[esse-luv]

♡ ◜ 𝓔𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐄 ─ 𝓛𝐔𝐕 ◞ . . . ( she / they ) ─ horror whore !!

&. about me before you follow do not interact

&. requesting masterlist tags carrd

╭ ₊˚ ๑ 𝓜𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 :

─ the warning signs ( the grabber oneshot )

─ the grabber general headcanons

─ title here.

© 2022 property of esse-luv ─ please refrain from translating, plagiarizing, or reposting any of my posts or artwork here or on other platforms. est. june 26th, 2022.

[esse-luv]

i… uh… 🥴 hey besties, guess who’s coming crawling back? i’m so sorry for the lack of activity for a long while!

i stressed over things going on in my life, yknow family drama / trauma 🤪 BUT i thought about coming back again, and i have a new acc..

would ya’ll be interested? 😬 ( i’m so sorry i know i’m weird )

[esse-luv]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRMPYF2Y/?k=1

︎︎ on TikTok

📞 #ethanhawkeedit #ethanhawke #thegrabber #thegrabberedit #fyp #dixqns

no i’m screaming, at first i didn’t like the look of him in these scenes but now… 😳😳😳 lord have mercy-

[esse-luv]

Hi! Do you take smut requests for The Grabber? If not that's okay

i think i’ll be very picky with it, it’ll depend on the substance of the request yknow? i’m personally not into dominant partners in the bedroom, being dominant myself, so it would be difficult for me to write a submissive reader :/

but depending on the request, i may be interested in writing nsfw posts <3

[esse-luv]

so i’m on vacation rn but i saw / met this guy who reminded me of ethan hawke / the grabber 😳😳😳

[esse-luv]

i’m sorry but 001 from stranger things s4 is hot, don’t lie.

jamie campbell bower >>>>

[esse-luv]

just going to say it — it would be pretty cool if people were to send in slasher requests too 💃 if you’re unsure if i write for a specific character, just ask! <3

[issdisgrace]

Micheal Myers has nice tits and that's a FACT

[esse-luv]

hello. i had this intriguing thought ab the grabber, something i haven’t been able to subdue; how would he react if whoever he kidnapped acknowledged his trap to lead them upstairs and yelled up them something along the lines of, “i know what you’re trying to do.” obviously, not that, but just letting him know they know what he’s trying to do, yk?

you have a great overall analysis of the grabber, i read your headcanons on him and i enjoyed it! if the reader acknowledges his trap vocally to him, and because he uses the trap and other things as a way to justify his actions as you headcanoned, how do you think he would react? because it could go down multiple routes, but overall, it would be a lot harder for him to use anything like that as justification because the point of it would be ripped away (i believe, at least) - unless, the kidnapped person still runs into the trap, even if on purpose.

you don’t have to make this into a fic or headcanon sort of thing, you can just answer it or something if that’s what you’re wanting to do! it’s something i randomly thought of. whatever you do w this, i hope you have fun!

okay, well since you said i could just answer that i think that’s what i’ll do! thank you so much though, this was honestly such an interesting idea to get thrown into my inbox!

so, assuming you’ve seen the movie ( SPOILERS ) there is one specific scene where The Grabber had come down to the basement and had mentioned how, “everything’s fucked up” and how “nothing’s going right”.

i honestly don’t know whether or not he was saying those things to mess with finny’s head, or if it was genuine. I’m the context of the scene, i believe it was the one where he then threw the newspaper into the room after fin lied about his name? so it probably was to mess with his head.

though honestly? i personally think it would be very interesting if it was both, because he seems to be this complex mix of two sides, the grabber side & the guilty side. that scene spoke to me as him airing his own personal vulnerability he’s feeling to then be able to move his naughty boy game forwards. ( his brother, max, was probably slowly starting to get closer to figuring out the whole grabber kidnappings as a whole. )

so if you or some kidnapped victim happened to figure out what would happen if you crept up that staircase, and yelled up to him — i feel like he would freeze. i think there would be a period of pause where he tries to figure out what to do and how you even figured out.

i think he would either continue on with the game, getting more creative in order for you to slip up and fall right into place where he wanted, or he would come downstairs exactly as he is in that moment.

option one : now if he continued with the game, i feel like he would make no noise. he would let it go that night, and assuming you’d then be smart enough you’d stay down there. the days would continue on before, and he’d make no mention to that night. he would try the door tactic again, hoping you would finally come upstairs to then find the kitchen empty. you’d walk to the door needed to escape and only once you’ve opened that storm door, he would block your exit with his body, backing you right back into your horrific prison.

option two : he comes downstairs to the basement immediately. i feel as though this could result in him unaliving you there, or at least asking you, “what game?” resulting in the confrontation. you’re absolutely right in saying that his justification has been ripped away — so he would either panic m*rder you ( justification in his mind now shifting from naughty boy game to you not following the rules. it’s a much weaker argument, but i feel as though it would work well enough for him, who now feels threatened ) or he would confront you, which may come back around to resulting in option one, where he tries to continue his game as normal as possible so he can win.

obviously there are probably more paths that he could run down if a victim did that, though these were my very first thoughts & take on it!

thank you so much for this question / scenario, i literally loved answering it and giving my interpretation for the grabber! <3 if anyone else ever has any questions like this and wants my take or opinion, please go ahead!

[esse-luv]

do you guys seriously want a part two for the grabber fic?? i’ve seen a few asking for it 🧐

[nanamis-harness]

The Grabber brain rot is Real

[esse-luv]

girlie just left the theater, and he’s just as attractive as i remembered from the first time 😔🤚

[esse-luv]

heyy could you do headcanons for the grabber? you have me hooked on him

WARNINGS : kidnapping, insecurity, mention of murder, illusion to bad childhood, mention of an abusive household, etcetera.

AUTHOR NOTES : i was super glad that someone requested headcanons for the grabber, because i have a few interpretations and personal hcs for him already and was dying to share! these are just ideas about the grabber himself and not him with an s/o, so if you’d like that then go ahead ‘n request that too! <3

the grabber knows that what he is doing is wrong. i think he is aware of this, thus why he’s created the naughty boy game — a way to justify his actions when he eventually attacks and murders the boys.

utter self - loathing towards himself, or great insecurity for who he was / is. i think it makes a lot of sense and goes along with the idea of him understanding that what he’s doing is wrong.

“ that level of self - loathing is probably what gives them the strength to hurt others. ” — ethan hawke, the grabber.

at one point in the movie, as he speaks, he’s tearing up. you can see the wet shine in his eyes — he’s guilty, self - hating, and incredibly insecure, yet at the same time not.

“ somebody who doesn’t want to be seen so much must really hate themselves. ” — ethan hawke, the grabber.

the masks. they were made with the intention and idea of the grabber having found them and then fixed them up. i think that the masks feed into his darker side — the side that argues that his actions are justified.

he freaks out when his mask is knocked off his face in the movie, his safety net’s removed. he depends on the masks to hide his guilt and knowledge that what he’s doing is horrific. the masks are kind of like a symbol of his shame & guilt.

probably fluctuates between feeling extreme guilt and then non whatsoever. if a kid cries in front of him, guilt would probably slowly creep up on him, making him flee the room quickly in desperate search for something to take his mind off of it. he knows there’s no going back for him.

wants to be in control always, though struggles with it. i’d like to imagine that his childhood was not a happy one, and he always felt out of control. so first it was control over his brother, max. then he moved on to his kidnappings, as they made him feel powerful, he was the one finally pulling the strings.

my personal headcanon is that growing up he was meek & friendly, with a taste for control and power. perhaps he was bullied at school and returned to an abusive household. his brother went to the path of light, wanting to receive and give justice, while the grabber personally wanted revenge & control.

i cannot remember who is older, but max seems like an oblivious and awkward older brother, so the grabber may have conflicted feelings on whether to care and protect his brother or to feel angry for never protecting him as a child from the horrors of their own house.

© 2022 property of esse-luv ─ please refrain from translating, plagiarizing, or reposting any of my posts or artwork here or on other platforms.

[esse-luv]

guess who’s going back to see The Black Phone in theaters for a second time 😩😩

[esse-luv]

𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐒 !!

PAIRING : the grabber x gn! reader

SUMMARY : the grabber strikes again, but unbeknownst to him, his newest victim is more of a fighter then he thought, unfortunately, the reader underestimates their ability to outrun a kidnapper.

WARNINGS : themes of kidnapping, suggestive tones, featuring his man tiddies, unedited.

AUTHOR NOTES : i have to be honest, i’m not proud of this piece at all </3 i just don’t think it’s that good, and it ends very abruptly. i’ll figure out how to write him better with practice, hopefully! tysm for the request @dippindaz !! very unedited, please be kind.

in hindsight, you should have recognized that something was very off when you walked out your front door that evening.

the first sign was your car engines’ pitiful sputtering as it failed to rumble to life. you sat back in the driver’s seat, brows furrowing. you knew your car was old, but the recent check in the local auto - shop proved that she still ran as she was supposed to, engine strong. you leaned forwards, grabbing the key and giving it one more try, listening to the car as it once more attempted to start, but once more failed to do so. fumbling to get out of your car and look under the hood, you searched, but not being particularly savvy when it comes to vehicles, you reluctantly shut the engine and left the driveway on foot. you supposed you’d just have to walk to the store and back — thankfully only needing to restock a few groceries.

the second was the sight of a matte black van, parked across the street from the small market store. green to blue ombré writing scrawled along the side, yet the windows were darkened, making it difficult to tell whether or not someone was inside or not. regardless, you took small note of the unfamiliar van before you carried on with your late evening shopping, finding the foods you had needed and quickly getting in and getting out. it was late dusk when you exited the store’s comforting bright light, the last bit of sunlight illuminating your walk home.

the third was your last sign, a sign so glaringly obvious that even an idiot would have seen it a mile away. something that you saw as sure as daylight, and yet you fell for it all the same. you were only a couple of blocks away from your home, holding your brown paper bag on your side, propping it a tad on your hip as you walked. glancing around at the familiar street you lived on, one thing stood out. the matte black van with it’s scrawling green to blue ombré text on the sides. you walked further, trying to ignore the unfamiliar van, when your eyes caught something new. near the back doors, a sharp dressed man stood, two similar brown bags clutched in his hands, attempting to open the back. he seemed frustrated, yet kept trying. that was your third sign. it didn’t cross your mind then, but it sure did eventually : why didn’t he just put the bags down?

head throbbing, you grunted miserably, hand reaching up to press to your forehead, trying to subdue the muted pain. you were propped up again the cold, hard wall, sitting on an old mattress far too small for you, as if it was for children and not for adults. you had sat in this dank, dusty room for how long you were unsure of, not knowing how long you were out cold. could be hours, possibly a day or two. you only remember that man in snippets of you thought hard enough. you remembered his firm grip on your shoulders, the lock he got you in by him wrapping his arm around your neck just under your head, quickly drugging or sedating you. you remembered the feeling of your body curled into his chest as he carried your limp body down a flight of stairs, the disgustingly comforting smell of his cologne and the feel of the fabric of his black polo shirt. and you remembered how gentle he had been settling you down on the mattress, hearing his voice mutter some faint words out before he stood back up from crouching.

a click resonated through the room, dimly lit by the evening’s last rays of sunlight that streamed through a window too high up and barred. your eyes snapped to the large door as it painfully freaked open, a dark silhouette entering the room. you steeled your nerves, anxiety and fear ripping through you and yet you glared the most fierce glare you could manage as the man walked further into the room. he came closer until he stood right before the mattress, your body pressed as far back into the wall as you could possibly imagine. “well hello.” his voice was bright and friendly, eyes bright behind the devilish and dirty mask he wore over his face. you remained silent, but that didn’t seem to deter him. only irritate him ever so slightly.

“is your head okay? took a pretty nasty fall trying to get away.” his voice smiled, hand reaching out to caress your head. you pulled away, face stony as you retorted, “i’m fine.” with a snap. his hand stuttered, but retracted back to resting on his knees. you both stared at each other, silently observing. his gaze was sharp, narrowed, and from under his mask you could see how his jaw clenched. “what?” you snapped at him, trying your best to hide your unease. the air was tense, electrifying as he stayed where he was, stilled.

“why are you?-” he grabbed your wrist tightly, and despite the smiling mask he wore, you could tell how dangerously irritated he was. “be nice.” his voice was low, warning, his grip on your wrist slowly loosening. “i know you’re scared and you wanna go home.” he murmured, hand moving up your arm, sending chills running down your skin. “and i’ll take you home.” he paused, fingers moving to gently hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger. you held your breath, the feel of his warm fingers on your skin enticing in the most wrong way. “but.. i gotta be upstairs.” he seemed almost reluctant to leave, but he pulled his hand away, eyes trained on you like you were his prey, his possession. “why?” you immediately asked, desperate to get as much information as you could possible. he shushed you, chiding, “nevermind why. i’ll be back later.” he moved to pull away, but you moved forward after him.

the grabber turned, catching your wrists in both of his own hands, making you freeze. you were still kneeling on the small mattress, him crouched in front of you. until he stood up to his full height, hands still gripping your wrists tightly. he looked down at you, fear flooding your stomach. but your mind slowly clicked into place as soon as you heard his almost wistful sigh as he observed you, eyes racking over your form from where you kneeled in front of him. a sickening feeling rose as your mind shifted into the gutter alongside his own. “well, would you look at that..” he hummed suggestively in that soft voice of his, your eyes widening. “let go!” you yelped, wrenching your hands from his bruising hold. he let you fall back, turning on his heel, door creaking to a close behind his leaving figure.

weeks have passed since that first encounter in your prison in what you figured was his basement. he had visited you many a time since, mainly to bring you food and drinks. this time, as he left, your hearing pricked at an unknown sound. you heard his leaving footsteps as he made his way up the stairs — yet you had never been able to hear that before. with a glance over, away from the same old scrambled eggs and bottle of water, you found the door had not been latched. putting the bottle down as quietly as you could, you snuck over towards the door, wrapping your hand around the latch like you had done many times before, checking with a dying hope that it would be what you were expected. you steeled your breath, and with a silent heave the door pulled open a few inches. eyes wide with hope, you pulled it wider, mind running away with the overwhelming joy at your newest hope. you finally had a chance to escape.

you soon found yourself creeping up the stairs, peering out from behind the door that remained wide open at the top. seeing no one in sight, you moved in to the fairly simple house space, noticing no one else around, until you moved out of the kitchen and into the living room. the first thing you noticed was the front door and it’s lock. however the second thing was less welcoming. you turned, and with horror quietly covered your mouth with your hands as you looked to the couches, finding his figure laying on his back, fast asleep, a frowning mask still on his face. his partially bare chest rose and fell with his breathing, one of his arms used as an arm rest under his head while the other resting over his stomach. the sight enough to make you pause.

before now, you had never been able to leave that basement for what felt like weeks, and neither have you seen him in any other context. seeing him now, asleep and vulnerable in the comfort and safety of his own home had you erupting in a mix of longing and raging, fear - fueled hatred. on one hand, this man was horrifically disturbed, stealing you away from your life, and who knows how many other’s he’s stolen and kept trapped? yet, as you stated down at him, observing the way his broad chest rose and fell, his large hand that laid comfortably over his stomach, how his feet hung over the edge of the couch due to his height, and how his copper hair splayed out against the couch and tickled at his jaw — it confused you on why your mind flashed with thoughts of running your hands over his chest, or thinking about his large hands gripping your skin.

you shook the thoughts away, huffing silently before turning to the padlock on the door, regaining your hatred and desperation to leave. you pulled at the lock as quietly as you could, finding yourself unable to open the door. you had no idea what the stupid number combination was. and yet, you weren’t done yet, no, far from it. creeping your way into the kitchen, looking and rummaging as quietly as you could through doors until you found a hammer in what seemed to be a miscellaneous mess drawer. grabbing the tool, you tested its weight in your hand, before deciding this would do. you crept your way back to the door, heart pounding. you knew he would wake up, there was absolutely no doubt about it. you needed to do this in one strike, and make your run for it.

you aimed your hammer, lining up the shot. you glanced back at the couch, assuring that he was still sound asleep.

the head of the hammer struck metal, the lock breaking off — old and rusty it seems — clanging to the ground. you kept ahold of the hammer, unable to hear if he woke up over your terrified breathing and pounding heart beat. you ripped the door open, and rushed out the door into the cold night air. the chill nipped at any skin left bare, the cold air feeling like a fresh slap to the face, a drink of cold water as though you haven’t tasted water in years.

your feet carried you as fast as your weak legs could manage, having been what felt like months stuck in that dark and dank basement. your feet ached, barefoot as you ran down the cracked and rough sidewalks on the streets you once loved and cherished. and yet, you spared a glance over your shoulder, and your blood ran cold.

bare - chested, the grabber sprinted after you, frowning mask slightly askew on his face due to having to rush out of the house after you. his striped cardigan whipped against his broad chest, threatening to fall off his shoulders and be lost to the night. that split second glance behind you was burned into your head, your chest squeezing painfully and a scream bubbling up in your throat, tears burning in your eyes. the sight of the muscular man running bare chested behind you, danger laced in his eyes which moonlight reflected in, it was absolutely terrifying. “no!” you choked out, voice cracking. you felt the scream in your chest rose, but before you could open your mouth, large hands shoved you to the side, landing in a hard face full of grass.

a strong pair of hands grabbed you by your hips, pulling you back and into his chest, both of you now sitting in some unknown neighbor’s lawn.

the air grew tense, and startlingly quiet. a gentle breeze blew by in the cool night air, contrasting the fear that made your body go rigid. you felt the heaving of his chest that was pressed flush against your back, clearly out of breath after having woken up and immediately sprinting after you. one arm was wrapped around your neck, not choking, but holding firmly in place with his bicep. you could feel his arms flex, tensed, not daring to loosen his grip in the slightest and risk you getting the jump on him once again. the other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you both down and pressing you back against him. you sat, pinned against him between his legs, and could feel the huffs of his hot breath that fanned down against your head.

from down the street, a light could be seen glowing from one window of the house. seeing your chance, you let the scream that had been building up rip from your throat, “HELP ME!-“ his hand that was gripping your hip shot up, covering your mouth while his legs came up to pin your legs down. “quiet!” he growled, silently huffing curses into your ear as you both watched with bated breaths as the porch light from that one house turned on.

the front of his mask bumped against your cheek as he leaned down, glowering as he whispered huskily into your ear. “make one sound and i’ll gut you like a pig.” the light flicked off after a couple beats of silence, and he quickly lifted you up and over his shoulder, carrying you back to the dreaded house in silence. in hindsight, you wish you would’ve seen the warning signs that fateful evening.

© 2022 property of esse-luv ─ please refrain from translating, plagiarizing, or reposting any of my posts or artwork here or on other platforms.

[esse-luv]

YES I wanted to see it in theater again but I can’t fine any time after the 30th to see it, only at a theater that’s 50 miles away 😬

And you bb, are a god like entity that I appreciate more than anything. Thank you for allowing me to get to see those mommy milkers I just can’t wait 😩

50 MILES AWAY?! uh uh 😭🤚

and of course 😩 dw i got you, this man’s milkers will make a special appearance just for you <3 can’t wait to write it 😳😳

[esse-luv]

DUDE I honestly might see the movie again as soon as I can just so I can rewatch that scene. Cause HOLY THOSE MOOBIES. 😩😩😩

I tried to find a gif of it to tide me over until I could watch it again but there’s nothing

On the topic of man tiddies, as it is my favorite, if there’s anyway I could slightly modify my previous request to involve, even just one sighting😩of those😩voluptuous😩mitties😩😩😩 I’d very much appreciate that ❤️❤️❤️

I’ve already offered all the pictures I have saved of his moobies, I’m sorry I’ve no more :(

NO CAUSE LITERALLY SAME — i’m hopefully going to go see it again in theaters very soon because dude 😩😩 the moobies

oh don’t worry, i planned to include a sighting of the milk mountains that are his mitties <3 i gotchu bestie

:( awh no moobies </3