#the texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brisaurus · 2 days

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Canon Root Beer drinker

#tcm #tcm 2003 #tcm 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw the beginning #thomas hewitt #thomas brown hewitt #tommy hewitt

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z0mibite · 3 days

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>1000 words, detailed descriptions of violence and a (sort of?) mention of s/a (⚠️use of the r word ⚠️), reader is gn! and up to interpretation throughout other than being considerably smaller than thomas and one mention of possibly bearing children. open-ended, so if you prefer angst endings for reader or stockholm, you can choose, it's texas chainsaw massacre, anything that's in either movie is part of the warnings just to be safe. dead dove do not ear, read at your own risk. also this is not proofread in any way, I literally wrote this straight shot right before bed listening to dove (doll ver) on loop and hit post.

READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE CONTINUING

imagine tommy keeping you, not to rape and defile like his uncle assumed, nor for you to bare children like his mama had hoped—but because you're just so nice to look at.

In the first film, tommy can be seen wearing rings, jewelry he's collected from past victims. also with the whole wearing people's faces to mask his own, he obviously has an eye for pretty things. and you're one of them.

It isn't just that of course, plenty of pretty people had come onto the farm, all meeting the same fate. he hadn't spared a dozen or so others, so why would he spare you?

you hadn't flinched at the sight of him, you hadn't run away crying like a child at their first horror maze, you simply smiled at him with those sparkling eyes, an elegant hand giving him a friendly, unbiased wave. you looked at him without prejudice, or preconceived assumptions about his character.

your friends hadn't given him the same courtesy. which is why you were here, chained to the workbench near the chopping block. the block he was using to dismember your traveling companions. a few of them hung from meat hooks, catatonic, their minds were weak and feeble, they broke at the sights in front of them, and despite the agonizing pain of lost limbs and shredded muscle, they were silent and still, waiting for their turn.

death was their only escape, they needed only to wait for it. you could see it in their eyes, each time he'd finish one off and turn to grab the next off a hook, they'd all follow him with pleading eyes. not for mercy, they were far beyond the point of return—but to be next.

your entire body was shaking like a kicked chihuahua. your muscles were all tense, adrenaline begged you to run, flee, to escape death. your silly primal instinct hadn't caught up with your concious. It was an odd feeling, having every possible part of your body screaming at you to run, and choosing to stay still, to betray your instinct with your intelligence. you knew you wouldn't get far.

despite the horrid conditions in the basement, a place where your senses should be overloaded; your ears with the echoes of their screams and the engine of the saw, your eyes with the gory mess, your nose with the pungent smell of iron and rotting flesh, your tongue with the dryness of your mouth from panting, and your body's fatigue from running around for hours—there was nothing but the racing of your heartbeat.

It was all you could hear or feel, and in your mind you could taste and see it as well, you felt the pulse rise all the way into your skull and down to your toes. you felt every rush of blood heat your skin like a furnace, moving past your veins and tissue.

your eyes aimlessly followed his body, unblinking and dry. he was deeply focused on his ‘work’, but he would still glance at you every now and again. you were just so pretty, a decoration in his safe haven, like a deer mounted above the fireplace.

hours had passed in what felt like seconds before he was finished. you hadn't moved.

he nonchalantly came up to you, his much larger hand going to cup your face before he froze. he withdrew his hands, wiping the bloody mess on his apron and washing his hands before he continued his previous action.

you didn't dare move, not even to flinch, as his held your head in your hands.

his thumbs caressed the flesh just under your eyes, rubbing around and about, seemingly fascinated by the way your skin folded and stretched at his will. he made a gesture with his hands, swiping a palm in front of your eyes, an attempt at communicating. when you didn't respond, he huffed frustratedly before letting his thumbs touch your eyelids, forcing them down to close your eyes.

he took your chin in-between two fingers, maneuvering your head in every direction, studying every feature. his thumb pulled your lips apart, showing him your teeth, clenched so hard they might be pushed back underneath your eye sockets.

after a he took some time to study you, you felt his thumbs come back to rest on your eyelids, pulling them open again. this time he studied your iris. he was clearly upset at the lack of light that prevented him from seeing the color clearly, but he looked closely nonetheless.

the sensation of breath enveloping your face, forcing you to breathe in the air he had just released, was one you could not describe.

his hands fell to your shoulders and moved downward till he got to your forearms, where he would trace the veins in your arms. when his hand met your wrist, he applied gentle pressure to it, his breath hitching as he felt your blood pulsate. he moved onto your hands now.

his were easily twice the size of yours, if not more. his nails were dull and blunt, the skin much rougher against yours. dried blood cracked underneath his nails and stained his skin a pinkish tone despite his tan. he traced the lines of your palm the same way a palm reader would, take away the tales of life lines and replace them with pure admiration.

he unexpectedly leaned in closer to you, his face now inches, if that, from your own. you kept your gaze ahead as he stared you down.

he brought his masked nose up to the top of your head and sniffed you like a dog, leaning down to your neck to see what else he could smell on you besides your faded fragrance and sweat.

It was only after this action of his that your body responded in any way in nearly 12 hours.

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horrorfilmgifs · 2 months

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THOMAS HEWITT The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (2006) dir. Jonathan Liebesman

#blood tw #the texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning #userpayton #usersavana #userhugh #usergiles #userhavva #userpfeiffer #usersnat #*gif #by lou

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osirisisv · 1 year

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Since I saw the post of officer myers from @/enigma-system, i fall in love with the concept! ✨ and i wanted to make a version with tommy like a firefighter!

I wanted to make them interact, they look so cute 🥰

#yay the first drawing of the year!!! ✨✨#i feel shy to tag them #since they post the drawing a long time ago #myart #michael myers #thomas hewitt #rz michael myers #rz halloween #michael myers 2007 #halloween 2007 #halloween #the texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #slasher fandom #slasher movies #slasher fanart #slasher imagines #horror

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parkvcrs · 4 months

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Dating Thomas Hewitt Would Include…

WARNING(S): brief mentions of cannibalism, violence, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, restraints, etc.

NOTES: i recently watched ‘the texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning’ for the first time and while i didn’t like the main cast, thomas made it worthwhile. loved every second he was on screen. :))

• You don’t know how exactly, but out of all your friends (Chrissie, Bailey, Dean, and Eric), you were the only one that Thomas showed mercy to and when it came to hurting your well-being— whenever it was brought up, it was always instigated by his Uncle Charlie or “Hoyt”— he seemed always hesitant to do so.

- And if Thomas had to relocate you for some odd reason, he’d be gentle with you. Additionally, he’d go out of his way to bring you food, water, fix your hair to make you look all pretty, and even get a wet rag to wash the dried blood (not yours, thankfully) from your skin. It confuses you how a man coming from a disgusting and cannibalistic family was touching you as if you’d break. He’s strange, but endearingly because if he wasn’t, you’d be a goner.

• In your time in the hands of the Hewitt family, you made friendly conversation with Thomas the most. It took a while to get used to him and while he prefers not to talk, you don’t mind one bit. Since he’s practically out of touch with the rest of the world, you take it as your responsibility to catch him up on music, specifically the songs and bands you like the most, and promise him that you’ll show him every song you’ve mentioned when you get out of your restraints.

- It took some time before you were able to get out of your restraints. After all, you are the family’s captor, they can’t just have you running out of the house now.

- It took an ungodly amount of time before the family put their trust in you and removed your restraints. And to their surprise, you didn’t even try to run away.

- In fact, you could always be found following Thomas around like a lost puppy. It was truly a sight to behold. Luda Mae and a few of her friends that she’d invite over for tea would always make jokes about you falling head over heels for the boy whilst his uncle was less than impressed and would always proceed to make fun of Thomas and his condition.

• Thomas isn’t stupid. He knows how much of a scumbag Charlie is, but it’s mainly because of how much you voice on how you don’t feel safe around him, so Thomas protective over you and whenever you feel uncomfortable, you know to come running to him where you can be safe.

• Also… Thomas doesn’t know how to slow dance and while you’re not the best teacher because of your lack of experience, it didn’t make things any less special when you tried to show him the basics.

- It was a very special moment in Thomas’ book, one that he’ll cherish forever, especially when you decided to rest your head on his chest where you could his heart race.

• It shouldn’t go without saying that Thomas is incredibly touch-starved. After a childhood and young-adulthood of being completely touch-starved, he’s had turned into an adult who was both desperate for and terrified of touch.

- You had to ease him into it since he was initially afraid that you’d be rough with him but after reassuring him that there is no reason to be afraid, it’s easy sailing for Thomas. He’s handsy, to say the least. He likes to press his leg against yours when you sit next to each other at dinner, pressing a kiss to your shoulder while he holds you at night, hugging you from behind while you’re working on something, or fixing your hair — even though he knows you don’t need help with something like that…

//////

author’s note: MY BABY MYYYYYY BABY

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dirtychainsawconfessions · 2 months

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It's concerning how many times I've thought about being railed by Thomas, it's more concerning how all these thoughts take place in that disgusting basement

#notsafe #confession #Thomas Hewitt #Tommy Hewitt #Leatherface #The Texas Chainsaw Massacre #tcm #Texas Chainsaw Massacre #tcm 2006 #The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning #slashers #slasher fucker #They live in the driest area but their basement is flooding 24/7💧💧💧

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hiraethhh-h · 2 years

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(x)

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tendersugarr · 1 year

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The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (2006)

#horroredit #classichorrorblog #the texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning #thomas hewitt #leatherface #mygifs

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sweeetestcurse · 1 year

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Andrew Bryniarski as Thomas Hewitt/Leatherface in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (2006) 09/??

#slasheredit #horroredit #filmedit #thomas hewitt #leatherface #gifs #the texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning #my gifs

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l0nd0n-dunge0n · 6 months

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Why is graph paper so ridiculously difficult to draw on

#thomas hewitt fanart #Thomas hewitt #horror fanart #the Texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning #TCM the beginning fanart #tommy hewitt fanart #texas chainsaw massacre #slasher fanart #traditional art #my art

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evilvvithin · 2 years

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Thomas Hewitt + Fitting Spotify Songs ↳ THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE: THE BEGINNING

#there is still so many songs i have on mind when it comes to tommy so there might be a part two #all songs uses are from my big tommy playlist #the texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning #thomas hewitt #tcm #tcmedit #spotify #leatherface #slashers #the texas chainsaw massacre #horroredit #slasher fandom #slasheredit #tuserleo #filmedit #mari.gif

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vashti-refused · 3 months

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Thomas Hewitt + AO3 tags

#he ate my heart and then he ate my brain #thomas hewitt #vashtiOC #leatherface #the texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning #tcm 2006 #ao3 #ao3 tags #slashers #horror

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myers-meadow · 1 year

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Letter by letter. Thomas Hewitt x f reader

Title: Letter by letter

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt x fem reader who is not from the USA.

Summary: As part of a school project, Thomas starts exchanging letters with a penpal from oversees. With her, he finds a freedom to be himself, to express himself fully, and his longing to have her near grows ever more. One day, an unexpected guest shows up at the doorstep of the Hewitt's.

Warnings: sfw. canon-typical allusions to the murdering and cannibalism. Implied kidnapping at the end. Written in third person. No name used, written as a reader-insert.

It was years ago that the letters started. One of those projects of the school Thomas went to back then; to have an international pen pal. Some young pupils never got beyond the first letter, shoved the reply in a drawer and forgot about the entire thing, but not Thomas. Despite struggling with writing sometimes; the cramped fingers, the ink stains, the messy handwriting, and his shyness; he pushed through, letter after letter.

It started with that postcard of Fuller he sent with his introduction, purchased from his mama’s store, and his dearest pen pal sent one back of the city she lived close by. Told him some cool history about the buildings in the picture.

When he hit his growth spurt, earlier than the other kids, he quit school and started working at the meat plant. It was a relief to be away from school and the other students, and the work provided him with a sense of purpose. To her, he was able to write about the butchering, about how it felt. About his skills with the cleaver, how he could feel himself grow stronger, that he was so good at it that he could cut through bone with ease, that he could make just as many clean finished chops as his established colleagues. He left out what they called him when they thought he couldn’t hear.

It was exhilarating to Thomas. His dear pen pal, an entire sea away, didn’t know anything about him. The freedom he felt to express himself to someone who knew nothing of the ridicule he faced, who wasn’t able to see what he looked like, didn’t know anything about him other than what he told her. He grew into himself when he wrote to her, free and true.

The money for the expensive international stamps he squirreled away from his salary at the meat plant – shrugging his shoulders when the family made a comment about it. None had tried to touch this aspect of his life. Luda Mae especially saw his excitement as a new letter arrived and was glad for it.

She was named after a love song, she said, and she was just a year younger than him. Her birthday was on the cusp of spring into summer and each year it was as if he felt the approach of it like a flower emerging from its bud. He was fifteen when she wrote that he could call her a nickname – even if it may be because he kept misspelling her long, foreign name, it didn’t matter. She was a writer, a poet, after going to school for as long as her parents could afford to send her, she worked as a typist at a firm she never named. She often sent him little excerpts from stories she was working on, which he praised even if he didn’t understand entirely what they were about. After all, she took the time to translate them into English so he could read them. It made him feel special. Appreciated. As if his opinions really mattered to her.

Even despite his struggles to word himself, it seemed she understood him. He knew it was impossible, but wanted desperately for it to be true. His daily life couldn’t be further from hers. After all, she wouldn’t feel the same satisfaction when cutting a bull’s throat, or feel the ache in her muscles, the words echoing in his head, after a day of work. At the same time, he doesn’t have hands stained with ink or broken nails from the force he hit the keys of the typing machine with.

The frequency of the letters increased and by now Thomas must be one of the only ones keeping Fuller’s postman in business. There were flowers in ink around his name in the greeting of the newer letters. After he was done reading a verse from the bible before bed, he read with her most recent letter to commit it to memory, as he did with them all. Did she reread his letters to her too? He hoped so. And as he laid down in bed, curtains still open so he could stare at the stars, he thought of her. Of a warm body beside his own. What would her voice sound like, her accent? How would his name sound on her lips?

It was barely a week later, and the postman handed him a new letter. Thomas ripped it open, reading it as he stood on the lawn, thinking that the work could wait. After all, the tourists were already dead. Their firsts… And there was no going back now. It meant many things for Thomas and the family – one of which was: no more work at the meat plant. No more insults. His eyes racked over the letter greedily. His confidence had grown since taking his first human life, and he felt he could do anything. He couldn’t wait to tell her that things had changed – leaving out the unsavoury bits, of course. Stalking inside and up the stairs, he sat down on his bed to write his response.

The day after, the doorbell sounded just after noon. Unlikely to be a neighbour as there weren’t any for miles. Tourists then? Thomas grunted as he remembered he was the only one home, and slammed the cleaver down into the wooden table. Wiping his hands on his filthy apron, he threw it off as he marched up the stairs. As he swung the door open, the most unlikely sight stood in front of him. It was her. How did she get here? The angels must have blessed him. Just to look at her, to have her close enough to touch was more than he’d ever hoped for. He stared and stared, eyes wide, as she introduced herself. Voice sweeter than honey.

She said her name, pronounced differently from how he’d said it in his head, and then: “I’m so sorry to be a bother, but is Tommy home perhaps? I’d love to see him.”

It fell silent, as he stared at her, expecting her to fade like a mirage. As he saw her falter, he scrambled, gesturing to himself. Out of his back pocket he grabbed the recent letter, he liked rereading it so he kept it with him, and showed her. Then pointed from his name to himself. Regretting how gross he must look, hands not even washed, tie crooked, sweaty from the heat in the basement. Not that she looked any less sweaty, but she still looked like an angel.

“Tommy, it’s you!” she said, instead, and hugged him. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. Is it unexpected? I sent you a letter but it may not have arrived yet. Can I come in?”

Of course, he let her, with his heart beating out of his chest. Now that she was here, there was no single possibility in his mind that she’d ever leave again.

#thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #slasher fandom #the texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning #leatherface x reader #leatherface

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dirtychainsawconfessions · 17 days

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The urge to take care of Thomas and also fuck him and hear him beg