#the grabber is gay

[the-grabber-is-homo]

(Made by me) Creepiest Damn Thing!

[ivanzplaid]

Hii!

Can i request Vance Hopper x male reader, where shortly after Vance got taken the reader just won't stop looking for Vance, like he desperately tries to find him. And like the Grabber bumps into the reader and notices how desperately he's looking for Vance, so he helps the reader find him, (if you know what I mean). But like they escape.

Soo angst to fluff I think?

Please and thank you

this is so detailed and well thought out i had to do it, im currently having a bucket full of requests i have yet to do so im deciding to sit down and do them since i hate seeing them collect dust, and yours was just so intricate i had to 🫶 wrote this late in the night so im sorry if its awk💔💔

reblogs & comments are much preferred and welcomed!! thanks

also, happy 500 followers!! :)

requests are open, masterlist is up!

Summary: Your boyfriend has gone missing, and you found yourself hanging flyers to spread awareness. A peculiar man catches sight of it and decides to help you find just where Vance is.

Vance Hopper x Male Reader

Warnings: Slight Angst-Lots of Fluff, The Grabber, Abducted Vance & Reader, Wound Mentioning, Not proofread, Happy Boyfriends!

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The rain around you lashed at your exposed skin, your cheeks becoming redder the more they were beat, but your raincoat had covered most everything else. The papers you held tightly in your hands suffered the most, becoming damper as you stapled one to a phone pole, taking a step back to see if it was still good.

Your love stared back at you, an angry look positioned on his face that made you smile lightly, they used Vance's damn jail shots for his Missing posters, it was bittersweet looking back on it, a few nights in the county jail would still have a chance of being salvaged, rather than what most thought of his current fate. It had only been a week and a half since Vance's abduction, and the town was speaking in crude whispers, out of earshot of you. They assured you that he was a fighter, and you couldn't decipher if they were mocking you or aiding you, but to you, their assumptions didn't matter, you knew your boyfriend was still alive, he was tough, but he wasn't a complete idiot.

Staring at the poster, zoning out at the little details you longed to have in your hands again, his golden hair and his aged skin, his rugged eyes and the stupid jackets he would wear, no matter how hot or cold it may be. He was everything you loved. He was Vance Hopper was durable from all his fights & arguments, running from the police and thats the name they knew to shout out to catch him, yet when he held you in an exhausted embrace on his bed, ready to pass out seeing your head positioned comfortably on his stomach, he was just Vance. Of course, that Vance was no longer present in your life, taken away in an instant, and even after a traumatic event, still being cursed by his old name, his determined personality, like the fate they murmured about was the fate they wished to see.

"He must be special to you, huh? Only someone who has a connection can examine a grainy picture and have big emotions behind such eyes."

Pulling you back from your thoughts was a mans voice, it was light and airy, but it wasn't natural, something about its tone was to obscure to list.

Your head tilted slightly, and your eyes met with a tall man, whos head was already staring at you. He gave you a little finger wave before letting out a sigh, examining you as you did to him. Your eyes first were attracted to his abnormally white face, and you knew it was painted that way, but given the rainy day situation it was odd, odd even for you. It sent slight red flags your way, the way he hid his face, but you chalked it up to a concerned neighbor who saw you just staring blankly at a phone pole, concern was nothing to be hostile about, so you offered him a slight smile and some information you thought was harmless.

"Yeah, he meant a lot to me. Thought it would be of service to hang these up in his name, I'd do anything to see him again."

The mans face was lifted until your last sentence, which caused it to falter at the ends, the smile becoming hardened instead of natural, like the man was in his mind, thinking of whatever it may be. As the rain began to lighten, forming a drizzle now, your mind wanders to how it could be even more efficient to hanging the posters now that they had less of a chance if being mauled by the droplets, but as you went to excuse yourself, he cut in.

"Such-a young man like you shouldn't be out in this grueling weather, dont you think? Why don't I have you over so you can dry off, my brother is home and he has his little theories of his own, maybe it'll help!"

You caught on to the way he spoke, belittling his brother and not giving you a chance to answer, but he was right, the warm house gives the posters time to dry and you a break. This man was a stranger, but a thoughtful one in your eyes, so small 'sure' accompanied you as you followed him to wherever he was taking you, alarm bells not yet ringing, or maybe you were too deaf to hear them.

/

As your feet reached the doormat of your older friend's house, you politely wiped them off before stepping in, serving courtesy as a house guest. You were set up at a small table in the kitchen, and as you imagined it was warm, just to your taste. It got your mind off Vance for the moment, before the man brought out tea, pushing a cup in your direction and sitting across from you with his own cup.

He must've caught your eyes lingering in the drink, he spoke up soon after,

"Oh, it's just basic tea, something to warm you after the harsh outside. You mentioned being close to the boy on the poster, but I never got your name?"

Taking a rather large sip from the cup, you diverged into the conversation. A kind houseguest is a cared-for house guest.

"I'm sorry about that, my mind has just been weird. I'm Y/N, pleasure to meet you sir."

A smile was shot in your direction, pleased at your answer. The more you talked, about Vance, about you, the more you drank, until the moment your lips met the cup, finding nothing. An unusually heavy sigh came from you as you tried to look up, finding the sink to out your dishes away, but moving your eyes caused you vision to blur drastically, the room becoming undefined shapes and colors. Every moment you blinked, your eyelids became harder to open once more, and your breathing was slowed like you were in a hard sleep. A hand held your forehead as you tried to speak to the man, to ask for help, to call the police, but your words were slurred entirely, making strings of words that didn't exist.

Before your vision blacked out entirely, the man held your head up, bringing himself to you just so you could hear him, see his smiling face, satisfied with his work.

"Nighty Night, you'll be right where you asked to be soon enough."

//

Becoming conscious didn't mean you had your vision or feeling in your body back, and you discovered this when you heard an all too familiar voice repeating your name, and gruff hands shaking your body in an attempt to wake you.

Minutes may have passed by before you opened your eyes and displayed you were awake, the world greeting you with blurred shapes and colors once again, but it soon dissipated as you were grasped into a tight hug, a boys nose placed quickly on your neck, with the feel of tears hitting your shoulder. Even before your hearing fully came back, you knew just who it was. The hug was a memory you'd been longing for, and the sensation of small kisses being made on your neck was something you'd been treated to, only with Vance.

You could tell he was calling your name, muttering his own blessings that you were granted here. Looking at him was unreal, the small gentle breaths that hit your face as he held you all so close, being afraid to let go like he'd be taken away again.

Vance was all too grateful to have you here, to have you with him, but after you regained your senses and examined the room, reality hit you hastily, and Vance's arms were the only place you felt safe in.

"I missed you, so, so much. I never stopped looking for you, y'know."

His smile flashed at you, and you were lost in recognizing the way his face contorts to your voice, how he let you see his natural feeling without the protective barrier he always puts out.

"Bet the whole town's fuckin' crying that I'm not there, huh?"

He thought of humor as a remedy, it eased your nerves as you thought about what happened, the recollection of memories you had were scarce, it hurt to even think about it. As your body relaxed into his, you noticed the musky mattress you two were propped up on, and taking in a closer look, the surroundings themself were dull, the bare necessities being given, as well as a black phone to the side, most likely unusable.

"Have you been down here, for your whole time?"

It came out trembly, you didn't want to offend him somehow, but your boyfriend sighed into your hair and spoke, the tone of defeat recognizable.

"Yeah, don't have a lot goin on for me, but I do have a little discovery I can finally show someone. He sometimes comes down here, gives me these shitty eggs and a still soda, you should've seen the first time he got me em', it's like he can't fucking cook dude, it was awful!"

You two laughed together, basking in each others presence that you were restricted of. But your mind traced back to what he said earlier.

"Is there something useful you found? You said that he does checkups, so could we use your finding as a distraction?"

Tilting your head backwards, you caught his eyebrows raised, thinking through the situation and your idea. You saw his eyes lighten as they met yours, a stupid grin on his face.

"Why not? Nothing left to lose, right?"

//

That night crossed into day, with you and Vance getting the lightest amount of sleep from the plan you two had made. Vance confirmed with you the walls were soundproof, his first day was dedicated to noise & pissing the man off, which never worked. Something Vance had also found out in his next days vacationing here was a weakspot in the wall, a place he's been slowly chipping at, making a hole overtime.

A routine had been in place, with the man coming in for the mornings to deliver food, then staying for a few minutes before leaving, he would repeat this at lunch, but it was uncertain he would stay out until dinner, sometimes as Vance described, he would come in to talk, or give you taunting newspaper updates. With this schedule in mind, you two devised that the scheme would take place at lunch, giving him the false tense that you two would behave in the beginning, for the mornings would be where he's most tense.

The more you two talked nervously in hushed tones, the faster time passed, and soon came in breakfast, a shared tray, showcased with eggs & the infamous soda.

The man came in and dropped them infront of you, and paused, looking down at the two of you huddled together, a protective arm slung over your shoulder.

"You two truly are peas in a pod, eat up!"

His voice mocked you, the way he looked down at you made it clear that he was suspicious, but the despicable smiling devil mask gave you no insight to how he was really looking. He nodded to you, a silent goodbye before turning on his heels and exiting through the metal door.

After he left, you both subconsciously knew you had hours before he would come back, so you ate what he served, and began to set the game up.

/

The sun rested in the middle of the sky, or atleast thats as far as you could tell through the metal lined window, if you could call it that. From what Vance had told you, the man should walk through the door within minutes. Vance was set up in his holding place, the wall that was previously chipped at, now fully broken, and you sat on the bed with the toilet cover behind you, out of sight from anyone who didn't know it was missing. The only sounds being made were the heavy breathing of you and him, anticipating the only chance you'd have of actually living, walking outside, escaping the grimy basement of your kidnapper who was all too happy at the idea of killing.

A creak from the door locks undoing themselves alerted you, and a hitch in Vances breath could be heard.

As far as the man knew, this was the usual encounter, so as he stepped through the door and saw only you welcoming him, he straightened his posture, gazing around the room slightly. Turning his head to the left, a low growl came from him when he saw the destruction, with Vance in the middle of it.

The agreement that Vance would be the one to be the main target was his decision, claiming that he was stronger than you, so he should be in charge if that. With minor resistance he prepped himself, claiming he was the toughest kid there was. That was just it, he was a kid, going against a much older man who when provoked, could easily become murderous, and thats just what you saw.

"Oh you're really not as smart as I thought you were."

With that, he took haste strides over to Vance, and before giving him a chance to strike, his veiny hands gripped Vance's neck & began choking him harshly. You could hear the strained breathing, choked mutters of your name along with whines of pain. Vance had never been so outmuscled before, any chance he'd participated in had given him the slightest of fairness, but this wasn't a fight, it was about to turn to a murder. You hear flailing arms and pathetic kicks against the concrete, like a dying animal who was being put down.

Snapping out of your trance, you were brought back to reality. You saw the back of the older mans head, he was too focused on Vance, assured that you were too weak by yourself to do any real damage that he didn't bother with you. Easing yourself up, your hands were wrapped around the weighted lid, feeling almost too heavy, if it weren't for you hearing your boyfriends possible dying breaths. Treading over the cement, you waged the lid and slammed it down with your weight, no cracks appearing on the lid, but a sickening crunch, along with liquid squelching came to your ears. The man infront of you turned around slowly, his eyes trained on you as he went to reach out, but due to his most likely shifting vision, he tripped on his feet, falling towards you in an attempt to grab you, inflict pain upon you, to release the rage that he felt, but all he did was fall to the ground, blood oozing from the wound, and body still.

Your chest lifted up and down swiftly, your breathing reflecting how panicked you felt, and you were immediately reminded as to why when you hear wheezing a few feet away from you. Pulling your gaze away from the ground, you witnessed Vance, hands on his knees with scratch marks reddening his neck, littered everywhere displaying his struggle for life.

You hopped over the unconscious body to Vance and propped him up in your arms, leading him across the tiled floor to the upstairs, ready to retrieve help, where his gaze caught your work.

"Damn, gave him hell?"

"All in your name, sweets."

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this is a little long, so reblogs & comments are much welcomed rather to likes, but thank you for this request and any interaction!!

requests are open, masterlist is up!

[subatomicskud]

Dumb meme I made for fellow grabber simps ✊

[pixie-dust-and-pain]

Nothing Proves I'm Dead, Nothing Proves I'm Alive

Words: 1148

Summary: Robin and Finn just have a little well-deserved quality time together (after literally being traumatized also Robin lives shush)

A/N: bro why does tumblr rarely work in my region :(

They're not supposed to mature this fast. That's what the therapist has told them both, their cases alien to all professionals. Their hurt manifests itself in different ways, in Robin, it's the increased anger at the smallest of issues, despising anybody and everybody except Finny. And for Finn? He's an outcast. Children talking about stupid things don't interest him any longer, he's too old for all that, been through far too much to be afraid of the math teacher or giggle over graffitied penises on walls. Okay, he sometimes giggles at the penises (although he's usually the perpetrator, the reason for said drawings), but he's been through hell and back and has stopped caring about things.

Nobody tries hurting Finn anymore, and even if they did, he's far too apathetic to spare them, but Robin still wanders around him, an odd protectiveness making him glare at everyone who even thinks about him with ill intent. 

They thought their trauma would change them, make them feel different, resent the other, perhaps, or maybe even be unable to talk, but that's one thing that hasn't happened. It's one thing they have to be grateful for. If anything, it's made them even more compatible. They fit well together. They are old souls, as the teachers call them, always together, seen next to each other in the hallways, after school, understanding each other best, helping the other far more than any therapist ever has. They're no longer children, no longer innocent, tired of the world and plagued by nightmares, according to the psychologists. 

They feel like children now, though. Slipping in wet grass, their laughter echoing in the empty grass plains as they race the other to the truck they aren't legally allowed to drive, but even their incompetent police force lets them get away with certain things. It's Robin's truck, anyway. Perhaps they'll never be children, but at least they're  happy.

Sliding on a particularly wet spot, Finn hurtles forward, knees bruising and elbows skinning slightly at the impact. Robin hunches down next to him, offering him a hand, and Finn grabs it, dragging the other boy down as well. 

Very eloquent words are exchanged as Robin gets up, dusting himself and kicking Finn, who's still on the ground, lightly. He'd never hurt his Finn, not on purpose, not if he could help it. They practically collapse as they make their way towards the truck, sagging against the car seat, rain beating on the windows as they revel in the warmth, the leathery smell familiar and comforting.

They are young and stupid, and they're allowed to make bad decisions and rebel, and they're allowed to be disappointments at times, and fuck up, which is what Finn tells himself as he reaches for the lighter, cigarette pack already in the other boy's hand. 

"Your father would kill you if he knew," Robin is the only other person who knows about their dad. Sure, his outbursts have reduced, but haven't disappeared fully. 

"If he knew," Finn shoots back, twirling the lighter absentmindedly. "He won't, I won't let him," There's only one cigarette left anyway; it won't last that long. 

There's still fear, but Finn's had enough panic attacks, screamed out enough gruesome details about the Grabber to scare his father, and hold his hand back. He has power, now, people fear  him. He sees it in the old man, too, sometimes, when he raises his hand, and Finn stares back, fingers flexing and glare menacing. The hands of a murderer, he called them once, when Finn had grabbed the belt, finally able to help his sister. 

He doesn't mind. If the hands of a murderer are what hold the bastard back, then so be it. 

Robin plays with the cigarette first, a whole-ass acrobatics show between his fingers, before lighting the thing, and breathing in deeply.

Lung cancer be damned, it's not like he wants to live that long, anyway. Plus, it's calming. 

Finn's impatient, half his fear washed down the drain, along with the rain and the pain. He reaches over and plucks the thing from Robin's mouth, inhaling the nicotine and leaning back against the seat, ignoring the look Robin shoots him. The cigarette dangles from the side of his mouth, and Robin's playing some song he's never heard before on the radio, quietly, and they feel young and free. It's moments like this, stolen between school and home, moments of solidarity, that allow them to feel truly like themselves. 

Sometimes he goes days without talking, tired of himself and all around him, huddled up at home, alone and left to his own devices. Nobody tries coaxing him out, then, not even Gwen. Robin understands he needs his own time, he needs it, too. They  get  each other, a thought that offers him great solace. On those days he feels barely alive, unreal, connected to the world by strings of spun sugar, a tug and he'd dissolve. He needs reassurance of his existence, pain, sometimes pleasure, but most of the time, nicotine. The smoke is warm, soothing,  real,  the fire hot and fierce, sometimes helping him wake up from his dull, drowsy existence, sharpening him. 

Robin has the same effect on him. He can feel himself slipping, feeling like a ghost again, unsure whether he's actually there or whether he, too, is one of the boys on the phone, whether Robin was the only one who made it out alive, when the other boy acts. A gentle hand on his thigh, the press of his palm against his cheek, a yank on his arm, anything to bring him back, remind him that this is real, that  they  are real, and that he is very connected to the Earth beneath his feet, no matter how he feels (sometimes he feels as though he could just float away).

"Why do you smoke?" Finn asks, out of the blue, when the cigarette is snatched from him.

"Same reason as you, calms me, keeps it at bay-" they all know what it is, "-and just helps in general,"

"I feel the same,"

"'Bout the smoke?" the other boy leans back, legs propped up on the steering wheel.

"About you,"

Robin nearly falls off his seat. "Smooth, are we?" he chuckles, although he can feel the back of his neck and his face turn hot, "You're fucking addictive, you know? I'd give up this-" he waves the cigarette around, as though highlighting his point, "-for you,"

"Then why don't you?"

"Because I need  one  of them down my throat, or at least in my mouth,"

They both laugh at that, before stubbing out the cigarette and driving away from the wet grassland, their spot, and getting home. Finn's father asks him where he's been, he says he had a heart-to-heart with Robin. Robin's parents don't bother asking. They meet at the same spot the next day. 

[toxictrashdump]

YOU IDIOT, YOU FOOL! you brought up music and now he wont stop talking about Blondie! DONT YOU KNOW HES GAY??? you moron!

I suppose however this can work to your advantage and will buy you some more time.

Bonus little Blondie track to go with this piece xxx

[f1inl3ey]

The grabber when he’s abt to get killed and the ghosts start talking to him:

[lord-shitbox]

i was gonna post something like "laid up in bed over some girl" but it turns out im actually Sick. on top of it all. laid up in bed over some girl AND a cold. unbelievable

[creepycassidy]

I…am a part time magician. Would you like to see a magic trick? 🪄

I guess you can sorta call this a face reveal. I was The Grabber this year for Halloween, of course. 😈

[knives-out20]

The Grabber is the fruitiest fucking antagonist I’ve seen yet.

Good for him. Good for him.

What is it with Ethan Hawke playing gay lil bitches?

No matter, this is just what we needed during pride month; a fineass gayass villain.

[revvywevvy]

kissy kissy chu~ <33 [ver. without the shield under the cut]

[ivanzplaid]

Hi!! If its possible can you write fluff head canons for patrick bateman, the grabber and mark hoffman where they are sick and the reader (gn if its possible) takes care of them and shower them in love? Thank you!

im loving the requests ive been getting, ill add a bonus slasher at the end as well :) but of course i can do gn, i hope this is up to what yoh expected!!

requests r open, masterlist is up!

Sick Slashers x Caring Gn Reader!!

Warnings: fluff!

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Patrick Bateman

hes the typa guy to deny it completely that hes sick, it takes him to be bed ridden in pain and you forcing him to stay home

even then he complains that 'hes fine' and that 'youre being dramatic'

dickhead

although he presents himself this way, inside hes grateful & confused to have somebody caring for him, staying with him even when hes being rude

he does appreciate it, but just im his own ways

a very picky eater when hes sick,

"Is my pallet so bad that you think I'd eat that?"

just give him soup, shut him up for a bit

nonstop talking, even if you arent present

"Unbelievable. That bastard in HR gave this to me."

doesnt like feeling 'helpless' and 'weak' as he calls it, he thinks of himself as better than that

this mindset only makes the sickness worse

will not shut up about the work hes missing

since you will have to initiate the physical affection, he will be adamant about it, swatting you away with a hand, or sighing, but he will rub your back or admire/play with your hair while having a hard face on, claiming he feels bad for you

hug him and feel his heart beat slightly faster when you do

"Patrick, you are not going into the office today, lay down!"

"Come on, I don't 'get sick', now move."

//

The Grabber

will not give you even the slightest of hints that hes sick

until he realizes it may gain him pity points so that youll hold him

it works

he accepts & encourages all forms of affection, and complains when you arent there

feels a little vulnerable, which makes him uncomfortable, so even while hes sick, he tries to be in control

tells you what to do alot, backrubs, food, etc.

leave him alone for a while and he will grow frustrated without you

if he still was wearing masks previously to getting sick, he'll most likely wear those stupid sun glasses that cover his face, not wanting to infect the masks

he wants you right by his side, under his arm, just so he can hold you, feel that even in sickness you are his

attempts to stay up late to watch you, but his ill body ruins it

run your hands through his hair or hold his neck/arm and hes thrilled

your love and trust means the world

"Please, stay with me for the night."

"My pleasure,"

//

Mark Hoffman

we have another sickness denier here

not as major as patrick however

if hes really sick, he accepts defeat and will succumb to his resting place easily

this man sleeps most of the day hes sick

but seeing you by his side even when he was asleep makes him offer you a small tired smile, and a lingering gaze

he likes quality time sm when hes sick, almost as much as he likes having you care for him

he enjoys having some 'time off', days where its just you and him peacefully together

he rambles on about nonsense alot

will have nightmares, needs you by him to squeeze your hand, may even bring you to his chest to hold you

is more than happy to accept the food you make, compliments throughout his eating

really likes the attention you serve him, guilty pleasure

will make snarky comments however, complains about him being sick & why did it have to happen to him

"This is nothing short of a delicious meal, thank you love,"

"Nothing but the best for you, Mark."

//

Michael Myers

big man does not know if he is sick or not, he just knows he feels weird and brushes it off

you dont notice until his breathing is awkward and hes burning up

at first he doesnt understand why youre rushing him to lay down and grabbing you a thermometer, but truth be told he is sick

tries to ignore you at first, doesnt know shy youre so concerned, but eventually starts to get hit with a worse wave and takes your advice

he doesnt resist any care you give him, he lets you work your magic

does not care if you touch or hold him, he wont discourage it, maybe he will reciprocate if you ask

on a rare occasion he will hold you ( arm around the shoulder, doesnt really know how physical affection should be done )

nods to you when you give him food, its his little way of saying 'thank you'

50/50 on his sleep schedule, either stays up late as hell or sleeps like a fucking boulder

you kiss his forehead & hand alot, he lets you

10/10 patient overall, would have again

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i hope this is good!! grabber fic coming out tn🫶 and so should another set of hcs i got!

requests r open! masterlist is up :)

[donovan-writes]

I know I post writing stuff on here mostly but I also do cosplay and I wanted to share my grabber cosplay

Just something silly goofy

[person-official]

Alternative universes are such a cool concept to me.

Like, imagine there's a universe where Colombus never sailed across the world, or even one where he was just not a shitty person. I wonder how different my life would be sometimes. Or maybe something a lot less impacting.

Maybe one where Ranboo Live or Wilbur Soot never got popular. I probably would have gotten over my DSMP faze a lot quicker than the almost three years it took me. They definitely helped shape my humor, no way I would be the same person.

Or a universe where I was actually born a boy. I think about that one a lot as well. I don't doubt my life would be easier, I don't doubt I would also be a LOT happier.

Maybe in a universe where the Library of Alexandria wasn't burned down, how much more literature would we have? How many more things would we know?

Do you think there's a Universe where there's a place that holds all the universe's secrets? I've thought of that a lot too. I've always pictured it as a ginormous library with bookshelves touching the ceiling to the floor, golden engravings etched along the side, and one of those moving ladders from Beauty and the Beast. There would be an area in the middle of the bookshelves with tables and tables seated next to each other in an infinite amount of rows. Of course, there would be two floors, maybe even a third! I think one of the floors would have a couple of restaurants. I'm picturing a Panera and a Tim Hortons, placed along the sides. The books would contain anything you could ever want to know, from the Meaning of Life to a Do it Yourself Book: Origamii Edition, to your favorite fan fiction in physical form!

[userchappell]

god fuck, why in gods name are people editing jeffrey dahmer, or make scenepacks of him in the dahmer series? society as we know it has gone off the deep end. again

[raspberryjars]

finney and robin from tbp🥲🥲🥲🥲

[ranvwoop]

i really would like to get back into French but I tried to cut out all the FOMO and shame-based activities that demand your time and Duolingo is Absolutely This. that little creature inspires hate and malice in me as going against my ethos. Unfortunately it's also the most accessible way to get languaging