Requests Are Still Wide Open Yall

requests are still wide open y’all

thomas hewitt

bubba sawyer

brahms heelshire

pyramid head

nemesis (resident evil)

jason voorhees

xenomorphs

nubbins sawyer

choptop sawyer

michael myers

i also do matchups! i just got back into writing tho so be nice

I was wondering if you could do some head cannons with 2006 Thomas Hewitt and a fiercely protective so? Like they’d be super sweet and affectionate with him but if you insult him ooohh boy get ready for the lashing of your life! Like his so wouldn’t put up with any shit while simultaneously an is absolute softy

A/n: UM? YESSS??? I love this ask so much, I also had a blast with this one! I love the idea of a sweet-as-sugar S/O going absolutely feral when people mess with Thomas. Also, I’m in love with the 2006 Tommy, he owns my entire ass heart. 

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Thomas Hewitt with a fiercely-protective S/O

First of all, Thomas is going to be putty in your hands every time you touch him, being so unused to physical affection and all. He’s definitely touch-starved, and he absorbs any soft, kind touch you give him graciously. He’s a tad clumsy when returning it at first, so you’ll have to teach him some things, but he’s a quick study. You’ll be picked up, squeezed, nuzzled and drowning in the best hugs imaginable in no time!

Now, as for your protectiveness, you’ll probably get into shouting matches with Hoyt constantly for one, and have to be held back by your gentle giant just as frequently when you start seeing red. But this is the only times when he sees that feral side of you, otherwise you’re an absolute sweetheart!

That is… until a victim’s head starts getting a little too big and they start barking insults at Thomas—most of the time at the dinner table, since some survive that long—and you go rigid in your seat, your head turning with the suppressed-but-clearly-pissed-off-s/o glare as the table goes silent. 

Two scenarios may occur in times like these, one: You hiss for someone to shut them up before you do, and remain on the verbal-defensive over your man. And normally somebody’s already got a hold of you before you can think to launch yourself at them—which you never hesitate to, and you’re quite strong when you want to be.

Two: You’re already standing up, walking suspiciously calmly over to where the victim is seated. You lean down to their level from behind and whisper probably some of the most terrifying threats worse than death anyone in the room has heard—henceforth why you whisper, to not scare anyone—and either slit their throat if they spit something back or innocently pat their head if they submissively relent returning to your seat to continue eating.

To be honest, Thomas loves it, in a reserved, unspoken way you see. If you’ve known each other long enough, chances are you were his guard dog to and from school, warding off any bully that dared send even a look of ill-intention his way. You got into a lot of fights for him, have lashed out and roasted the hell out of other thirteen-year-olds, and always told him things like: “If they ever bother you again you tell me, alright?”

Due to this heavy reliance, he would cling to you when you were children, following you around like a lost puppy wherever you went. But now that he was much bigger, much more capable of holding his own, and overall not the Tommy who used to hide behind your leg, he’s become your protector now. 

He thinks it’s a bit silly that you refuse to give up all that power since you’re still so protective over him, but he lets you do your thing, knowing it’s just how you are. But he’s very unlikely to tolerate you jumping in front of him or into danger, he has some boundaries there, you’ll have to sit some fights out for your own good.

And of course, once the rage as simmered down and you’re satisfied with whatever poor soul who tried to get underneath your boy’s skin, you’re just one big teddy bear. It shocks him how someone who used to get into bar-fights in their teens and knock out men twice your size could still be so sweet, so caring and affectionate with him—only him, you always say—but he sure as hell never complains.

Thomas Hewitt: Schooltime Friend Blurb

You had recently moved to the town. You didn’t know anyone, but still, you were eager to meet friends

The first day you attended you noticed a bunch of kids ganging up on this one boy for reasons you didn’t know. You were the new kid and you had been before at other schools, so you had a zero tolerance for bullying.

You had rushed over to the group of kids and shoved your way between them and the kid they were ganging up on, throwing your backpack to the side

“HEY! Leave him ALONE!” you had shouted, making the bullies laugh a bit. 

“Come on, new kid! He’s a freak! Look at his face!” they had shouted, making you turn and look at the boy they were picking on.

His face had dips in it, miscoloration, and it looked like parts of his nose were missing. But that didn’t matter to you.

“Leave him alone, or else.” you said to the group of bullies with aggression in your voice.

It ended up with you getting in quite a scrap with them. But you knew how to deal with bullies, and you managed to get them to run off with their tails between their legs.

With the fight over you turned to the boy who was being bullied, and kneeled in front of him. 

“Hello… Are you okay?” he looked up at you with the kindest eyes you had ever seen. He was covered in scrapes, and cowered from you a little bit.

“It’s okay. My name is (y/n). What’s yours?” he didn’t say anything, but he shakily dragged his backpack into your view. It had “Thomas” sewn into the front in uneven letters. “Hi, Thomas.” you said as gently as you could.

He sniffled a little bit and hugged his knees to his chest. You noticed he had a very bad scrape on one of them. “I have bandaids,” you told him. He looked up at you once more.

You took one out of your bag and put it on the worst scrape on one of his knees. “There.” he seemed to liven up a little bit from that.

The school bell rang, and you both looked up. “You wanna walk to class with me?” you offered, holding out your hand.

He looked up at you, again, with those big beautiful eyes still wet with tears, but he took your hand.

“Let’s go!” you said with a bouncy tone, not once letting go of his hand. You lead him into the school. You got some looks from the other kids but glared them down. Thomas was your new friend. And no one would pick on him as long as you were around. No one.

Thomas squeezed your hand. He had found someone to finally be his friend, and it was you. It would always be you.

and so is anon

asks are on now i’m fuckin stupid lmao

how 2 make an instantly good character:

have them be fat

have them be a butcher

thats it

Can I please get a match up? I’m a 5 foot nothing, plump chick with wavy, brown shoulder length hair. My eyes are grey and I wear glasses. I enjoy cooking and get told I’m pretty good at it, baking sweets is my favorite. I’m pretty reserved until I get to know someone but once I’m attached I’m one of the most loyal friends anyone could ask for. I’m a bit of a mother hen and I like making sure the people I care about are taken care of. My birthday is the day before Halloween and I’m a Scorpio.😊

I match you with… Thomas Hewitt!

You think you’re reserved? Try this boy. Y’all two met under odd circumstances, but the more that the Hewitts kept you around, the more they wanted to let you live. Thomas never got to interact with a woman who didn’t end up becoming dinner, so he was constantly skittish and shy around you. Sometimes avoiding you altogether.

Even though he was a good foot and a half taller than you were, he felt small whenever you looked at him. Something about you made him feel… something he couldn’t figure out. Why was his heart always racing when you were in the same room?? 

It took about a month, but you slowly warmed up to your new family. Luda Mae absolutely LOVED having you in the kitchen. She adored having someone to talk to on a regular basis besides Henrietta. And the fact that you loved baking? Lord have mercy.

One of the few times you were cooking, Thomas came up from the basement and you called him over to taste the chili you were working on. His eyes were glued to the floor the whole time, but he made a noticeably happy sound when he tried your cooking (even though he felt silly afterwards).

Stomaching where the meat came from was difficult at first. But in that house you either get used to it or become it.

You constantly caught Thomas and Hoyt sneaking your baked goodies, shooing them away before they ate them all. They both got a little bit rounder around their middles, too..

Since it was… well, Texas, and the Hewitt property, Halloween was very low-impact on the family. Still though, you kept a little bit of holiday spirit in the old house, making Halloween based desserts for everyone (pumpkin pie, ghost shaped cookies, etc). Now everyone kind of looked forward to it.

Thomas always had a bad habit of not taking care of himself. Once you moved in though, you were havin’ none of it. You made sure he bathed on a regular basis, brushed his hair, teeth, etc. He had very little clothing, and most of it was always filthy, so when you did his laundry he wound up sitting next to the washer in pj pants and no shirt, with you scrubbing his clothes, his whole face as red as a tomato.

It took him a while to properly get acquainted with you and with his lack of speech, it frustrated him often when he tried to communicate with you. You picked up on what he was trying to get across to you quickly though, so in the end he felt a lot better about it.

One day you had caught him without his mask on. He was mortified. He went without seeing you for days. It took a bit of doing, and a LOT of patience, but you managed to convince him that even with his lack of a nose, and damaged skin, you still liked the big guy.

From then on Thomas was glued to your side. No one ever complimented him like you did. No one ever spoke to him with such a beautiful voice. He was smitten. And it was very, very obvious.

Every night before bed, you would read to him. This often lead to him grabbing your arm and looking up at you with those big, beautiful eyes, and cuddling him to sleep. It became a ritual to him.

Whenever he had a particularly hard day, he would lumber over to you and pick you up, sitting on the couch with you in his lap for at least an hour. His face buried in your hair, or neck, just breathing with his eyes shut until he was ready to face the rest of the day.