right, yea i should probably introduce myself since ive got new followers coming in.
name(s): roach or bug (either is fine to call me)
pronouns: he/they
blog preference: 18+
somethings about me: i have adhd and autism, i really really love bugs and all things oddities! obviously you can tell by my blog that i LOVE horror haha :) i kinda draw- and absolutely adore listening to music. i can be mean if i want lol but thats normally just to rude people so dont be afraid to ask me anything or talk to me in general <3
who i write for: any slashers or horror characters pretty much (even tho i completely self indulge in bo sinclair fics), don’t be afraid to ask or request!!
what i write about: anything, unless it crosses a line i just wont respond. i don’t really have guidelines so be as raunchy or soft as you wanna sugar <3
interests: horror, anime, manga, real life gore and crime , oddities, sfx, cosplay
I AM OPEN TO ANYONE IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE FRIENDS I PROMISE IM SWEET <3
@chibizombiebehindyou: Could you do the slashers (including Asa and Jesse) with a reader who talks in their sleep?
A/N: Decided to do this in a short prompt type of writing piece so I can practice writing short stories without going way overboard
A/N: okay maybe it’s not as short as I thought but hey, it’s not over 2 pages- yeah no it’s pretty lengthy 💀 and it’s not proofread ‼️
Bo Sinclair
It was a consuming and bone-breaking job that the Sinclair brothers did. Therefore, sleep was never guaranteed. But, with you? You decided on your own that you would keep yourself awake to see Bo come home in one piece. He always brushed your worry off as your so called obsession with him. After a few times of butchering your sleep schedule, it wasn't long before you were fast asleep when Bo retuned home. He made his way up the stairs, shedding his boots at the top. Discarding his mechanic coveralls, he was left in a stained but washed grey t shirt and his boxers. He had heard some quiet mumbling but didn't really look into it. The noise had vanished as he pulled back some of the old cover, slowly resting his body beside you. You had looked dead asleep, your body contracting slow and steady breaths. Exempt your mouth moving and forming words. He smirked, realizing you were taking in your sleep. He had some assumptions about it when you would ask questions with no reasoning. He wasn’t too worried. He propped himself up on his elbow to look over at you. “What do you mean you didn’t see it?! It was as big as your ass dude!” That’s something he’s never heard before. He couldn’t help but genuinely laugh at your behavior, shaking his head until he heard his name. “Well, Bo, what else do you want me compare it to, your dick!? Yeah right.” His face deadpanned, furrowing his eyebrows. He scoffed, turning over dramatically as he rolled his eyes. He faced away from you, biting the inside of his cheek. In the morning, he might tease you or ask questions around what you said. Either way, he’s not bothered by it.
Vincent Sinclair
It had been a long day for the boys and you within Ambrose. What a better way to go to sleep cuddled up together and arise later in the day by Bo? Of course, you were always first within the bed, already dead asleep and dreaming of whatever your mind wander to. Vincent kept awareness of where the creeks were in the floorboards, avoiding them so he could peacefully lay in bed next to your sleeping form. Yet he heard some prominent mumbling coming from you, serving closer and gently easing up the blankets to slip in. He had removed his mask already, carefully turning to face you. You had your arm over your eyes, mouth open and moving from incoherent sentences. But one was clear as day, “I’m convinced Vincent uses Gucci conditioner and shampoo, my god.” You mumbled a few after that but he was utterly confused. Why were you talking about that weird brand you had showed him once, and why did it correlate to your dream?? He shook his head gently, scooting closer and resting his arm across your waist/stomach, pulling himself against your form until he fell asleep to your rhythmic breathing. Sometimes, he’s entertained by your night time conversations.
Lester Sinclair
Your boyfriend had a fairly easy job compared to his brothers, but when there were visitors piling up after one another, it took a whole lot longer to come back home to you and your shared bed. The frogs and cicadas were a whole lot louder than usuals, but it was like a lullaby to you by now. Which queues the small mumbling escaping your mouth. He was quiet when he came, but of course, Lester wasn’t the best at silence. Luckily you were to lost in your dream to realize he was already snuggling in beside you. He had took notice of your nonsense sentences from time to time, not that it bothered him. If anything, it was an entertaining thing to listen to before going to sleep. It gave him a sense of what your brain really thinks of. “Lester… if I dressed up as roadkill… would you pick me up too?” He tried so damn hard to stifle his laugh, his body almost shaking as you formed a stupid grin on your face. Lester took in a deep breath, biting the inside of his cheek as he buried his head into the side of your neck. “Sure, hun’” he was sure to keep his words to a hush, taking note to your shared silence. There was a comfortable coldness that covered your bodies compared to the blistering heat outside. What a way to end the day.
Will Graham
Go to work, panic, panic some more and get no sleep. This was Wills routine even with you trying to hassle him into bed. He was always focused on something, or just simply to stubborn to let himself rest for once. But tonight, he had one hell of an excuse. Jack had kept him for a lot longer than both of you would like. But you knew what you signed up for when you accepted to go on a date with Will. You figured out after multiple nights of fruitless attempts at staying up and waiting for your boyfriend, you just gave in and went to sleep on your own terms. This gave Will the opportunity to overthink in peace without the guilt of making you worry. The job had took a huge toll on his physical capacity, leading him to shrugging off his clothing while he made his way to the side of the bed. He rubbed his eye, yawning as he lifted the blanket to the new queen bed you guys had bought, giving more room for dogs and the two of you. He stopped his motions, watching closely as you turned your body towards him. You were mouthing words but they were quiet and blotched. Will slowly slid underneath the covers, feeling his body sink in the end to a relaxed position. He had took not of your sleep talking, not bothered by it. To be honest, he likes to hear what you would say when you weren’t conscious of it. “I wish we had one of those stress powered lightbulbs…” A very quiet and short chuckle made its way out of you, “of course it’s for you, you could probably power Russia with how much stress you have.” And with that, he scoffed and turned the other way, mumbling to himself before attempting to sleep.
Jason Voorhees
Jason always makes sure you’re getting enough rest for your health. He’s adamant about you being your best self with a healthy body and mind. But, he’s never really surprised to see you up waiting for him time to time, honestly he can’t complain. He loves seeing you there in the cabin with the fire still going as you greet him with that beautiful smile. It’s truly warming for him. The rest of the nights, you’re always in the dark comfort of your shared room, resting atop the creaking bed and under the quilt blankets. The cabin door whipped open, quickly caught by the giant hand wrestling against the harsh winter wind. He tried his best to quietly close the door, pushing the lock in place he had added after a break in from a trespasser happened. He observed the room, laying his machete within the kitchen sink after shedding his jacket and laying it on the chair around the wood table. Expertly avoiding the creaks in the floor, he gently pushed open the bedroom door, slipping in without a sound. There was a severely dim light coming from the window, which shadowed over your face just right so he could see you. Jason had took off his boots while he listening to the common small talk from your sleeping form. You guys had decided to look in all the cabins, landing on the jackpot of a bigger bed so you could have more room. Therefore, it wasn’t a huge hassle for Jason to slip into the bed without the alarm of waking you. You were turned away from him, slow breaths from to body. The hockey mask laid on the dusty end table, facing up as Jason looked down at you. A small smile formed on his lips, listening as your talking grew a little more coherent. “Come on Jason, you got all that cake.. and you’re not gonna give me none?” His smile slowly faded, realizing what you meant by ‘cake.’ It ha mentioned before, especially when you went out of your way to slap his ass and look him in eyes to say, “a whole damn bakery back there..” Jason took it on himself to get used to it, not bothered by the comments. He shook his head, inching down so he could pull you closer to his chest, a very strong arm wrapped around you.
Michael Myers
There’s never a sleep schedule with the two of you. There’s times where Michael is out for days at time, retuning only when your asleep and unknowing. There are those very rare times like this one where you’re aware of Michaels presence in the bed while you drift of into sleep. He’s definitely not the type to pull you close or make a move to hold you, but he’s not going to push you away if you wrap yourself around him. Which is where you lay on his chest, listening to his eternally calmed heart beat as you knocked out. It had took a damn long time, but you achieved the privilege of seeing Michael without the infamous mask you grew accustomed too. His eyes usually zeroed in on the ceiling, waiting until he need to close his eyes came. But this time, he looked down at you shifting a bit in his chest, a few words spoken. “I really don’t know how people can’t smell you form your hiding places.. I can literally smell you before you walk in a room.. it’s not a good thing either.” His eyebrows furrowed together, trying to understand why you were composing about how he.. smelled. Yet here you are, your face completely shoved into his chest. He gave you an unimpressed eye roll, turning his head on the pillow for an attempt at some sleep. He found it rather amusing that you would speak whatever you thought without restrictions when you would sleep talk. Something to quietly tease you about.
Jesse Cromeans
He had already experienced your sleep taking, the cameras in his house capturing anything you did. Sometimes you asked questions or said random comments, all that made Jesse smirk or silently laugh. He had also taken notice to the earlier times you went to bed, your stubborn idea to stay up and wait for him dying down. He didn’t mind this, satisfied with your healthy sleep schedule returning. He set the tapes in a box for tomorrow’s checking. Jesse eased open the bedroom door, a small ray of light traveling across the room to reveal the bed you laid in. The black silk sheets covering your sound figure. He pushed the door back closed, taking off all his work attire to be left in his boxers and undershirt. He shimmied underneath the covers, slowly scooting closer to your body. Of course, there were some unconscious words to be shared. “I just realized I’ve got to sleep in every room…” there was some silence before you spoke again, “why?… look don’t even worry about.” There was humorous tone in the last sentence, one that felt oddly genuine for someone asleep. He shook his head, smiling while he took in your scent that comforted him. His hands caressed any exposed skin as the room fell silent, including his mind as you both shared a deep sleep.
Asa Emory
It wasn’t something he really cared to take notice about, never really sleeping at the same time as you due to his large amounts of work he took on. It was to the point he would drift off into a dreamless sleep on his desk. Not that you could really do anything about it with his stubborn view point, so you kept to yourself and went to your bed without him. Well, went to bed also meant brining a pillow and blanket down to Asas work place and sleeping the the chair. You just wanted to feel your boyfriends presence before you fell asleep. He only looked up for a few before looking back down at the scatter of papers, shuffling though some before writing. You made yourself as comfortable as you could get, sighing as you let your body relax. The sleep came easier than expected, the few sniffles sounding in the room letting you know Asa was still there. It was oddly comforting. A flash of worry did strike you, the worry that your sleep talking would annoy him, causing you to have to leave. But it was worth the few bits of it. Asa sighed, running his hand down his face as he battled the tired feeling back. Lending back in his seat, he crossed his arms while looking up to you in the leather chair. Without a warning, a question was asked out loud from you, “What color box would I get if I was one of your butterflies?” He tilted his head, furrowing his eyebrows before humoring himself by answering, “Red. To match the original one.” It seems like your dream had answered for you, the words quiet on your tongue as your chest arose slowly. Asa took in another breath before rising to his feet, walking over to you. He brought a hand up to your resting face, his thumb brushing your drink. What a beautiful butterfly you would be.
That's the word best used to describe Ambrose in its current state, the once bright town was now dull as the sun rested behind the gray blanket sky. It had been raining all morning from when Vincent headed to the wax museum's basement till he emerged many hours later. The water drew him out and beckoned him from his work when the melody of rain battering down against the roof got loud; it must have been raining pretty hard for him to be able to hear it. Curiosity had pulled him up the steps of the basement and wonder had pushed him through the door once he realized how the volume increased with each furthering step. He stood in the main room of the House of Wax, the building full of the music from the sky, and with each step up the curling staircase did the music crescendo.
Vincent made his way up to the attic of the building, the large windows would give him a perfect view of Ambrose. On his way he thought of his brothers, was Bo stuck in the gas station ? Had he even went out that morning ? And Lester, was he home ? Vincent thought back to the last time Lester had got caught out in the rain while he was working, he came back filthier than he usually did and had tracked mud and water through the house.
His thoughts fleeted as he pushed open the door to the top room, the room was bright and dim all in one. It was warm and the walls looked more of a greenish-beige rather than their usual orange aged wax, the characteristics of the storm had seeped into the museum. And as Vincent continued his way to the window, he too was enveloped in the stuffy warmth of the weather, it bled into his clothes and soaked his body all over. He wondered if this is what the people he had used to add to his collection felt, the stillness and the warmth.
Vincent dragged an old chair over to the window and it groaned in protest as he settled into it. He picked at the ends of his sweater sleeve as he absentmindedly stared out over Ambrose, letting the sound of the rain wash out anything in his mind that was left, as it did the streets. He sat like that for a while, a long while, just until Jonesy had ventured off the same trail her owner had. Soft padding of nails against wax alerted Vincent of his pretty visitor and he was quick to spread his hand over the flat of her head. Jonesy laid at his feet, nestled into him as much as she could, before she closed her eyes to rest.
Vincent stared at the dog for a moment before his eye fixed back to the window, watching the water wash against it. It felt nice to do nothing and to not think, it was rare for him to be able to partake in something so mundane but he craved it at times. He hoped that this would satiate his needs for now and hold him over.
Vincent also hoped that the rain would never cease, that the water would wash over them the way the wax had to many. He only hoped that it wasn't too cold, he hated the cold.
This isn't nothing serious, just wanted to write sumn, might not be too good, I haven't written nothing in years.
warnings: none
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Bo had slept in, something that wasn't particularly rare, but something he wasn't too keen on. Maybe it was from the lack of sun in his face, or the comfortable cool that made it so easy to curl into the blankets on his bed, but it was more than likely from the exhaustion he accumulated from so many nights full of work and less of sleeping. Deep down he knew he needed the extra sleep but as quick as the thought came it was just as quickly replaced with the self-degradation that pushed him to work hours on end with little care for himself-- the fuel that worked him near death in order to prove himself. The wind outside began to pick up and Bo peaked out the window to watch the dead leaves that danced within it, the thought that the only movement in the desolate town being dead itself made him frown a little. Gray clouds above covered the usual harsh rays of the Louisiana sun, what was once a vibrant sky was now dull. The blanketed sky looked heavy and with every movement threatened to burst and unleash the gallons of water it held.
Bo weighed his options in his head: he could either hurry up and make his way to the station to work before the rain started or he could stay and spend his day inside. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rainfall outside the window, mother earth decided for him-- he was spending the day inside.
He made his way downstairs to the kitchen, the weather had him hankering for something warm to combat the chill that the elements brought with it, coffee sounded real good. Bo didn't realize how hungry he was until his stomach announced it's vacant state, he supposed some breakfast wouldn't hurt either, and it wasn't often he had the time or care in mind to make himself an early meal. He just hoped the eggs and bacon hadn't spoiled.
The storm outside had picked up significantly and he didn't hear the small taps from Jonesy coming in from the doggy door in the back, the dog nearly made him drop the egg he was about to crack as she shook the water from her coat, some hitting Bo.
"God damnit, Jonesy, you 'bout scared the mess outta me!" Bo hollered as he watched the dog dry off, "ah, quit that, yer gettin' water everywhere." He grabbed a stray washcloth and wiped her down a bit before he threw it on the ground, an attempt to pick up some of the puddle that accumulated at the pups feet. "What am I gonna do with you?"
After he dealt with Jonesy, Bo turned his attention back to the stove, more focused on his egg sunny side up than the dog at his feet. In the middle of moving the egg around there was a clap of thunder outside that caused him to jolt, the spatula breaking the yolk from Bo's harsh movement. A quick 'fuck' escaped his lips as he watched the runny liquid start to cook in the hot pan, he really wanted them sunny side up. He noticed Jonesy move and watch in interest as he plated the now 'ruined' egg.
"Quit yer beggin', got food in yer bowl, leave me alone." He grumbled as he cracked another egg in the pan before he made his way to start the coffee. Jonesy just sat and watched him before she headed over to lay under the kitchen table and out of Bo's way. Not long after the coffee machine was done rumbling, Bo had him a cup of the steaming liquid with the proper fixings, his plate at his space at the table, and a begging dog at his feet once again. As he brought a bite of egg to his mouth, he watched as Jonesy's interested peaked, she went from laying under the table to sitting upright beside him, her eyes followed the movement of his fork.
"Tsk," Bo sucked his teeth and narrowed his eyes, "now go on somewhere." In no mood to deal with the dog, he dropped his hand to swat her away but Jonesy stood her ground. Her head lolled to the side as she peered up at him with her big puppy dog eyes, a soft whimper leaving her muzzle.
"Nu uh, I'm fixin' to put you out if you don' hush up, don' give me none of that shit, what? Vincent don' feed you none?" He tried his best to ignore her eyes but he couldn't ignore the way she made a noise as he continued to eat. Bo sighed and his eyes fell to the egg that he had messed up earlier. He let out a huff as he fished the food off his plate and looked back at the pup.
"Alright, you wan' it? You gotta work fer it." He lifted the food to show her but as she went to lunge he held his hand up, halting her movements. "What I say? Now," he pointed his pointer and middle finger in the shape of a gun at Jonesy, "BANG!" She stared up at him, tilting her head again and Bo felt a little embarrassed that she didn't respond correctly.
"Damnit, girl," he attempted once more, "BANG! Jonesy play dead gosh-dangit!" Bo's lips curled up a bit as the dog did as told, although not with as much enthusiasm as she would with his other siblings, but he supposed it was enough. Bo plopped the egg down on the ground for her and Jonesy scrambled to eat it the second she heard it hit the ground.
"Actin' like we'on feed you, shameful." He shook his head and sucked his teeth before he finished his plate. He sipped from his mug and peered down at Jonesy from the rim as she stamped her front paws a little, her head jolted as she softly barked at him.
"I'on got nothin' for you, now g'on, get." Bo nudged her out of the way as he got up, piling his dishes in the sink before making his way to the living room, Jonesy followed at his heels.
Bo stood in the middle of room and scanned the contents it held, trying to decide if he wanted to read or watch a movie but he changed his mind the second his eyes fell on his parents old cassette player. His fingers skimmed the cassette holder and stopped on Marty Robbins' "Return of the Gunfighter", nothing too sad and he loved storytelling. The peaceful guitar contrasted the harsh snap of thunder outside; it calmed him.
The tape played as he settled into the couch, his fingers drummed along to 'San Angelo' as it played in the background. While he preferred the twangy sound of Johnny Cash telling the big guys to shove it, he couldn't help but feel something for the expressive guitar, the Tex-Mex style bewitched him. He enjoyed the songs of a lone cowboy who had no time for love, but his favorites were the ones in which an outlaw managed to find a companion despite their wrongs. Love was always described so sickly sweet, and while he was usually put off by it, he couldn't deny he yearned for it, the idea that someone could love a criminal like the outlaws that were sung about, maybe someone like himself.
The once warm cup in his hands was now cold, the liquid inside had cooled while he sat in thought but Bo couldn't bring himself to care. Jonesy stretched as she laid beside him, her head found its way in the man's lap as she nestled in the couch. He bought his hand down to scratch her side, chuckling a bit as her leg kicked before giving her a couple smacks on her side. Her tail drummed wildly against the sofa and she wiggled further into his lap, licking at his hands.
"Alright, now settle down, girl." He smiled and brought his hand up to rub her head, his cup now abandoned on the table beside him. He readjusted himself, careful not to disturb the animal in his lap as he got more comfortable. Bo allowed himself to further sink into the cushions, sighing contently as he laid his head back. He finally relaxed, his eyes closed as he listened to the rainfall's percussive taps as it landed on the earth around him, lulling him to sleep.
Vincent made his way to the house through the tunnels, having finally finished the wax sculpture that kept him up all night. As he made his way from his late father's office, he took notice of how quiet the house was aside from the quiet melody of Marty Robbins that played in the living room. He stopped walking when his gaze fell on his twin and his dog cuddled on the couch, Bo's chest rising in falling as he slept. Vincent watched for a while before he retreated back to the hall closet and retrieved a blanket for them. Carefully as not to wake them, the twin laid it over the two. He grabbed the coffee cup Bo ditched on the table and took it in the kitchen, noticing his brother managed to cook breakfast. Vincent picked up a covered plate that sat on the stove, smiling behind the mask when he realized that his brother fixed him some as well. He retreated to his room with the food, taking one last glance at Bo and Jonesy before ascending the stairs.
fic idea: lester and jonesy scramble to get ingredients and find the recipe for the cake momma always used to bake the twins on their birthday. they are inept.
THIS IS SO CUTE AAA !!
warnings: slight mentions of abuse
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Lester knew how his older siblings didn't really care for birthdays --at least not Bo-- it was kind of a sensitive topic as most familial holidays were for the Sinclair siblings, seeing as they lacked the proper warmth that their parents should have offered. The only semblance of affection was bestowed onto Vincent, being as he was their mother's favorite, and in turn, their father's as well. When holidays came their parents did attempt to share the sentiment with their two other kids, but it was stark in comparison to what Vincent received; it was like they were dogs receiving scraps while the real family sat at the table and enjoyed their meal. Thinking about it made Lester upset and he didn't like to dwell on it too much, he was determined to pick up the slack from his parents and reinstate the feel good emotions that holidays should have brought.
Now how was the question, and a damn good one at that. It wasn't that Lester wasn't good at planning things, he was quite good, in fact former partners always boasted about how thoughtful he was when it came to things like this. But this time was different. Sure he loved the ones that used to be in his life, but these were his brothers who he knew might not react positively to it, he didn't want to dig up any bad memories. And yeah, people liked parties and having things given to them, but when you grow up expecting that same loving hand to strike you, it's hard to cherish the good when you know terrible is right around the corner. It hurt Lester that his brother's couldn't appreciate even the smallest things, and it made him hate his parents for making it that way, but he would never mention it to the other two.
That's when he remembered his mom's old recipe book, she was a horrible mother but a damn good baker, and if he was right he'd be able to find that one caramel cake recipe she always made for his siblings on their birthday. He'd set out to get the ingredients, they were on a budget but Lester had set aside some money to get the good stuff, anything for his brothers. All he needed was some company.
Jonesy.
Pup at his feet and directions in hand, Lester sought to set everything out, he had borrowed some cook ware from the house but he'd bring it back when he was done, maybe not clean but returned. He was confident as he measured out the ingredients but with each step he followed his faith wavered. "Y'know girl, this'sa LOT harder than I had reckoned." Lester looked down as Jonesy who just stared up at him with her head tilted.
Determined, Lester continued on whisking and adding and folding till his arms were sore, his mama made it look so easy. He was so caught up in his stumbling over the batter he completely forgot about the beast that would be the icing, and just like with the batter he shook off any concerns, how hard could it be?
He set the ingredients in the pan to melt and went back to pouring the batter in the cake pan before setting it in the heated oven. Directing his attention back to the icing, he noticed it had melted all together and he checked the instructions for what to do next. "Okay girly, it says-- TWO HOURS?" His eyes bulged as he stared down at the paper, he hadn't remembered it taking that long and he didn't have the time to wait.
"Okay y'know what we're g'na do? Not that," Lester set the paper down and turned the eye up to a higher degree, "if it's hotter it'll cook faster, now ain't I smart?" He chuckled as Jonesy barked a response. "You said it sister."
Lester watched as the contents of the pot bubble as it turned a caramel color, stirring it occasionally. He decided to put on some records to help pass the time as he waited for the cake to bake. "S'too quiet," He muttered and cranked the knob to his old boombox as the voice of Merle Haggard flowed from the speakers and into the small kitchen, "there, thas better." He looked at Jonesy before patting his chest, and invitation for her to jump up and dance with him. He held the dog's paws as he swayed and sang along.
"♫ A workin' man can't get nowhere today ♫"
He grinned and stepped with the dog, "Ain't that right Jonesy girl!" Jonesy barked and Lester howled, encouraging her to make more noise. He was having such a good time with his dance partner that he forgot about the now burning icing on the stove. "Shoot!" Lester hissed and raced to stir the liquid and take it off the eye. It was a dark brown and Lester only hoped that it wasn't too bad cause he had used everything he bought and he didn't have enough to remake it. He could only hope that he didn't also mess up the cake.
Equipped with a butter knife, Lester opened the oven and stuck it in the middle of the cake before pulling it out, something he'd seen his mom do, except he didn't know what to look for. He noticed how the top was cooked and it was squishy when he pressed into it, so he pulled it out. Soon the cake was covered in the dark caramel icing and he swore at himself for lacking his mother's artistic ability, wanting to decorate the cake but deciding that he didn't want to mess it up further. He let the cake cool as he gathered everything in his truck, making sure to remember his brothers' presents.
He had gotten Bo a portable jump starter, something he had seen someone use when he was stuck on the side of the road. Lester knew the battery on Bo's truck had seen better days and he for sure didn't want his older brother stuck somewhere. And for Vincent he knew he had to get him this old brush carrier he had seen while he was browsing some antique shop, he even managed to sweet talk the lady up front to hold it for him till he could afford it. The holder was sturdy and made out of leather that had softened from years of use, on the back had flowers and leaves carved into it, nothing too 'pretty' but something artsy that he knew his brother would like. He had also snagged some whiskey while out shopping, hoping that it would help with the nerves of them all.
Once everything was packed in his truck, Jonesy included, he set off to Ambrose, careful to not hit any bumps and disturb the dessert that sat between him and the animal. He said a silent prayer as he crept towards the washed out road, hoping that no one was at Ambrose besides his brothers, that'd be a real thorn in his side and would surely ruin his plan. As he drove through the town he breathed out a sigh of relief as he noticed nothing out of the ordinary, even better that Bo was too busy in his garage to pay any attention to him as he drove by and up to the house.
Lester was careful with taking everything in, not wanting to make too much commotion in case Vincent was up in the house and not in his workshop. Finally everything was set in the kitchen, he even cleaned up a little, more in compensation for taking and making a mess of the dishes but he wanted it to look a little nicer. He was giddy and he didn't know what to do next, did he get Bo or Vincent first? He really hoped they would like it, he would understand if they didn't, but he really did want today to be good for them. He decided to put on some music to drown out the silence the house held, it always unsettled him how quiet it could get.
Soon Lester was accompanied by the sound of Johnny Cash's 'Big River' and the house felt less vacant, he knew his brother's liked different types of music but they never grew out of their taste of the old country tapes his parents had. For a second he wondered if maybe the music might throw everything off, remind them too much of ma and pa, but he pushed the thought down when he remembered how well Bo and music paired after a few drinks.
After he decided everything was ready, Lester headed off to the House of Wax first, seeing as Vincent would listen to him if he asked him to wait in the living room whereas Bo would demand to know what's going on. Jonesy pranced alongside him, her collar jingling softly as she bounced with each step. "Hey girl, you excited?" He asked as they stopped outside the House of Wax before leaning down to pet her head. Jonesy barked and her tail wagged as she basked in the affection Lester was giving her.
The two were in and out quick, Lester telling Vincent to wait for him in the living room and leaving before his brother could respond. It had been easy but he knew getting Bo to come without question would be harder. As he and Jonesy walked to the gas station he went over in his head how would ask Bo without giving away too much, did they even know it was their birthdays? Lester stopped in his tracks.
Did they even know it was their birthdays?
Surely they had to, if they did they hadn't said anything about it. It made him sad when he thought about how it meant nothing to them, but to him it was the biggest day ever, it was the day two of the most important people came to be, two people he loved so much it hurt. He'd be damned if he let his parents continue to torment his brothers from the grave, to hell with them, Lester and his brothers were better without them and he'd show them.
With new found confidence he marched to the garage where his older brother was, head ducked under a hood of some car doing god knows what. Without looking up Bo called to him, "Hand me that wrench will'ya?" He extended his hand and waited for Lester to drop the metal tool in his hand before continuing to tinker with the vehicle. After a few beats Bo addressed him again, "Wha'cha want? M'busy."
Lester wrung the hem of his shirt in his hands as his mind scrambled to find what to say, finally settling on "I need ya up at th'house, got sumn to show ya." He turned on his heel and made his way back to the family home, ignoring Bo's demands for an answer. "I guess you'll have t'come and find out I s'pose!" He hollered back at his brother.
Upon entering the house Lester saw Vincent sitting on the couch, waiting like he expected him to be. Not too long after Lester came in Bo followed, his brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at both of his brothers. "Kay what? Th'hell you drag me up here for? Wha'cha gotta show me?"
Lester motioned for them to follow as he led them to the kitchen, Jonesy racing to be in front of the brothers, evidently more excited than the three men. On arrival Bo asked again what was going on and Lester so badly wished his brother had more patience. "Well..." He had started as he glanced between his brothers and then towards the pan that sat on the kitchen table. "Happy birthday?" Automatically Bo let out and groan and Lester had to move to stop him from leaving.
"You dragged my ass all the way up'ere t'tell me that? I'on got time fer this shit, told'ya I was busy." He stared down at his little brother before watching as his twin inspected the pan, peeling back the foil to reveal a cake, or something resembling a cake-- was it a cake? The fuck Lester bring with him?
Vincent turned back to dig through a drawer, grabbing a cake cutter and some plates from a cabinet. Lester stared at his feet as he shuffled slightly, embarrassed from the rejection. "Might not be good but I made a cake, got y'all sumn too.." His voice was small as he spoke to his brother, avoiding eye contact as he lifted his gaze.
Bo's face fell from anger to neutral as he watched his baby brother fidget, obviously upset from his reaction. "Shit, what th'hell, I reckon I could use a break." He ignored how fast Lester's expression lifted and instead head towards the table where the cake laid, "This car'mel cake?" Bo's eyebrows shot up and Vincent handed him a plate, he was shocked, he didn't know Lester was able to make it. He cut him a nice sized piece with his fork and shoveled it into his mouth.
Okay maybe he got ahead of himself with assuming.
The cake was mealy and the icing was burnt, the fuck did Lester do to this poor cake?
Lester watched as Bo stood there, a bite in his mouth but now chewing. "Well.. i'shure ish a cake" Bo muttered from behind the ruined dessert, trying to not hurt his brother's feelings too bad.
"Oh." Lester felt his shoulders slump and he held back a sigh, he had really really wanted the cake to be decent, "Y'ain't gotta eat it f'is bad.." He mumbled and watched as Vincent chewed his bite very slowly. Bo was quick to swallow, spitting it out would be too rude and he didn't think he could handle his little brother being more upset from the gesture. "Tasted like shit," he laughed and raked his plate in the trash before making his way to Lester, "well, it wasn't that bad but.." he paused, "but I sure do 'preciate it.." Before he could give it a second thought, Bo engulfed his little brother in his arms for a short embrace which Lester was quick to reciprocate. After a little Bo pulled away.
"So, what was that 'bout you gettin' us sumn?"
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i didnt do much to correct any errors, its super late, hope yall enjoy it
me, an autistic person who was frequently punished for my meltdowns as a child and well into my teenage years, attempting to watch the first 2 minutes of House of Wax (2005)
I’m sorry but the scene of Wade getting prepped to be made into a sculpture is so fucking funny like, the dramatic music, Jonesy just chilling, the sound of Vincent ripping his eyebrows off, the pan to his eyebrows and facial hair stuck to the rag. It’s silly. It’s goofy. I love it.
@imbleedin-out said in an ask I sent in yesterday that Bo would draw the line at forgetting to eat and it got me thinking…
We all know Vincent focuses on his art so much that he’s probably down there for hours or an entire day and it’d feel like minutes to him because he’s so caught up in what he’s doing and he’s loving it.
So now I’m just thinking of Bo running around trying to find you to tell you that it’s lunch time and then when you’re finally at the table after he literally slung you over his shoulder and dumped you in the nearest chair at the table because you were also too busy to notice him calling, he literally points at you and tells you to “stay” like you’re Jonesy, and then he dashes off to go and get Vincent from the basement, muttering and swearing the whole damn time about how the two Vincents in the house are gonna kill him one day by running him ragged.
Bo never tells Lester when the family is eating but somehow Lester always knows and he wanders in sometime between Bo slinging you down into a chair and Vincent walking behind Bo like he’s been yelled at (he has). Bo always sighs in relief when he sees Lester because it means all the Sinclairs - with a quick look under the table to check for Jonesy or he’s gonna yell for her too - are under one roof and it fills him with warmth.
I just… big brother Bo being a bit of a mother hen specifically when it comes to meal times because it’s synonymous to him with family time, I 🥺😂
