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@begrimedchains
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i kno i dont draw him much but billy is my SWEET BABY BOY and I CARE HIM (SO MUCH)
"Ma tooks the ruin away 'cause ya'lls eat ass. Now brush yer teeth 'fore she gets ahold've the insta downs."
This blog :
// Has indulged in many a scrumptious au and intriguing multi verse since its creation that I only think it's right that its main verse should comfortably retire in the Samination verse.

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After several failed attempts at getting a lasso around the Oniâs neck, Billy settles for tying the fraying rope around the hulking beastâs wrist with a nod. The mosquito like attempt seems to have gone unnoticed for now, but at least someone is happy about the exchange.Â
// gettinâ kills with ghostface in 2019.
i know this is a leatherface blog BUT what about his dbd successor hillbilly he's cool too
ďźËďšËďź
âThis town ainât big enough fer the both âuv us.â He explains with one foot stuck inside of the Lego city. It wasnât even big enough for Bubba by himself, but that was unsurprising to Billy.

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Lil Nas X (Feat. Billy Ray Cyrus) - Old Town Road (Remix)
Bubba and Billy - officially gay.
chxsenpcthfxllxwedâ:
Edwardâs shoulders, as tense as they were, still jumped when the ex-Killer (Billy, he correctly guessed) showed no respect for Jakeâs wooden floors nor for his ears when he grabbed the chair he had been circling like a vulture and scrapped it along the hardwood, the businessmanâs face involuntary wincing at the horrid sound it made.
It was almost as grating on his nerves as being flipped the bird and told to get out of his own brotherâs house in the same uneducated breath the amalgamation took to insult him for simply accepting Jakeâs offer to visit- it was now that the elder realized that Jake wouldnât dare leave someone this ignorant free to roam around the place with no supervision.Â
And since Jake informed him it would be just the two of them, that means that heâs been duped into being a babysitter for the man-child. The eldest is long past the barbaric fist fights he would get into with Jake as a young child and teenager, but next time he saw him he was going to kick his ass.Â
His face surely looking more glowering than before, Edward watched Billy tear into the foiled package of a Poptart and started shoving large chunks of into in his lopsided chops as if it was the first food heâs had in months, drool and saliva spewing everywhere from his efforts to consume the pastry (in vaguely reminded him of his own son, when he first started eating solid foods out of a baby jar-and instead tried to eat said jar like glass was a delicacy.) It was disgusting, uncouth, uncultured, revolting to the senses-
Swallowing the dull taste of bile that arose in his gullet, the magnate busied himself with finding a proper place to sit that wouldnât be too hard on the eyes, and found the sofa he had slung his overcoat on a suitable place to rest his legs and eyes from the debauchery going on at the table.
And thank God he did so, because talking with your mouth full was a sight he felt blessed not to see. His mouth was halfway open to retort âIâm his brother, you nitwit.â, but the âmistakeâ part of the admission is what threw him for a loop-why was it a mistake? Of course, he was informed of the constant chases of life and death, of predator and prey that went on non-stop that Jake was on the brutalized end of⌠but was Jake really that much of a pain in the ass?
He really hoped so. It would serve whatever Entity kept them there right. âIâm his brother.â Edward decided to voice his earlier aborted statement. âHisâŚÂ discernibly cleaner brother.â He still isnât looking at the eating beast to avoid the gross sounds that indicated that he was still stuffing his face full of sugar, and that provoked a sense of anxiety from not seeing the literal elephant in the room.
Folding his arms over his chest is just a way of making sure his gun was under his lapels and that he could easily reach it if needed. âHeâs always smelt like that. You would be surprised about how particular he is about things being clean, including himself.â
 Without Evan around to giving him a growling dosage of supervision, finding himself suddenly set upon with someâand worse yet, from someone heâd yet to meet, didnât sit well with him one little bit. Heâd come from a stubborn family line, those Thompsons who thought they could anything they pleased from faking a barn burning to bricking their disfigured son behind a basement wall, and there was little hesitance on his part in revealing which family tree heâd dropped out of among the many dried pecan trunks that haunted Coldwindâs withered outskirts. The fact that Jake still felt the need to send his own version familiars to watch him just as Ma had kept the crowsâ eyes upon the fog realmâs stock of survivors irked him enough for his fur to stand on end in agitation as he came to realize that Jake didnât even inform him of the visit because he knew heâd run off and try to find Phil at whatever job heâd landed up the road just to avoid being watched over like some burden. The botanist would have a scream over that, him lumbering off to the road where anybody could see his pretty face and fail to out speed his powerful sprints. Granted, he hadnât had much room to stretch his legs out in the woods where the volume of trees discouraged his usual jogs with Jesus. As far as he knew, his momentum was fading faster than his monstrous frame was. Phil had already shrunk down real small, but heâd only been out a few weeks so far compared to the rest of the killers strolling about in their survivor sized bodies. Even though Claudette had promised him an outing once he looked the part of a person a bit more, it almost felt like heâd be waiting much longer than anyone, locked up in their cabin and hidden away from the world. It wouldnât be his first time.
 The last bit of Pop-Tart goes down soupy thanks to the quick work of his near-corrosive sluices, and he eyes the box with stormy consideration. The situation at hand wasnât exactly one that put him in the best of moods, but the sweet taste stinging his tongue was a welcome distraction he wouldnât mind prolonging. Before he can properly dump the last of the silver packets out of their cardboard holding pen, the unwelcome babysitter interrupts his pre-binge musings. A brother of the saboteurâs, is he? Perhaps that was why he was here, sabotaging the Thompson boyâs plans for the dayâŚwhich included eating all the Pop-Tarts in the cupboard and taking lengthy nap among the lady palm leaves that made up the botanistâs indoor garden. Usually this was done without pants, and seeing how he was already prepared for such an activity, this saboteur kin had not only an elephant in the room to ignore, but also its dick.
 âDirty.â He sniffs, almost dejectedly over the box once he realizes he wonât be able to nap without keeping at least one eye open around the stranger. Family to Jake or not, the saboteur never gave him any reason to trust him before his relocation, and so his bloodline wasnât to be trusted either. Perhaps trusted less so, since he was never that keen on strangers. Jake was lucky that heâd have a brother to come home to, given the Crookedâs crooked history with obliterating trespassers first and asking questions later. âLives in bushes. Smells like bird shit.â His dim eyes flash as he shoots a sultry glance over his shoulder to where his sitter sat, making himself a little too cozy in the room adjacent to the indoor garden. From the table, he could see the lady palm through the doorway waving him over. Heâd have obliged himself to answer its call too if the elephant dick in the room wasnât currently wedged between the bars of the back of the chair and catching each time he tried to rise out of his seat.Â
 âEvân was particâlr bout me gittinâ scrubbed off, but ah only takes halfâve criticism once ah done sawed the whole part in twoââ Pausing with a grimace growing in a rare show of concentration near the corner of his stiffened face flesh as if he just realized something painful, he busies himself with forcing his junk out from between the wooden bars. âBut he ainât here no more.â
  â...he was mâbrother. Some times.â
đ¤ + 36, but reverSed so billy is giving up the control.
fifty reasons to touch someone.Â
âŚto give up control.
A hand over his, she could see his frustration clear as day. She took his thick calloused hand up and away from the smaller parts of his chainsaw. It was something heâd struggle with but a task she could finish with ease. She placed the screw back into place and screwed it in, giving him a small smile.Â
âAnything else you need help with?â
 Though fairly adept with his tinkering, the Hillbilly often stalled when it came to completing tasks more intricate than his large and overly calloused fingers could manage without a heaps ton of concentration and absentminded grunting. Truth be told, he hardly noticed when the smaller killer plopped down nearby to see what he was up to when he, while clenching the top of a screw so tight his cuticles had begun blooming purple, refused to answer her greeting and her wondering mind about what exactly he was doing to look so sweaty? Once another attempt to wriggle the ridged edges into the opening goes awry, he growls at the frustration mounting bareback with its spurs in his sides until the softer plush of his companyâs hand covers his.
 With a sidelong glance and a gaping expression that needed no altering (not that he could) once she not only inserts the screw back into place, but gives Jesusâs rusting side a few assuring pats, he feels the ends of his mane prickling just slightly as the sting of being shown up and the relief of having Jesus tended to fight for the top spot on his totem pole of emotional illiteracy. As he briefly pondered what else those tiny hands of hers could do for him, the Thompsonâs son slowly opens the crank case of the chainsaw , revealing the many loose wire ends that made up its guts. âAhâm glad ya asked.â Time to unfurl that list of cow skin he kept under his hat.

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begrimedchains replied to your post: begrimedchains replied to your post: âŚ
billy and anna r so edgy they burn ultra rare offerings and turn their steam profile to PUBLIC COMMENTARY.
out . halp iâm crying i love it so much
"Wha did the octopus say t'the other octopus? I wanna hold yer hand hand hand hand hand hand hand hand."
        ââŚ.DID PHIL TELL yer this joke?â Itâs one of the worst heâs heard to be sure, but on the other hand, itâs somewhat  sweet and appropriate given how close things are to Valentineâs Day. It earns a rasped, small chuckle, though. Thatâs more than most peopleâs jokes have ever earned from the Trapper.  âTell  âim he needs tâwork on his comedian skills, lad.â
  A slow snort signals that maybe the Trapper is correct in his assumptions on where the joke could have come from, given the Crookedâs notable lack of understanding on how to craft such conversational candies. That didnât stop him from parroting what he heard, of course, and who else would disclose to him such a candy with intimate implications than the Autohavenâs specter, who was always so eager to entertain Coldwindâs mistake with wooden fingers wound fondly around calloused digits? Though confirming the Trapperâs suspicions was never a priority of his.
  âMayâb ah heards it somewhere else.â His drawl travels, meandering about the meaning of his words as if he could generally introduce some doubt into Evan about his sharp suppositions. âCarter can chatters like no tâmorrow.â He knew he was delving into dangerous territory, mentioning names Evan didnât quite take a shining to. But that was half of the fun.