BAYPEN SYRUP, BLOODY GOOD!

#i feel so insane about him rn

"Well," Rust began, "I only use my guns to hunt and only hunt what I eat." "Here we go, sounding like the NRA duders in town—" Cole said, throwing his hands up. "No," Rust shot back. He was clearly tired of Cole's puckishness. [... ]"I'm not some gun nut," Rust continued. "I don't have any bump stocks or semi-automatic weapons. I'm not sitting in my basement with a bowie knife, carving rounds into cop killers. I eat what I hunt. I think if you're going to eat meat, you should know where it comes from and what you're taking from the world." — Clown in a Cornfield (2020) by Adam Cesare

taiturner

CLOWN IN A CORNFIELD (2025) dir. Eli Craig

#ch: r. vance.#dyn: rust & cole.

do you think rust has a crush on cole

no :/

#clownfields #what just bc they are both gay they must like each other 🙄

#i miss him #ch: r. vance.#visuals: r. vance.

VINCENT MULLER as Rust Vance Clown in a Cornfield (2025) dir. Eli Craig

writing hunter causes me physical agony but he's also so fascinating

#i hate him but unfortunately he compels me

cole had been hesitant to come to the haunt, not because he was afraid of it (at least, not on any level that he understands), but because he knows mayor maybrook is against it, and most of all, he knows it makes rust uncomfortable. that should be enough for cole not to entertain this at all, but he likes hunter’s friendship, he thinks, and he’s trying to make an effort to actually be a friend, in a place where so many people are still hesitant to trust him at all. that, and maybe some part of him is just desperate to prove to rust that this isn’t so bad.

except if rust were here, and he saw this, he’d win this back-and-forth between him and cole about the duvalls. he’d also probably be terrified.

“i mean, come on, dude, fire…?” hunter isn’t stupid, right? did he really expect rust’s boyfriend to be thrilled to see this, in the very place where rust barely made it out with his life, permanently scarred forever? scars in which cole thinks are beautiful, a testament of his love and devotion to cole, but it shouldn’t have had to happen in the first place.

“look, i get it. i get the clowns.” he rolls his eyes, because he can’t not, his father’s face covered in clown make up burned into his brain, but he understands why people like hunter and his father want to capitalize on their pain here, even if it's uncomfortable. “but i don’t know about this.” mostly, he’s trying to get ahead of it, protect rust before he finds out that fire is part of their show, and because he’s also trying to win his own argument that the duvall’s farm is not that offensive. hunter’s making that really difficult.

cole does what he always does when he needs to get his way — he flashes that famous grin of his, trying to assure hunter that he's still on his side, and perhaps using that against him, knowing how hunter feels about him. "i don't like it," he says simply, shrugging his shoulders. "just the fire. just feels a little over the top, don't you think? like, the rest is cool." a lie, but cole knows he has to compromise a little to get him on his side, for the sake of rust. "don't ruin it."

#clownfields #ch: h. duvall.#thread: h. duvall.#hunter you stupid bitch

hunter stares blankly, uncomprehending. it hardly seems like a big deal. he wants to repeat the simple fact it's been tested, as if that means anything, as if cole's worried about the potential safety... he's not entirely stupid, of course he understands what happened to rust (it's the only thing the guy ever talks about in interviews! hunter had been skeptical, because how the fuck do you survive that? but he supposes it must be real, in some way, given the state of his face...) but surely that isn't enough of a reason for hunter to not have the display. there was a fire, after all. he's done his best to pretend that the haunt isn't a replica of that night, the costuming resembling frendo, sure, but not close enough for any potential copyright infringement (though he presumes cole owns it now, and surely he wouldn't sue?), and maybe a fire's pushing the limits of that claim... but hunter wants people scared. needs them scared.

he bristles slightly as cole mentions the clowns, immediately interrupting to say, "there's not just clowns." and his voice is, to his mortification, dripping with hurt. because he's sent cole dozens of photos and videos and he thought cole understood. he was certain that was why he finally came... or, one of the reasons, anyway...

brow furrowed, he looks at cole, expression nearing remorse, only because it's clear cole is upset. but maybe not too much, since he's smiling, and hunter can't help but exhale in relief, stepping slightly closer, taking it to mean that he isn't mad at least. it stings to hear that cole doesn't like it, but something about how he proclaims it's too much... hunter thinks maybe he's right. he'd seen videos online of haunts employing pyro and it looked cool, but then there were the bad reviews, customers claiming they'd been singed or worse, were seeking damages... "it cost a lot," he says softly, cutting his eyes away from cole. his father's going to be pissed, but... "yeah. maybe you're right. i mean, it's fucking cool without it. i don't need to try to copy other people, you know? everything i'm doing on my own, it's already doing so well with the test groups we've had come through." said without irony, hunter not considering even for a second that nothing here he'd come up with on his own, everything in some way connected back to founder's day.

cole scoffs, his head tilting to the side as if that one's obvious. "i never trusted cops," he says, shaking his head. "pretty sure my dad's most loyal acolyte had it out for me since i was born," he mumbles, referring to dunne, finding it easier to joke about them both lightly rather than say anything so... direct, even though this isn't better, usually earning him an uncomfortable glare from rust and quinn.

he did like marta lee, though. he knows he doesn't have to bring up her name to know the same was true for glenn. it makes him feel guilty for leaving, because glenn's lost enough — even though he's sure a few 20 year olds aren't typically his pick for friends. but glenn is family, and cole feels a responsibility to his best friend who's gone off on her own — and to the person he was on the night that glenn helped save him — to take care of him. he just hopes that glenn will still let him help from wabang.

cole straightens up, giving glenn a small nod. "not planning to be a stranger, you know. so— you don't have to miss me too much. i'll be around," he promises, knowing that there's probably part of glenn that is glad to have cole out of his hair, but... they're still family, too, after everything, especially with quinn gone now, so he wants to reassure glenn they're not really leaving, too. moving doesn't mean they're gone. "gotta keep checking in, making sure the mayor's taking care of things here," he teases. "but you just let me know when you need a vacation. we might just find a hot cowgirl... or cowboy out that way for ya."

#clownfields #ch: g. maybrook.#thread: g. maybrook.

"ah..." glenn winces. he should've expected that response, should've anticipated what emotions his words might stir in the boy. glenn can't help but recall that first meeting with dunne in the diner, how clearly uncomfortable quinn had been, glenn nervously laughing through it, trying to dodge his own negative feelings just the sight of the man had caused. he'd wanted so desperately for kettle springs to work, to escape philadelphia and all of its ghosts... and now he's left to wonder—if he'd been more receptive to quinn's unease, would things have unfolded differently? would they have gotten out of there before the bloodshed?

but then he has to ask, would cole be here to talk to him if they had? rust's been insistent on more than one occasion, when he allows himself to talk about any of it with glenn, that they wouldn't have survived that night without quinn and everything she did.

everyone she killed... glenn trembles with the thought. she might be killing more people out there now.

he wishes again that they weren't leaving, but he understands why they are, and it's not exactly something he feels comfortable repeating to cole. and they deserve a fresh start. still, glenn's smile is sorrowful as he replies, "well, i have a great assistant, so you're leaving the place in good hands." jerri's, he means. who he can't help but think of, especially as cole's comment allows an opening for the memory of izzy to slip through, and glenn's smile fades now, a sharp pain knifing through his heart, making him gasp a little. glenn tries to recover, doesn't want to break down in front of a kid, for christ's sake, but he can't quite seem to rearrange his face back into something lighthearted. "—a cowboy," he tries to laugh. "don't know how that'd work out. horses are fucking terrifying."

#the guy ever.#rust and his special interest in guns <3 #ch: r. vance.#visuals: r. vance.#guns tw #flashing gif #gore tw

#the ship ever. in case anyone forgot

— All That's Left in the World, Erik J. Brown

taiturner

Jordan Gonzalez as Richard Harkness THE LONG WALK (2025) dir. Francis Lawrence

#ch: j. myers.#visuals: j. myers.#an angel 💗#the cutoff vest really is so julian

it’s rust’s loud colton that finally gets him to focus, but he doesn’t look at him, his eyes shut tightly as if it’s going to stop the tears that flow now. or — like he will just stop… whatever. he needs all of it to stop. except for rust — whose presence is hardly registered at first, but then he whines as he’s brought into his arms, immediately accepting it, his arms curling up between their bodies like he needs to be surrounded by rust’s warmth.

and he’s used to this — the way rust searches him for wounds, and if cole was more stable, maybe that would be ironic to him: he feels like an open wound, one that will never heal, and doesn’t rust get that? he’s not worth taking care of the way rust does with such devotion.

it should’ve been matt, he thinks, but it’s a thought that threatens to make him nauseous again, because for as much hatred as he feels for matt trent right now, he meant it when he told rust earlier that he didn’t want any of his friends to get hurt, even now, and he hates that his own agony leads him to thoughts like that. but rust is right; victoria wouldn’t want this from him. that doesn’t change anything, though, cole spending the last few weeks wondering how he’s still standing while someone as beautiful and sweet and kind as victoria was taken so abruptly.

despite the question being real, despite how desperate he was to voice it — cole can’t help but hate himself even more for saying it to rust, knowing it’s only hurting him even more, so now, that’s all he can think about, because rust is here. victoria isn’t, matt isn’t, rust is. he can’t bring victoria back, he can’t tell matt off, but — he can try to fix this, maybe the only thing he has any control over.

his hands curl into fists, and the lightly press to rust’s chest, but he’s not making an effort to get away from him. instead, he’s trying to ground himself, trying to make sense of everything running through his head. “it’s not— stop— don’t say sorry.” even he can tell that his words don’t make much sense, so he whines, trying again. “not your fault. i’m— stupid. i’m dumb. i didn’t… fuck,” he decides on, because how can he possibly get all of this straight when his head is pounding and his heart feels shattered into a billion pieces?

“didn’t know. i didn’t know he said something. i thought— i thought you— no, you wouldn’t,” he says, like he’s arguing with himself, the person he’d been an hour ago when he jumped to the worst conclusion. “no. you wouldn’t do that to me. i know you wouldn’t. i was scared. scared— seeing you like that.” his words are muffled between his sobs, even more as he’s only speaking to rust’s chest, not looking up at him, but still, he goes on, words spilling that he can barely make sense of himself. his voice gets louder now, more desperate, snot spilling from his face and making his words slur worse.

“it was so fucking scary, rusty, so fucking scary, because i love you, and i can’t fucking lose you too.” his fist punches lightly against rust’s chest again, as if to drive in his point. “i can’t fucking lose you again.” a statement that maybe doesn’t make any sense — but it does to cole, in some way, each word falling from his lips impulsively, barely able to understand what he's saying, but he did lose rust. he lost him when cole got scared. and if something happened to rust today — whether the fight went wrong and he got too hurt, or he’d killed matt… he’d lose him again, worse than before, like some twisted punishment cole had easily blamed himself for.

#clownfields #ch: r. vance.#thread: r. vance.

rust doesn't flinch away from the feeble violence, seeing it for what it is, rust grunting only slightly but content to lay here and be cole's halfhearted punching bag, if that's what he needs. it's still a display that surprises him; his cole's not one for violence, rust knows, had known even when he'd swung at matt, a thought that had been swimming in the haze of anger, but hadn't managed to dissuade him from his course. and he only feels even more confident in his decision, even knowing how much it'd hurt cole, because of the pain lancing through rust again at having to have repeated matt's words, a grimace painted on his features like the words burned his tongue.

cole's words feel jumbled, confused, and it makes rust worry, an emotion that drenches him to the bone, slinking coldly through him. he tries to follow the logic, a flutter of panic in the base of his throat as hands continue to move in gentle, comforting movements. rust wants desperately to ask cole to clarify, to understand - but he fears any answer that will come as well.

instead, he tries to pick at certain words, mouth gaping while he formulates replies, a quiet exhale expelled, cole's name falling from his lips again. "cole..." rust nuzzles closer to him, indifferent to the acrid smell of vomit, no more intrusive than the coppery blood that covers him, but even if rust weren't so dirty, he wouldn't judge. "you're not stupid," he tries to insist, conviction in his voice, but no anger. because rust's no stranger to the same self-hatred, and he knows how little it helps to be scolded for those thoughts.

the rest, rust can't decipher, and it's frustrating, concern marring his features until it shifts to guilt, rust shivering against cole, i was scared catching in his hearing. rust whimpers, a sad, apologetic sound, but he can't seem to voice another apology, the words ballooning in his throat, starving him of air, until it bursts in another sob, his shoulders shuddering, but rust doesn't let cole go. he hopes this can be enough of an apology, rust disregarding cole's insistence that it's not necessary, because how can he not apologize? he's on the edge of actually regretting hitting matt at all, cole's words a tangled mess in his head, scared repeating like a skipping CD, but - i love you suddenly shatters through, and rust goes still, not sure if he heard cole correctly.

his confusion is twofold, rust mouthing words to himself like they're alien concepts: love, lose you, again. the last one's the most bewildering, but - rust can't concentrate on it, try to determine when the first time was, his mind consumed with love.

gently, rust pulls back from cole, enough so that he can bunch the sleeve of his flannel into a fist and begin to wipe at cole's face, removing the spit, snot, traces of vomit. he does this methodically, studying cole as he works, head still spinning, dizziness overwhelming him. he almost wants to ask cole if he realizes what he said, but... instead, rust kisses his forehead, knowing he's flaking off blood over the areas he'd just cleaned, but he needs to do this. needs to be this close when he says, with surprising strength: "i love you, cole." he slow-blinks, nudging cole's forehead with his nose, and then repeats himself, "i love you." it somehow multiplies in volume, but the resolve crumbles a little when he adds, "you're not... losing me," because he still doesn't get that, but the point stands: "i'm here." lacking the grace typical of him, rust shrugs one arm from his flannel, ridding himself of the sleeve covered in cole's snot so his relatively clean hand can cup his chin instead, tipping his head up, rust searching his eyes, hoping cole will look at him.

"i'm sorry i scared you," he apologizes, thumb stroking across cole's jaw. "i didn't want you to see..." rust's fingers spasm a little violently against cole's face, flinching with the memory of what he'd dealt matt. "-i'm sorry."

this time, he does let his hand reach up, slipping between rust’s head and the truck, cupping it to soothe him, fingers brushing through his curls in a tender manner that still contrasts with the disappointment and the anger in his eyes — but even if cole genuinely believed that rust betrayed him, even if he’s mad in the moment, he still cares for rust more than anything, it’s instinct for him to reach out. he’s short with the action, hand retracting seconds later, even if that feels wrong.

the more cole starts to calm down, the more scared he feels for rust’s response. logic is starting to come back to him, reminding him that rust would be the last person to hurt him, matt always the first — something he’d known for years. he’d let matt get away with it far too often, the nastiest digs at him always ‘softened’ by that terrifying matt grin and some claim that cole’s just a little bitch for being offended. cole took it, again and again, doing his best to keep the peace of the group, never really thinking about what it’d done to him in the process — especially in these last few weeks as cole can barely process his own grief as matt tries to hurry him along.

the way the chatter started made it seem like rust had been unprovoked, which is why it was so easy for cole to assume that he was just trying to be protective of cole, something he appreciates, but not like that. not going out of his way to hurt matt just because of something he’d mentioned in confidence. but rust wouldn't do that. rust wouldn’t do that. which means whatever rust is about to tell him is going to hurt, and cole’s hands squeeze onto his, a silent promise that he’s ready to hear it, even if just so he doesn’t have to be angry at the person he desperately wants to lean on now, even though he’s not actually ready.

cole’s hands go limp in rust’s hold as he finally tells him what matt said, his heart starting to race but his entire body frozen. he’s crying, too, his head just barely shaking, but not in disbelief. it’s not just that it’s not surprising that matt would say that, but rust would never hurt him like this — making up something so horrible about his sister.

after a long moment of not reacting at all, cole’s chest starts to feel heavy, and he gasps for air, not realizing he’d been holding his breath, his chest heaving suddenly like he’s choking, and all at once, his hands rip away from rust’s hold — not because he doesn’t want them, but because he doesn’t want to do this on rust. he flings his body around, his back facing rust now, body folding over, and without even realizing what’s happening, cole vomits in the grass. he lets out a loud, shrieking cry, his legs stumbling a few more steps before he falls to his knees, still faced away from rust.

this time, it’s cole pounding his head into the dirt, overwhelmed with all the emotions — from one friend proving that he doesn’t actually give a shit about him, to what horrible things are being said about victoria in her death, and… to rust, who he knows now was justified in how he responded, who didn’t deserve cole’s anger or disappointment or doubt, and he’s desperate for his touch now but doesn’t know how to face him, doesn't know how to deal with any of this, doesn't know how to live in his own head, mumbling through his sobs now: "it should've..." he gasps for air again before he can get it out: "why wasn't it me?" he asks, body curling on the ground, face buried in the dirt, his hand gripping at the grass just to hold onto something. "rusty?" he whines. "why not me?"

#clownfields #ch: r. vance.#thread: r. vance.

it's somehow tamer of a reaction than rust anticipated, while also being worse. actually seeing cole hearing it makes rust sick, lip trembling, sucking back his tears because he doesn't think he deserves them - this isn't about him, not anymore. not ever, really. his pain has always been second to cole's, and that's no different here; rust can weather split knuckles or a bruised face, but he knows cole can't shoulder the burden of matt's comment. not because he thinks cole's weak, or anything of the sort; he just knows cole feels too much. it's something he admires about him, something he loves, despite how much it terrifies him.

he doesn't immediately follow cole, though it kills him not to - but rust thinks he needs a moment at least. a long, painful, dragging moment, rust's hands twitching, his tears still streaming, blood flowing freely again from his teeth worrying his busted lip. but when cole begins to hurt himself, rust falls to his knees beside him, whispering cole's name repeatedly, before it crescendos to a loud, "colton," rust's voice weighted with an anguish reflected in his eyes.

his head shakes, shoulders quivering, ruston not certain what to do. he wants to hold cole, but he's not sure if that'll help, or if the blood will only remind cole of his disappointment in rust, trusted still ringing in his ears, the words that come now like a dozen little daggers slicing him. rust winces, fingers curling to a fist, that fist then digging into the dirt because he needs something to ground him - but then cole says his name, his name, and it's like everything clicks into place at once and rust knows he needs to touch him.

swiftly, decisively, he lay beside cole, pulling him into his arms; a mirror of something they've done a hundred times over the years. rust's hold is easy, familiar, no thought needed in rearranging cole to his chest, hands fluttering across him, checking to see if he hurt himself somehow in his agony. one hand folds across the crown of his head; the other swipes across his mouth, rust unbothered by the vomit, approaching it with the same clinical detachment of a gutting a deer - or trying to, at least. it's not the matter that upsets him; it's that cole's upset, his words not unexpected - because rust knows him - but they still make him flinch.

"she wouldn't want you to think like that," rust finally replies, his voice stronger than he'd expected. his fingers continue to pet cole's hair lightly, smoothing the curls. rust sniffles, unsure if he's helping, but he feels as if he needs to say this regardless. "it shouldn't have been anyone. it's so - it's so fucking unfair," rust cries, burying his nose into cole's hair now, sliding a hand down to his shoulder, nails digging into his jacket. "please, cole," he mumbles into his hair, muffled, "don't..." say that, he wants to say. because i can't handle the thought of losing you. it sits on his tongue, weighted, selfish, but rust can't bring himself to say it; instead, he just kisses cole's head, pulls him tighter, whispering again, "i'm sorry," then, "please-" fractured sentences between tears, rust not knowing what to say to help, if holding cole is making it worse or not.

cole’s shocked when rust disagrees with him, his head pulling back slightly as he glares back at him, hardly catching what he says next, still not processing that what matt did in front of rust is different than what cole’s assuming that rust did. right now, he can really only focus on the fact that rust is critiquing his friendships, him, something that has always upset cole, not because he doesn’t understand (especially coming from ruston, given how their own friendship crumbled because of his new ones), but because cole really does care about all of them. he doesn’t like to give up on people.

but it’s not really all about that, either — and rust can see it better than cole can see it for himself. cole gives people too many chances, he lets people like matt get away with shit like this over and over again, because it’s hard for cole to blame others when he’s busy blaming himself. victoria died because of him. cole’s sad because of his own failures. he’s a burden to his friends (not rust, right? never rust), and that’s his own fault. he’s hurt by the way his friends are acting towards him now, but he can’t shake the feeling that they deserve to be annoyed with him too. it’s the same way his father makes him feel every time he reminds him that cole’s a murderer — he’s right to hate me, isn’t he?

“he’s my friend,” he insists, but it feels like a weak argument. is that even what matt is, really? does matt even like cole, or does he just like being perceived as one of cole’s friends? is he just waiting for the day that he can somehow beat cole in this game they’re playing — one that cole’s never really understood himself? he thinks about it for a moment and his lip quivers, his head shaking. matt trent is not the kind of friend that will last beyond graduation. cole’s always understood that. he’s not someone cole wants in his life for the long run, but can’t he just get to graduation without any more bad blood, literally, between them? “he just likes to talk shit.” but that’s not all it is, and some part of cole knows that, too.

matt’s a loose cannon, and cole’s not really admitting that to himself, but that’s only because he thinks he’s done a good job of not letting anything between them go too far, like he knows how to handle matt and how to keep him in line. even if that means taking all the shit he talks and not fighting back, because at least he’s saying it to cole, and cole can take it. but there’s so much he doesn’t really know about matt, something that is starting to eat away at him, because something about all of this just doers’t feel right — especially the idea that ruston would betray him. it’d be less surprising coming from matt.

he breaks free from his thoughts, eyes shooting up to rust as he hears him hit his head again, and he frowns, hand twitching because he wants to reach up to him again. he also wants to tell him to stop, but something about it, the way he’s noticed him do it before, tells cole he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

this isn’t what he was asking for, and cole can’t help the reaction, gasping as rust grabs his hand gently. his own is still trembling, but it’s the first time since he heard the whispers about rust that he feels frozen in place, eyes watching his own hand being placed against rust’s chest. when rust lays his own, bloodied, bruised hand on top of it, cole winces, eyes closing for a brief moment, and when they open again, tears finally start to fall against his cheeks.

his apology finally forces cole to meet his eyes, and his head shakes, not because he doesn’t accept the apology, but because he still can’t shake that something’s not right about this. he’s been so laser-focused on his fear that he hasn’t let himself be rational about any of it — but he’s finally really looking at rust, really seeing him, and… it’s rusty. it’s his best friend. the person he’s always trusted more than anyone, the one person, beyond all his friends and even his family, even himself, that cole knows wouldn’t hurt him.

his fingers curl against rust’s shirt, not in an effort to pull himself out of his grip, but in a small indication that he’s starting to calm. cole takes a deep breath, his free hand moving up and gentle grabbing onto rust’s arm. “rusty,” he whispers, pleading, still worked up but eyes at least starting to lighten. “tell me what happened,” he finally says, frowning because he realizes he should’ve started with that — but he was too scared, the sight of matt so haunting, his own paranoia relentless. his thumb lightly brushes against his arm as a silent way to tell rust he's ready to listen, a shaky breath falling from him as he goes on.

"why did you..." a gulp. "—hit him? what started this?" he braces himself for the truth, hoping that he's wrong, that he has no reason to lose faith in rust, but he's still scared, still paranoid, still angry. and now his words from earlier click, something about matt speaking of her, and he's not sure he wants to hear that, either. "you have to tell me, rust, i have to know." said more for himself than rust.