Lady Dimitrescu Scolds Cassandra

alcina's laugh lines are literally the cutest thing ever. I can't stop zooming in and smiling 😭

I'm too deep in this lady dimitrescu shit...

15x19 | bloody!sam 

I’m simp for them

#no one compares #civil war bucky stands alone

Oh the Deadpool tag is trending? I wonder why—

… oh

matching tfatws lockscreens

please like/reblog if you save !

I painted over my Halsin portrait with his hair down for science and

oh my fucking god

somebody call me an ambulance

Random Art the clown headcanons part 2

warnings: these are actually random, so some contain nsfw!.

the horn goes every damn where with him. like, every where. “art, i’m right here. you don’t need to honk that damn thing.”/*he ignores you* “HONK!”

high key gets jealous. say you have a friend, doesn’t matter the gender, they’ll most likely end up dead or badly injured.

it’s big. and he knows how to use it.

when you guys text each other he mostly uses emojis. “😜😈🤫”/“what does that even mean??”

when he eats you out it’s sloppy. it could be your ass or pussy, sloppy asf.

him and both pennywise’s are friends, so the usually sometimes go on killing sprees together.

sometimes you can tell when he’s cussing you out silently (besides when he flips you off).

loves holding hands with you all the time. he’s so silly goose!!

okay hope you enjoyed!!

masterlist!

part 1!

Late Night Visit

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt x reader

Warnings: None at all really! Mostly just fluff

Summary: Thomas comes late in the evening to see you.

Now, it’s no secret around these parts, the house that is, that you always struggled with rolling out of bed in the mornings.

It easily took you at least an hour to fully rise to your feet and finally go about your day, it was simply how your body chose to function.

Especially in such… Unique circumstances.

While Hoyt always used it as an excuse to kick your bucket and peel the meat from your bones for dinner, thankfully Miss Luda Mae was much more considerate and just sent her boy Thomas every ten or so minutes to shake the sleep out of your bones.

Quite literally.

You remembered the first time poor Thomas made the trip up the old creaky stairs to the room you were tied up in. The large man didn’t realize you were a sensitive riser at the time, and Luda Mae hadn’t bothered to warn him, which caused the whole ordeal to end with a sprained wrist on your end and a juicy black eye for Thomas. The whimper that came out of him surprised you for certain, he downright sounded like a wounded puppy, not at all in character with the man’s hulking appearance.

Then again, you also hadn’t been expecting an officer of the law to pistol-whip you and drag you to his house for dinner. To BE dinner, mind you.

Granted while it hadn’t ended up going Hoyt’s way, the sentiment was a little hard to shake.

But here you were anyway.

After that little scuffle though, they started tying your legs again, and a certain upset mama bear banned the man from the chore. But of course, after Luda Mae got tired of always making the trip up the stairs, she finally caved and sent her sweet boy on the missions his younger legs could handle once again.

Not before a stern warning not to be difficult to her baby boy, of course.

Thomas only lasted three days before noticing the bright rope burns glowing on your ankles, and the pair of big brown eyes hidden behind wild hair swirled with guilt at the sight.

Your wriggly feet had been free since and you both kept the little secret just between you and him.

It was an easy one to keep too, considering he always made extra sure to tuck the blanket under your feet before bed. You remembered the indistinguishable look in his eyes when you offered a feeble smile at the minor, yet thoughtful action the first time he did it.

Since then, the air in the room had started to shift over time. Whenever he ducked his towering frame through the door every morning and night, you could see his large shoulders droop, the tension seeping out from the core of his bones. At first, you thought it was because there was a wall between him and the noisy bickering that always seemed to be floating through the halls. A good portion of the subjects bein’ about the butcher himself.

Always in a not so kind light, too.

But, eventually, you came to realize it was just your presence that drew out such a thing from him.

You never did really prove that the sentiment was real, the introverted butcher made that sure, but lord be damned if you didn’t hope it was true.

Months passed, and you’d finally come to terms with the fact that you’d never get to leave the Hewitt house. Upon that realization, you found yourself more comfortable with the notion than you’d expected. You had cracked a smile when a certain resident of the home came to mind. Granted they were still a cautious bunch and made certain to chain you to your bed every night. Plus you were damn near positive you’d get early arthritis from all the sewing they were having you do. But, they let you skip out on the more meaty meals they served in favor of the veggies from the garden.

Can’t get any worse you supposed.

If anything, it got just that little bit better when a few cold nights later. You turned your attention from the book nestled in your hands to your door, the familiar sound of heavy footfalls closing in on your room per routine. Though that said routine had been finished over half an hour ago, your toasty tucked-in toes and chained wrist were a testament to that. The oddity caused you to smooth down the corner of your page, saving your spot before reaching over to set it on your nightstand. Hands now resting in front of you with calloused fingers picking at the threads of the blanket, you waited for the telltale whine the door always gave when it opened and gave a curious albeit worried tilt of your head.

Once there was a sizeable crack, that telltale shaggy head of hair slipped it's way in, a pair of big chocolate eyes peering at you in the dim-lit room. The hesitant look in Thomas’ eyes paired with how they struggled to stay locked onto yours drew an amused yet soft chuckle from your lips, the heat of nerves seeping out from your chest.

You can’t remember a time after settling into the home when Thomas didn’t show his southern charm, those polite little manners Luda Mae made sure her boy had. Which, considering his occupation, never lost its charm.

“You can come in, Thomas.”

The gentle murmur encouraged him to gently swing open the door, ducking his head as always while shuffling his way into the room. Your eyebrows furrowed as he hovered around the entrance, though a smile was still present on your lips.

He was so tense, nervous. Noticing this pulled down at the corners of your mouth a tad. Why was he so stiff? One of his hands was picking at the string tying his apron to his body, while his other hovered almost stock-still at his side, clenched into a tight fist. You hadn’t seen him like this since a person Hoyt brought for him to butcher had slipped through his fingers and escaped the basement. Kudos to him though, as he’d chased the woman down with ease and had brought her back in record time, but the verbal and physical lashing he received had him dangling on the edge of a panic attack for a solid two days.

While before, you would’ve mourned for the person who failed to escape what you’d thought was hell, now the memory of how distraught Thomas was the only nasty taste left in your mouth.

When your lips parted to ask the poor man what was wrong, his head was quick to bow down with his jittery gaze following. He looked at his mucked and worn boots for a few beats of his stuttery heart, before they finally flickered up to meet your own. You took the chance to scoot over in your bed, the old mattress creaking before you patted the now free spot next to you with your free hand, the other chained to the metal baseboard.

His Adam's apple bobbed noticeably as he tried to swallow his nerves, before taking the short steps his longer legs needed to reach the now open seat next to you.

The bed groaned even louder as he sat down, his back facing you. The new, larger body caused a dip in the mattress and had you sliding over, your shoulders bumping against his spine. Your hand reached up to press against him out of reflex to catch yourself, and your struggling smile finally fell once you felt the small tremors coming off him.

You pulled up the edge of your nightgown and shuffled towards his side, only barely managing to peek around his wide shoulders before the chain connecting you to the bed grew taught, cutting into the bandages Thomas swaddled around your wrists to protect them.

Another shiver vibrated up his spine as you slid your hand from his back and over to the front of his shoulder, chin barely pressing into him as you gave out a low, thoughtful hum. You’ve learned over time through experience that patience was the way to go with the man. Demands and pressure will only bring his anxiety to a boiling point before it pours out of the soup pot that was Thomas Hewitt.

His tremors slowly eased over the next few minutes, the heavy breathing puffing from behind his muzzle-like mask soothing down into a more relaxed rhythm.

By that point it was your cheek resting against his shoulder, the hand that was there moving onto his shoulder, gliding over the muscle in the usual way you would when wanting to help bring him back down.

It was like there was magic in your fingertips, he could swear.

If you were hoping he’d nudge you awake when you fell asleep on his shoulder, you’d be mistaken. He just couldn’t help it, honest. With you leaning on him so willingly he was scared his heart would burst out of his chest and wake you all on its own anyway. He just couldn’t help letting you drift off leaning on him. You were so small in comparison.

Mesmerizing, to see at times.

And this was one of those times.

Eventually, though, he could feel the object in his fist shift, giving him a reason to finally bring you back to the land of the living.

You’d felt as though you’d dozed off and been sleeping for hours, though you knew it not true as you felt Thomas’ back straighten, his large body shifting slowly to face you.

Sometimes you felt that man could stomp his foot and split the earth in two, he was so large.

The feeling of fingers ever so gently grazing your cheek shook you from your sleep-ridden thoughts and had your eyes struggling to open, blinking away the sleepiness that had started to creep up on your body.

Seeing those eyes easily drug out the last bit of drowsiness that weighed you down.

They were filled with so many different things, all swirling around in his head at once. It was one of the things that had your opinion of him turning what seemed like months ago. The thing that was changing him from being the cold-hearted cannibal to the broken and lonely man, stuck in a twisted house. It was still hard, and you still got scared when you heard the screaming from down in the basement, but you were trying.

And after getting to know the family, you felt Thomas deserved to have someone try for him, for once.

A heavy sigh puffed from behind your lips when his fingers pushed on past your cheeks to run through your hair, and you couldn’t help leaning into the touch. God he was making you sleepy again like this.

He huffed, his thumb rubbing over your cheek to try and brush that sleepiness away, a quirk of a smile tugging at his lips.

Settling with only closing one eye and leaving the other on him, you rose a brow quizzically.

“You feel better?”

The question had him retracting his hand to fiddle with the edge of his apron, moving his other closer towards you. Looking down, you notice he still had it clenched into a fist, must’ve been next to him on the bed the whole time.

It was shaking too, his poor nerves.

He seemed to be offering it out to you, which had you granting him a smile. That seemed to boost his confidence, and his own smile grew just that little bit bigger.

You shuffled back and used the hand on his shoulder to encourage him to follow. The poor man realized and made quick to follow, pausing to shake off his shoes before settling himself in the middle of the bed, one leg extended with the other drawn up closer to his chest. You couldn’t help a breath of relief at the newfound freedom you had when it came to the movement of your chained hand. Turning your attention back to him from your chains, you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled from your throat at seeing him fill up the small twin-sized bed, he was just so…

And without a moment of hesitation, you took the gamble.

The gargled yelp you got from him after getting to your knees and bouncing on the old springy mattress had your giggle blowing up into a clear laugh. His ass didn’t even leave contact with the stupid sheets at all! But judging by the red starting to pool in his ears and the squinted eyes, he wasn’t too amused even though the mischievous glint in his eye said otherwise and was quick to retaliate.

The moment your body left the mattress was the moment he realized he didn’t quite calculate your weight into the equation, and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep the childish squeal from waking up the house. The two of you stared wide-eyed at one another the second you made contact with the bed again, your hand reaching out to grab his knee to steady yourself. He was smiling and you were snickering as quietly as you could, pinching his knee as payback. Thomas was quick to cover his teeth with his lips while he smiled, and you pursed your own in turn, folding your hands on his knee before resting your head there. Bad dental genetics or not, you thought his smile was lovely, but that was a battle for another day.

“Alright big guy, back to business. What’d ya have for me?”