amancalledboy-a

[amancalledboy-a]

They would get along, you can't tell me otherwise..........🖤

[amancalledboy-a]

nobody is coming to save you. get up

[amancalledboy-a]

do i want to be wanted?

is it worth being wanted?

[amancalledboy-a]

"Phillip? I brought you some buttered popcorn, freshly popped!"

@amancalledboy

“Perfect! Amanda said we can use the TV, as long as we don’t leave any popcorn behind.”

—

“Hmmm… I think next time we should see what Herman has in his collection instead…”

[amancalledboy-a]

send   👀  for  my  muse  to  walk  in  on  your  muse  undressing   (   add  +  for  reverse   )

[amancalledboy-a]

Max!! Are there any television programs you enjoy watching? 📺

“Oh!! I really like watchin’ the Addams Family, sure it’s a bit old looking with the monochrome but watching their family love each other despite how ‘strange’ they are...”

Max gets sheepish for a moment, looking off into distance, not particularly looking at anything if but the expanse of the hot dry air before speaking up again, “Made me think, ‘Wow, I wish I was born to them; they would’ve loved me, even more with how I look.”

[amancalledboy-a]

What weapon do you think you'd use if you didn't have your chainsaw max?

“Ah....Ah dunno, never really thought about it.”

Max spends this time pondering to himself with a hand on his hip and the other stroking his disfigured chin. His mind went over the various farm equipment he was used to, it would very easy to convert them into things that could hurt others. After all, what difference was tilling the ground compared to tilling the meat on people? He didn’t like killing folks however, but it was the job he was saddled with.

“Maybeh the combine? But I don’t think They would let me.”

[amancalledboy-a]

ask-the-dweets​:

“I just- I can’t… The survivors are all just trying to live… and the struggling, the sounds, the blood… I-It’s one thing being on the receiving end b-but I find being a killer even worse… I just miss my friends…”

It didn’t matter if the survivor was his friend or not. A killer turned survivor was still a survivor. He struggled to do as The Entity commanded no matter who it was or how hard he tried to detach himself from the situation.

Fancy looked guiltily away from The Hillbilly at the mention of Pizza. There wasn’t anything he could have done but somehow he still felt like Pizza’s corruption was somehow partially his fault. “I… don’t want to kno-ow what he went through to- to turn into someone like that…” He fidgeted, rubbing his neck and looking around at various objects that weren’t the killer in front of him.

“Heck, none of us were even interested in f-fire before but now he loves it. He’s practically a different person…He… He doesn’t get scared anymore.”

Fancy paused for a moment “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know you and I’m t-telling you these things…. I, uhm, didn’t catch your name? If that’s alright?”

Despite The Hillbillie’s outburst he hadn’t become violent or aggressive. Fancy was still a little on edge but hoped he could at least make some sort of acquaintances with him.

“M-my name’s Dwight but most people call me Fancy.” He offered his hand to shake, really hoping he wouldn’t regret letting The Hillbilly get close. If he even wanted to.

Max took a step back and regarded the claw offered in greeting with suspicion, sure the Dwight didn't do anything, yet. Max had been burned before by trying to make friends with the others as they were brought in after Phillip, hopeful in thinking they were going to be as put together as the Wraith. Much to his displeasure, they were not; so he made sure to keep his distance these days.

However, he decided to give it a shot with how remarkably polite this 'Fancy' was. Taking a step forward, he took a tentative reach and took the offered hand into his; he blanked in this next part, what was he supposed to do now? Max thought back to his memories of being tied up in front of the television, showing people meeting each other with a firm shake of the hand; which is what Max did, along with something else he watched, his other hand covering the backside of Fancy's hand as he shook.

"Uh..." Started Max before saying his full name of, "Max Thompson Jr, but uh you can call me, Max. Nice 'ta meet ya, Dwi-..uh, Fancy."

Then let go of the hand, Max's hands fell to his sides, they relaxed and then opened fully; he did this action a couple times unconsciously.

[amancalledboy-a]

Max's trauma soaked iré dwindled down to a ember as he listened to Dwight speak.

It reminded him a lot of Phillip, and how reluctant he was(still is) in the beginning when he was dragged in here. Sure the barky mud man didn't and couldn't speak, but through Phillip's limited noises and some writings Max could understand how he hated killing people. It was only after several punishments from the Spider was when he finally put some effort into this. Maybe this what was happening here, after all this Dwight seemed sincere about his new role.

"....yew really don't, huh? Even afta all da times I've just cut you and your buddies down?" said Max, "Yer really something, aren't ya? The Spider must've really wanted sumthing outta ya to make you do dis."

Max wouldn't put it pass the Spider to do that, seeing all the stuff They've done to the others and himself. And what they haven't done, like straightening his spine or taking the bullet out of his leg; instead he was in pain in every waking moment.

Again he fidgeted, this time picking at the sores on his left arm while still keeping an eye on Dwight. "Unlike dat red version of yew that's on fire, he fit perfectly into da role like pullin' on a sweater," remarked Max, "It's a bit scary to see 'im like that after being the scaredy one of y'all."

@ask-the-dweets

“Biscuits!” Fancy…. cursed? Nearly jumping out of his shoes from the hillbillie’s yelling. Even with Fancy as a killer now there was still some residual fear held towards the other man.

Who knew the Billy had such a mouth on him “Wuh… What do you mean?” Fancy was still unfamiliar with a lot of the killers, he had no idea if he should be on the defensive or not. He decided he would just to be safe. The big guy did have a very painful chainsaw after all.

Just who the hell was this guy? Screaming out biscuits like one would use a curse? He reminded Max of those kiddie shows where they would use euphemisms like this guy did. Well, at least Max knew now that this new killer could talk.

“Have ya seen yourself? You look like some-…” with that Max looked up and around before continuing his sentence uttered in a hoarse whisper, “-fucked up cactus thing wif dem Spider whiskers growing outta ya.”

Taking another gander at this new kiddie language approved killer, Max was reminded of someone, “Saaaay, you look like that one fella wif the tie ‘n glasses.” Different frame of course, but still had those attributes of that one that looked like to be the defacto leader of the survivors. “Whaddaya doin’ here?”

[amancalledboy-a]

One of the first times that Max was happy with his parents and their blue ribbon pigs. Watching together as a family, just like all those kids on those sitcoms. They all snarked at each other, but in the end they loved each other. And now his family can do the same.

[amancalledboy-a]

Was he really that easy to read?

Abashedly, he gave several nods to Claire and fidgeted with the waistband of his denim jeans. Max mumbled out, “I-I have a whole kettle full of them kernels, I hope you don’t mind me bothering you.”

Even if Claire had to assure him again and again, he wanted to be assured that he wasn’t her time. She was nice and the last thing Max wanted to happen was to lose her friendship.

“And some moonshine! If you want any.”

@amancalledboy​  asked: “Do you like popcorn, Missus Claire?” asks a nervous Max with a kettle of corn kernels ready to be popped and drenched in butter or maybe caramelized in corn syrup.

     Her attention is pulled from whatever she’d been up to quite easily by his voice. He’s been gone for too long and she’s certainly missed him. A grin forms as she turns.           “Always have,” she confirms, dusting her hands off on her jeans and taking a few steps closer. “What’s up? You wantin’ some company?”

[amancalledboy-a]

@teardownheaven:

It's been a while since she left a present at the Thompson house. Hopefully Max doesn't think he's been forgotten, this one has just taken a little extra time to put together. Mostly to collect the materials. Glass marbles are rare, and wire is precious; finding enough of both was a trial in and of itself, but she got it.

The marbles hang in little spiral-shaped cages of copper, delicate things that allow the most light to shine through, suspended on fishing line in a helix pattern. The cascade appears to float from the metal hoop when she holds it up, and it spins slowly in the soft breeze that flows through the property. Each captive marble glitters like a star as it throws light around in little rainbows.

Perfect. Now she just has to hang it up somewhere. It's too risky to leave it on the ground with how delicate the construction is, and she'd be heartbroken if it was destroyed the same day it was delivered.

There's an ornamental hook on the corner of the porch roof. It's perfect, although she'll have to climb the railing to get to it; not a challenge, even with something delicate in one hand, and she perches there to watch the display for a moment, a giddy smile on her face.

It falls as she turns her head, turning to fear and concern.

The owner of the house has returned and she's missed her window to make a clean get-away.

Every time he looked at the little gifts that had been left meticulously in places where for sure would catch his eye, it filled Max with confusion on to who would’ve left them. It wasn’t Phillip nor it was Evan, good relations with the other killers other than the oldest two was by far...none. Same with the survivors, which to be honest, he couldn’t blame them on how he was made to terrorize, maim, and kill in the most violent ways imaginable. It also didn’t help that he was an ugly son of a bitch, and if the television had taught him anything; was that people’s number one focus was ON appearance.

In a way, he wished to know who it was and the same time, he didn’t. There was always an overwhelming fear that plagued his mind constantly on which he’s sure that the Entity loved to gobble up. Max didn’t want this to be a mean prank, he was used to and preferred that people would be aggressive in their hate; what way for sure he in return could hate them back. It was too complicated otherwise, filled with a swirl of feelings that he was never taught to deal in a healthy manner.

He shook his head of all the negative thoughts, instead turning his attention to the gifts again. Focusing on the positive, dissecting how carefully they were made and how beautiful it looked. The ramshackle nature of them was a comfort to himself, because if ugly broken things could be made into something lovely; then maybe....maybe....

The rustle of corn from the fields snap him out of his reflections, he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his upper legs and hands clutching his knees tightly as he watched the first red-headed survivor with the braided pigtails scuttle up the weathered railing. Placing another gift dangling by a string or wire; turning with the breeze, the glass in it catching the fake sun and giving a soft twinkle in the light.

Turning way from her creation, the proud smile on her face falls into expression that Max was all too used to: fear.

Stifling summer heat led to the most heaviest and pregnant pause in the air, neither of the two made a move; both shocked and afraid of the other. Then Max got up quietly, hobbling with his signature quiet gait that always caught both survivors and killers off guard. Stopping a couple yards away from her, staring, mouth agape; that is til his mouth closed a little, then gaped again. Mind tripping over itself trying to come up with something.

“....why?”

Was all that he managed.

[amancalledboy-a]

"I knews it, yer that Dwight!"

Seeing that Max was right on the money, he showed his giddiness with a brief straightening up as much as his scoliosis would allow him; along with a lopsided grin.

A grin that quickly defaulted back to it's usual state once the satisfaction of the answer wore off. Especially with hearing that musing from Dwight that the Spider was getting tired? That was no good. "Wuh...What dew you mean, 'tired'? To be fair, in all the time I've bin 'ere; I've never seen one of y'all start killing yer friends," lightly stammered out Max, "I hopes this don't mean that imma be in line to start being chased by the likes of you."

That, was one of his fears; it reminded him too much of his shit excuse of a father and his buddies treating him like dirt when he didn't do as they demanded in killing problem folk.

Max started fidgeting in place as those horrid memories started dredging up, he needed a distraction, NOW.

"Say sumthin will ya?!"

@ask-the-dweets

“Biscuits!” Fancy…. cursed? Nearly jumping out of his shoes from the hillbillie’s yelling. Even with Fancy as a killer now there was still some residual fear held towards the other man.

Who knew the Billy had such a mouth on him “Wuh… What do you mean?” Fancy was still unfamiliar with a lot of the killers, he had no idea if he should be on the defensive or not. He decided he would just to be safe. The big guy did have a very painful chainsaw after all.

Just who the hell was this guy? Screaming out biscuits like one would use a curse? He reminded Max of those kiddie shows where they would use euphemisms like this guy did. Well, at least Max knew now that this new killer could talk.

“Have ya seen yourself? You look like some-…” with that Max looked up and around before continuing his sentence uttered in a hoarse whisper, “-fucked up cactus thing wif dem Spider whiskers growing outta ya.”

Taking another gander at this new kiddie language approved killer, Max was reminded of someone, “Saaaay, you look like that one fella wif the tie ‘n glasses.” Different frame of course, but still had those attributes of that one that looked like to be the defacto leader of the survivors. “Whaddaya doin’ here?”

[amancalledboy-a]

Still confused, Max opted to follow the skull masked member of the 'Legion'. Joey, he believed he was called, it seemed he was nicer than the other two aside from the pink haired one. Hopefully he wouldn't regret this he thought as he hobbled along.

��Why the kisses?” Asked a confused Max.

- @amancalledboy​

       THERE’S A SHRUG Joey gives Thompson not quite sure himself. It’s a mixed bag happy to be receiving the attention but also not sure why everyone’s out to kiss him and be all affectionate. Perhaps it time to sulk away from the crowd and hid himself in a corner. No words spoken but Joey looks up the the larger, gesturing with his hand in a ‘follow me’, perhaps the two of them could enjoy some peace and quiet together. 

[amancalledboy-a]

Another moment where Alessa has burned an offering to explore the realms, this one sending her to the ColdWind Farm. She is holding her executioner's hand as they walk along the cornfields. They stop walking when they find "The Hillbilly" sitting by one of the farm house's porches. She greets him by waving hello at Max Thompson Jr. "Pardon the sudden appearance, We are exploring this realm out of curiosity. Is that alright?" Alessa now awaiting Max's answer, she hopes that he will allow this.

There was a shift in the wind when the visitors to his farm stepped foot upon the dusty tilled ground, this piqued Max’s interest for but a moment. Shrugging it off as they were probably loitering in a part of his land far enough away for him to not care.

That is unless, they came straight to where he was.

Max gaped in the direction that the heavy footsteps and the constant rumble of earth being parted through like a hot knife through butter. The dread in the pit of his stomach weighed heavier and heavier when he recognized the unforgettable rusty metal helm of the Executioner. Eyes widening with fear as the red pyramid thing drew closer and closer, his throat dried up, not even a gulp of spit through his windpipe moistened up.

He yelped in surprise, arms protectively thrown over his head and eyes as the Pyramid Head’s charge spoke up.

A long drawn out silence followed after.

Nothing happened.

“Uh--uh-uuuum...” stammered out Max as he peeked through the crack in his arms and looked down to Alessa.

“You’re more than alright, Missus. Just-just don’t set your red pyramid thing me, I don’t want to get hurt.”

@silentlittlemiss

[amancalledboy-a]

@ask-the-dweets

"Biscuits!" Fancy.... cursed? Nearly jumping out of his shoes from the hillbillie's yelling. Even with Fancy as a killer now there was still some residual fear held towards the other man.

Who knew the Billy had such a mouth on him "Wuh... What do you mean?" Fancy was still unfamiliar with a lot of the killers, he had no idea if he should be on the defensive or not. He decided he would just to be safe. The big guy did have a very painful chainsaw after all.

Just who the hell was this guy? Screaming out biscuits like one would use a curse? He reminded Max of those kiddie shows where they would use euphemisms like this guy did. Well, at least Max knew now that this new killer could talk.

“Have ya seen yourself? You look like some-...” with that Max looked up and around before continuing his sentence uttered in a hoarse whisper, “-fucked up cactus thing wif dem Spider whiskers growing outta ya.”

Taking another gander at this new kiddie language approved killer, Max was reminded of someone, “Saaaay, you look like that one fella wif the tie ‘n glasses.” Different frame of course, but still had those attributes of that one that looked like to be the defacto leader of the survivors. “Whaddaya doin’ here?”

[amancalledboy-a]

A fleeting Max muse has surfaced!