AHH !!! I'm So Glad You Like It !! Thank You For Sending It In 🫀

am I experiencing an enlightening eye-opening moment of self-awareness {embarrassment and hatred} or do I just need to go to sleep

lore accurate

OMG IVE NEVER SEEN THIS CREATURE BEFORE BUT I LOVE IT 🫀

I love the character trope that just goes: Sharp teeth, fish/bug eyes, socially inept ESPECIALLY when it's in the horror genre

like wdym this is bro

going through 20 different emotions trying to write fanfic rn

I'm so sorry for not posting guys I've been obsessing over Call of Duty: Modern Warfare + focusing on school 😭

Pls forgive me I promise posts are coming back

Here's more

The Hewitt House - In Better Detail

Source: Austin Chandelier Service

Photographed by {I believe to be} Jake McCoy

Source: Reddit.com

The Kitchen {also} Photographed by Jake McCoy

Hi Tae, I was wondering if you could tell us how Thomas would react if a victim (reader) who's cornored or meets him for the first time stare into his eyes for a moment, taking all the details in, to then tell him that he has beautiful eyes. It dosen’t matter if he looks at then angrily or with a dark gaze. They still thinks they are beautiful. Like a gem or the sky on a sunny day.

I figured you could answer this easily since you know the Hewitt family so well and it's pretty much an easy question.

oooo I love this!!

I think he'd be very confused and taken back which would cause him to pause for a bit - He's in his own head a lot. This gives the victim more time to escape but as soon as you move he's right back in the game. (Or..with a little "family motivation")

__

"You're beautiful." You don't know why you said it - Why you felt it. All you knew was that it's true: He was beautiful, at least to you.

The cannibal paused. Beautiful? Such words were never used to describe him, not even once. The most praise he'd gotten was on his work ethic, never on his appearance.

His expression tightened, what was left of his nose wrinkled, his eyes squinted as his eyebrows closed in. It doesn't make sense - You're lying. You were just trying to catch him off guard, break down his walls; Escape.

Don't be tempted, son. These women are something else.

That's what Charlie had told him one time - Back in what were supposed to be his high school years. There were always pretty girls with infectious smiles and loud laughs that made him turn his head. He liked the way their hair was done, how creative they could be in accessorizing. He liked their lips and the way they framed their smiles. The fantasy would break as soon as they saw him. He'd be staring at them, distracted from his work at the slaughterhouse or at the community center his momma worked at. The girls would stiffen - They were disgusted with him. Afraid.

Why're you staring? - Can I help you?

He didn't have the tools to answer those questions. His answer wouldn't make anything better; In fact, it'd make it worse. They weren't asking out of genuine curiosity, they wanted to deter him. His freakish nature and abnormal behavior. Momma taught him not to stare, but, why could they stare? No one told them not to, he was a macabre one, that's for sure.

In a matter of seconds, his head replayed the compliment you gave to him. Beautiful. He was beautiful.

It felt good. Odd, peculiar, abnormal, but so damn good.

Say it again. Just one more time; Please?

Of course, he couldn't say that. He didn't say that. And he didn't want to.

Thomas restarted the chainsaw, revving it loud enough to drown out his irrational thinking. You didn't mean it. You couldn't have.

You jolted back, frightened, but yet, still determined.

"Beautiful, beautiful eyes." You whispered shakily.

He threw the chainsaw to the ground, frustrated and confused. If you didn't mean it, stop fucking saying it!

"What's taking so damn long down there!" A voice called out from upstairs. "Tommy, stop stallin' and cut her up already!"

Hoyt stomped down the stairs, his eyes meeting the corner you were trapped in. "Oh, Christ, Thomas. Get a grip on yourself."

"What? Did she butter you up all nice and sweet, huh?" Hoyt called out condescendingly. He didn't view Thomas as "ugly" necessarily, but Hoyt knew a thing or two about survival. Never let your guard down. Ever.

Tommy looked between the two of you, frustrated, confused, overwhelmed. He wasn't teary-eyed but he was damn close. Still, his anger shadowed his confusion as he picked up the chainsaw once more, starting it up as the two of you locked eyes.

"There you go...attaboy, Tommy. Finish the job like you always do."

____

Sorry this is kinda short. I was in the mood for a mini oneshot lol

As always, if you have more requests, questions, or I misinterpreted an ask, please let me know!

I wanna do Tommy's hair - Like actually provide some care to it

Probably gonna make a post about it 👹

Half-Cocked {WIP} Snippet / Synopsis

No, the title is not a sex-pun {but it could be}

TW: SA/Rape, Groping, Extreme Language, TCM-Canon-Typical Violence, Gore, Period-Typical Racism + Sexism {No slurs}

Here's a snippet of the fic I'm working on. This is essentially a draft so feedback is completely fine! I have no idea how this will go nor when it will be done, I do apologize. Reader is gender-neutral + race-neutral. {THIS IS NOT THE FULL THING; Will most likely be heavily altered once the final product is published} 🫀

____

Not much was left of that forgotten town. The funding was gone, as were the people. After the meat plant shut down, residents lost their purpose in Fuller. It was a shadow of the life previously flourishing there - something only the wildlife could frolic in; Which is exactly why you were here. Miguel, a childhood best friend of yours, wanted to enlist near Dallas. He’d brought you and some mutual friends along promising tickets to a music festival, which you had accepted on the means of exploring the state. It had seemed ideal then but the overwhelming heat of the Texas sun proved otherwise. As you leaned your head on the window; August, who had been sitting in the passenger seat, began to mumble - Something about “needing to fix the air conditioner.” He always was one to complain; Miguel often joked about his ‘particularness’, saying he was a primma-donna at times. Though, he wasn’t too annoying; Not today anyway. A sweet guy with a kind smile, a bit too kind at times. Theia, Miguel’s sister - and mutual friend of yours, had her hair entangled in the wind with her head out the back-passenger window; Flowing in deep curls and coils. 

Driving through the backroads wasn’t too entertaining, requesting a scenic route didn’t make it any better either. You fussed with the lace of your shoe - bending and untying, bending, untying, bending, untyi- 

“Hello, did you hear us?” 

You quickly turned your head, releasing the worn laces from your hands. You felt a small tap on your bicep - It was Edith. Edith was a classmate-turned-girlfriend of August’s, one of Miguel’s friends. She was nice, just a bit impatient, which had been amplified by the unforgivable heat. 

“We’re gonna stop at a gas station in about 3 miles, okay?” 

“Yeah..that’s fine. I needed a break anyway.” You said; Your legs had been feeling a bit numb from the lack of use. Sure would be nice to get your blood flowing. And Lord, did it do just that.

__

It had been hours since that drive; Since you’d made it to the community center; Since you’d felt safe. August was long gone; last you saw of him was his spotted blood-trail leading to the basement. The harsh screeching of that steel door sliding open, paired with the hiss of August’s nails as he dug them deep into the walls, attempting to prolong the inevitable torture. Edith; Dearest Edith. Her throat hoarse as she wailed, bleeding through the walls of the decaying house. Miguel, sweet Miguel. He was tied down the chair beside you, half-conscious. Dried blood painted his right temple, flowing down from the gash which plagued his hairline. His lips looked so mundane, as did his usually deep complexion. His head was tilted towards you, clouded eyes staring weakly. As your head lay defeatedly against the crest rail, the beaded eyes of a deer - long dead, glared. It scowled at the two of you from its head bust, nailed to the middle wall. Below it, two windows and a thin table dressed with picture frames and a cloth suffocated by years of dust and dirt. As you tried to think clearly, a pair of footsteps stuttered behind the walls. Strong and angered footsteps pounded the withered wooden floors, followed by frantic and unsteady ones. The sheriff - pseudo-sheriff - forced Theia into the dining room, her wails of protest filling the already claustrophobic atmosphere. As he threw her into the chair opposite of Miguel, another set of footsteps followed in. The ‘barbaric, chainsaw-wielding psycho,’ as Edith had called him, approached Theia. His swole hands took the rope from the sheriff’s aged ones, binding Theia’s wrists and ankles to the chair limbs. 

“There you go, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” The sheriff taunted, his perverted eyes traveling down her form. “I tend to prefer blondes but, hell, I know a pretty thing when I see one.” 

The sheriff cupped Theia’s shoulders as he forced his lips upon her head. His lecherous movements didn’t go unnoticed by anyone; Especially not Miguel. Even in his weakened state, he spat at the sheriff, his eyes filled with contempt.

“Get the fuck off her, you fucking whore!” He screamed - The sheriff immediately turned to Miguel, his eyes filled with slight shock. That shock was quickly overturned by indignation. 

“Now who put you the fuck incharge?” He mockingly questioned as he walked over to Miguel, grabbing his hair and shoving his head into the table; “Last time I checked, this badge is the authority around here. I make the demands; I challenge the rules, not candy-ass hippie soy-boys like you.” The sheriff retorted as he let go of Miguel’s head, leaning his arms against the crest rail; “Get a grip on yourself, son; This shit don’t fly in out here, you got that?”

Miguel was now barely breathing, his eyes were glossed over and almost completely closed. 

It hurt so much to see him fade. The light which was once rampant within him had disappeared. He weakly opened his eyes, their lids fluttering under the warm lights. You thought maybe he had gained the strength for something. Just do something. But he couldn’t. His eyes inevitably shut again as he steadied his breathing. 

“Goddamn it..” You defeatedly whined. Your wrists struggled between the rope as it dug into your already stripped skin. 

The brutish butcher had been standing in the corner of the room; Observing. He didn’t seem enthusiastic or encouraging of the matter; Rather - dissociated. His hands grasped onto the strings of his apron, bending and untying, bending, untying; Just as you had earlier. It was an intricate silence between the five of you; The sheriff had already gone back to leeching off Theia, and you couldn’t bear to look. Soon enough, the elderly woman from the community center presented a covered pot amongst the few of you; Placing it down on the aged lace that blanketed the old wooden table. 

“Tommy, set the table for us, dear.” She said as she looked over towards Theia and the sheriff. “And you, give her some room! Don’t want to spoil dinner with your whirlwind of trouble.” 

The sheriff lightly scoffed, but left Theia to rest. He stood behind ‘his’ chair at the head of the table, opposite to you. He mumbled a soft “No need for bellyachin’..” before adjusting his back. 

As ‘Tommy’ returned with the plates, an elderly man appeared behind him. He approached the empty spot at the table and positioned his wheelchair accordingly; His expression often seemed dull and exhausted - That is until he saw a woman he fancied. His smug and slimy eyes would wander up and down as his body heat heightened. It was revolting. Luckily, he had no interest in Theia - he had voiced that many times. 

“Where’d you put that other one? The blonde.” He impatiently asked. The sheriff scoffed in reply, turning his head unamused. 

“In my room, that’s where. Ain’t none of your concern, now is it?”

“What? But you have that one right over there! You know I don’t like ‘em like that-” Monty protested, only to be cut off.

“Watch your mouths! I will not have any fighting at this table, do you understand me?” Luda Mae declared. She wasn’t one for unnecessary confrontation; Especially not over ‘ungodly’ topics such as these. 

Both of them rolled their eyes, parting ways as they sat back. Thomas was sitting beside Theia, though he seemed uncomfortable. He kept staring between you and Miguel, only looking away during conversation. You were terrified to say the least; How could you not be? Your friends, your only support system, murdered in front of you. And now you’re forced to eat with the perpetrators? Tears you didn’t recognize fell from your eyes - mixing with blood and dirt to create a streaky film over your cheeks and neck. You tried to control your breathing, attempting to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. Nothing could’ve prepared you for this. Nothing. You hopelessly looked around the room, gravitating towards Thomas. He was still staring at you. Though his body language portrayed his enervation; His muted blue eyes looked consistently curious, and crazed. The staring continued for some time until the sheriff - Hoyt, interrupted:

“Bow your heads - Let's give thanks for the bounty that's been given us.”

___

This is so ass I'm sorry lmao {Again, NOT THE FINISHED PRODUCT} :)

Saw another goddamn gif of Tommy's arm getting chopped off..give that boy some kisses and ibuprofen