#victor sinclair

[adalwolfgang]

Image summary of the Sinclair brothers + (Name), Trudy and Victor Sinclair

Part 2

[thewolffairytaler]

The first vicarious apology - part 2 | Sinclair brothers x OC

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Summary: The seventeen month old Cosette had already learned to crawl and comprehend who the people in her little world were, but she hasn’t uttered a single thing yet. Making her parents, Trudy and Victor come up with their own interpretations as to why that is the case. Until one day, the baby girl finally uttered something they did not expect at the dinner table.

[Pressumed art by CM - found on Pinterest]

On the living room floor, a seventeen-month-old Cosette wore a soft pastel onesie—short hair that is pigtails braided with the ends having bows—had her attention on her solitary play. Tiny hands going in circles on a chatter phone, its facial features were reminiscent of a clown, having the sounds of a doorbell, yet she offers no words in return. She communicates through expressive eyes that flicker with curiosity, confused gurgles, and the occasional sharp cry—whenever something was amiss. One would think that it was nice not to have a troublesome baby. However, experienced people, such as parents, would know that this quietness was not typical of her age.

Across the room, Victor sits on the couch, his gaze drifting from the worn pages of The Divided Self: An Existential Study in Sanity & Madness to his daughter. Her quietude had become a source of increasing whispers between Victor and Trudy. Compared to his wife, he was overthinking it. He wasn't worried but more interested in solving the puzzle. A furrow deepening between his brows with each passing day. He spent hours going back to his mental studies, his gaze fixated on articles and forums, crossing out every possibility he knew was far stretched. He noticed the way the girl interacted – or didn’t interact – with the world around her. Her gaze often seemed unfocused, lost in some internal world. She didn’t always respond to her name, and her playful interactions were often fleeting, sometimes bordering on aloofness. The possibility of autism wasn't off the table. It didn't matter if the signs were little. He kept them on his whiteboard. He had brought it up several times with Trudy, who, while understood that mental disorders were a thing, absolutely refused to think that her little angel had something wrong with her. Instead, she seemed to hold onto the hope that perhaps the lass was just a slow learner. Trudy would brush back her blond hair with her fingers, a tired yet laid-back assurance playing on her lips, reminded Victor that “every child develops at their own pace.” She would cite her own childhood, saying that she had been a quiet baby as well, only starting to talk properly when she was around two years old.

Despite the circumstances, Trudy had noticed that there was one person who consistently made Cosette express different emotions. That person is the youngest brother, six-year-old Lester. Lester, with his boundless energy and earnest attempts at slapstick humour, had a peculiar gift for extracting giggles and sweet smiles from his reserved little sister. He would make silly faces, pull funny voices, or even have her piggy ride back him when she refused to go to places. These moments, though fleeting, were precious, reminding Trudy that, despite Cosette's odd behaviour, wasn’t devoid of connection, of joy, of comprehension. She would often find herself watching their interactions with a sense of relief, a reminder that she was, in fact, a very happy little girl.

Bo and Vincent were less involved in the day-to-day care of their youngest sibling, their lives consumed by the usual daily activities that were either forced upon them, or that they wanted to be left alone for a while. While they found the little angel endearing in her own quiet way, they were often distracted by their own concerns. When they would be with her, however, they would do pursuits that they enjoyed.

Vincent would often have his sister help him out with an art project, and by helping, it was with the basic minimal things. Getting non-sharp items, picking options, and using her hands for a messy background canvas. Cosette loved playing with paint, and although he would like to keep his limited supply useful to his artistic venture. He always did manage to find a way to make them into toys for her with his leftovers. One of his ideas was putting any colour she wanted onto a canvas randomly, putting the canvas into a plastic bag, to then let her pat and tap the thing until she got bored. It was baby art. Nonetheless, some of it was worth keeping. Especially when his mother told him to make them into alphabets each time to spell out Cosette's name using painter tape. Vincent plans on making a much more improved version in the future as a nameplate since he realised that it wouldn't exactly fit on her bedroom door. At times, Vincent wondered if his baby sister would find her passion within the creative territory. He wouldn't be astonished if she did, despite the lingering fear that someday, any of his siblings could replace him as Trudy’s successor. He would actually be more happy that somebody he hold dear have an interest in aesthete. It meant he could share his passion and create something wonderful with them one day. Maybe the outcome wouldn't be as horrible as he originally thought it would be.

When Bo wasn't content to only give her a quick pat on the head before disappearing back upstairs to their room. He would take her to places, mostly to the House of Wax, but he made sure it wasn't ever boring for the both of them. Their parents still didn't trust Bo to take good care of her, yet sometimes they didn't have a choice because they were too busy to keep an eye on her. And as much as they distrusted Bo, he somehow was a better option than Lester. Who would regularly take her to the woods, let's just say the adults did not enjoy seeing their fragile daughter all soiled and stinky. The one activity Cosette seemed to enjoy much more than playing with his toy cars, was having Bo play the piano for her. Beaurgard wasn't an expert by any means, including the fact that sometimes he would slip up when changing keys in a fast paced composition, but he is improving, and is a lot more talented in that area compared to the other children in Ambrose. It's a shame he never does truly enjoy it though, beyond showing off his abilities. Cosette would always clap her hands in the end for satisfactory reasons... also because she saw it happening at the end of The Cat Concerto episode. Perhaps that's why she enjoyed the piano so much. It did make the most logical sense.

When it came to the twin's concerns, they weren’t particularly worried. They acknowledged that their youngest sister was a little ‘weird,’ but that was what made her unique. Cosette was, after all, still a baby, and those tiny creatures can't even comprehend morality yet. So they don't have any expectations for her, as of now that is. They did however find themselves silently annoyed with how much attention she got from their parents, especially Trudy, which made them start to realise how they were once the centre of their parents’ universe, albeit in a very dissimilar ways.

The family’s dynamics seemed to coalesce each evening during dinner. The family gathered around the large, cheap metal table, each member of the family settling into their usual place. Victor sat at the head, his gaze often drifting to the baby seated in her high chair beside Trudy. He would watch her, meticulously searching for some kind of improvement, any changes in behaviour. On the other hand, Trudy would do her best to try and interact with her daughter. She would present different foods to her, speaking to her gently, hoping for any kind of response. Lester would sit on the opposite side of his father, often encouraging her or speak about his day, noticing how she would simply stare at him in response, not exactly engaged, more like 'oh he's talking'. Bo would eat his meal in silence, occasionally exchanging a look with his twin on his left. Beaurgard only misbehaved when something went wrong. He wasn't that much of a chatoic storm otherwise. He very much liked to avoid his own high chair during dinner. Vincent wouldn't attempt to get Trudy’s attention during this time. He was only focused on filling his stomach in peace. He already did get most of it after all, and not that he would ever say it out loud, not the he could anyway. But every so often, his mother could be... too much. He wants to breathe, not focusing on the sounds of the environment or worry if he did something wrong. Just staying on his own bubble. Sleep in his awakened form if he could.

The atmosphere at the dinner table was thick with a familiar blend of the strange topics. Victor had brought up the discussions on Trudy’s progress, his voice low, his gaze fixed on the baby as she munched on a piece of boiled broccoli. Trudy, unable to meet his gaze, busied herself with mumbling to Cosette about closing her mouth when eating before responding to her husband. Bo and Vincent had tuned out the conversation – they had heard similar discussions too many times in the past few weeks. The older twin grumbled quietly to himself as he realised that his mashed potatoes didn't have a significant amount of salt he needed to taste it.

Noticing the salt cellar nearby, Bo leaned forward and whispered, “Can you pass the salt, Les?” Without thinking, Lester grabbed the shaker and handed it over with his usual clumsy enthusiasm. But neither boys noticed the cap had come slightly loose. A small cascade of salt puffed across the table like a miniature snowfall. Victor’s fork clattered down. “Lord have mercy, how many times I gotta tell y'all to be careful with ever'thang!? Now look at this here mess!” He snapped, eyes flashing with anger. The boys hesitated, trying to explain it was an accident that Lester didn’t mean to, that the cap must’ve been loose—but their words tangled in the rising tension. Then, from the high chair, a tiny voice—clear, soft, yet distinctive—broke through the silence. “S-Sowwy,” said Cosette clumsily in a stutter like tone. Looking at the spilt salt with dejected, solemn eyes.

The room fell silent as all members of the family were frozen, barely daring to breathe. Victor looked at her as though he had never seen her before, his countenance a mix of shock and relief. It did not take long before Trudy gave her daughter a lot of praise for finally speaking and reassuring her that it wasn't her fault. She felt a surge of thankfulness, as though a burden had been removed from her chest. Although Lester was still a bit frightened by the event, he didn’t think twice about the outcome, whether his sister knew it or not. She had saved both of them from a stern punishment. When his mother was done coddling Cosette, he carefully unbuckled her from the baby chair, his hands gentle as he scooped her up, cradling her close to his chest. Her small body felt impossibly light in his arms. The weight of her first word was something he was going to treasure forever. He had a feeling that it wouldn't vanish as easily as his other memories that he didn't mind stuck around.

The twins, in comparison, who looked at each other with wide eyes, didn't know how to react to the situation. Don't get it twisted, Bo was relieved from not receiving anything from his father, yet just because something interrupted the event didn't mean it was over. It just delayed it, changed the punishment to something less grating. And although it isn't ideal, he is grateful, Vincent could tell his twin was grateful with the way his body stopped tensing in a cat-like manner. If Vincent could, he would have reached out and held his brothers hand. Comforting him the same way he would have when they were in their mother's womb. Lately, however, Vincent has been observing how Bo acts with touch, and it's not exactly positive. It's easier with him because they are twins, and there is this familiar connection that a family member can't provide with. In general, though, one bad way of approaching Bo can have him punch you in defence, or instinctual way. Like a wounded animal hissing in rage rather than fright. So instead of reaching out like how a normal individual would be doing, Vincent locked eyes with Bo for confirmation before resuming eating his meal, with his leg reaching out for his. Wrapping his right foot behind Bo's left, in a very attentive manner, neither saying anything as Bo eventually resumed to eating his dinner. Sniffing a bit so that only Vincent could hear him. The twins were happy that their sister spoke for the first time, and when they were alone, they were going to teach her to hopeful say their name next.

Victor had relaxed a while ago. The worry lines around his eyes softened, letting himself enjoy the moment. For somebody quick to anger, he was more controlled than his sons. Flipping emotions such as a switch for a light bulb. He got up to wipe the small salt mountain with a paper towel as he decided to throw it away in the trash. Not wanting the table bacteria in any sort of food consumption. He told the twins to retire to their room earlier than usual when they're done with eating. He gave Lester the job to take care of her sister for the night, wanting Trudy to actually rest for the day. Knowing that her work day has been far, much worse, then she let's on. Lester did not oppose his words and immediately took Cosette to the living room to watch some Winnie the Pooh with him. Knowing his baby sister liked the clueless bear a lot.

The man of the house watched his two children swiftly leave the kitchen as he glanced at his woman for a second before moving towards her, Trudy touched her temple for a moment, to then stop once she felt Victor’s hands applying light to medium pressure on her head with his fingertips. She let out a shuddering breath as he delivering slow, gentle strokes on her head and work up to light circular motions that go across the head.

"Quit yer smokin' tonight, darlin', just let me take care of ya. You're already fixin' to ruin that body of yours as it is." He said in an unsual hushed tone that was meant to calm her nerves. Trudy lazily opened her eyes as she scoffed in amusement, a light smirk on her lips. "I ain't fixin' to quit clean, but I'm a-stoppin' this time, might be forever if y'all keep pilin' it on me." She teased him with a knowing view in her eyesight, Victor raised an eyebrow at that, letting his fingers go through her hair in soothing means. "I'll mull it over when we get to bed, I am too tired for anything, and don't you dare tell me you aren't tired, I see them eyelids of yours a-droopin'." Trudy had only opened her mouth for one second, didn't have a chance to breathe through it. Her husband had a point, and she shrugged her shoulders in response. She thinks the better option for tonight would be cuddles anyway. She didn't feel like arguing for once. She could also fix the dishes in the morning if Victor didn't do them. All she cared about in the moment was getting her deserved loving attention.

Author’s note: I have to say, I put a lot more references then I planed to. Some direct, others you have to hardly think about. But I think it was still a pretty good decision overall, they are timeline accurate as well. The art for this was not originally intended to be in it since I wanted something realistic, however, because I couldn't find anything that I was searching for. I had to search something that was at least close to it, that being said. It is not my art, I found it on Pinterest. Which is notorious for not giving out the OG artist unless the art has a signature on it. So I had to search which one it belongs to, I thought it was Dayris, but apparently it's CM.

[backscratches]

'Hey, Sweetheart' part 1

The Sinclair brothers x F!child!reader (platonic)

Warnings: Mentions of death, yelling, plans of killing, Slashers, obsession

|next part|

That morning Bo had been woken up by his younger brother, Lester. It had been a call to him about the tourists he saw heading down the road to a campside. One car, couple of people, an easy job.

Bo and Vincent hadn't had tourists in the town in a awhile so the preparations weren't hard. Later that day, at the night exactly. Bo went and blew their tires. He made sure that Lester was ready to escort the couple to the town the next day.

The next day Bo was fixing a car in his garage when a couple walked up to him. They looked like a normal married couple, nothing more to him anyway. But one thing caught his eye. The woman was carrying a baby on her back.

"Hey folks what can I do for yall?" Bo asked trying to be polite. The man told him that they needed couple of tires for their car down the road and that they were in a hurry.

Bo couldn't care less about their plans to see the socker game in the next state or anything else about them. So he directed the woman with her baby up to see the famous Trudy's House Of Wax while he and the husband looked at some tires.

He didn't know what was he hoping to be done with the babe but there was no plans of keeping it either. There had been children passing through the town before but evedently there wasn't any kid wax figures.

After Bo had killed the man with a hit to the head he dragged the body downstairs to the basement of the garage and left to go up to the museum.

Now he knew what he wanted. He wanted Vincent to take care of the problem, that being the baby tourist, so he didn't have to worry about it.

But as he soon found out, Vincent wasn't just as attracted to the idea of getting rid of the little specimen. After he had killed the woman Vincent took the crying baby to his basement.

And that was what Bo had walked in on. Sweaty Vincent holding a crying baby girl in the middle of his work space.

"What the hell are you doing with that thing?" Bo asked loudly bewildered. Vincent only turned for a moment to look at him and then turned immediately back to the now fussing baby in his dry hands.

"Don't ignore me freak what the fuck are you doing with it?" Bo shouted at his twin brother or rather to his back.

"Be Quiet" Vincent whispered in his rough voice. He was observing the baby, holding her Infront of his face but after speaking to Bo he quickly moved the babe to his chest.

Holding the baby in his arms, Vincent began to slowly swing her in hopes of her falling asleep.

"The hell are you planning?" Bo asked angerly but alot quieter now.

The babygirl soon fell into a soft sleep in Vincent's hold.

There was a moment of silence, a moment of Vincent quietly cuddling to the babe, a moment of Bo trying to figure his brother out.

"I want her"

The few words that Vincent could muster with his broken face were enough for to Bo to shutdown.

He didn't want this, he wasn't ready for this and Ambrose sure wasn't a place for this.

Only if he knew how much his brother desperately wanted his own family. But his disformated face had quickly put a brick wall Infront of that dream. That hole he wished so badly to fill, that couldn't be treated even with his lovely good girl dog, Jonesy or a hundred wax figures across the town.

This beautiful baby was the most incredible thing he had ever witness even, his mothers world known wax figures couldn't bare fitness to the feeling this babe brought to him.

And nobody was going to take that away from him. Not even his twin brother.

this is my first fanfic I've ever written so yeah tell me your opinion

I will continue this series for at least a couple of parts

Please like

English isn't my first language tell me of any mistakes

[barenecessiteas]

Final Random Sinclair Headcanons Because I Can't Get Them Out Of My Head

Hello my darlings. We've reached the final part of my random headcanons. There's only one person left - you know him, you love him, it's adorable waxy boi Vincent! Again, these are all just random thoughts I had, I don't really write on here much, but these just kept coming to me so I figured I may as well share em. Hope you enjoy!

Vincent Sinclair

If you didn't happen to see this on my last post, I believe Vincent is the younger twin and Bo is the older one. Only apart by seconds for obvious reason, but Bo was technically born first

Even after the separation surgery, baby Vincent had a hard time sleeping unless Bo was with him. Having his literal other half suddenly not be attached anymore took a lot of adjustment for him

He also exclusively sleeps on his right side, or at least with the right side of his face against the pillow. Kinda like a subconscious need to feel something against the skin there since Bo wasn't attached to him anymore

Vincent is actually able to talk, he's just selectively mute. This comes from the abuse he witnessed on Bo by their parents

I kinda touched on this last time, but restraining Bo to the chair every time he "misbehaved" or threw a tantrum really just taught the kids that it wasn't acceptable to express their emotions. So even tho Vincent never actually experienced the same punishment, it scared him to watch that happen to his brother

That's why, in the introduction to the film, you see little Vincent seemingly just ignore Bo while he's strapped into the chair, just quietly eating his cereal and swinging his feet

This is NOT because he didn't care about his brother. He was just scared of getting the same treatment that Bo did. He had the idea that if he behaved in front of his parents, he'd be able to sneak off to comfort Bo later

We all see in the film how he's immediately concerned for Bo when he notices the arrow in his chest. He hates seeing either of his brothers hurt, and he just started feeling more comfortable openly expressing that after their parents were gone

So yes, he can talk, but usually it's not unless he absolutely has to. His voice is often harsh and raspy because of this, but it's still there

I don't see Vincent as the meek, timid, and abused twin like a lot of people do. Bo isn't just his brother, he's Vincent's TWIN brother. He's literally been dealing with Bo since they were in the womb

Vincent is just calmer by nature and it's much harder to actually get him angry. He's learned that Bo says a bunch of shit he doesn't mean when he's angry and it's usually best to just let him cool off on his own. Vincent doesn't take it personally

This doesn't mean they don't fight. It happened more when they were kids, but as fully grown adult men Vincent rarely ever gets so pissed off he actually fights with Bo

I think most people agree on this next part but I'm gonna say it anyway - Vincent started growing his hair out so that he'd have something to hide his face with if he ever needed to take off the mask

Even with that in mind, he's not afraid to throw hands if Bo really manages to piss him off 💀

Like they have gotten into legit brawls and fist fights as children if they got on each other's nerves

He does genuinely like the look of it long now, but it started mostly as a security blanket type thing

Speaking of his hair, his is naturally darker than Bo's, he doesn't dye it or anything. We see in pictures that they were blonde as young kids and their hair got darker as they grew older. Bo's hair just stopped darkening at the dark brown we see him with. Vincent's hair just kept on getting darker

He actually does take pretty good care of his hair. He's not super concerned about it, but he doesn't want it to be a rat's nest either. He makes sure to keep it brushed, washes it regularly, and he's generally good at keeping wax out of it

Vincent wasn't really bullied as much for his mask as most people think he was. The Sinclairs were basically local celebrities, so everyone in town knew who they were. Their birth and separation surgery were announced in the paper too, so everyone kinda knew it was from that

What really bothered him was the pity from other people. Kids could be assholes about it every now and then, sure, but hearing adults whisper about it was what he'd really hate

He got into wax kinda by accident. It was a day while Trudy was working on a new mask for him, he was sitting around watching her. She gave him some extra wax she had lying around to play with

Saying stuff like "poor boy" or "shame he didn't turn out as good looking as his brother" when they thought he wasn't listening. That's what really got to him

Vincent also isn't really shy, he's just introverted. He found that hearing people talk about him and feeling sorry for him behind his back exhausted him, so he really just prefers the company of his family

Trudy and Victor often told the boys old mythology stories at bedtime, so Vincent decided he wanted to make what he thought the monsters and creatures in the stories looked like

Since it was his first time using wax, it was far from perfect, but he'd spent so long watching his mom work on her art that he had an idea of some of the technique

He actually used a spoon to shape the wax for most of it lol

Even for such a young kid, he definitely showed promise. That's when Trudy really started to take him under her wing. She was delighted to be able to bond with one of her boys like that

Vincent always felt a little guilty for having a closer relationship with Trudy because of how she and Victor would treat Bo (and how they'd pay much less attention to Lester). He still loved his parents, but it definitely added a huge guilt complex

That's why he's so concerned about always being there for Bo and Lester to help take care of them. He just tends to let Bo take the initiative in taking care of him and Lester because he knows it makes Bo feel better

Just like Bo, he was taught to play the piano growing up. He's pretty good at it, but he never had the same interest in it that Bo did. He enjoyed listening to music more than playing it

Vincent has a very broad taste in music, he listens to a lot of different genres. Classical music is pretty much exclusively for when he's sculpting or making any form of art in general

It's a habit he picked up from his mother. He finds it less distracting so it helps him concentrate more

Like Bo, he was also very good at sports growing up. Really all of the boys were (Bo was just the most involved in it so he got better than his brothers eventually). He's actually surprisingly active

He tries to take frequent breaks when working with wax, even if it's just for a tiny bit. If he doesn't, his muscles get very sore, making it hard for him to work later on

However, when I say he tries I really mean that he only remembers to take breaks with smaller projects. Bo and Lester (or even Jonesy) usually have to remind him to step away for a bit

Speaking of Jonesy, she is in fact Vincent's dog. Yeah, she's the family dog too, but Vincent is the one who found her and raised her

He was going for a walk in the woods and found Jonesy abandoned as a puppy. Even though she was young she was still much smaller than she should have been. Her mother and litter mates were nowhere to be found

So Vincent gently picks her up and carries her home in the pocket of his hoodie. He stays up all night feeding her and watching over her to make sure she recovers physically

Bo was surprisingly chill with Vincent keeping the puppy. As long as Vincent was responsible for taking care of her, he didn't mind having a dog around

Lester lost his shit when he found out Vincent took in a puppy (in a good way, of course)

Vincent basically treats her like his baby (we stan a girl dad) and takes VERY good care of her. She has a great diet, has constant play sessions, and is overall very well cared for

It bothers him when Lester sneaks her some roadkill meat because he's always scared about Jonesy potentially getting sick

Jonesy also sleeps in Vincent's bed with him and has seen his face more than his actual brothers have. She loves to give him kisses on the scarred side of his face and it makes him melt

When Bo first came up with the idea of killing people to use as a base for Vincent's wax sculptures, he was hesitant. Sure, he knew killing people was wrong, but he was more worried about the danger it could place his brothers in

But once he actually used the first victim as a live "model" of sorts, he was convinced that this was the perfect way to finish his mother's dream. It didn't take him a lot of convincing

His collection of knives are all gifts from Bo and Lester. They'd often either buy them or find them on victims before cleaning them up to give them to vincent

The dual dragon blades are his favorites because it was a combined present from Bo and Lester for Christmas

He has much more morbid curiosity in killing because of his father's work. He found anatomy very interesting (and not to mention useful when it came to sculpting people), so he often takes pictures or videos to use as references when painting or sketching

Alright, we've now reached the end of my insanity. I hope you all enjoyed my silly little writing spree. I may or may not write more Headcanons in the future, idk. We'll see if inspiration ends up striking me lol. But for now, we've finished the Sinclairs. Thanks for reading, my lovelies, and I hope you all have a wonderful day 😘💕

[charleslee-valentine]

♪ Now when I'm very good, and do as I am told I'm Mama's little angel and Daddy says I'm good as gold

And when I'm naughty and answer back and sass I'm Mama's little devil, and Daddy says I've got the brass. ♪

- What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)

~~~~

Fic word count: ~1,600

Warnings: Detailed depictions of child abuse (mental, medical, and physical,) canonical mistreatment of the Sinclair twins, the highchair/restraints being used on Bo, panic attack, near asphyxia, fear of death, smoking, psychological torment, weaponized love, Trudy and Victor Sinclair being horrible parents, childhood mental illness, all hurt no comfort.

~~~~

“Don’t you love your brother, Beauregard?!”

Does he?

Vincent is sitting in his big boy chair in the corner. His hair is parted neatly down the middle, smoothed by Mama’s doting hands and a lipsticked kiss. There’s no mask on his face today. His last one melted.

The brat left in the window where the sun could get it too long.

Not that it’s his fault actually. If the Doc didn’t insist on interrupting breakfast to prod at some scar tissue in Vinny’s nose that was making a whistle sound when he breathed, it wouldn’t have happened. Pulled him away and left his mask where it lie, forgotten for hours while he inspected and snipped the problem away.

And then there was a new issue.

Mama’s mold was still shattered. One problem the Doc’s cold, rough hands couldn’t piece back together into perfection. There's a hero cast somewhere that could make a new mold, but Mama wants a newer one. To replace Vinny’s year four mask.

Every second his scars stay exposed makes him cry. He doesn’t like being stared at and dissected like a bug with its wings pinned.

Bo isn’t in his big boy chair. He’s strapped into the too small highchair. The tray squeezes his stomach and the metal hurts his knees. Not as much as the straps though.

Not as much as his feelings when he’s asked about if he loves his brother.

Of course he does. Vincent is the only one in the house that Bo still trusts. And that means he loves him. Because it isn’t his fault the mask melted. It’s Doc’s. And it’s not his fault about the mold breaking, it’s Mama’s.

And it’s not Vincent’s fault that his face got messed up. That one is Bo’s.

Being a good boy and sitting still and letting Mama get her copy of his face should be just the easiest thing. He’s doing this for his brother. His only friend in the world.

It’s never easy.

Mama makes the mixture in a big bowl, hot water and some powder that turns orange. It’s slimy and smells an awful lot like marshland before a rainstorm. The schlop always feels clammy on his skin. Unpleasantly cold and wet no matter how dry it gets.

“Don’t you move now, Bo. Your papa’ll woop you.”

Lies aren’t allowed in this house, unless it’s ‘I love you.’ So Bo knows she means that threat. He’s got to behave or face worse than this.

Doesn’t mean he just can.

The alginate makes Bo flinch, rocking back to scoot his chair away from the sickening feeling. Mama don’t let up. She scoops up handfuls of it and spreads it on his face like it’s one of her fancy creams. At first she always leaves his eyes out, and his lips, and every time he thinks maybe he got lucky and she ain’t gonna drown him in it.

He’s always wrong to trust Mama.

All it takes is another handful, pressed against his mouth while he tries to scream his protests, but she presses her palm down hard so he can’t open it. Everything’s muffled, bottled up so no one can know.

The mixture sneaks tiny drops past his lips and makes him gag, once, twice- but Mama keeps pressing her clawed hand down until it starts to dry just enough that it holds itself. Then over his eyes it goes.

Bo tries to hold them open, but Mama always knows when he’s gonna do stuff like that. She purses her lips and blows a quick puff of cigarette air, makes him flinch again so his eyes close and she can take advantage of it.

Once it’s dark is when Bo panics for real. The healing wounds on his wrists tear right open again as he thrashes harder. The blood drips slow as honey, pooling around the leather straps holding him down.

It’s moments like this, that Bo questions his trust of Vincent.

Vincent who sits patiently in the corner for Mama to finish her torture so he can get back to being the favorite. Without his mask, he’s not wanted. An ugly, warped thing that needs covering up. Like a weed in the garden. Or a corpse in the Doc’s operating room.

Bo wishes his brother would help him. He wishes his mama would listen and take this stuff off his face. He prays that the Doc won’t come home yet and get mad and make things hurt worse. Or maybe that he won’t come home at all.

Mostly though, his brain is like static. Painful, heated, buzzing tv static burning a hole right through the back of his head. He’s in the middle of it, the dark, and sinking. There’s two little holes for him to breathe through, but he can’t get enough air.

Bo digs his nails into his own palms and draws even more blood, and underneath the sticky shell, he screams. And screams. And screams.

Nobody ever listens.

Mama tugs his messy hair in place of being able to slap his face.

“What did I tell you! Quiet while I finish!”

But there’s not enough air and he needs her to listen. Bo’s going to suffocate and all his mama cares about is making Vincent pretty.

Never learning, never getting used to the constraint, Bo tries to tear his arms upwards from the tape, to dig those blunted nails into Mama’s flesh instead of his own.

He can’t get them to budge.

She just keeps going, either not knowing about the mental threat to her safety or not caring.

The alginate starts to get tacky, so Mama wets strips of plaster gauze, the kind from Doc’s office like he used when he broke Bo’s arm putting him in his restraints a long time ago. Water splashing in a new bowl, rung out of each piece before its placed over top, just makes Bo feel even more like he’s dying. Drops landing somewhere in the abyss, his head underneath the water as he drowns.

Bo wants to die. Or he thinks he is dying anyhow. With the very last strip, Mama covers over his nose too.

Again Bo tries to scream, but barely a groan gets past his sealed lips. The full minute it takes to all harden up is far too long without breathing. What was a completely black void behind his eyes gets sparks of flashing red and white. He’s out of air.

A last effort to get his mama to listen, Bo rocks and slams his back against his highchair, desperately trying to tip it. The impact of the ground would force air back into his lungs.

He feels it start to give way, gravity suddenly weighing more heavily on him, but Mama hisses and rocks him right back upright. Her fault for putting a big kid in a little baby's chair.

Mama peels it all away then. From the outside it’s so easy, to cup the sides of his fake plaster face and ease the two layers back, only a couple scraps left sticking to his skin. She’ll help him clean up later if he’s well behaved at supper maybe.

First thing Bo does now is take a big breath in, but it’s too much at once after so long without air, he coughs, throat raw and dry, making Mama jerk back in disgust from him.

“Did you have to be so dramatic?”

Bo knows he’s crying when the image of his mama turns blurry. His face is already numb and cold and wet, but chest starts heaving with sobs, rising and falling all out of rhythm. Instead of his growling and screaming, Bo wheezes and cries and whimpers, unable to catch his breath, because of the tears this time.

The thing about alginate- it’s very sensitive.

Sure it doesn’t pull too bad once it firms up like jell-o, coming off easy from Bo’s eyelashes and eyebrows without disturbing single hair, but that’s just the thing. The rubbery, weak material ain’t meant to last long. It’ll dry out and shrink in a couple hours anyhow, the whole thing got no real structure.

Mama laid the fresh cast in a box of sawdust to pour plaster in it without spills or damage, and noticed, in the mess of Bo thrashing as it came off, a rip had formed. Right across the middle of his face from the side of his mouth to the opposite side of his nose.

Once upon a time, she’d tried to just patch it when it tore, only for the plaster face to come out warped, cheeks flattened and bumpy, nose crooked. One eye missing. She’d given it to the Doc to dispose of. Familiar story.

Mama clicks her tongue against her teeth, a noise of distaste Bo knows just as well. It sends a cold feeling down his spine, worse than the goop on his face.

“You know I’m gonna have to do that all over again now.”

His wrists won’t stop bleeding. They itch and burn as much as his tearful eyes.

Bo steals a glare over at Vincent in his precious, safe corner. His head down, he’s doodling something. Maybe drawing pretty pictures of Beauregard’s misery. All for himself. Selfish, selfish Vincent, doesn’t help and keeps the pain around as art.

Still, that’s no worse than stealing his brother’s face.

The scar on the back of Bo’s head aches.

“I love you.”

It’s for Vinny. To answer the question, he does love his brother.

Mama answers back, like she belonged between their bond,

“You love me. Well thank God you do.”

Her cigarette ash on his skin hurts worse than the burning in his lungs. The crumbling cherry touches his cheek and leaves a little singe by the corner of his mouth. His own tears soothe it.

Though smoke doesn’t make calming down any easier.

“You best love me, Beauregard. Show me. Be a good boy and sit still.”

[loveandmurders]

Jonesy knows III (Sinclair sister!reader x Sinclair brothers)

Hello everyone! I want to thank you all for the support you have been giving me lately. I’m really happy to have been enjoying my work that much <3

This is the last part of this little series about Sinclair sister!reader finding her way back home and Jonesy recognising her after all this time apart. You can find the first part here.

Hope you will enjoy this <3

Warnings: distressed brothers, mention of dead bodies and violence.

You could only imagine how insane your brothers must have gone when they discovered that you and Jonesy were gone. However you couldn’t really understand the pure feeling of distressedness: after having finally gotten their baby sister back home, why would she decide to run away from them? And to take Jonesy with you?

You needed some time to understand what to do, and your brothers were unable to give you that if you didn’t force them.

So you had eaten with them, faked some calmness and they had relaxed. Lester went back to his home, Vincent went to the basement and you started to watch some movie with Bo. He didn’t know what to say to make you feel more at ease, so he stayed silent. He wasn’t the best with emotions; and Vincent couldn’t easily speak with you. Lester wasn’t too sure it was a good idea to leave you alone with Bo but he didn’t want to sleep at Ambrose. You quickly understood that there was something missing in the Sinclair family. The brothers clearly loved each other but they weren’t fully functioning. You were pretty certain it was because of your absence. However, you didn’t feel ready enough to let go of everything you knew and stay there with them. They were strangers… and dangerous ones too.

You waited for Bo to fall asleep, to slowly move from the couch. He had woken up instantly, grabbed your wrist and you had to shush him and tell him you were just going to bed and that he should do the same. He had trusted you and he followed you upstairs, without noticing you taking the front door key as you went by the entrance. He tucked you to bed and kissed your forehead before going to bed himself. You felt the pure tenderness he held for you, and you were almost feeling guilty for what you were about to do. You had waited a little longer, Jonesy also wide awake next to you. After a little while, you got up, dressed back up and carefully walked downstairs. You left the little note you had prepared on the kitchen table.

Need to think about all of this. I take Jonesy with me, I should be back soon. I’m sorry about that, but it’s too much and I don’t want to be locked up in here.

You only put on your shoes once you were outside the house. You were worried Bo or Vincent would hear you, so you thought you needed to be quick. You rushed to the entrance of the town and once again you took comfort into Jonesy’s calming and soft presence. You had noticed some wrecked cars over there, and you hoped one of them would work. If Bo was a good mech, he probably did his best to fix them all. You got quite lucky and the first car you tried, started. You drove out of Ambrose as quietly as possible before speeding up to where you had left your own car. You took your stuff and disappeared in the night.

The next morning, Bo absolutely lost it when he read your note. No need to say the boys had a pretty bad day, week… month. They had lost you once again. And on top of that, they didn’t have Jonesy around them anymore either. She had brought them a lot of comfort the past few years, and not having her was just breaking their hearts even more. It felt like an unfair punishment.

You, on the other hand, had very nice holidays with Jonesy. You were really the perfect match together and she was following you like a lost puppy full of love. You were adoring her, and you were so happy to have her back. Your whole childhood you had asked for a dog from your adoptive parents, but they had always refused, saying that a pet was too much work. It was true, but it was also a lot of love.

You had called your mom to appease her once you had reached your hotel. You had called almost everyday, but it started to annoy you. As days passed you realised you didn’t want to go back to your previous life. You even thought about quitting your job. You found yourself looking for a new one around Ambrose and you found quite a few announcements not so far from where your brothers lived. You were bored in your actual life anyways, everything was so safe, so “normal”. You wanted something more. Maybe that your brothers’ way of life was a bit extreme, but at least you would be home. And you would be with people who really understood you. The way Vincent held his knife was the same as you, the same Bo could be a little bit too protective with what he loved was the same as you, the way Lester loved animals so much was the same as you. And inside of you, there was a darkness you knew they would understand too. You could be free with them.

Yes, you thought it would be nice… As long as your brothers didn’t lock you up. You had to admit you were a little bit worried of their reaction the next time they would see you. But at the same time, you just couldn't think about never going back home. You even wanted to call them to let them know you would be back home soon. Very soon. You weren’t too sure you noted down the number of the house though… You hoped you did because you knew Bo was going to act crazily. No, you had no number because things happened too fast. You sighed and cuddled with Jonesy.

“They’ll be angry at us, you think, baby?” you pouted and Jonesy softly whined. She knew they were going to be on edge. But they were also going to be so relieved to have you two back home. On your own accord too.

You started to do a list of all the many questions you wanted to ask them. There was so much you forgot, because you were very young, and you needed to fill in the blank. And you had started to take ASL classes online so you could communicate with Vincent. You thought you remembered that you used to talk a lot with him when you were a child. And you used to be clingy with Bo. And you used to cause troubles with Lester. 

You had disappeared for a month so you had time to remember and to learn some more about ASL and your family. You found out some very old newspaper articles about Ambrose, and one about your father. You remembered his medical room very well now, because you indeed prepared a lot of the bodies with him. Maybe you could be useful to your brothers then, even if you knew they wouldn’t ask anything of that kind from you. They just wanted you back home.

And you were ready to be back home.

It was the end of your holidays, and you decided to go back to your adoptive parents, but only to grab more belongings. Your parents were quite surprised and they believed you had met someone. You didn’t really answer them. You were grateful for everything they did for you, but at the same time… They weren’t truly your family. They were too worried, too overprotective. You knew your brothers were going to be like that too, but it would be different. They were your blood and you wouldn’t have to obey them like it was with your adoptive parents. You could argue with them without feeling like you weren’t allowed to. And your whole being was craving your brothers. You thanked your adoptive brother and he smiled at you. He knew you had found your family, and he was happy for you. For a long time, he had known you weren’t belonging in the bubble your adoptive parents created for you. You belonged in a more violent place; you had everything in you to become more powerful. You needed to be a Sinclair again, even if you were a little bit scared. 

You hugged your parents, without them knowing it was a farewell. And a hello to your new life.

You drove back to Ambrose. When you arrived there, it was quite late, and you saw light in the living room and kitchen. You also saw Lester’s truck so you guessed they were all eating together. It was a good thing, because you were starving too. 

When you opened the front door, you were greeted by Bo aiming a gun at you. But he instantly lowered it down when he saw it was you. He didn’t say anything, walked straight to you and tightly hugged you, so relieved you decided to come back home. He was quite surprised when you hugged him back and didn’t let him go right away. You hugged Vincent and Lester as well and smiled at the three of them. Jonesy greeted the boys too, really happy to be with them again and Lester cradled her against his chest, gently cooing at her while Vincent kissed the top of her head. He noticed how careful and a little bit possessive you were over her though. Like when you were a child and you didn’t like when strangers touched her. Before Bo could say anything, you told them:

“I’m moving in, so I brought a lot of stuff from my parents. They are in the car I borrowed you” you sheepishly explained as you pointed at the car outside. Your brothers only heard the first part of your sentence.

“Why the change of heart?” Bo asked

“Never had any change of heart, I just needed some time to think about all of this. And it’s difficult to think when someone is threatening you to lock you up if you don’t do the “right” thing” you explained and Bo looked away “But it’s fine, now I’m back home. I’ll live here and I’ll find a new job close by and we’ll do as if I never left. I don’t want secrets, I want to know what’s going on. And I have a lot of questions to ask. And I want to help with the family business too. If I used to help dad with the bodies, I can still do that”

Vincent was quick to sign something to Bo for him to translate it to you, but you understood thanks to the classes you took.

“I know I don’t have to” you replied and it took them aback “But I really want to. And if one day I don’t want anymore, I want you to leave me alone. I’m happy to be here on my own, but I refuse to be treated like I am your belongings, or your prisoner.” you explained and Lester chuckled so you raised an eyebrow at him

“Ya always were so strong minded. Ya started to help dad ‘cause ya couldn’t stand him tellin’ ya no. So what’s the deal? Ya come back home but we let ya do whatever ya wanna?” he asked and you hummed in thought

“Pretty much, yes. Good for you?” you watched the three of them with intensity. They knew at this instant that their baby sister was really home. Bo enjoyed the idea someone was going to challenge everything he could say a lot more than he could admit it. But it was because it was you, because you used to treat him with so much affection, no matter what your dad could say about him in front of you.

“All good” Lester nodded, eager to please you. Vincent nodded as well and reached for holding your hand. You looked back at Bo.

“Clearly don’t have my word to say in this. ’m glad ya’re back. Go have some food, I’ll unload the car.” he offered and you gave him the key

“Go watch him Jonesy, he can’t be trusted” you teased and Jonesy obeyed as Vincent was starting to guide you in the kitchen

"Oh and by the way, I fixed your car” Bo yelled

“Knew you would, thank you!” you yelled back.

And as you sat at the kitchen table, you felt peace for the first time in your life.

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[bluecoolr]

This is a pro Trudy and Victor slander blog. Feel free to reblog and blast these two.

Victor comes from Louisiana old money. Trudy is a troubled artist with ambitions of becoming famous. She hitchhiked her way down South, where she met Victor. Oh and when she met him she dug her red claws right into his heart and never let go.

When Mr. Sinclair disowned Victor for playing Frankenstein hehe get it? , neither of them saw it coming.

[sinclair-wax-fan]

I’m thinking about how neither Bo nor Vincent is “the older twin”—because they would have been born via c-section.

I’m also thinking about what it must have been like to be Trudy—almost certainly doing a home birth and possibly not knowing she was having twins.

(The newspapers on the wall of the Wax Museum say “expecting first child” not children--despite Trudy being *heavily* pregnant in the photo.)

From what I can tell just from a quick google, ultrasound machines would have been pretty new technology in the early 1970’s and not widely available—certainly not available to a single doctor working independently of a hospital.

And if Victor was fool enough to preform the twins separation surgery himself, I have no doubt he was handling his wife’s pregnancy all on his lonesome. I think he did her c-section himself in the small operating room we see in the movie, although he must have had an anesthesiologist he regularly worked with on call--there's here’s no way he could have administered anesthetic and preformed the c-section at the same time.

I imagine they were originally planning your traditional "at home birth" when things went south. The anesthesiologist was originally only planning to administer an epidural, which were just gaining popularity at the time--so when Trudy began to crash badly enough, it must have been either "we operate now or risk losing her on the long drive to the hospital." Since c-sections were only used in like 10% of pregnancies at this time, with Trudy being in bad shape mentally and physically during the birth, and there only being two medical personnel on hand--I imagine they had to put Trudy all the way under for the c-section.

(I imagine typically only small surgeries that could be done under local anesthetic were preformed in Victor's office--always with a booked appointment—but they did keep the materials for general anesthetic on hand for emergency situations.)

I know Victor’s status as licensed doctor is circumspect due to Bo’s creative story telling. I think there's a kernal of truth in history but it's been hammed up because Bo is dramatique.

I've been playing with the idea of Trudy and Victor originally starting in the north, with Victor being from a wealthy family in New York state. He did loose his license—for preforming abortions under the table for women from other wealthy families. (And also at least one for his wife.) Being wealthy, he was able to avoid jail time—and when abortion was decriminalized in 1970 in New York State, he had enough influence to get his license restored and his record expunged.

Unfortunately, his reputation was in tatters. I image that his family was catholic and—while Victor wasn’t practicing—his parents were prominent members of their church. He had embarrassed them greatly, and his marriage to a poor uncouth midwestern Protestant woman (despite her converting in an effort to win their approval) know for being something of a bohemian didn’t help matters.

So, when Victor heard through the grape vine that the son of a friend of a friend was starting a new business venture in Louisiana—a sugar mill with an accompany town for the workers--and they were looking for a company doctor, well, who doesn’t like a new beginning?

So, by the time he got down to Ambrose he was fully licensed, operating a sort of dual "company doctor/private practice" roll in Ambrose, and was granted the ability to admit patients to the closest emergency hospital in Baton Rouge.

So the twins were born in their home--but pretty much immediately rushed to the hospital (along side Trudy) post birth.

It was several weeks of observation in the hospital for the twins. It ended with Victor insisting on being allowed to preform the twins' separation. He refused to give consent to allow any other surgeon to operate on them and convinced Trudy "no one else will do as good as job as I will because I'm their father."

But really it was just professional pride.

Still, Victor was good at his job and the twins were successfully separated.

Unfortunately, he was not nearly as competent a father as he was a surgeon.