hi! i’m hewitt, im a tmale, and i’m a big slasher fan. this is a multifandom blog, i’ll sometimes post writing or drawings every now and then. i lean towards slasher content, but it’s honestly anything when it comes to me.
my asks are typically open for anything, so whether its art / fic reqs or small conversations, they’re there if you wanna tap onto it and reach me. (i swear i’m so kind and awesome.. aha) i follow back if you follow me, obv — or interact a ton / post stuff.
cw though ; obviously with my enjoyment of horror comes dark content / sinister art and writing. it’s a little inevitable. don’t like, don’t consume. i don’t mess with people with no media literacy.
i’m in a good lot of fandoms, so take things like slashers, general horror franchises, bully scholarship / canis canem, omswd, outlast, dunmesh, etc ,, i’d say i’ll start posting more horror / oc stuff rather than anything else, though. i had all fruit. /ref
my disc is overblotting . we’re a system, so replies are a little sporadic — plus work and all that jazz. if we could be chronically online 24/7, we would be. feel free to interact as much as you want, i personally prefer feedback over a couple dozen likes.
sketches because. I’m kind of obsessed with them rn, been following development for a while and now feeling like unc. holler at me if you play because im trying to get the ~30 mins badge
synopsis ; his family sure as hell don’t approve, and you’ve been awful indignant, but it doesn’t keep bubba from showing you how much he cares. to court, for starters, he brings you a token of affection : a locket he stole from a poor victim, with a piece of hair obviously cut too long to fit.
content warnings ; murder, cannibalism, dark topics / humor, cheesy for the sheer love of the game, forced captivity (hinted that user is here against their will), traditionalism, violence referenced against the reader (its the sawyer family, like.. fork found in kitchen. sorry.), one-off mention of bile
a/n ; ngl depending on the traction i’ll write a pt2, i mean.. inevitably i’ll do it. it’s just a matter of having the motivation (growth mindset my ass bruh.) sorry for inactivity, and he might be a little ooc here, i’m not sure how well i wrote him. also lmk if people are interested in horror ocs/readers, since i’ve been into sharing and writing those.
The blustering summer heat was uncomfortable, but Bubba happened to manage it well.
He was no stranger to the thick sheen of sweat during such sweltering summer days, especially when the morning tide would reveal the sun’s glow — wrapping the fields with a low orange hue and preceding the eventual high temperatures that many city-folk succumbed to during the evening. The weather made it more difficult to focus, providing a dreadful reminder of his surroundings as a backdrop to any work he was doing. Which, had never made him feel very good, however he was sure the flush on his face didn’t feel worse than whoever was writhing on an uncleaned meat hook by the time the sun set.
Either way, he had bigger things to worry about!
Currently, his hands were fumbling clumsily with a lock of his own hair, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot as the strand he was pulling on to snip off, coiled back to its original shape. A frustrated murmur left muffled by the mask. His head nodded up. There wasn’t a proper clock in the bathroom to indicate what time it was, only the soft tick of the kitchen timer masked by the hooting and hollering of Drayton and Nubbins just a thin wall away.
A thoughtful garble left him, he’d be able to sneak up to see them if the two were distracted for a moment longer. To present whatever heartfelt gift he made that day that’d be ridiculed in front of anyone else.
The golden strand hung against the bathroom sink, washed and scrubbed until the fake gold-plating gave way to the subtle copper and silver just shy underneath. The original owner was a young woman traveling with her husband down the road, or so Bubba imagined; seeing as they’d clung onto each other with such closeness when he’d finally found where they were hiding. All with broken sobs he’d heard from man and pig alike — before they became two carcasses pressed together, lying in wait within the freezer.
Thinking too hard about it made his mouth twitch. He could imagine the new loiterer inhabiting the room just above the bathroom and him like that. Not in a freezer, ‘cause that was where all the nitty gritty bits of people long gone were. But maybe somewhere on his creaky bed, surrounded by the coarse paraphernalia that they’d coo and praise him for. And he’d play with their fingers and watch as they made themselves comfortable in a room of his own making.
Aside from that.. Through the haze of gore and tortured screams echoing through the old Sawyer home, the sun brought light to the gorgeous thing. Shortly after, upon closer inspection, he’d noticed it’d been adorned with a small pattern etched in to the shape of a heart. To match within its confines, a lock of someone’s hair curled comfortably underneath a thin layer of plastic—safely held close to her chest. Likely something vintage, far and way-old, with the soft sheen of constant care until Bubba overdid it in the sink.
He’d run around, boots lumbering against the gravel all morning to chase the two lovers around for his family as always, but it’d finally proved to be fruitful once he’d caught glimpse of a bridge. A new way to connect with the ‘loiterer,’ as Drayton named it, just up the stairs.
He just couldn’t shake the nerves that made him rethink the half-baked plan formulated in his head, and the sheer excitement that earned a soft squeal from him. Hopefully, they would like the emblem, an jut maybe, it would melt some of the ice that’s kept them holed up in their room—refusing to eat things he’d made just for them..
The thought of their opposition made him deflate for a moment. Bubba could hardly handle anymore jeers from Nubbins about ‘failed attempts.’
His hand finally managed to snip off the stubborn tuft, calloused fingers rubbing it between the pads before glancing down to take the recently cleaned necklace. He nodded happily to himself, a soft sniff. Then, only to stuff his hair inside of the small crevice haphazardly. Behind him, he flicked the sad clump that had once occupied the small space to make room for his. As his fingers fumbled to shut it, with the tips of his hair still poking through the corners of the clear film—he huffed, shoulders slowly slumping, mild insecurity finally beginning to create a bile in his throat. He swallowed it down. Yeuck.
Surely, they’d like it.. Though, if they rejected it—well, rejection would prove a brutal shove to all his work, and have him hoping for the next trucker wandering down the road to bury himself in chores. He lips pursed, laving over the cracked ridges.
.. Yeah.
If they didn’t enjoy it, the threat of the hammer could always force them to change their mind real quick. Learned it well from his family before he’d settled his hands on the cool ridged of his saw. He paused for a moment, before rubbing his hands on his apron and clutching the necklace to his chest. Bubba bit back a guilty snort, shoving his head in his hands as he solemnly stared at the locket.
Luckily enough, they were really pretty. He hesitated much more ‘cause were pretty.
synopsis ; his family sure as hell don’t approve, and you’ve been awful indignant, but it doesn’t keep bubba from showing you how much he cares. to court, for starters, he brings you a token of affection : a locket he stole from a poor victim, with a piece of hair obviously cut too long to fit.
content warnings ; murder, cannibalism, dark topics / humor, cheesy for the sheer love of the game, forced captivity (hinted that user is here against their will), traditionalism, violence referenced against the reader (its the sawyer family, like.. fork found in kitchen. sorry.), one-off mention of bile
a/n ; ngl depending on the traction i’ll write a pt2, i mean.. inevitably i’ll do it. it’s just a matter of having the motivation (growth mindset my ass bruh.) sorry for inactivity, and he might be a little ooc here, i’m not sure how well i wrote him. also lmk if people are interested in horror ocs/readers, since i’ve been into sharing and writing those.
The blustering summer heat was uncomfortable, but Bubba happened to manage it well.
He was no stranger to the thick sheen of sweat during such sweltering summer days, especially when the morning tide would reveal the sun’s glow — wrapping the fields with a low orange hue and preceding the eventual high temperatures that many city-folk succumbed to during the evening. The weather made it more difficult to focus, providing a dreadful reminder of his surroundings as a backdrop to any work he was doing. Which, had never made him feel very good, however he was sure the flush on his face didn’t feel worse than whoever was writhing on an uncleaned meat hook by the time the sun set.
Either way, he had bigger things to worry about!
Currently, his hands were fumbling clumsily with a lock of his own hair, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot as the strand he was pulling on to snip off, coiled back to its original shape. A frustrated murmur left muffled by the mask. His head nodded up. There wasn’t a proper clock in the bathroom to indicate what time it was, only the soft tick of the kitchen timer masked by the hooting and hollering of Drayton and Nubbins just a thin wall away.
A thoughtful garble left him, he’d be able to sneak up to see them if the two were distracted for a moment longer. To present whatever heartfelt gift he made that day that’d be ridiculed in front of anyone else.
The golden strand hung against the bathroom sink, washed and scrubbed until the fake gold-plating gave way to the subtle copper and silver just shy underneath. The original owner was a young woman traveling with her husband down the road, or so Bubba imagined; seeing as they’d clung onto each other with such closeness when he’d finally found where they were hiding. All with broken sobs he’d heard from man and pig alike — before they became two carcasses pressed together, lying in wait within the freezer.
Thinking too hard about it made his mouth twitch. He could imagine the new loiterer inhabiting the room just above the bathroom and him like that. Not in a freezer, ‘cause that was where all the nitty gritty bits of people long gone were. But maybe somewhere on his creaky bed, surrounded by the coarse paraphernalia that they’d coo and praise him for. And he’d play with their fingers and watch as they made themselves comfortable in a room of his own making.
Aside from that.. Through the haze of gore and tortured screams echoing through the old Sawyer home, the sun brought light to the gorgeous thing. Shortly after, upon closer inspection, he’d noticed it’d been adorned with a small pattern etched in to the shape of a heart. To match within its confines, a lock of someone’s hair curled comfortably underneath a thin layer of plastic—safely held close to her chest. Likely something vintage, far and way-old, with the soft sheen of constant care until Bubba overdid it in the sink.
He’d run around, boots lumbering against the gravel all morning to chase the two lovers around for his family as always, but it’d finally proved to be fruitful once he’d caught glimpse of a bridge. A new way to connect with the ‘loiterer,’ as Drayton named it, just up the stairs.
He just couldn’t shake the nerves that made him rethink the half-baked plan formulated in his head, and the sheer excitement that earned a soft squeal from him. Hopefully, they would like the emblem, an jut maybe, it would melt some of the ice that’s kept them holed up in their room—refusing to eat things he’d made just for them..
The thought of their opposition made him deflate for a moment. Bubba could hardly handle anymore jeers from Nubbins about ‘failed attempts.’
His hand finally managed to snip off the stubborn tuft, calloused fingers rubbing it between the pads before glancing down to take the recently cleaned necklace. He nodded happily to himself, a soft sniff. Then, only to stuff his hair inside of the small crevice haphazardly. Behind him, he flicked the sad clump that had once occupied the small space to make room for his. As his fingers fumbled to shut it, with the tips of his hair still poking through the corners of the clear film—he huffed, shoulders slowly slumping, mild insecurity finally beginning to create a bile in his throat. He swallowed it down. Yeuck.
Surely, they’d like it.. Though, if they rejected it—well, rejection would prove a brutal shove to all his work, and have him hoping for the next trucker wandering down the road to bury himself in chores. He lips pursed, laving over the cracked ridges.
.. Yeah.
If they didn’t enjoy it, the threat of the hammer could always force them to change their mind real quick. Learned it well from his family before he’d settled his hands on the cool ridged of his saw. He paused for a moment, before rubbing his hands on his apron and clutching the necklace to his chest. Bubba bit back a guilty snort, shoving his head in his hands as he solemnly stared at the locket.
Luckily enough, they were really pretty. He hesitated much more ‘cause were pretty.
saw horror unleashed in area15 and went into the texas chainsaw massacre attraction.. literally jumped for joy seeing bubba and nubbins, but didnt stay long enough to fully see drayton. womp.
cw ; implied harm towards reader, brahms being brahms, author’s buns writing, reader captive against their will, typical slasher bullshit.
thought about brahms. thought about how he’d not exactly above locking up his live-in ‘nanny’ if it meant keeping him with him. what else can he do?
his mother and father are gone, he has no one else — and you’ve been taking care of him. it was in the rules. surely, you’d sympathize with him right? and with all he’d done to please, to try his best to be good.. all he wants is for you to keep the routine. to have him at the center of your world.
you can’t go anywhere, can’t leave him, can’t possibly care for someone else. he’s not above many things, after all, he’s still so impressionable. he’d hang their guts on the wall to prove that a point; before letting you, of all people, believe that you’d ever leave his clutches.
if you betray him, there’s that chance he’s not above doing the same to yours. it’s the same drive that had him trapping poor animals who knew no better than to succumb to his cruelty, and the same drive that had rejected others before you in a senseless fit of rage, trying too hard to undo a familial grief brought unto him from his birth.
he won’t like it, of course — nannies are no good dead — but he assures himself that it won’t have to get to that point. it never will. he’s been good. he’s always tried to be good.
synopsis ; you have a vague understanding of billy lenz , though you didn’t know him by that name. of course, just because you weren’t familiar with him, doesn’t mean he isn’t familiar with you. and tonight, he sneaks into your room to hold you for a moment, knowing the threat of his existence keeps you in place, rather than any affection.
content warnings / tags ; obscenities, mentions of murder, threats (against reader), cuddling, suggestive actions and behavior, romantic violence (can you even call it that?), billy’s weird psychosexuality, you live with the sorority but the reason is vague.
a/n : this is more of a writing study for me. i wanna write him, probably something larger — but as for now, i’m settling with like .. a short and sweet drabble. just to test things out. is this me projecting my desire to see more gross billy works? yes. very much so. does anyone mention that one part of the movie where he goes “i’m going to kill you.” in that clear ass voice? yeah … it was really cool. aura farmed. wrote this also because not enough gn shit. or male reader stuff. so expect that in the future.
You never truly saw Billy.
Obscured recognition through the sliver of the door cracks of the old house hardly counted for truly looking at the man. If you could call him a man, anyway, especially with the way drool smeared against his chin and lips when sputtering obscenities like bile regurgitating from his stomach.
The words, repulsive and vulgar, snuck into your ears on nights when the sorority house — so eager, full of life — lulled to a low hum. The flaxen yellow thermoplastic held to your ear, all while he spat and screamed at you; though, oftentimes, you found yourself pressing the speaker to your ears. The sharp sounds of the snorting and broken moans jarred the women which occupied the home. Something in you remained stagnant as your grip tightened on the handle.
“S’me.. Billy.”
That same sick feeling coiled in your gut when you felt clammy hands hold onto you for the first time; just under the low blinking Christmas lights just outside the room you were allowed to stay in. Sleeves wet with something viscous and heavy with the smell of iron, muttering something low and raspy against your neck — heavy breaths that carried words that made no sense to you.
“Nasty.. Nn..” He’d breathe, before seething something sharp, almost pained. Then, he laughed, almost muffled by the clink of drinks a floor below. Then he rasped, rough and ugly. “Fucking. Asking for it— pig bitch. Pig bitch!”
A broken laugh escaped him, pressed deep into the back of your head as if he wanted to crush his forehead into the back of your skull — to allow the splintered shards to thrust right into the two of you both. The pressure waned for a moment, as he shifted up against you. Part of him wanted it to bruise. Hurt you when you woke up the next morning — depending on his mood. “Gonna lick it. Then’ll.. fuck it. ‘stroy it.”
His hold tightened, as his manic laughter fell into a breathy giggle. It almost seemed like a funny joke, something crude rather than a promise, though one could never tell with Billy. His head turned, swiping the back of your neck with his tongue, the slow lave caught by the collar of your shirt; and a part of you flinched. Something small, a leg jerking slightly as if it were ready to leave the bed.
Suddenly, his muttering ceased. His gaze caught against the back of your head, and his hands tangled along your shirt. Billy could be quiet when he wanted to be. That’s how he got the upper hand on that poor girl, plastic secured so tightly around her head that even the gasps of air she tried to take left her making the same croaks that Billy would use to torment others. That’s how Billy managed to sneak up on so many pretty fucking piggies. Squealing and snorting before he kept them from making much noise ever again.
He lifted subtly. A cold shudder snuck up your spine, or maybe it was the saliva still left from Billy’s escapade on the expanse of your flesh. The party in the background felt as if it was long gone, a safe haven far from your grasp. You opened your mouth to speak, before something sharp pressed against you. Clear words left the shadow, now above you:
