sheriff hoyt

First Impressions

I showed my sis most horror movie icons and wrote down all of her reactions to them. She’s not into horror movies, and doesn’t like to watch them. She was having kind of a bad day, so I did this to cheer her up a bit. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as we did  _( ᐛ 」∠)_

(Bold font is me talking, everything else is my sis.)

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anonymous asked:

If I may, can I request something with Thomas and a baker kept prisoner to make pastries for the Hewitts?

Yes you may

-When it was revealed to the Hewitts that you were a pastry chef skilled in the art of baking sweets, they decided you’d be more useful kept alive to help in the kitchen, as per the request of Thomas’ mother Luda Mae. You hastily agreed to the miracle of an offer, immensely relieved at the chance to save your own skin, literally and metaphorically. Right away, they all but shoved you in the kitchen, claiming that if you couldn’t bake something to their liking, then you’d join the others on a hook down in the basement. With that threat hanging in the air, you audibly swallowed your choking fear and got to work. Using the limited supplies found in their dusty cupboards, and the intense determination to keep living, you were able to concoct a batch of homemade, old-fashioned chocolate chip cookies. Your hands were visibly shaking as you took the tray out of the oven and set them aside to cool off before the fateful test. The delicious aroma of cookies brought the Hewitts back into the kitchen, mesmerized by the scent that pervaded the air and seemed to cover up the smell of meat and rust. Sheriff Hoyt pushed past you to have the first test himself. Taking a bite of the freshly made cookie, he didn’t say anything besides quickly devouring it and reaching for another greedily. One by one they all had a taste of your baking, all but Thomas. Through full mouths, they agreed that you would be kept alive and mostly well. You nearly dropped to the floor in relief.

-Later that night, restless in what you now begrudgingly called your new “home”, you wandered into the kitchen once again, desperate for something to distract you in these sleep-less hours. Turning around the corner, you spied Thomas slowly unwrapping the few cookies not devoured by the rest of his family. You had been curious as to why he hadn’t tried any with everyone else, but common sense dictated that it was most likely due to his mask covering the lower half of his face. You observed how Thomas carefully lifted the mask away from his face, and took a bite out of a cookie. His back was turned, and you weren’t able to see what he looked like not wearing the mask, but you could clearly hear the pleased grunts he made while chewing. Unable to help yourself, a smile slowly spread on your face. You always loved how your baked treats made people happy, as if their worries melted away the moment they bit into their pastry of choice and sweetness filled their taste buds, if only for the moment. Not wanting to be caught by the hulking man, you quietly left him to his privacy and headed back to your makeshift bed.

-In the days that followed, you helped out in the kitchen (correction, threatened into helping) alongside Luda Mae in preparing meals, cleaning, and any other miscellaneous chores you were forced to do. With a fresh supply of ingredients to bake with, that’s what you ended up most spending your time on as the rest of the family did whatever it was they claimed to be just “business”. You tried not to think about what that meant as you mixed and rolled future delicacies, trying your hardest to bake away your anxieties into pastry goodness. Occasionally, Thomas would wander into the kitchen and observe your baking. At first it unnerved you slightly, since he would never say anything, but over time you would welcome his company as you tried out different recipes for more complex pastries. Sometimes you’d try and have Thomas help with mixing, just so he’d feel like he helped a little. He’s a very good helper, actually. Whenever the pastries were done, you’d always insist that he have the first bite before his family came and ransacked the picturesque sweets, but he would always shake his head in the negative. The Hewitt’s kitchen became chock full of all sorts of cookies, cakes, cupcakes, and fresh bread the more you spent time there. There was always the threat of hanging you on a hook before the family tried anything, but you could tell it was mostly for show now.

-Eventually, Thomas became more and more comfortable in your presence as the two of you spent time baking together, and you him. You began offering him sweets personally late at night when everyone was asleep and wouldn’t interrupt, cooing how you needed a taste tester and that he was the perfect subject. Thomas would allow you to feed him whatever you had baked that day, and you loved how his eyes would light up at the first bite, how his pleased groans only served your ego to have him try more and more. You would be the first to admit that you secretly loved watching Thomas’ waistline grow larger from your overindulgence of his sweet tooth. Your only excuse was that it made his hugs even softer than before. Thomas wasn’t inclined to agree, but since he wanted to make you happy, he’d do whatever it was your heart desired. And his taste buds didn’t mind a whole lot either. Thomas had become the willing slave to you and your decadent pastries, and you were all too willing to wield this newfound power over his head to have your way.