Her Reaction To Him Without The Mask:

He's a midwestern princess

rest in peace bubba sawyer you would’ve loved chappell roan

OH MY GOD I WAS LOOKING UP WRESTLERS FOR THE ASK YOU SENT ME AND I THOUGHT OF THOMAS AS CHAINSAW CHARLIE

@taeaura i think he wears Chainsaw Charlie shirt (yeah he’s a wrestler btw)

Gonna make a sequel - Not sure when it'll be finished..hopefully this month 😋

You will be fed I promise🙏

Serious question, because this might have changed the storyline of the tcm remakes. If Thomas ever had at least one friend, that ONE friend he managed to get from his upbringing. Possibly back from his childhood, too, let's just say that.

Would Thomas be possessive or a meek individual who would be desperate to keep them close. Like I'm talking about an extreme level of possessiveness that it would be considered sick. I think there's a word for that, I just don't know what it's called.

Because I can see Thomas becoming a stalker at one point and possibly following somebody close to him around if he needs to. Like a "threat" is close to his dear friend, and he's afraid that this person might take them away from him.

|Proprietorial|

GN!Reader x Thomas Hewitt 🫀

SUMMARY: You and Thomas have known each other since grade school. As the town of Fuller dies, so does your desire to stay. Feeling guilty, you decide to visit the Hewitts one last time..but Thomas gets possessive following your attempted departure..

_____

Thomas is and always has been desperate for connection. Genuine understanding - Not just acknowledgement. It's rare to be accepted when you're different - And it sure as hell doesn't get easier in a small, conservative town like Fuller. Luckily enough, he had found someone. Someone who didn't recoil in disgust - Someone who didn't laugh when he tried to speak. Someone his momma approved of.

That was back in grade school - Back when things in Fuller were "good." Though, were they ever really good?

When his momma told you about the slaughterhouse shutting down, you were nothing but empathetic. You even offered to help the family out with what little time and money you had. Luda Mae, being the prideful woman she was, declined your offer.

"Keep some for yourself, hun. Gotta do what it takes to survive out here...we'll figure out a way."

Everything got worse when you decided you couldn't stay.

--

One day, you stopped visiting Luda at the community center. No longer stopped by at the slaughterhouse to see Thomas. It was like you were never there.

You had to tell them you were leaving - It wouldn't be right to abandon them all on their own..especially not Thomas. So, you packed up a small basket and headed over to the Hewitt residence. That evening, when you'd knocked on the door, Monty answered.

"Whadd'ya want?"

"I'm here for Ms. Mae..Luda Mae; And Thomas - Are they home?"

He squinted his eyes and weakly scoffed before opening the door further, letting you walk through. He then directed you to the kitchen where Luda Mae was; She'd been preparing dinner just as you walked in.

Monty swiftly knocked on the doorframe, grabbing her attention. As she turned, she scoffed "Monty, for the last damn time, I-" She stopped. Her expression neutralized as she saw you.

"Oh, ____, there you are! Gosh, I haven't seen you in so long; Where've you been?" - "Tommy's been worried sick about you.."

There it was. You'd made Thomas worry..which is exactly why you dreaded coming over; You didn't want to be reminded of the guilty feeling festering inside your stomach.

"Is he alright?" You asked, and Luda nodded.

"Oh, he's just fine, dear. Why don't you go say hi? He's in that damn basement again.."

You agreed, but quickly remembered the basket you brought.

"What's that?" Asked Charlie, he had been watching from the opposing doorway..unbeknownst to you.

"Oh..gifts..for you."

"Me?"

"Well, the family, yes."

"That's so kind of you, dear. What for?" Asked Luda Mae, grabbing the basket from you and placing it on the kitchen table.

"Just..felt like bringing some joy to this dying town."

"That's very kind of ya - Now go see what Tommy's up to, he's missed you like crazy" Charlie said, unimpressed. He sniffled before taking a swig of his beer.

--

You'd known the Hewitt house's layout well; It's not like Thomas would invite you over after school some days...The basement was across from the front door, it'd be hard to miss unless the archway was blocked. As you approached the ominous door, you took back your hand from the handle. What if Thomas didn't want to see you? What if he'd grown resentful of you? You sighed, closed your eyes and went to open the door. To your surprise, a loud screeching sound interrupted you as the door opened seemingly by itself -Except, doors don't open by themselves.

Behind the doorway, a tall, familiarly built man stood before you. His half-mask..muzzle of sorts was tightly wrapped around his head, strangling his neck and chin. He must've heard you - or his family, talking.

"Hi Tommy; I'm so sorry, I know I've been absent - It's not you, I've just been so stressed and confused and-"

You were rambling. He never seemed to mind, especially when you called him "Tommy." He never liked when just anyone used that nickname, it was special. You were special - To him, at least.

"I need to talk to you about something." The way you said that caused him to tense a little. Talk about what? Was it his job? Did he disappoint you?

"Listen, Thomas" Oh no, you were being serious, weren't you? "I love you and your family so so much, and I'm so grateful to have known you for this long..but..I can't stay here."

..What?

"I can't afford to stay here any longer, Tommy. I don't know how you folks are staying - I..there's no jobs, no resources out here, no nothing. It's all gone! I can't live a life like that, how do you survive out here? I'd..I'd love to stay but it's not sustainable for me. I'm so sorry, Thomas."

You're leaving me. After all we've been through together, you're leaving. Just as uncle Charlie said you would..

"It's not anything you've done. I swear."

You can't leave. I won't leave you leave - I have nothing. I'll prove to you how good I am - How good I can be, I swear. You can live with us on this farm, just like momma always dreamed of. You're not leaving me; Not after you've met momma, not after the countless times you've saved me from callous assholes out here. No - I couldn't..

"Thomas?"

He had been so lost in thought that he forgot to respond. His expression had dropped immensely - He had been so excited to see you again but now all that excitement was gone.

He'd lost Charlie once. Came close to losing everything, everyone. He would never let that happen again. Especially not when it came to losing you.

"Thomas.."

He had to keep you. Keep you here; In the basement; In the barn; Maybe in a spare bedroom - His bedroom. It didn't matter. You could would not leave.

As he stared you down, you felt an emptiness surround you - A dark, restless entity caging you in. Just as you thought he'd lose it, a voice pierced through from the archway:

"Thomas? Thomas, what on God's green Earth are you doing?"

It was Luda Mae. You didn't know if she'd heard your "conversation" but you were glad enough that she'd come through.

"Now, Tommy, I know you're upset, but let's just..leave ____ to breathe a minute. Okay?"

You mumbled a meek "Thank you" before wiping an unknown tear from your cheek. You'd never seen him like that - Most definitely not with you.

As your anxiety curtailed, you made your way to the living room to sit, holding your head in your hands. You hadn't noticed Monty sitting in the armchair beside the couch; Hell, you hadn't noticed the TV playing either. It was playing some..random news station - One of the few you could get out here.

"So you're leaving us, huh?" He spoke in a rough, gravelly voice.

"You heard that?" You sniffled.

"With the way you were talking, the whole damn house heard." Shit..had you been loud? It didn't seem like it in the moment..

"Don't worry about Thomas, he's an emotional crybaby, ain't he?"

You refused to answer. Seeing Thomas so distressed, so..frightened by the idea of you leaving, it feed your already aggravated guilt. So many hours in his room, so many repetitive school days spent together, drawing in the back of the class. The days when you two used to spend hours at the creek, collecting all sorts of treasures. He even picked a wildflower-bouquet for you - Granted, it was all dirty and withered, but it was enough to signify how much he cared about you. How grateful he was to have you here.

You were stripped of your thoughts as you heard Monty grown and yawn, falling asleep in his chair. The TV had become background noise for the both of you. On the table, two glasses filled murky water and a note; Folded and slightly dirty. You wiped your eyes again and picked up the note, unfolding it.

Don't leave.

Please.

_____

Guys this is ass should I log off

Anyway, if I didn't cover everything you wanted, please let me know and I'll update 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} :)

Hi!! So I actually found this on an article: Here you go!

Alright, I've never seen this photo once from anywhere. And out of all blogs I could have found it in, it was, of course, from @taeaura. Like my guy, where did you get this???

_____________________________

_____________________________

yes

How are you gonna complain that Nosferatu was too sexual as if Gothic literature didn't originate from social rebellion? As if Bram Stoker's novel didn't have sexual undertones? As if Nosferatu didn't have sexual undertones already? I understand if you didn't expect such upfront sexuality, but don't hate on the movie for it. If it's not for you, that's okay! Taboo topics aren't for everyone; Just remember that Gothic literature is meant to be taboo. A social rebellion. Expressing the dark, barbaric, animalistic, and shunned aspects of human nature. I haven't watched the film YET; But I have taken a course SPECIFICALLY on Gothic literature {and passed}, read Bram Stoker's Dracula, watched both original Nosferatu's multiple times, and immersed myself in Gothic literature for a while now. Gothic horror IS sexual in its essence. It's grotesque and disgusting. Revolting and shameful. That's the point. It's also sensual, emotional, despondent, and FULL of metaphors. It’s EROTIC. If the genre isn't for you, or if certain aspects aren't for you, that's okay. Everyone has their limits, everyone deserves their boundaries.

when in doubt about whether or not to make a thing, do it for your 3 hardcore fans.

Hey! I’ve been really into your work on here these last few days. As someone who also loves the 2003 TCM remake, I have a question I’m dying to have answered, but haven’t seen anybody mention it.

So in the movie, when our group of victims are looking through the collection of abandoned cars, they find a jar. Inside is a, suspiciously yellow liquid, and a picture of the hitchhiking girl from the opening.

I have been racking my brain trying to figure out what this jar is ever since I saw the movie for the first time. The best I’ve been able to come up with is that it is some sort of southern spiritualism spell jar. I think I saw one similar to this called a sweetening jar, where you are aiming to get a person to like you more.

But I’m interested in hearing what you have to say about this. Do you think one of the Hewitts were trying to get the hitchhiker to warm up to them? Or was this just some loose end the film makers forgot to tie up and I am reading too much into it?

Hi!! - I'm so glad you like my posts! I actually never considered what this was - But I'm curious!

There's a few possibilities, including the sweetening jar.

For the color of the water, I assume this is a result of dirt. The Hewitts {as seen in many scenes throughout both movies} don't have access to clean water supply - This may be because of rust, or lack of care on their end.

I've found a type of decoration that's almost exactly like what's shown in the 2003 remake: Laminated picture{s} placed in a mason jar, with the optional addition of water. It's used as a way to display pictures, usually vintage ones. The jar {especially when filled with water} gives this 'snow globe' or 'bubble' effect. It makes the picture seem bigger - as well as adding a '3D' effect to it.

These are just my thoughts, but I think the spell jar is just as plausible!

Hiii - As an ode to my first post {Thomas' Medical Analysis}, I thought about making him a 'medical chart'.

Thomas my little microorganism

Not everything on this chart is canon {such as diagnoses dates}

The Basics

Thomas {Brown Hewitt} was born on the 31st {not canon} of August, 1939 - He is currently 34 years old, canon-timeline. Thomas is 6'5 and around 300-330 lbs / 136-150 kgs.

____

He has been previously diagnosed with:

Mental Retardation

Mental Deterioration

Deteriorating {Flesh / Facial?} Disfigurement | Interchanged with: Disfigurative Facial Disease

{Unreadable} Birth Defect {Assumed to be an Incomplete Unilateral Cleft}

Tendencies Towards Self-Mutilation

____

What His Skin Condition Could Be

Cutaneous Lupus {CLE}

Pustular Psoriasis

Severe Cystic Acne

Pustular Rosacea

I'm gonna make this very clear - as I did in the original Medical Analysis - Thomas does NOT have skin cancer. He would not survive. And even if he did, He'd be bed-ridden or severely weakened.

____

What His 'Mental Retardation / Deterioration' Could Be

Depression

Generalized Anxiety Disorder

Autism / ASD {Most likely 'Level 1', also called 'Low-Support Needs', 'High-Functioning', Asperger's}

PTSD

Apraxia of Speech

____

Here's screenshots of the document I made for him 🤓

This is my autism on full blast vro 𓆣