s coming any second. He’s going to turn on you, throw you down and hold you under.

Burning, freezing. It’ll hurt and hurt and hurt.

Jimin turns his head, and his stomach drops.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, lips pursed like you’re trying to bite back a scream. Fists clenched at your sides, shoulders trembling, as your chest heaves up and down.

Immediately, he jumps to his feet and rushes over to you.

“What is it, babe? What’s wrong?” 

Then he makes a big mistake. He puts his hands on you.

His touch is gentle, nonthreatening, nothing but two hands on your shoulders. But you don’t want it, you’re repulsed by it. Because touch always comes before the pain.

On instinct, your body jerks away, arms moving to push the unwelcome touch away, just get it away. Your hands collide against something, hard.

When you open your eyes, the man is on the floor. Sprawled on his back, looking up at you with wide, slightly watery eyes.

There’s shock plastered on both of your faces.

Jimin’s soft heart hurts a little, he can’t help it. In all the years he’s known you, loved you, you’ve never ever been repelled by him. But that hurt is soon drowned by guilt.

He scared you, he made you feel unsafe. You felt the need to protect yourself and it’s his fault.

You’re staring at your hands in horror, completely floored by what you’ve done. You’re in for it now. He tried to help you and you hurt him. Now they’re going to hurt you even more.

Several sets of pounding footsteps draw near. The others must have heard the thud from downstairs and rushed up to see what was wrong.

What they don’t expect to find is Jimin crumpled on the floor and you standing over him in a braced position, but that’s exactly what they see when they peer through the doorway.

They’re all a little astonished, Jin and Namjoon are thinking deeply, and something in Taehyung’s eyes shifts.

He isn’t proud of it, but a surge of protectiveness washes over him, for his Jimin. He knows it’s unreasonable, unfair even. But it’s still there. And he can’t snuff it out.

A new fear consumes you. You were insubordinate, you resisted. You know what comes next.

A sob gets trapped in your throat as you sink down to the floor, burying your head in-between your knees and using your arms to shield yourself.

Immediately, the same way Jimin did, they all rush forward to comfort you.

“No!” Jimin blurts out, making you flinch and shake violently. “Don’t touch, give her some space.”

They all obey, keeping their distance with concern flooding their features.

Jimin shifts onto his knees, scooting a little closer but still keeping enough away.

“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispers, like he’s talking to a wild, cornered animal. “It was my fault entirely. I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m truly sorry.”

Jimin’s voice has always been soothing, even in the darkest times, and your breathing slows a little.

Jimin realizes that the faucet is still running, and he reaches over to switch it off. Then it comes to him.

He turns back to your trembling form, still waiting for the pain to come.

“You’re scared of the water, aren’t you?” he asks gently.

He doesn’t expect you to reply, he just wants to let you know that he’s trying to understand you, to help you.

You nod slightly.

It shocks them all again. You’re becoming more responsive.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Jimin says with all the sincerity he can muster. “It’s not your fault. I promise I won’t do that again.”

Your shoulders gradually stop trembling, breath coming evenly now.

Jimin looks at his mates and gestures for them to give you some more space so you can calm down.

They all do as he says, except Tae. He lingers in the doorway, his piercing eyes flickering between you and Jimin, thinking.

The two men exchange a meaningful glance. Jimin gives him a reassuring smile and nods his head as if to say “There’s nothing to worry about. I got this.”

Tae gives a slight nod back and turns to leave, throwing one last look at you.

Jimin sees the hint of distrust hidden in that look. He files it away for later.

Turning his attention back to you, Jimin looks at the tub and thinks of a solution.

“You don’t have to get in the tub, okay? We can just...” Jimin opens the cupboard under the sink and takes out a handful of washcloths.

“Like this, see?” He dips one of the cloths in the water, using it to wipe down his face.

“Is that okay?” he asks.

You scan his face. Those big brown eyes are full to the brim with kindness, as if you didn’t just hurt him moments ago.

You nod.

Jimin smiles so big it almost hurts his cheeks, heart swelling as you hesitantly hold your hand open. He puts another cloth in your waiting palm.

“Okay, here’s the soap, shampoo, conditioner. You can wash your face with this. Use whatever you want, okay?”

You look at him, trying to convey with your eyes what your mouth can’t say. He stays there for a moment, sitting with you on the tile, answering your every question with just his expression.

It’s okay. You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you. You can trust me. I understand you.

Breaking from his reverie, Jimin gets up and moves to leave.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he says, swinging the door closed.

You shoot forward and grab the knob just before it shuts.

Jimin jumps a little, whipping back around. There’s confusion on his face, then understanding.

“Okay, we’ll leave it open just like this. I’ll be just outside if you need anything, okay?”

You feel the tension release from your chest, and nod back.

Another warm smile, and then he disappears into the next room.

He’s not going to lock you in. Another impossible realization.

Turning around, you stare at the full tub. Your heartbeat skitters a little, but you take a step towards it anyways.

When you dip your fingertips in the clear water, you expect it to be scalding, or cold enough to numb, but it’s neither. The water is warm and calm, it doesn’t burn, it doesn’t sting.

Another breath releases from your lungs.

You use the cloth and soap to wipe down your whole body, shedding your dirty clothes and tossing them aside. Soon the tub is cloudy from the dirt on the washcloth. You even dip your hair into the water and use a little shampoo to get some of the grime out.

You sit there and wash yourself until the water turns cold. Using the counter to steady yourself, you slowly come to a stand, even though your legs are aching.

The sight in front of you is enough to shock you into silence again.

You can’t remember the last time you saw your reflection. You wish you weren’t seeing it now.

The person in the mirror is ugly and pathetic. Her short hair is a mangled mess. Haphazardly cut with a pair of dull scissors, it sticks out in all different angles. Her eyes are blank and lifeless, red-rimmed and surrounded by dark circles. There’s a large, hideous scar across her left cheek, deep and forked like a flash of lightning.

Her body is weak and repulsive. Slouching forward, she’s barely able to hold herself up. She’s covered in scars and marks, all over her legs, her arms, her torso.

You know there are worse scars behind you.

Horrifically entranced, you slowly reach up to touch the scar across her face, your face. Your fingertips meet the textured tissue, and then there’s the pain.

It’s not a physical pain, it doesn’t originate from the scar itself. It’s a pain deep in your chest, spreading and infecting the rest of your body. It maims you, twists your insides, disfigures your soul.

You muffle the silent scream with a hand over your mouth. Knees buckling, you barely have any strength left to keep yourself upright.

You’re barely you. You don’t remember who you were before, but you know it wasn’t this.

A gentle knock on the door. 

You immediately stifle any signs of discomfort, snapping the mask back on with frightening accuracy.

Jimin’s arms poke through the gap in the door. He sets a bundle of clothes on the counter.

“Here you go," his pleasant voice says. “Please let me know if they’re comfortable enough.”

You wait a good twenty seconds before you reach for them. A warm green sweater and soft cotton pants.

You hurriedly slip them on to hide your disgusting body.

Leaning closer to the door, you try to hear beyond the wood. Hushed voices, muted footsteps.

“Ready, love?” a smooth voice sounds from just behind the door.

You flinch away, trying your best to make your hair look less unkempt.

It’s Jin who cautiously swings the door open, greeting you with an affectionate smile.

“Much better, hmm?” he says.

You manage a curt nod, following him with your head down to another room. 

It’s the room from earlier, the one with the massive bed. The rest of them are here waiting, muttering quiet words until you arrive. Then they go silent and set their eyes on you, asking a question you can’t understand.

Why are they all looking at you? You don’t like it, not at all. People who look like them shouldn’t look at someone like you. You’re wrong, inside and out.

They all notice the change. Now your eyes are trained on the ground, head bent and shoulders folding in on yourself like you wish you would disappear.

Jin ushers you towards the humongous bed, encouraging you to settle in under the covers. He tucks the comforter around your body, fluffing the pillows behind your head.

“There, nice and cozy,” he says, sounding satisfied for the time being. “Rest up, okay love? You’ve been through a lot.”

Why are they talking to you like that? You’re disgusting. They should be throwing you out on the streets to fend for yourself like a common rat.

The small dark-haired man kneels down next to you. He hands you a mug of steaming amber liquid, using the bed sheets to shield your hands from the hot surface.

“This should settle your stomach,” he says.

While Jimin was getting you cleaned up, Yoongi and Jungkook were hard at work cooking up a tincture for your nausea. Essence of lavender to help you sleep, peppermint to refresh your throat, a little ginger to ease your stomach, and some of Yoongi’s highest-quality potions to replenish your nutrients. And, of course, Jin stirred in a copious amount of honey to sweeten it up.

You hold the cup in your hands like it’s a ticking time bomb.

Yoongi looks at his mates in confusion and concern, not sure what to do. Jimin catches his gaze, and gestures wildly with his hands. He exaggeratedly mimics holding the cup and taking a sip, and then Yoongi understands.

He gently takes the mug from your hands and holds it up to his nose.

“Let me check if it’s too hot for you,” he says, blowing off some of the steam and taking a long sip. He makes sure to swallow with audible emphasis.

“Okay, it should be good,” he says, handing it back to you.

This time you hold it close to your chest like it’s a precious gem, slowly sipping away at the frothy liquid. 

They all look at each other with a relieved, triumphant expression.

Namjoon steps forward and leans down to level his face with yours.

“There’s water for you over there,” he gestures to a table in the corner, complete with a pitcher and cup. “And the bathroom is the next door over.”

You nod to show your appreciation, still avoiding eye contact.

Jin enters your field of vision again.

“Do you think you can hold down some meds?” he asks. It’s sincere, no seeming deception behind it.

But you still shake your head vehemently. You don’t want anymore pills. In fact, you don’t want to see another pill ever in your life.

“Okay, love,” he says, smiling again. “Just rest up for me. For us.”

You have no idea what he means by that, but you sink into the pillows anyway.

One by one they filter out of the room, casting a last look at you before they leave.

You wish they wouldn’t. Their eyes seem to leave even more marks on your skin.

The door starts to swing shut. Then someone mutters something, and it stops just before it closes completely. 

Footsteps recede, silence settles upon the room.

You manage a few more sips from the steaming mug, eventually setting it aside. The bed is soft and comfortable, but you can’t bring yourself to lie down. 

You sit there, watching shadows dart across the wall, for hours.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! if you enjoyed it please leave a comment on what you thought of the story/any questions it would mean the world to me!! and if you’re feeling extra generous, please reblog with tags it helps to spread the story around, thank you!! 💖

#bts ot7 #bts x reader #bts ot7 x reader #bts hurt/comfort #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts soulmate au #bts slow burn #bts supernatural au #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jeongkook #Bangtan ot7 #bts x female reader #ot7 x reader

[odinsblog]

“White people claiming that American society is merit-based is like claiming they won a race when their opponent has their hands and legs bound.

The myth of meritocracy claims that Americans live in a fair, equal society, where hard work and resilience are the factors most responsible for shaping our lives. Under this theory, nothing stops anyone from succeeding other than, perhaps, themselves. This worldview may seem like a harmless attempt to encourage self-determination until you discover the carpet doesn't match the drapes. Once you realize that racism hinders equality, the myth of meritocracy is left bare and exposed, like the emperor, who wasn't wearing any clothes.

While the myth of meritocracy attempts to justify racial disparities as normal, this worldview is challenged by the data.

According to The Survey of Consumer Finances, the wealth of a typical White household was 7.8 times that of the typical Black household. Faced with this stark reality, many would concede that racist laws, policies, and practices created and maintained this racial wealth gap, while others, those who endorse the myth of meritocracy, would insist that Black people don't work hard enough. If they punched the clock more often, then all of their suffering would be alleviated, those endorsing the myth expect us to believe.

Many endorse racial stereotypes to justify racial disparities, calling Black people lazy or making other blanket claims to disparage the state of the black family.

It's easier for some White people to believe the world is fair than to commit to doing their part to make it so.”

—Allison Wiltz

#politics #meritocracy #the myth of meritocracy #just world fallacy #structural racism #alison wiltz #racism deniers #aversive racism #casual racism #inequality #racial wealth gap #wealth gap #racial stereotypes #victim blaming

[sunspearesque]

Forbidden Fervor

Summary: Douse the fervor raging within, bestow upon me the forbidden release, frigid and honed, dripping with crimson... Let it carve through my dread as relentlessly as time erodes the vigor from an aged soul.

A/N: yo, idk what happened here.. i saw the inspo and we dove headfirst. i’m so very sure old man nasty spirit possessed me or something cause idk how i wrote this.. but yeah enjoy the filth i guess? lmfao.. also, i did use some of the famous lines from the show/books—specifically the scene where he stabby stab the pink little man at the brothel just because :3 the rest tho are the whispers of my little brain hehehoho

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Rating: E (18+ only)

Content: established relationship (marriage); canonical racism (against dornish people); threat of assault (nothing happens); we hate Lannisters in this house; protective!Oberyn; depiction of injury/attack; use of weapons (dagger); Wet and Wanting™️; primal urges, kinda sorta; a hint of possessive!Oberyn; inappropriate use of weapons; dagger riding (don’t look at me); unprotected p in v; creampie (the man has a breeding kink what can i say?); quoting mr. darcy

WC: 1.9K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

A grand retinue accompanied Prince Oberyn Martell and his wife Nala on their journey north to attend the wedding of Lord Stark's eldest son. The journey was replete with delightful surprises and, regrettably, some less pleasant ones. One of their travel days found them lodged in an inn nestled amidst the forested lands of the North. The weather was cold and crisp, the air dry and biting, causing Oberyn to grumble about the layers of clothing encasing his form. Nala found his discomfort amusing—this man is averse to decency.

As they were enjoying their meal in the inn, a trio of golden-haired men strode in, their disdainful expressions evident as they cast disparaging glances at the other patrons. Murmuring curses under their breath, they took a seat at a nearby table, much to the discomfort of those around them. Nala sensed the tension in the air, recognizing the unmistakable look of Lannisters. She knew all too well her husband's scorn for them. Desperate to diffuse the situation, she attempted to divert his attention away from them, whispering softly, “My love, look at me,” noticing his gaze fixed upon them with obvious contempt.

The Lannister men, oblivious to her attempt to diffuse the tension, noticed her caress on his thigh and exchanged mocking remarks amongst themselves. “Why does such beauty consort with that Dornish bastard?” one of them jeered, his laughter echoing loudly in the room. “This whore should try to get with a real cock... a Lannister one,” another added, patting his bulge and leering at her. “Just give him a shaved goat and an olive oil bottle and be done with it,” the third chimed in before all three joined in uproarious laughter.

Nala could feel the blood charring beneath her skin, her heart pounding in her ribcage as she dreaded her husband's reaction to the insults. She observed the vein running through his neck pulsating beneath his golden skin, indicating the rage boiling within him. Despite his efforts to conceal it, a smirk tinged with bitterness adorned his face, masking the fury that simmered beneath the surface.

With graceful poise, he rose from his seat, his hand drifting toward the dagger secured at his hip—a weapon fashioned in the likeness of two intertwined vipers; its smooth, golden surface gleaming in the dim light of the inn. Slowly and deliberately, he approached their table, his gaze locking onto the perpetrator who had called his wife a whore.

Oberyn's tongue clicked disapprovingly as he addressed the men, his tone dripping with mockery. “Do you know why the world despises a Lannister?” he quipped, his words laden with scorn. “You believe your wealth, your lions, and your gilded pride make you superior to all.” The Lannister men exchanged smug glances, sharing a condescending chuckle amongst themselves. One of the trio stealthily reached for his sword, attempting to draw it from its sheath without detection. Yet, unbeknownst to them, he noticed—he always does.

“May I tell you a secret?” Oberyn continued, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “You're not a golden lion. You're just a pink little man who is far too slow on the draw.” With a swift motion, he unsheathed his dagger and plunged it into the hand of the man who had insulted his wife, the same hand he had earlier used to pat his cock. Piercing between the carpals of that hand, it now lay on the table. The man let out a guttural wail, paralyzed in his place as the dagger twisted amidst flesh, bone, and veins.

“When I pull my blade, your friend starts bleeding,” Oberyn stated calmly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Quite a lot, I'm afraid. So many veins in the wrist.” He observed the man writhing in pain before turning his gaze back to the other Lannister. “He'll live if you get him help straight away,” he added mockingly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Decisions,” Oberyn remarked, his head tilting slightly as his gaze shifted to the bleeding man again. “And when you speak of a dornish princess—my wife—you will address her as ‘your highness,’” he continued, his tone carrying a dangerous edge. “Lest you wish for me to sever your tongue at its root.”

He withdrew his dagger from the man’s hand, the Dornish soldiers surrounding him, swords and spears at the ready. One of them addressed him, “What shall we do with them, Your Highness?”

“Nothing,” Oberyn replied calmly, wiping the blood from his dagger with the end of his shawl. "I reckon they've learned a lesson or two about manners from the Dornish, and I expect they'll find their own way out.” With a dismissive wave, he turned to walk toward Nala, who stood frozen with fear, wide-eyed, and breathing shakily.

“Apologies, my love,” he said tenderly, encircling his arms around her waist and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Nestling her gently in his embrace, as though she were the most delicate of blossoms.

Ever the viper; deadly, dangerous, unpredictable... and mine.

A familiar primal heat stirred within her, much to her chagrin as she cursed herself for succumbing to it.

Gods be good, this shouldn’t ignite a fire within me and make me crave him and the dagger he wielded in my defense.

She kissed him with fervor, her hands caressing his face, yearning to melt into him and merge with him completely. As they parted, both breathless, he chuckled softly. "I see you enjoyed that, princess?" he whispered, prompting a blush to bloom across her cheeks—was I too obvious?

He pulled out the chair for her to resume her place at the table, a gallant gesture amidst the chaos caused by the departing Lannisters, who left mutilated and humiliated.

Throughout the meal, Nala’s gaze remained fixed on Oberyn, her desire for him evident in her unwavering stare. Yet, her eyes also flickered occasionally to the dagger sheathed at his side, her longing palpable. Catching her subtle glances, Oberyn couldn't help but tease her with a smirk. “My love, you are eyeing that dagger as if it were your lover,” he quipped, his tone playful and suggestive.

She regarded him incredulously, her expression stern, before a laugh escaped her lips, unable to resist his irreverence. “What? People engage in all forms of pleasure,” he remarked casually, a hint of mischief in his tone. “I’d be curious to witness you attempting one of these forms, my love,” he added, raising an eyebrow, his smirk unyielding—the infamous smirk that both infuriated and delighted her.

“How in the Seven Hells would I engage in such forms, Oberyn?" she retorted, her tone a blend of amusement and exasperation, unsure whether to marvel at his wit or roll her eyes at his audacity.

He chuckled, unfazed, and resumed his meal, prompting her to shake her head in bemusement before following suit, both indulging in their food as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

—

As they retired to their chambers, the earlier unpleasant encounter and their playful banter lingered in her mind, unable to shake off the eagerness she felt for him.

Not surprisingly, he seemed equally consumed by their earlier conversation. Upon entering their room and securing the door behind them, he immediately closed the distance between them, kissing her hungrily. His hands roamed over her body, gripping her ass firmly, igniting a fire within her and causing desire to pool between her thighs.

Breaking away from their passionate embrace, he strode to the bed and plunged his dagger into the mattress, securing it firmly in place. Only the gleaming, serpent-shaped handle remained visible.

"What... what are you doing?" Nala inquired, perplexed by his actions.

“I long to see you mount it," he declared simply, taking a seat on the wooden chair facing the bed.

"Mount it how?" she questioned, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"Like you mount my cock every night," he replied with a crooked smile.

She stood in stunned silence, her thoughts swirling with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. The unexpected request from her husband both startled her and ignited a flicker of excitement deep within her. It was not uncommon for him to embrace unconventional pleasures, to seek out new experiences in their intimate moments together.

She offered a gentle smile before beginning to shed her dress, letting the fabric cascade down her form like water, revealing the delicate curve of her clavicle, the supple swell of her breasts and their hardened peaks, her glistening cunt between her thighs, before finally pooling at her feet.

His gaze lingered upon her with a hunger that seemed to devour her, as if he yearned to possess this beauty solely for himself, to adore… to pleasure and treasure... wholly and entirely his.

She moved with grace toward the bed, settling and facing him, her eyes fixed on the dagger embedded in the mattress before her. It was the very same dagger he wielded to protect her, a silent warning to any who dared to show her disrespect.

She lifted herself slightly before sinking into it, feeling the cold metal filling her searing flesh. Her eyes closed, lips parting as she relished the peculiar sensation, the ridges of the handle gliding against her inner walls, deliciously. It was unfamiliar yet pleasing, strangely fitting. She quickened her pace, with each rise and fall, soft moans escaping her lips and filling the room. Her breasts bounced with each movement, a testament to the pleasure coursing through her.

Oberyn watched her with an insatiable hunger, enchanted by her allure. She accepted his offerings eagerly, with devotion, her yearning unwavering as she sought to be filled with everything that was his. Whether his fingers, his cock, or even his dagger, she embraced it all, an extension of him in every way.

He felt the bulge in his breeches grow bigger, his cock throbbing painfully with desire, yearning to pierce that sweet cunt of hers, to fill her with his seed over and over again til it takes. He longed to hear her soft moans as he pushed her to the brink of bliss, feeling her warm, wet, and wanting in his embrace.

He freed his hardened cock, his hand beginning to caress it with slow, deliberate strokes, as she mounted his dagger with unyielding ardor, deriving her pleasure from it. Her gaze met his, lethal and luring, eyes that could have felled him had she not been his.

Her movements became erratic, her moans blending into strained whimpers. She slipped her hand down frantically to circle her soaked clit, driving her closer to her release. Collapsing onto the mattress, she murmured his name, her thighs trembling with pleasure.

Rising from his seat, he approached her, cradled her languid form, and moved her to the center of the bed, laying her on her back. He spread her thighs apart, watching her clenching sex seep her release, delicately. He nudged the head of his cock to her entrance. Her cunt sucked him in effortlessly, eliciting a soft whine from her lips as he filled her. He laid atop her, his weight offering a comforting warmth she had always longed for, drawing her closer to him before thrusting into her fervently.

Mine, my love, mine… all fucking mine, the Others take them all.

He nipped at the tender flesh of her breasts and shoulder, his warmth flooding her as he spilled his cum deep within her, his breath ragged.

After their heaving chests stilled, she gently raised her hand to brush the damp curls from his forehead, meeting his gaze. “I love you most ardently, my fierce viper,” she whispered.

#asoiaf #oberyn martell #oberyn martell fanfiction #pedrostories #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #oberyn nymeros martell #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell smut #house martell #dorne #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #aura’s fics

[loving-n0t-heyting]

I do not like how the American left-of-centre is seemingly incapable of complaining about IQ elitism except under the guise of covert racism. “We should create a multi-tier system of citizenship where you get access to better rights and public goods depending on the outcome of cognitive tests” is already some revolting shit fully independent of racial differences! So why the bizarre aversion to attacking the cognitive elitism as such?

[tariah23]

oooooo white people in my replies really saying ‘I can excuse racism but I draw the line at homophobia’

Not surprised since this is the site that only talks about racism and thinks it’s a big deal when they see it demonstrated in the cartoons and comics they like *coughs* dungeonmeshi *coughs* (for example at least. I haven’t seen THIS many white ppl talk as in depth about racism on here as much as these fandom nerds, man. I stg. Like “Ohhhh, so you all DO acknowledge that racism is real? Just not in real life even if you could feel it slapping you in the face at high speed. Gotcha.” It’s crazy.

Tumblr is like, 90% white and is extremely centered around them. That’s why you barely see stuff that’s important to black and brown people ever trending here or being talked about. It has to be something incredibly huge to the point where even white people can’t ignore it like they usually do, to talk about it here.

They only talked about George Floyd here because the topic of his death became world news. Even people in other countries were talking about it. Before him, it was probably Ferguson and Trayvon Martin… most of them are still trying their best to ignore the genocides because it’s a “touchy subject.” What do you expect from white people who live in their own bubbles of comfort and refuse to pop it with a needle??? They find comfort in their privilege and faux ignorance (they love playing stupid to avoid conversations about important things outside of fandoms like, are these mfs born with half a brain dedicated to fandom or what.) That’s literally all these mfs make a big deal out of, especially on this annoying ass platform. The ao3 mfs will go to war for the site that allows racist ff and cp like it’s no big deal. I wonder how many people here even donated to the site while actively scrolling past dono posts from folks who really do need help. They act like they’re doing a civil service by defending this site that makes over the amount of it’s intended dono goal in minutes.

Then you already know as soon as you even bring up racism in the stuff they like, they start ganging up and harassing black bloggers especially, calling them TERFs and the whole nine. Anything to make that person look bad for being concerned about the racism that they have such an intense aversion to. God, it’s absolutely exhausting knowing that these people would have no problem choosing a cartoon character over your entire existence if they COULD. Isn’t that fucking sad, man?

#:( #it’s like what can you do #as a black person I get why sm black bloggers here have ‘don’t follow me if you’re white’ in their bios #they’ll call it racist or whatever (it’s fucking not you guys just treat black ppl like shit here and most of us feel unsafe to interact #with y’all. you guys always turn on us at the drop of a hat) #i remember commenting on a HS post funny enough years ago #because the punchline of the post was literally the white mfs saying nigga #and I was so annoyed that I told them off and one of my white mutuals unfollowed meanjsjsjsl #like right after that #and another unfollowed me because I talk about racism and the like a lot like this is a really well known artist too so I was like 🧍🏾‍♀️? #because I talk about racism a lot??? it’s weird lol #like they’ll tolerate you for a while then when they feel offended they start to act weird and act like you’re not supposed to talk about #the stuff that effects you #tkf replies #karmelarts #they don’t give a shit about anything if it doesn’t personally Involve them #they act like they can’t relate to anyone or anything it they aren’t marginalized themselves (being gay or trans which they treat as a #personality trait) #notice how you never see movies/ shows about black and brown ppl trending here? it’s always white centered shit no #matter how hot and popular that show might be #you’ll never see something like the wire snowfall or power trending here #all of the black ppl are on twitter anyway so #sm black ppl got ran off of here by annoying white ppl

[felixescellun]

ok so i got minimal feedback wanting an ol essay so heres the word vomit version

tl;dr version:

the Our Life series is unlike other VNs in multiple respects--primarily due to its customization, but also due to the goal it sets out to achieve. Most other visual novels are driven by stories and a story climax and resolution. The goal of those VNs is to tell a specific story. OL’s goal is to create a cozy and safe space for the player, and the only things that are not changeable are the MCs family, and the fact that they have one or more neighbors. This has benefits and restrictions in what GB Patch can do with the media.

OL’s goal is to offer a safe space where the player feels loved, supported and welcome, making it an excellent way to explore gender presentation and identity, especially in OLNF, which adds a complex pronoun system and more complex relationship charts. This is a huge benefit, as gender exploration is nigh impossible for some people, and this series makes it readily accessible and fun to experiment with. The writing is very applicable to any gender, with little inherent gendering, if any, making it an excellent playground for gender exploration.

OL does, through this safe-space, lose its ability to tell complex stories or address more complex social themes such as racism, homophobia, etc. The closest mention of it is when Baxter mentions his parents being sheltered. The writers want people to miss out on as little content as possible, regardless of the player’s choices. The only way youre losing significant playtime/content of the LIs is when playing on indifferent, which makes sense. There are few differences between fond and crush, and just as few between friends and lovers, and this is on purpose. the point of OL is to create a space where everyone feels at home, and boundaries are respected. Touchy MCs and touch averse MCs are meant to find a place in this world. This does restrict in terms of complexity, though. The lack of difference between romance and platonic interactions may make some players feel like there isnt a lot of romance, but the other point OL makes is that the only real difference between romance and friendship is the definition.

in OLBA, theres a DLC moment for Cove in step 3 called Happiness, where he takes MC on a few outings. If MC is dating Cove, theyre dates, but if theyre just friends, theyre outings. The content is overall the same, bc the point is that romance is just a friendship with a different label and some boundaries--whatever those may be.

OL isnt trying to be complex or thought provoking. It’s a place to experiment with gender, live the idyllic childhood friendship of your dreams, and simply feel loved. it doesnt need to be complex or especially dramatic (though characters like baxter do stand out in a lineup of non-dramatic characters). It does what it sets out to do, and any critique of the writing and choices should take into account what OL wants to achieve VS what the person critiquing it would have personally enjoyed.

#our life #our life beginnings & always #our life now and forever #olba #olnf #baxter ward #cove holden #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #might come back to build on this #my writing #mine

[ihateliterature]

Hello, I am the guy who made the list of things transmascs can't do so we don't offend anyone, and in light of asexuality trending in US and UK on twt bc people are so mad at Yasmin Benoit for wearing a short skirt (for the #584489644 time) I am now making a list of things asexuals can't do so we don't offend anyone, take notes people.

But before that please go to Twitter and Instagram, give Yasmin a follow and say something nice to her. She is an amazing activist that deals with so much aphobia, mysoginy and racism practically on the daily. Her work is very important and has truly made a difference for the ace and aro communities in the western hemisphere. She is always doing interesting things and sharing them with us. Yasmin is also a model and her work over there is also amazing. Unfortunately she only goes viral when rape apologists are mad a black woman who dresses in lingerie and short skirts is asexual and aromantic, and she deserves much more than that

Wear revealing clothing

Wear modest clothing

Be attractive in a conventional way

Be unattractive in a conventional way

Be a man

Be a woman

Be non-binary

Be asexual while being aromantic

Be asexual while not being aromantic

Be a virgin

Not be a virgin

Have mental health problems

Be disabled

Be sexually active

Be sexually inactive

Pursue relationships with allosexuals

Be exclusively ace4ace

Realize you were asexual as a minor

Realize you were asexual as an adult

Have sex with your partner for their pleasure

Refuse to have sex whatsoever

Enjoy sex

Be sex-favorable

Be sex-averse

Be sex-neutral

Masturbate

Watch porn

Read erotica

Create porn&/erotica

Be a sex worker

Be sexually assaulted, especially if that the motivation behind it was to "fix you"

Be interested in relationships in general

Not be interested in relationships in general

Wear make-up

Do your hair

Be religious

Not be religious

Talk about your struggles

Advocate for better ways to be treated

Claim that you have any experiences in common with other queer people and that asexuality has existed before 2000

Call yourself queer

Claim you are part of the LGBTQ+ community

#asexual #asexuality #acespec #ace spectrum #yasmin benoit #asexual humor

[stargirlaveblog]

7Seals

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Chapter 9*

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

•Previous Chapter: Chapter Eight

•Next Chapter: Chapter Ten

• New chapters every Thursday

•Content: Levi Ackerman × OC female. Slow Burn! Canon verse!

• Word Count: 2.5k

• Warning: This content may not be suitable for all readers. If you've watched all of AOT then you will understand that the show handles heavy subjects such as abuse, racism, violence, and other heavy subjects. This fanfiction will also have the same heavy themes. Chapters with heavy themes will be marked with * at each chapter. This chapter does contain themes of abuse. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with that topic.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Better Man - Pearl Jam

1:03 ━❍────── 3:25

↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺

VOLUME: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

"Where is everyone?" I asked, my eyes scanning the empty mess hall. Alexander, sitting alone at the table, flashed a warm smile and rose, extending his hand toward me.

"Outside," he replied, that familiar grin lighting up his features. He had waited for me, choosing companionship over solitude. In that simple gesture, he became the embodiment of the better man I couldn't have dared to dream of.

I accepted his hand without hesitation, and together we moved towards the doors, picking up pace with each step.

"What are we doing?" I questioned, still trailing behind him.

The doors swung open to reveal a joyous scene—everyone dancing in the rain. While the others reveled in the sky's tears, we stood under the covered porch of the mess hall, observing the euphoria.

"Holy shit," I yelled out, laughter bubbling up as I let go of Alexander's hand and ran towards the others.

"Hange!" I called out to them, joining in the celebration. Raindrops adorned their face, merging with the lenses of their glasses.

"It's raining."

"It hasn't rained in forever, it feels like," I marveled, looking up at the sky. Closing my eyes, I savored the sensation of water cascading down my face.

"It's been five months exactly," Hange remarked, their eccentricity evident even in this simple revelation.

"Only a weirdo like you would know," Alexander's voice interjected, and I opened my eyes to find him standing there. His ash brown hair was drenched, yet a smile persisted on his face—a gesture that spoke volumes, considering his aversion to being wet. He knew, though, how much I cherished the rain.

"Come dance, Alexander," I invited, a smile playing on my lips.

"Iris," he said, grabbing my wrist, I watched his smile drop into something I've never seen before.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

My eyes fluttered open to the chaotic sounds of banging and things crashing around. The bedroom door swung open abruptly, revealing Alexander barely able to stand, using the door frame for support.

He was drunk again.

"Iris," he slurred, stumbling toward the bed. "What the fuck."

"Why is my bed covered in papers? I told you to be ready for me when I come back," he complained, his words muddled by alcohol, as he approached the scattered documents.

I cursed silently. I had fallen asleep in the midst of doing paperwork, and now I had no idea where I was in the process. Quickly, I began gathering the papers in my hands, hoping Alexander could sleep off the effects of the alcohol. He was a different man when he was drunk.

"Can I have that, please?" I asked, attempting to take the paper from his hands.

"I don't know, can you?" he retorted. "What is this, anyway?" he questioned, squinting at the paper. He was too intoxicated to make sense of the words on the page.

"Work from Erwin. Now, lay down, and I'll get you whatever you want," I urged, trying once again to take the paper from his grasp. He stubbornly ripped it back, fixing me with a drunken stare.

"Why the hell do you have that pipsqueak's paperwork in my room?" Alexander growled, his voice escalating in volume.

"Was that freak in my room?"

"No, Alexander," I responded, attempting to calm the situation. "Please give me the papers back and lower your voice. People are sleeping."

"I don't give a damn!" he yelled, disregarding my plea. "Now tell me, was Levi in my room?"

"Alexander, no, he was not. I'm just doing paperwork. Please stop yelling," I pleaded, but he ripped the remaining papers from my hands and stormed out of his bedroom.

"What are you doing?" I asked, fear creeping in as I hurried after him. He stood in front of the fireplace, methodically tossing the papers into the flames one by one. A grim smile crossed his face as he glanced over his shoulder at me.

I rushed in front of him, grabbing the fireplace tongs to retrieve the burning papers, but it was futile. He threw the entire stack into the fire.

"Alexander, what the hell?" I screamed in frustration. He took the tongs from my hands and laughed, reveling in the chaos he'd created.

"Don't talk to me like that now," he growled, lowering his voice as his eyes darkened. With a grumble, he pushed my shoulders, sending me stumbling back into the bricks, my head hitting hard. His hand slid across my face, while the other gripped the back of my head, bringing my face closer to his, relishing the fear in my eyes.

The man before me was unrecognizable, a stranger born from the depths of his increasing alcohol consumption.

He threw me to the floor and started a relentless spree on my stomach, muttering incoherent words in between kicks.

"Wish you'd be more like her," he grunted with each blow. "You're nothing but a useless whore."

I curled into a protective ball, cradling my head between my arms and trying to shield my stomach with my legs. His drunken rampage continued until, finally, it ceased.

Was it safe for me to get up? Was he still awake? It didn't matter; he was so intoxicated that he probably didn't even realize what he had done. Not the first time.

I picked myself up, holding my aching stomach. The bastard had done a number on me today, at least sparing my face this time.

I gathered the papers I could salvage and threw on my brown cloak over my white nightgown. Moving as quietly as possible, I entered the room to find him laid out on the bed, face-first. My eyes lingered on the pillow, contemplating dark thoughts for a moment longer than I should have.

I could end it all right now. The pain would be over, but I couldn't. I love him, and he didn't mean it. He never does – that's what he tells me. Shaking free of the dark thoughts, I lifted his head and placed the pillow under him. Swiftly, I left his room and ventured into the dark corridors of the Scout Regiment.

Why did I entertain such vulgar thoughts? Alexander had been good to me, ensuring my well-being. So why did I want to hurt him in return? I wouldn't wish him the same harm he inflicts on me. I wondered if he felt the same, a twisted dance of pain between us.

The medical room was closed at this time, and I had no bandages of my own. I doubt bandages would help my stomach anyways. The only place open for me was the mess hall. Setting down a wall lamp on the table, I sifted through the saved papers – not much, but something. How would I explain this to the captain?

I couldn't tell him that Alexander threw them into the fire. He wouldn't believe me, and I sensed Levi catching on to my lies. Levi was a smart man, and there was no outsmarting him. I'd have to face the truth and its consequences once again.

The doors creaked open from the outside as I observed a small figure walking through, their cloak concealing their face. Who could be out this late? How did they manage to slip past the night patrol? They must've bribed the off duty officers well. Hopefully they come my way and bribe me to keep my mouth shut for seeing them out past curfew.

"What are you doing?" The familiar voice cut through the quiet. I looked up at him standing over the table, his eyes peering at me under his hood.

Looks like no one is bribing me with money after all.

"Captain," I said, quickly standing up and saluting him.

"At ease," he ordered, lifting his hood down. "Why are you still awake?" He glanced at the mess on the table and back at me.

"Those papers don't look done to me."

Well fuck.

"Correct, sir. I'm, uh," I stammered, fidgeting with my hands. "I'm getting it done right now."

"With no quill?" His eyebrow arched as he picked up the paper, examining it. I felt my body slump back into the chair, resting my elbows on the table and burying my face in my hands. I'm in trouble.

"Aldridge," he said, his tone laced with anger. "Why does it look like this was on fire?"

I couldn't find the words even if I tried. My tongue felt heavy, caught at the back of my throat. The chair screeched as he took a seat in front of me.

He pulled my arms from my face, his grip tightening around my wrists as his eyes bore into me. I could only look away, trying to hide my face in my shoulder.

"Answer your captain when he speaks to you," he scowled.

"Because it was," I bit my lip, attempting to hold back tears. "Please let go of my wrists. It hurts."

He released my wrists and stood up. I could feel him moving around me, his fingers gently lifting my chin. I resisted opening my eyes; I didn't want him to witness my current state. How could I be his second in command when I was reduced to tears over burnt papers?

I couldn't even stand up for myself. How did he expect me to be a part of his squad?

"Open your eyes," he said, his voice significantly softer than before.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes to find him squatting at eye level, his fingers still supporting my chin.

"What happened?" he asked.

"The papers got tossed in the fireplace. I'm so sorry, Captain. I tried to save them, but I couldn't save them all. I'll accept any punishment-" he shushed me.

"How did they end up in the fire, Iris?" his soft voice queried again.

"I-I don't know," I stammered.

"Don't lie."

"Alexander," was all I managed to say before he stood up and began to walk away. In desperation, I grabbed his arm, trying to prevent him from leaving the mess hall. He dragged me along until he stopped in annoyance.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Please," I cried, falling to my knees. "Don't go to him. Don't wake him up. I just got him to sleep. Please. He was drunk; he didn't mean to." My sobs grew louder as I dropped his arm, hands now covering my face. He stood there, towering over me, witnessing my pathetic state at his feet.

"Please. Don't wake him up," I pleaded again.

"You're going to wake everyone up," he remarked. "Go sit down at the table and collect yourself."

His footsteps faded into the mess hall as I laid there embarrassed and ashamed.

I pulled myself up and sat down as Levi instructed, laying my head on the table, bracing for the inevitable yelling from Alexander's hall. I would trade it all for to return to the time before Alexander became captain – when he wasn't constantly drinking and was still the sweet man I knew.

"Here," Levi's voice broke the silence.

I lifted myself once more to see him handing me a tea cup. I accepted it, watching as he poured chamomile tea. "It'll help you relax," he explained.

"Thank you, Captain," I said, lowering my eyes to the tea.

Moments passed in a comforting silence, like I didn't just break down at my Captains feet.

"Let's run through what happened, shall we?" Levi's gaze met mine.

"I-" I stumbled over my words. "Alexander came back drunk from one of his meetings."

"What meeting?" Levi asked quickly.

"I don't know. I'm assuming with Erwin or the captains."

"How often does he go to these meetings?"

I gave him a puzzled look but answered,

"At least once a week."

"Does he tell you where?" Levi continued.

"I... no. Well, some have been in Wall Sina, actually, but-" I stopped to look at him. "Why are you so curious about it?"

"It doesn't matter; just answer truthfully," Levi said. "Does he talk about the meetings at all with you?"

"No."

"Mention who goes?"

"Erwin," I replied. "You. Mainly captains."

"Why are you asking about meetings right now? Aren't you supposed to be scolding me for the paperwork?" I huffed. Levi's sudden interest, especially in Alexander, was confusing. He never showed interest in anything.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, clearly frustrated. "Continue," he ordered.

"Alexander came back drunk and pissed off. Thought you were in his room while he was gone because of the papers and threw them in the fireplace. And yeah, so on," I quickly explained, feeling out of breath.

Levi just stared at me, his index finger lightly tapping his teacup as he prepared to take another sip. "Alexander a nasty drunk?" he asked, catching me off guard.

I paused, taken aback by the unexpected question. "I'll take that as a yes," Levi remarked before I could answer.

"No, he just has his moments," I quickly defended.

"Oh yeah?" Levi leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table.

"Yeah," my voice trailed off, avoiding Levi's harsh gaze. I felt like I was being dissected.

The chair beneath Levi squeaked as he stood up. His hand moved across the table, and I flinched down before his touch reached me. Embarrassed, my eyes quickly met his.

His gaze scanned me, a flicker of curiosity crossing his eyes. "I wasn't going to hurt you," he said gently, laying his hand on top of my head and messing up my hair.

"I'm sorry, habit," I laughed, trying to ease the tension.

"Get some sleep. Or don't. You better be in the barn after breakfast, no excuses." he said, walking away.

As I sat there alone in the dimly lit mess hall, the silence wrapped around me like a comforting shroud. Levi's unexpected concern and the unsettling revelation about Alexander's darker side left me pondering the complexities of the people I thought I knew.

The memories replayed in my mind – Levi's piercing gaze, the gentle touch of his hand, and the way he revealed a sliver of understanding. It was a side of him I hadn't anticipated, a softer edge beneath the stoic exterior.

Then there was Alexander, my once sweet and caring partner, now transformed into a man I struggled to comprehend. The alcohol had become a good fried, distorting his personality into someone unrecognizable.

I leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling, lost in my thoughts. The tea in the cup had turned cold, mirroring the chill that lingered in the air. The events of the night had left an indelible mark on my perception of those around me.

In that quiet moment, I wondered if our lives within the walls were destined to be entwined with such complexity. Levi's presence had offered a strange solace, an unexpected refuge in the chaos that had unfolded.

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky, I rose from the chair, leaving the mess hall behind. The barn awaited, and with it, the challenges of a new day. I couldn't erase the turmoil of the night, but perhaps, in facing the realities before me, I could find a semblance of clarity amidst the chaos.

Or so I thought. After that day Fate laughed at my innocent eyes. If only then I knew, maybe I could have done something then.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

#levi ackerman #levi aot #captain levi #snk levi #levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin #levi attack on titan #aot x reader #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman x reader #levi angst #levi #levi x you #levi fluff #ackerman #aot fanfiction

[ofbreathandflame]

Re: anti sjm stuff, the funny part is I think even in the anti community, racism rarely gets brought up. it gets a footnote when people ask what's wrong the sjm's work.

Hi anon!

This is interesting! I do think it is commonly talked about within the anti-community and many of the problems that are discussed usually lead back to the racism in the stories. I like your comment about it being mentioned as a footnote when people discuss the problems in her story. That sums up the problems when discussing the racist aspects of her novels. The anti-tag has definitely become more anti-character motivated since the release of A Court of Silver Flames -- but I think that's just a consequence of her own fandom not allowing criticism of work outside of their dedication to their favorite character. I've noticed that because people have talked themselves into a corner defending these characters (and the story has written itself into a corner as well) people have a hard time actually objectively critiquing racist portions of the story.

There's always the broad statement that 'SJM is racist' thrown around -- or that she has 'problematic' storylines but it is only discussed within the framework of undesirable characters (Nesta, Tamlin, Lucien, Beron, Illyrians). The Illyrian plotline is objectively a racist one; there is no scenario where a permanent second class of brown men and women is justifiable but it is. Introspection into that storyline will always negatively affect the characters in the world of the story, but a lot of people will pivot the conversation to an 'anti-feysand' rhetoric instead of a racial one. Aelin being unwilling to help end slavery until her black friend has to orchestrate her own death is both a racial and character problem, but the idea is that these storylines negatively affect her character. People want desperately to separate the racism in the story from the characters when we just...can't. And then people become irritable with the critiques -- even subtly so -- and they develop an aversion to them. The 'Illyrian' problem becomes an only anti-Rhys problem and so they feel comfortable ignoring, justifying, and bashing us for talking about it.

Or they assign these critiques under a 'pro tamlin/pro nesta' category and do the same thing; instead of engaging with the issue at hand we get pages of anti-tamlin, nesta rhetoric. We talk about the Illyrian issue? I'll see a post about how Tamlin is a pig, he should die, and then they feel better about themselves. Or we'll see a post about if we critique Feyre -- then Nesta is worse! She's XYZ and how dare critique Rhys when Nesta is right there.

When the reality is: SJM could kill Tamlin off Kill Nesta off, have them grovel or whatever they imagine they want SJM to do, and it wouldn't really change the racial problems at hand.

The Illyrian problem, the Human problem in CC, the Slavery problem in ToG have facilitated an environment where people feel comfortable defending things akin to 'separate but equal laws,' 'pull yourself up by your bootstraps', 'and justifiable segregation conditions. And I don't have to look far to see it. And if we were all mature -- we could talk about these characters without regurgitating that type of dogma -- but alas we can't because its baked into the story.

A secret city built on the blood of brown men and women who live in tents and give their sons to society they will never get the chance to participate in is a very crazy thing to justify. As is arguing that a group of people WOULD WILLINGLY choose to stay trapped under a mountain. It's not a choice because these people do not have a choice to go to Velaris. It's worse when we consider that Velaris DOES NOT HAVE A STANDING ARMY. It primarily relies on the Illyrians and the Darkbringers. And the story tells us these things bc these are intentional choices.

Critiquing this makes us anti feyre and therefore instead of heading these critiques, people JUMP TO JUSTIFY THEM. There are a lot of reasons why employing a barely literate white teenager in the top office over the 'brown savages' is a bit wild. But introspection into that plotline = anti feyre. And then instead of introspection, we get people justifying the plot point. And that's what's dangerous about sidelining the racism conversations in her work. It's also the problem with rabid shipping culture. It's not being able to recognize the problems in the story outside of characters you love and then justifying harmful ideologies bc you can't separate the critiques from your love a character.

#anti sjm #anti sjm: nesta archeron #anti sjm: tamlin #anti sjm: racial discourse #anti rhysand #anti feyre