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loveandmurders · 10 months

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Hey sorry I was wondering if you would write a fic about the Sinclair Brothers having twin sons or like maybe triplets. How would they treat them? I've seen sinclair dad's but only with girls and I would just like to them with sons

Thank you :)

-👾anon

Hello sweet love, thank you for this very cute request <3

Hope you'll enjoy this <3

HAPPY FAMILY (female reader x poly!Sinclair brothers)

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of pregnancy sickness, of labour, mentions of a risky pregnancy for reader and the babies, overprotective parents, fluff.

Getting pregnant wasn’t part of your first plans.

You were living with your three lovers and enjoying yourself, doing chores around town and inside the house, having hobbies and sometimes helping to hunt down victims too. But you never saw yourself as a potential mother. It wasn’t that you didn’t like children, it was just that you didn’t particularly feel ready for it. And you were a little bit worried to have kids in the middle of a ghost town with no hospital nearby…

You knew your men would be more than happy to have children though. Bo was a family man and he needed heirs. You sometimes even suspected him to have a breeding kink. Vincent also wanted children, to make sure the family business would never disappear. And he would love to teach them how to sculpt. Lester loved babies and he would adore playing with kids and showing them cool stuff to do.

One morning you felt a little bit sick and weak. You hadn’t been able to stand the smell of the eggs Bo was cooking either, almost making you throw up. The boys had no idea what was going on, but it worried them. They didn’t like to see you ill or hurt. You weren’t sleeping the greatest either, even in their arms. You tried to deny the possibility of being pregnant until your period didn’t show up.

After a few weeks like that, you asked Lester to buy you a pregnancy test and to not say anything about it to the twins. He was really excited but did his best to keep it to himself. He secretly gave it to you and you went to the bathroom. Of course the test came back positive and you stayed for a long time staring at it while being locked up inside the room. You didn’t know how to feel about it. Lester was putting things away in the kitchen but once he was done, he just couldn’t stop himself from finding you. He knocked at the door.

“Hey, baby” he whispered. You got up and unlocked the door for him. “So?” he asked, trying to read your face.

“Les… I’m pregnant” you said without truly realising it and a bright big smile appeared on his face, he even had happy tears in his eyes. He was so full of joy. He couldn’t believe he was going to be a father. He had never been that happy before. He tightly hugged you before kissing you with fierce passion. You smiled against his lips.

“Ya need to tell the twins” he hummed and you nodded. You weren’t too sure how they were going to react but one thing was certain: they were going to overprotect you.

You sat the twins at the kitchen table while Lester was keeping an eye on Ambrose in case tourists came in. The two men were concerned about what you were going to announce because you had this serious expression upon your face.

“So, you know I’ve been a little bit under the weather lately and I can’t stand some smells anymore and all. And well… I’m pregnant” you finally said. You saw the same excitement lit up in their eyes than in Lester’s earlier that day.

“Ya what?” Bo asked with a smile, just to make sure he heard that right

“I’m carrying your child” you repeated and their happiness was communicating. Both the twins were soon all over you, kissing you and stroking your belly. You thought you were going to enjoy the pregnancy if they were all cuddly with you like that.

You had been right about one thing: the Sinclair men were impossibly overprotective and affectionate with you. One of them needed to always be with you. And they forbad you from doing a lot of the chores you used to. They were very gentle with you, trying their best to never do anything that could upset you. You had always felt like the most important person in their lives, but they proved it to you absolutely every day now you were pregnant.

You had been wrong on one thing: it wasn’t just one child you were carrying for them. You started to notice that when your belly got a lot bigger than it should have been for only one baby. You all agreed you needed to see a doctor. Bo was the one to come with you. He was so proud to play the father in front of the nurses and doctors. He was so proud you were having their babies. You all agreed you would never try to know which one of them was the biological father: they were all Sinclairs anyways.

Twins.

You were expecting twins.

And you almost wanted to kill the doctor when he told Bo you both would need to be very careful with you because it could be a risky pregnancy, especially because it was your first one. Bo wrapped an arm around your shoulder and very seriously nodded at the doctor. He also asked questions, trying to know how to care about you and his children the best he could. You had never seen him act so grave before. When you arrived at the car, you could tell Bo was tense. He was concerned about you and he was concerned that the twins would know the same fate as him and Vincent.

“They’ll be okay” you told him

“Ya’ll be okay too, darl” he replied and you smiled “Ya’ll go at the hospital, and they’ll care for the babies. And if anythin’ happens… Ya know we’ll always chose ya over the babies” he continued and you grabbed his hand. You shushed him.

“Nothing will happen. It won’t be like you and Vince, I’m sure of it. And of course it's a more risky pregnancy than if it was one child, but I know we’ll be fine and happy” you tried to reassure him.

“Ya’re not the one supposed to reassure me. We’ll take an extra good care of ya” he promised and you laughed, which made him arch an eyebrow at you.

“Not sure how ya can be even more extra with me. Any of you” you tenderly smiled at him and he relaxed at your words. He would hate to know you didn’t feel cared for or loved enough.

“Anythin’ for ya, mamma” he hummed and you blushed at the nickname while placing a hand over your stomach.

Your water broke one morning as you were getting up to grab a glass of juice. Bo and Lester brought you to the hospital as fast as they could, not caring about any kind of speed limit. Vincent was quite upset he couldn’t follow you there, but he wanted the best for the twins. He was so afraid that history was going to repeat itself. He didn’t want to create a small mask for one of his kids, he didn’t want to realise he created a monster with his brothers, he didn’t want you to be put into danger either. He knew that it had been very complicated for his mother and that she almost died. The three men had agreed that they would always choose you over the kids, no matter what. But it still would break their hearts to lose them.

You wished Vincent would have been by your side too, but you hoped you would soon be out of the hospital. You already wanted to be home, in your bed, surrounded by your five men. You knew life was going to be so good.

The labour went by a lot better than anticipated.

And the baby boys borned in perfect health conditions. You were exhausted but you asked to see them and Lester and Bo watched them and carried them with such happiness shining in their eyes. Your babies were already so loved. You even forgot about the killing and Ambrose being a ghost town. It was obvious that everything was going to be alright.

Lester left to call Vincent. His hands were too shaky to send a message and it would allow him to babble even if Vincent couldn’t verbally answer. Vinny was too emotional to even write either so it was alright and he was so grateful that everyone was doing good. He fully let go of his work to finish preparing the house. He wanted everything to be perfect so the babies couldn’t get hurt and you wouldn’t need to think about anything. Vincent wanted you to just rest like you deserved to.

At the hospital, you were too tired to notice how Lester or Bo were reacting with the babies, and a lot of their attention was on you to make sure you were alright. Bo praised you a lot for having done such a good work. And Lester sneaked little chocolates and snacks into your room for you.

It was when you finally reached back home, you realised how your husbands were reacting to their baby boys.

None of the men couldn’t stand hearing the babies crying. They instantly needed to reach for them and to cuddle them and appease them. They needed to protect the babies from any kind of traumas. They were instinctively caring fathers because they would rather die than reproduce what their childhood had been. No favourite, no scream, no abuse.

Vincent and Bo also refused to separate the baby boys; they wanted the twins to sleep in the same bed. They also tried their best to show the same amount of love to the two of them. They wouldn’t stand the idea that one of their kids would feel like they had a favourite. Lester seemed quite relieved about it. Your husbands often talked together late at night, when you were already resting, to decide what was the best to do for the boys.

You also often found Bo sleeping in an armchair as he had tried to watch over his boys. That way he was ready to take care of them the instant one of them would wake up.

Vincent was also the one taking care of them the most at night because he was a night bird anyways.

Lester was the one who knew how to make them laugh and to amuse them the most. He was good at appeasing them when they were crying too. He let his big brothers be overprotective, so he could be the fun dad. He was also finding them clothes and toys. He was already spoiling them rotten and you were powerless to prevent any of this.

Lester also loved to watch you feed the babies and he was often with you when that happened. And when he wasn’t there, it was Bo because the man wanted to make sure his babies and wife were doing alright. No need to say that Bo and Vincent were the most concerned whenever the boys weren’t eating as much as a few hours ago. You couldn’t stop rolling your eyes at them.

“They’re all right” you always said

“But we need them to be strong boys, and for that they need to eat well!” Bo exclaimed as Vincent nodded in agreement with his own twin.

“They’ll be strong. Have you seen their fathers and mother?” you smiled

The advantage of living with three men was they could take care of the kids and of the house and let you rest. Bo loved to take care of you and to wash you too.

Vincent enjoyed spying on you when you were with the boys. He loved when you were talking to them with so much love in your words and voice. He was so relieved to know that his baby boys were going to grow up in a loving family, even though they were surrounded by killers.

Bo was calling you “mamma” pretty much all the time now.

Lester once asked you how it was to be the matriarch of the family and Vincent was a lot more obedient to you than he used to be. If Bo was calling for him, he wouldn’t move, but if it was you, he was there in a flash.

You became the head of the family and your husbands made it clear that they couldn’t wait for you to get pregnant again because “the twins needed siblings to be protective of”

Thanks to you, the brothers knew that even killers deserve a happy family life.

#house of wax x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x s/o #bo sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x s/o #vincent sinclair x you #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x s/o #lester sinclair x you #sinclair brothers x reader #sinclair brothers x s/o #sinclair brothers x you #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #slasher x you

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the-cannibal · 1 year

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Sinclair brothers X insecure reader

haha guess who is feeling super insecure recently and needs some poly Sinclair comfort? This girl! Hahaaaa so yeah this is pretty long. Female reader - she/her and you is used. there is some bad talk about body image (weight to be more specific) and stretch marks. If that upsets you then please skip this. Remember you are beautiful, handsome, amazing, gorgeous, and so many other words. There is also mentions of anxiety and depression and medication for said things.

You sighed, looking into the mirror, gripping the sink tightly with both hands. Jesus you looked like shit. You hadn't been sleeping well the past couple nights, and the bags under your eyes were proof of that. You tried sleeping upstairs with Bo, in the basement with Vincent, and over at Lester's little hut to see if maybe you just needed a change of scenery. But deep down you knew scenery had nothing to do with this. Lifting up your shirt and staring at your belly in the mirror, you knew the real reason. With a shaky breath you grabbed your stomach with one hand, giving it a hard jiggle and watching it bounce up and down. It made you feel sick. Then your hands made their way to your hips and thighs, trailing all the red stretch marks that covered your body. "Disgusting..." You mumbled to yourself. "Absolutely hideous. How could they love you when you look like such a pig." You shot insult after insult to yourself, tears welling up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks.

You couldn't help but look in the mirror and continue to pick out every little thing you deemed "wrong" about yourself. You couldn't remember the last time you were happy about a photo you were in. Lester had found a polaroid camera a few days ago and begged you to let him take photos of you. And how could you say no to him and his cute little puppy dog eyes. He took pictures of you sitting on the back of his truck, laying in the grass, and his personal favorites, several of him kissing your lips and cheeks which caused you to grin and howl in laughter in the photos. But you saw nothing but ugliness. Lester looked absolutely adorable with his lips puckered out kissing you, and giving you a big grin as he watched you lean into him giggling. But you saw your puffy cheeks, and that chin you absolutely hated. Bo always made comments on how gorgeous you were, wolf whistling as you went by, calling you his "sexy mama" like a wannabe Elvis. But you didn't agree with him. How did he think you were sexy when you had these thick red marks on your hips and thighs that were so visible due to wearing shorts. God you hated the Louisiana heat... Bo was the gorgeous one, not you. And Vincent. Oh sweet sweet Vincent. Your artistic boyfriend. He loved to capture your beauty in his art. You were his muse as he called you. But why you? There were so many better muses out there, ones that could give him better art if he wanted. Hell, the wax figures he made looked better than you. They didn't have thighs that touched and flattened out to the size of Texas when you sat. The didn't have bellies that stuck out. Angry and sad tears continued to fall down your cheeks. But then your crying was interrupted by a knocking. "You alright in there, darlin'?" Your breath hitched. Bo. "Tell her dinner is done!" You could hear Lester shout from downstairs. "She probably heard ya'!" You heard Bo shout back, grumbling under his breath. That almost made you laugh. "Darlin'?" Bo asked again, this time concern was lacing his voice. Quickly you pulled your shirt back down. "Yeah I'm alright!" You wiped away your tears quickly, mentally hyping yourself up to hold the rest in. Opening the door you were met with Bo, whose grin quickly fell as soon as he saw your state. "What's wrong?" He asked, cupping your cheek. "Nothin!" You said with a smile. "I'm just gotta run to the store and grab some things." You said as you quickly grabbed your jacket, zipping it all the way up, and putting your shoes on quickly. "Whoa what? Its late, Y/n. Can't whatever you need wait until tomorrow?" Bo said as he followed you down the stairs. "If you wanna try and tell the blood to stay in my body this week, please be my guest." You made up the excuse, hoping Bo would just drop it and let you go. "Well just come eat real quick, then I'll go with you." "No, no, it's quite alright! You boys eat, I'll eat when I get back." You smiled at him. But before you could slip out the door, Vincent walked in the hall. Shit. 'What's going on?' He sighed, very confused as to why you two were not at the table yet. "She's trying to skip out on us." Bo said, making you roll your eyes. 'Why? Do you not wanna eat?' Vincent asked you. "I just need to get out..." You mumbled. "Why? Did we do something?" Lester said as he walked in. Fuck, now you're surrounded. "No! Of course not! I just... Need to get out..." Your voice dropped at the last part. "Just please go eat, I'll be back soon." Your eyes dropped to the floor. God you were probably being such an annoyance to them right now... 'We made your favorite soup,' Vincent tried to coax you to the table. The boys knew how much you loved soup. 'You should eat while it's hot. You always say soup isn't as good re heated.' "I..." You could seem to come up with an excuse.

"Y/n?" Bo said your name, but you couldn't hear. You body began shaking, breathing becoming quick and unsteady as your hands gripped your hair and yanked on it. Lester quickly went to your side, shushing you as he slowly and softly brought you down to sit on the floor. "Hey hey, shhh, it's okay Love, it's okay. We're here. Take some deep breaths okay? Can you do what Vincent's doing? Breathe with Vinny, Y/n." Vincent sat down in front of you, placing your hands on his chest as he slowly took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his nose. You needed to follow him. Do what he was doing. But no matter how hard you tried you couldn't. And that only made you panic more. "Shit!" Bo said as he came down to the ground too. "Let's try somethin' else. What do you see, Y/n?" Bo asked, rubbing his hands up and down your arms too. try and get you back to them. "U-um... I see t-the floor..." You shakily made out. Bo lightly lifted your head up. "How bout now, what do you see now Y/n?" Lester's worried face, Vincent's scared eyes, Bo's concerned grip... "My boyfriends..." You made out. "That's right, Y/n, we're right here. Try and do some deep breaths like Vincent again." Slowly and shakily you were able to finally copy Vincent. Once you got your breathing under control you finally could look up and really see them. See how worried you made them. With tears spilling your eyes you flung yourself into Vincent's open arms, violent sobs escaping you as he rubbed your back and placed his head onto of yours, wax mask lips ghosting kisses across your skull. Bo and Lester went to each side of you, Lester running his hands through your hair, while Bo lightly traced shapes onto your back and legs. "Talk to us, Y/n." Lester whispered. You didn't want to. You wanted to sit there on the floor until it swallowed you whole. But you also knew your boys wouldn't let that. "I fucking hate myself!" You sobbed out. You felt the boys all freeze as they look at each other. "Why's that?" Bo asked. "B-Because! My depression is back and is kicking my ass, my anxiety doesn't seem to ever get better, I feel useless all the time and honestly I think you all deserve better than me! My meds made me gain weight, and not just a little! I gained thirty fucking pounds! I feel and look disgusting! You guys shouldn't have to look at me all the time, let alone date me! And-!" "Whoa whoa whoa, slow your horses." Bo interrupted. "Y/n you are not useless. Far from it. And don't you dare say we don't deserve you. Ever. You don't decide that. You are an amazing girl and we are lucky to have you in our lives. The fact that you put up with not one, but all three of us is frankly amazing." Bo said. "And don't you dare say that shit about yourself. You ain't disgusting, far from it. You want disgusting? Go look at the pit full of corpses, that's disgusting." Vincent pulled away from you, wiping your tears on the back of his sweater sleeve. 'You are gorgeous, Y/n. A perfect piece of art.' He signed. You huffed, looking away from them. "You're just saying that..." "No we aren't," Lester spoke up. "We've seen a lot of people come into this town, but none of them have come anywhere near your beauty." "I gained thirty pounds, Les..." "And who gives a damn? Because I certainly don't, and I don't think these two do either." You looked over at the two who were nodding along with Lester. Bo lightly kissed your jaw. "Wether you gain weight or not we will still love you and find you stunning'." 'This,' Vincents hands trailed your body, making you gasp and blush. 'Is beauty. Might as well call you Aphrodite.' You laughed, a genuine laugh, and lightly shoved the artist, making the boys grin at you. "Alright now you're pushing it!"

"We mean it, Y/n." Lester said. "It doesn't matter what you look like." Bo traced his fingers across your stretch marks. 'Doesn't matter how full your cheeks look to you.' Vincent cupped your cheeks, softly rubbing his thumbs across them. "Or how full your belly is." Lester placed kisses across your belly, making you giggle from his facial hair tickling you. "We love you for you." And you weren't quite sure who said that. perhaps all of them. But what you did know was that you had three boys that absolutely loved you.

#house of wax 2005 #slashers x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #house of wax x reader #poly sinclairs #sinclair brothers #sinclair brothers x reader

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ghostly-clown · 2 years

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Slashers reaction to you fainting

This happened to me the other day (shout out to my friend thankyou for making sure i was ok) so might aswell write about it. And I am fine now, it wasnt anything serious

For this scenario it's just gonna be just 'standing around and suddenly ur just no longer awake'

Includes the usual:

Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Vincent Sinclair, Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt

Jason Voorhees

- Jason will catch you as you faint and is put into immediate shock and concern

- he wouldn't know what to do, so he'll slowly lower you to the floor

- and he will not move from that spot until you wake up

- when you do wake up he's making you sit on the floor for a few minutes until your sure you're ok

- after that he's not gonna leave you alone for the rest of the day

Brahms Heelshire

- he probably thinks you just suddenly died

- will start cpr, or a weird version of it like wrong number of compressions all done at an irregular pace

- after 10 seconds he would give up

- starts being all dramatic about you being "dead" via crying over your passed out body

- after waking up he would be happy your alive, but mad you would passout on him like that >:(

Vincent Sinclair

- as if he didn't have enough anxiety already, you had to go and faint

- he would catch you and absolutely freak out and melt down

- would have an internal war about leaving you to get Bo or Lester and just staying with you

- after a solid minute you would wake up and he's still trying to figure out what to do, he's probably gonna faint from the stress now

- like Jason he would spend the rest of the day around you making sure your ok

Micheal Myers

- he is more confused by the situation than worried

- he would try to wake you up via poking and moving your arm

- when that dosnt work he would get a little concerned

- he stops caring the second he finds you still have a pulse and are still alive, but he won't leave you

- after waking up he would continue doing stuff like that never happened, a truly caring soul <3

Thomas Hewitt

- like others he would also be concerned but it'll slowly get worse the longer your out

- starts off just confused about what just happened and why

- starts getting concerned after you dont get up

- stress rises from there after you don't wake up even after he starts moving you

- when you do wake up it's immediate relief from him, he will be nervous for the rest of the day tho

That was fun :)

#horror movies #slasher #michael myers #brahms heelshire #jason voorhees #vincent sinclair #thomas hewitt #texas chainsaw the beginning #rz halloween #the boy 2016 #the boy brahms #friday 13th jason #house of wax #slasher oneshot #slasher headcanons #fainting #slasher sfw

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thestarfishinjootsoffice · 1 year

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Hello, so I know requests are closed, but I was wondering if you could do this once they're open again? Could you do a slashers with a so that suffers from an eating disorder? And they walk in and catch the reader purposely dousing their food in dish soap or something so it's inedible?

I don't know much about Ed so if I make any mistakes feel free to correct me. if something mean is said here please remember I'm writing this from the possible pov of the slashers . Also anon I really hope you're not suffering from an eating disorder and this just a request you had in your mind<333

Tw: eating disorder! Michael and bo being Michael and bo.

Slashers x reader w/ eating disorder.

Michael 🔪

Doesn't really have experience with it, he doesn't eat that much too. But will be concerned if he sees you drowning your food in dish soap.

If you tell him your reasoning, and his response? 'just stop looking at it then lol'.

Michael's insensitive and brutal, he'll just (internally) blurt out whatever he deems more logical. Even if you try to explain that's not how it works.

He's gonna lock and or put away food so you don't try to make it inedible again. (yes he cares about the food and also you.)

But he won't starve you. He wouldn't want his S/O to malnourished and become weak. (not in a pity way.) He'd try his best to make you eat at least a little bit of something.

Sinclair brothers 🕯

Bo is just really... Himself. He yanks your hand away when he sees you dose your food with inedible substance. and yells at you "what are you doing!?" you two are going to have a serious talk after that. Just really worried and angry Bo and lecturing. Knows he's not the best for these kinda situations but the most he can do is comfort you and distract you from this nightmarish hell of a disorder. He can't understand that well but tries to just for you.

Vincent is curious, are you going to eat that?? He doesn't know what to do. He quickly walks up to you and snatches the plate away from you and places it somewhere and makes a noise which sounds similar to why. After discussing your purpose to him he just hugs you tightly and brings you to his room just to chill out for a bit. He's very awkward and doesn't know how to help but he's always a good listener and follower.

Lester thought you lost it, what were you doing?? He stands over you and just says "are you going to eat that...." in the smallest and concerned voice you've ever heard him talk in. He has a sad look on his face hearing about your disorder. "I'm very glad you told me this, but please don't put bleach on your food next time." these next few days he's gonna try to raise up your self esteem and good eating schedule with all he can, even though it knows its better said than done. anything to help at least just a bit.

I'm so sorry this was so short, I can't have an idea with something I don't have experience with 💔

#michael myers x you #og michael myers #rz michael myers #michael myers x reader #sinclair twins #sinclair brothers #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #slashers x you #slashers x y/n #tw eating issues #eating disoder trigger warning

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nymphbunnyys · 2 years

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Can you maybe do the Sinclair brothers and Thomas Hewitt with an s/o who is scared to be open with them due to past abusive relationships and how they would deal with that? Thank you

oh my love yes! i can defiantly relate to this one, especially now being in a healthy relationship.. it took me a long time to really open up. so thanks for this request! I'm more then happy to write it!

Slashers with an s/o who's scared to be open

Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair and Thomas Hewitt

I apologize if this is kinda eh, I'm still trying to figure out my writing for Bo! But still I really hope you enjoy.

TW: none.

Bo Sinclair

I feel like Bo could probably understand to an extent. I mean majority of his life he was compared to Vincent.. he never had a great relationship with his parents, he rebelled. So even if he wanted to speak to his parents, or just have something.. due to the abuse, opening up wasn't an option for him.

He tries to encourage you in his own little ways. He probably wouldn't force you to speak because he gets it but some concern grows when you start becoming quiet all of a sudden. Expect him to be more closer to you, trying to make himself seem as small as possible to.. welcome you in? Though he's probably as stiff as a board and waiting around in an awkward silence he'll be patient.

When he realizes you aren't going to tell him he does grow agitated, really he's more annoyed that he doesn't know what's wrong because he wants to help but can't. But, he'll bite his tongue and swallow his annoyance, a small rub gracing your back as he nudges you softly.

"C'mon darlin, wanna come with me to the station?"

There's that smile he loves.

Most cases, he'll bring you along to wherever he's going so you can feel like you can be around him.. or even tell him things. he wants you to know you're safe right where you are.

Even if he can be an asshole, he could never hurt you the way your ex/s have in the past, you're his now.

Vincent Sinclair

Unlike his twin brother, he has more patience, that and he's more concerned and worried than anything.

How could someone hurt you like this? Now he feels like you don't want to tell him things because maybe he'd hurt you too.

You don't think that right..? do you y/n?

If Vincent could just get that strained unused voice to speak up, he'd tell you that you could tell him anything. That he'd never judge you for speaking your mind, he wants to know if he's doing something wrong, he wants to know when you aren't comfortable with something he may be doing, please tell him all of it, there's nothing he wouldn't do to have you happy.

Vincent will be gentle and patient with you, he knows something's up when you begin to fidget, your answers are short and seem cold and you won't touch him like you normally do. He'll give you your space, signing to you that he'll be in the basement when you're ready.

And if it's not space that you want, he'll be by your side caressing your leg and waiting in a more comfortable silence.

He'd wait years on that couch with you, all because he wants you to be ready.

Lester Sinclair

poor thing thinks he's done something wrong..

"y/n.. why won't you talk to me.. did i do something..? was it the truck? I know you told me to clean it out.. I just forgot, that's all.."

Oh Lester, you sweet thing that wasn't the issue, it would probably make you feel more worse because now he thinks he did something, especially over something so stupid but you only tell him it's not him and.. you'll be fine.

But he knows you won't be, when you get like this it really scares him.. he'll probably pester you, walking around like a lost puppy until you finally break and give in.

"Wait.. doll, why couldn't you tell me that? you thought I'd be mad..?over something like that?"

he does feel bad for forcing you to tell him but he knows now and that's all that matters, and he now knows what to do to make you feel better.

I think Lester can a be a bit insecure so when you don't open up to him he gets worried it's about him, and he'll pester.. and pester until he finally knows whats wrong.. he just doesn't want you to be upset that's all. That and he doesn't want it to be about him, he could never hurt you.

he knows that things like this may take time and although he bugs you to tell him things, he's more than happy to allow you to heal at your own pace.

Thomas Hewitt

y/n.. would you like a hug?

He would stand a bit far from wherever you are and fidget with his fingers, you've locked yourself away from him and he doesn't like it. You need a hug don't you? Yeah.. you do.

He'll have his arms wrapped around you in no time and though the hug may not fully help you know that he's not mad at you.. he just wants to be there. Your back slumps into his chest as you listen to his half attempt at humming for you.

"I'm sorry tommy.."

no no no. Don't you dare apologize. Thomas wants you to know you've done nothing wrong. This isn't your fault.

Thomas will more than likely become much more lovey with you when you get like this, whether it be bringing you things, more hugs, allowing you to be near him for as long as you'd like.. even if it means you have to come downstairs.

He's probably a lot like Vincent and Lester.. in a sense that he probably thinks he's done something wrong and he wants to know if he has but he wants you to take your time.. don't rush when it comes to Thomas when you're ready is when Thomas is ready, and he'll be one comforting teddy bear the entire time.

#slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher imagines #slasher fic #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x reader #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x you

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 8 months

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Never Tell - a Malevolent fic

Arthur and Bella Lester are not in love. They came together as friends, to protect each other, to give one another the freedom to live—and love—as they pleased.

Having a child was supposed to be part of that—quieting the rumors, providing a shield. But it wasn’t one baby; it was two… and something is very wrong with their golden-eyed son.

A Malevolent AU.

Warnings for mentions of historical homophobia and medical practices. Also a deeply irreverent Bella.

AO3

--------

Arthur sat in the waiting room, numb, frozen; he could smell his breath, and the booze on it, but wasn’t in the mental space to care all that much. Bella was alive, but not by much; she’d bled badly, so badly, and that was before they had to do the C-section. And he hadn’t been here. He had not been here.

“Mr. Lester?” said the doctor. “Please come with me.”

Arthur just looked at the doctor, feeling dead-eyed, then followed him deeper into the hospital.

Here and there, babies cried. Laughter rose, or excited babble. People happy with their situation, with their mess, with their family. Arthur felt sick.

He was a fraud. He shouldn’t be here. This was wrong. He shouldn’t even be playing this role—

There she was.

“She should pull through,” said the doctor, “but it was touch and go for a while. She needs you, Mister Lester.”

Was that chiding, perhaps even condemning a tone? It should be, Arthur thought. Sure, they wouldn’t have let him in the room while she was giving birth, but that wasn’t the point. He should’ve been at the hospital, and he wasn’t. So. “Sure,” he said, and headed toward his wife.

She looked like hell. Bled white, her dark curls more than a little matted, her lips more pale than pink. Then she turned into blur.

Arthur wiped his leaky eyes, pulled the chair up to the bed, and sat.

She must have heard the chair. Bella’s eyes were shockingly blue in her pale face, like a painting done in only two colors. “Hello.”

Arthur swallowed. “Hi.”

They looked at each other, a wealth of secrets thick between them like glue. Bella sighed. Her voice was weak. “Both of them are okay.”

“That’s what they told me,” Arthur said.

“I was half-sure you wouldn’t show up,” she said, and there was no censure in her voice.

They both understood. He appreciated it, still. “I… I couldn’t just… leave you, not now, not while…”

“The good news,” Bella said like announcing a dinner menu, “is they sliced me up down there, not just my belly, so nobody will blame you for not making any more babies any time soon.”

Arthur choked. Put his hand over his mouth. And made a sound that was neither laughing nor crying. “Bella, what the fuck?”

Bella smiled. “Gotcha,” she said.

“You always do,” he said. “I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

“Hush. Kept us both safe.” Because it had. Quashed rumors. Calmed parental fears. Soothed ruffled societal feathers. “And now we’re done, and we don’t have to do it again.”

Arthur sighed. “You probably should be a bit more concerned for your own survival right now than whether or not I have to stick my prick in you again.”

“No,” said Bella. “Priorities.”

Arthur laughed weakly and took her hand. “I’m so sorry. Maybe we should’ve just faked it. Pretended a miscarriage.”

“This is better,” she said. “And it’s done, anyway. So.”

“Fuck.” He held her hand in both of his now. “I haven’t seen the babies yet.”

Her smile was amazing; a smile he'd seen when they were teenagers, in school, and thought they could get away with anything. “They’re beautiful.”

“They probably look like a couple of wrinkled potatoes,” he said.

“Potatoes are delicious,” she said.

He snorted. “What, we’re going to eat them?”

“Would it be any worse than anything else we’ve done?” she said, and then closed her eyes for a moment, worn out from joking.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said, soft.

“I can smell why you weren’t.” Again, no censure.

They’d been married for seven months, and was grateful for her forgiveness. She'd handled all of it so much better than he had. “I'm still sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be. In your place, I honestly might’ve been across the border already. Screw all of this. Let’s go make bootleg liquor in Canada in the woods for the rest of our lives.”

He almost laughed. “Don’t tempt me. We’d make more money than my jingles.”

“I like your jingles.”

“They’re stupid jingles.”

“They’re money-making jingles, so they can be as stupid as they need.”

He was finally able to smile—weak, but there. “I hate this.”

“Me, too. But… if it had to be someone, Arthur… you’re still the best option I know.”

It was wrong. This marriage was wrong. They both knew it; but they were both trapped. They hadn’t known another way to save themselves. He still didn’t. “Well. Survive. Get better. And when you’re out of here, we can all go to Canada and make booze in the woods.”

“It’s a deal.” Her squeeze was weak. She closed her eyes. “Could you tell them I’m thirsty?”

“Yeah.”

“Go see the kids.”

Arthur hunched.

She knew he did, even though she wasn’t looking. “It’s all for nothing if we don’t keep up appearances.”

“If we’re lucky, they got your brains instead of mine,” said Arthur.

“If we’re lucky, they got the best of both of us,” she murmured. “That Twilight Sleep shit is something.”

Morphine and scopolamine, given as a matter of course to mothers in labor. “Must be, if you’re cursing in a public place.”

“Fuck ‘em. They can handle it.”

“It’s all for nothing if we don’t keep up appearances,” he said.

“Ah, ha,” she mumbled, and fell back asleep.

He held her hand a moment more. He liked her; he really did. She liked him, too. That was the only reason this worked, and they hadn’t killed each other or someone else or actually run to Canada.

Arthur sighed and rose. It was time to go see the little parasites that changed the course of his life and Bella’s—protecting them both, providing “proof” that neither of them were queer.

It had been fun at first. Then it had been… sort of sick.

But they had to. Massachusetts wasn’t friendly to queers. This wasn’t Greenwich Village. A guy could go to jail for suspected sodomy, and he’d never get his life back even if he did get out; and just 1913, they’d gone publishing entire studies proclaiming women who loved women were perversions .

There were people pushing back, yeah; men who dressed pretty, women who wrote stories showing how good that love was. Musicians who were out, bold, brave.

Neither Arthur nor Bella felt inclined to do that. To take the heat. To be the faces people aimed for when they punched.

So they'd decided to help each other. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Fake it; make a baby, get married, quell all the rumors and whispers and pointed fingers. Then they could do what they wanted with their lives, and nobody had to know.

But then Bella’s dad had made it a big fucking deal (and Arthur suspected he knew , and did not approve). And Bella had not carried… well. She’d been sick most of the pregnancy; it had been a last-minute decision for her to go to the hospital instead of the usual home-birth.

He was glad they’d done that, now. He didn’t like this. Nobody liked this; this fake marriage, this forced situation. But he liked her. He didn’t want her to die.

Arthur dragged his feet on the way to the maternity ward, feeling a million years old instead of twenty-one. All around him, people talked, chattered, laughed; babies cried, and people seemed happy to hear that sound.

Arthur wiped his eyes. It had all seemed like such a smart idea. It felt like being trapped now. Trapped forever, the rest of their lives. Too late to pull out. In every sense of the word.

The hospital smelled awful. That was why he felt so nauseated, he decided. Sure.

They were waiting for him, smiling nurses, putting on a show (though he could see they were tired) for all the panicked, eager, hopeful, terrified dads who wandered in.

It felt like stepping up to a guillotine, walking through that door. Like this was what made it final, this was signing on the dotted line. This meant no going back.

“They’re healthy and beautiful, Mister Lester,” said one nurse. “Congratulations!”

“Twins,” said the other, unnecessarily. “A boy and a girl.”

“Your wife didn’t name them,” said the first. “She said you already knew what names you wanted.”

That bitch. That glorious, funny bitch. He’d give his left foot to be as funny as she was. His lips quirked. “Sure,” he said, mentally scrambling.

They reached into the bassinets and held the babies up. They didn’t look like anything. Squashed tomatoes. Eyes tightly closed, tiny mittens covering their hands.

“Your daughter,” said the one nurse.

And Arthur knew. “Faroe.” Because that was his grandmother’s name.

“And him?” said the other nurse, holding up his son.

That was harder. He didn’t know anybody he’d want to name him after. Eh. A generic name would do. An ordinary, strong name so nobody would look at him sideways. “John,” said Arthur.

The names were written on the dotted line. For better or for worse, it was done.

“Bella said she was thirsty,” he shared, and the nurse went to deal with that. But before she did, she handed him his son.

Arthur had no idea how to hold a baby. He took the squashed tomato, nervous, trying to support the head, surprised at the solidity of such a little thing, of his warmth.

Then John opened his eyes, and they were solid gold.

Not yellow, gold, gleaming like metal from lid to lid, like wedding bands still polished behind glass. Arthur froze.

The other nurse came up beside him, holding Faroe. “You’re in for it,” said the nurse with forced cheer. “Twins! That’s a whole other ballgame.”

Arthur gawked at her, then looked down again, but John's eyes were normal—blue, if abnormally steady on his face. “Oh,” said Arthur, because he didn’t know what else to say. What the hell had that been? Was he cracking up?

"Twins tend to be each other's best friend," said the nurse, standing close.

And maybe Arthur was cracking up, because these babies were very new, practically grubs with limbs, but he could swear they were trying to reach for one another with their tiny, mittened hands.

-----

NOTES:

I have plans for this fic. It's gonna be slow going, since I have several others I want to finish first, but I couldn't risk this seed getting lost. It's gonna be a fun ride.

#malevolent #malevolent fic #malevolent fanfiction #malevolent podcast #john doe malevolent #malevolent pod #arthur lester #malevolent AU #bella lester #faroe lester #john lester #never tell fic

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slasherhaven · 2 years

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Unsavoury Jealousy

Bo Sinclair X Reader

I dunno, this was just something that I was thinking about. About how Ambrose might mess with the reader's mind, making them jealous of victims simply for having Bo's attention even if it's completely unwanted. I like exploring the darker (maybe more realistic) parts of the relationships but I'm also sensitive so we have to have some softness thrown in there!

Warnings: dark themes, mentions of Bo's basement, illusions to sexual assault, though the sexual assault doesn't actually happen (not against the reader), the reader is having some complicated feelings about said sexual assault (but is fully disgusted with themselves for it), Bo is an asshole, toxic relationship, Stockholm syndrome, usual murder and wax stuff...I think that's it, and some fluff at the end to make up for it because my dear readers deserve it.

Summary: After remaining in Ambrose for an unmeasurable amount of time, you make a dire mistake...you fall in love with Bo Sinclair.

The cooler breeze of the night should have been somewhat soothing against your damp cheeks but you could barely feel it, your mind elsewhere. You sat at the top of the steps leading up to the Sinclair house, looking out at the town, in the direction of the garage despite it being out of sight.

Just like the breeze, the sound of footsteps didn't stir you, though not much could in that moment. So, you didn't look up when Vincent sat down beside you, your gaze locked on one spot, as if that could change anything.

Vincent didn't know what had made you feel so bad, you had been perfectly fine this morning, your usual friendly self. Of course, your mood dampened when Lester sent news of two tourists coming into town, but it had been a long time since it had earned this reaction from you. Plus, it was an easy, clean, job this time, just some couple that were easily overpowered. The man had already been dealt with, coated in wax, Vincent had just come up to check on you before going to start on the finer details.

Vincent turned his head towards you when he heard a small sniffle, seeing you wipe away a tear, your eyes red and puffy. You had been in Ambrose for so long now, Vincent would certainly consider you a friend and he knew that there was something going on with you.

Sure, you hated when tourists came into town, you never quite got used to what had to be done but normally you would just shut yourself away until everything was over...this was different and Vincent wanted to know why.

As if sensing his desire to understand and help, you spoke, "I've done something really stupid, Vin." When all you had were the three Sinclair brothers, you had to choose one to confide in, and Vincent always seemed happy to play that role for you.

Your warning caused Vincent to tense, hoping that you hadn't done something like trying to escape or helping the tourists. Surely, that would result in your death, or at least a severe punishment from Bo, and he didn't want that to happen to his friend.

"God, I'm so stupid" you sobbed, burying your face in your hands, crying into them, the sudden release of sorrow surprising Vincent.

Awkwardly but sincerely, he placed a hand on your back, stroking up and down in a comforting manner, still worried about what you had apparently done.

Vincent was patient and waited for you to calm down a little and steady out your breathing again. Only then did you risk looking at Vincent, he was wearing his mask, as always, but you could still see the concern in his eye.

"I fell in love with him, Vin" you hiccupped, more tears rolling down your cheeks, "I'm in love with Bo."

Vincent just sighed with a small nod, that was pretty bad...

"And he's...I know what he's doing...in that fucking basement" you seethed, though Vincent weren't sure if you were angry with Bo or with yourself. Of course, you had been down in that basement, you knew the purpose of it.

"God, how can I love him when I know?" you asked, feeling disgusted with yourself, though you didn't expect an answer. Thankfully, you continued talking because Vincent had no idea how to respond or offer support. "Y'wanna know the worst part, the most fucked up part?" the sad look in your eyes turned into one of frustration, though the glossy look remained.

Vincent hesitated, unsure of what you would say, but nodded as he was unsure of how else to respond.

"I'm so angry but I'm...I'm jealous" you confessed quietly, hanging your head in shame. Vincent was grateful that you looked down at your lap because it meant that you didn't see his eye widen in surprise.

"The way he was looking at her, flirting with her...the way she had...has his attention" you continued, shaking your head at yourself.

Before Vincent could offer any sort of condolence, the two of you were interrupted by Bo's truck driving up to the house. The two of you stood and turned to the truck as it came to a stop, Bo climbing out and slamming the door behind you. Neither of you thought he would be back this early.

"What the fuck are you two doing out here?" Bo asked but before you could respond, he continued and looked at Vincent, "you dealt with the guy?"

Vincent nodded, thankfully avoiding Bo's wrath. "Why the fuck are you crying?" however, his attention had turned back onto you. You opened your mouth to speak but no sound came out, getting caught in your throat, you didn't know how to respond.

"You're gonna have to get used to what we do here" he snapped, assuming you were just effected by the fate of the tourists. It wasn't uncommon for Bo to be in a bad mood, you were used to it but this was different and you didn't know what brought it on.

Once again, Bo turned his attention to Vincent. "The other one is in the basement, you can have her, turns out she ain't my type. I'd hurry though before she does more damage to herself and you can't work with her" he told his twin before waving his hand when he didn't move, demanding, "well, go on then."

Vincent nodded, looking back at you to make sure you were alright, before leaving for the basement under the garage.

"And you get inside" Bo ordered you. Reacting similarly to Vincent, you nodded and hurried into the house, Bo following behind you.

"I know ya ain't a fan of how we do shit around here, but it's been a while since you've sobbed like this" he commented with a huff, shutting the door behind him with a little too much force.

"Just got to me I guess..." you muttered with a small shrug, not looking the man in the eyes as he walked past you and into the kitchen.

You followed him against your better judgement, hearing him scoff as he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"...well, it's not like you to hand over someone to your brother" you spoke under your breath, knowing better than to provoke him but also feeling frustrated with him.

As he shut the fridge, he turned back to you, making you instantly regret having said anything. "Like I said, she ain't my type" he reminded you, as if it were nothing.

"She was your type when you were hitting on her" you rolled your eyes, not buying his excuse. He was angry, there was something else going on.

"Aw, ya ain't jealous are ya Sweetheart?" Bo mocked, chugging some of his beer.

"No" you huffed, folding your arms over your chest and hanging your head, trying to hide the way your face heated up in embarrassment.

"Well, I'll be damned" Bo chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction.

"Shut up" you muttered under your breath as you turned to leave, wondering why you didn't just go and hide in your bedroom in the first place.

"Now hold on" Bo mused as he caught your arm, forcefully turning you back to face him. "You ain't sayin' that you want to be in her place, are ya?" he asked with a smirk.

"Just leave me alone" you didn't want to feel further humiliated, trying to pull your arm out of his grasp.

"No need to be embarrassed" his expression did not match his words was reassurance.

"Seriously Bo" you just wanted to go and cry in bed for a while, why couldn't he even let you do that?

"What?" he asked with a huffed laugh. "You have my attention now, don't ya? Isn't that what you wanted?" he provoked, stepping closer to you and tightening his hold on your arm when you tried to squirm away from him.

You weren't sure where it came from but suddenly all your anger and frustration with Bo and your feelings for him had come to the surface. "Y'know what, fine!" you snapped, stopping your fighting and meeting his gaze, "you want to embarrass me because you're in a bad mood. What is it, huh? All pissy because you couldn't get it up?"

In an instant, a hand was wrapped around your throat, slamming your back against the wall behind you. In that moment you wondered if it would just be for the best if he killed you and put you out of your misery.

"Watch your mouth" Bo warned, baring his teeth as he brought his face close to yours.

"Oh come on, Bo. Not your type? Who the hell isn't your type, pretty sure you'd fuck anything" you scoffed, his aggression not deterring you from arguing with him. If he wanted to get under your skin, fine, but you could do the same.

"And ya sad because I won't fuck you?" he asked through gritted teeth, fingertips pressing against your neck.

"It's not about that" you snarled as you flattened your hands against his chest and roughly pushed him away.

Bo just seemed amused as he stepped back, as if he figured he was onto something.

"I'm in love with you, you fucking idiot" you exclaimed as all of your feeling came to a boiling point, at least it got him to shut up for a second, "trust me, I don't know why, you're the goddamn worst, you're nothing but cruel but I...I've fallen in love with you."

He couldn't deny it, Bo was stunned, but you were only feeling even more embarrassed as you stormed out of the room and hurried up the stairs. Bo finished his beer in one more go, tossing the bottle into the trashcan and hearing it smash, running a hand down his face in frustration.

A couple hours passed, at least that's what you would guess, you hadn't been keeping an eye on the time. You had curled up in your bed, cocooned in the sheets, as you cried to yourself. You were absolutely humiliated, sure that Bo would either make your life hell from this moment forward, or just dispose of you.

You had hoped to fall asleep, to get a moment of peace, but you weren't so lucky. Your thoughts were only interrupted when there was a knock on your bedroom door.

"I'm fine, Vincent" you called, your voice hoarse, assuming that he had come to check on you once dealing with the woman that came into town.

"Not Vincent" Bo's voice called back from the other side of the door.

You fell silent, hoping that he would just go away and not make fun of you any further. When you didn't respond, Bo let himself in, closing the door behind him. He paused for a moment by the door, seeing that you were in bed, wrapped in sheets and facing away from him.

"I didn't lie..." Bo spoke after a short silence, "...she wasn't my type."

"Alright...so?" you asked with a sigh as you sat up, clearly exhausted, both physically and mentally.

"She wasn't you" you heard the words come out of his mouth but you were certain you had not understood them correctly.

"...what?"

"Thought I could get you off of my fucking mind with her but it just pissed me off more" he confessed, though it didn't really help you understand.

"Don't Bo...just don't mess with me, alright?" your voice was quiet as you lay back down, turning away from him once again.

"I ain't messin' with ya" Bo insisted but you didn't respond. "Fuck, why ya got make this so hard?" he asked with a frustrated tone, only earning a scoff from you.

"Alright..." Bo sighed, trying to soften his tone a little, as he walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I meant it, though. She wasn't my type because she wasn't you. It's so fucking frustrating, she wouldn't shut up but she didn't sound like you, didn't shout at me like you do" he explained further, "just wanted to kill her and get it over with but thought Vincent could put her in the museum or something."

"You're being serious?" you asked quietly, still unsure as you slowly turned to face him.

"Yeah, annoyingly" he nodded but he was not looking at you, staring down at his lap instead.

"That's why you were so angry when you came back?" you asked.

"Yeah, you're pretty damn irritating" he admittedly, looking back over his shoulder at you. You gave him a small, unamused smile. He nodded, seeming to understand what you were feeling, before looking back down at his lap. "Why were y'crying before?" he asked, a hint of care in his voice. Something a little new.

"...I was hurting" you answered vaguely.

"Why?" of course, your answer wasn't enough for him.

"Because I realised I was in love with you...I was hurt, embarrassed and ashamed" you confessed.

"Ashamed?" Bo scoffed, sounding offended.

"You were right...I was jealous that you were paying her attention even though I knew what was going to happen to her. I was ashamed and disgusted with myself...still am I guess" you exclaimed, nervously fiddling with the corner of your pillow.

"Y'don't need to be, you're the best of us here" Bo assured you, making you smile a little to yourself.

He listened to the sound of the sheets moving, glancing at you when you sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

"Why did you never say anything?" you asked, it wasn't like Bo to not do everything he could to get what he wanted.

"Why didn't you?" he shot back, clearly avoiding the question.

"I was scared, thought you'd make fun of me, didn't think you would feel the same" you answered honestly, figuring you had nothing to lose at this point and hoping that it might encourage him to open up as well.

"Yeah, guess I was kinda scared too in a way. Not used to actually liking people" he tried to put on some sort of joking tone but you knew his words were serious, and you nodded in understanding.

Before either of you could say anything else, you yawned. "...I'm tired" you sighed, voice sleepy.

"Get some sleep" Bo muttered as he stood from the bed, figuring you were hinting at wanting to be left alone again.

However, surprising him, you grabbed his hand before he could walk away. "Stay" you pleaded, voice quiet as you looked up at him with wide but tired eyes. "At least until I fall asleep?...I still don't like when tourists show up" you confessed, knowing he would think that was stupid but hoping he might understand at least a little.

"Sure...sure, Darlin'" Bo nodded, already showing you such a different side of himself.

Letting go of his hand, you climbed back into bed, making yourself comfortable again. Bo toed off his shows, shucking off his jacket and hat before joining you in the bed. Cautiously, he shifted up behind you, draping an arm around your waist. You let out a soft sigh, shifting back against his chest before stilling again, letting Bo relax as he lay with you.

You didn't know how tomorrow would be, once the adrenaline and high emotions had faded. You didn't know how Bo would act, whether he would just forget your conversation even happened, maybe you would wake up to an empty bed and to Bo ignoring you like nothing happened.

Right now, however, you were too tired to dwell on it for long. You were exhausted and Bo was holding you just like you had dreamt of him doing for so long. For now, you would lose yourself to the moment and drift off into a dreamless sleep.

#bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher #slashers #my writing

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is-the-primate-vid-cute · 2 years

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Via Lincoln Park Zoo: A movie called Gigi & Nate features a live capuchin monkey. While the movie is inspired by a true story, it is important to separate past events from the current and future wellbeing of primates in the entertainment industry and in the wild.

The use of a real capuchin monkey in this movie has serious welfare consequences for not only the individual(s) involved in filming, but the many primates who will be negatively impacted by the unrealistic and harmful notion that primates make suitable pets.

Capuchin monkeys are highly intelligent, emotionally complex, and a long-lived species. They have intricate social systems, demonstrate advanced tool-use, and require dynamic environments to meet their emotional and behavioral needs. Performing primates or those in private homes are unable to thrive.

Most people are unaware that the American Humane, which was previously named The American Humane Association that had been funded by the Screen Actors Guild, had a glaring conflict of interest. It has been criticized for judging the treatment of animals in films by the filming that happens in front of them, not the lengthy training, housing or living conditions of the animals. As a result, animals used in film and television are frequently put in dangerous situations, injured or killed.

Obvious physical harm is not the only form of harm nonhuman animals experience—they suffer psychological damage as well. The long-term damage that is done results in negative and neurotic behaviors and an inability to socially interact with peers. Read more here

- Primarily Primates

Studies from Lincoln Park Zoo’s Lester E. Fisher Center for the Study & Conservation of Apes have repeatedly demonstrated the detrimental effects of primates in unnatural settings. One such study showed that movies like these significantly increase humans’ desires to have primates as personal pets, which also correlates with an increased likelihood in believing the species is not endangered in the wild.

This troublesome combination means that specific populations of wild capuchins are under grave danger due to illegal hunting for the pet trade. The consequences of films like Gigi & Nate should be carefully considered.

The Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) has not accepted capuchin monkeys as service animals since 2010 in part due to these concerns. Unlike capuchins, domesticated dogs are able to thrive in private homes and are appropriate species for service animals.

So what can you do to help primates and Take Action With Us?

• Do not support movies or other situations with performing primates as it fuels - and funds - the notion this is acceptable.

• Pause before posting: Stop the cycle and avoid liking or sharing images or videos of primates in unnatural settings.

• Spread the word! Share this post and have conversations with your family and friends about the importance of letting primates be primates.

Learn more about other steps you can take here:

https://www.lpzoo.org/take-action-with-us-let-primates-be-primates/

#gigi and nate #primates are not pets #primates are not employees #mod E #cruel primate vid

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slaasherslut · 1 year

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An Angry Bean Rises: Ava & The Sinclair Boys

Part two of "An Angry Bean Rises: Ava's Side"

Ava awoke from her short nap on the couch to her phone vibrating on the coffee table. The stress of today and all the yelling tired her out and gave her a massive headache, the pills she took earlier had done nothing. The vibrations caused annoyance to build up inside her. When they didn't stop, she answered.

"What?" She answered, the annoyance was obvious.

"Hey sweetpea, you doin' alright?" It was Lester and he sounded concerned. She felt bad for how she answered him.

"Hey baby, where are you? I've been missing you." She sat up on the couch and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

"I'm just helpin' out around town, everyone's all in a tizzy. Have the twins been there yet?"

"Vincent is here, I have him up in the guest room. Cleaned him up a little bit, Michael really did a number on him. I think a few of his ribs and his nose is broken." Lester sighed, Ava sighed right back before she continued. "Can you come home? I need you here... please?"

Lester smiled softly, it could be heard in his voice. "Of course, ill be home as soon as I can. Okay?" She hummed in response. "I love you, Ava."

"I love you too, Les." The line then went dead. She checked the time when she hung up, looks like she was only asleep for around half an hour. She was definitely gonna need a lot more sleep than that after today was over.

She set her phone back on the coffee table before making her way upstairs to check on Vincent. As much as she was absolutely furious with him for the way he acted, he was still her brother in law, and she knew Ellie would be disappointed if Vincent went home in a worse state. When Ava approached the guest room, the door was already open halfway. She tapped her knuckles on the door before pushing it all the way open. Vincent was laying in bed seemingly in deep thought. The sound of the door opening and her footsteps alerted him to her presence, turning to face her and attempting to sit up. Ava made a motion as if to say "No, don't get up" before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"How are ya feelin' Vin?"

"Still in pain but ill live." He signed.

Ava nodded. "Listen, I know today has been totally fucked up. I'm gonna try to talk to Ellie and-" The front door swung open. She assumed Les had finally made his way home until a different southern drawl called her name. It was Bo. Oh god not him too. She called down to him. "Were up here!" She gave Vincent an apologetic look before Bo made his way into the bedroom. He nodded a greeting to Ava, who was moving to stand, before looking at his twin.

"Damn Vince, you look like you got hit by a truck."

"Feels like it." He signed back. Bo stood with his arms crossed. The longer he stood there staring at Vincent the more Ava could see the gears turning in his head. He was thinking, and that thinking was starting to make him angry.

"Vin." Bo started. "I fuckin' told you not to do it you jealous bastard. I fuckin' told you not to. Ya did it anyway and you dragged me into it." Ava scoffed. She thought she was quiet enough to where it wouldn't be heard but Bo turned his attention towards her, barring his teeth and clenched jaw.

"What're you huffin' at, princess?" His voice was filled with malice.

Ava chuckled. "Jealous bastard? Really? You of all people are gonna call Vincent a jealous bastard?" She took a step closer to Bo, glaring at him. "You've killed men so violently that Vinny couldn't even use the bodies for so much as breathing the same air as Percy. You aint one to talk, bud."

"Oh shut the fuck up, this aint yer fight." He sneered.

"Aint my fight? You two are in my house and my friend was almost murdered today so yes it is my fucking fight!" Ava was, for the second time that day, yelling at one of the Sinclair boys. They're argument was so heated and loud that they never heard the front door opening and closing followed by footsteps bounding up the stairs. She was pulled backwards as Lester came up from behind her. Both parties continued to scream at each other while Vincent sat on the bed in silence watching the calamity unfold

"HEY!" Lester shouted loud enough to be heard over the screaming. The three others stopped and stared at him. All three of them have never heard Lester get so loud or angry. "Quit fuckin' screamin' in my house! You!" He pointed at Vincent. "Fuckin' stay here!" He turned to Bo. "And you! Go downstairs and shut the fuck up for cryin' out loud!"

The room fell into a deafening silence. The three were still baffled. Lester was never one to yell or even raise his voice. Ava could feel her stomach flip at his angry outburst. She was glad he did it though, she was tired of all the yelling. Bo muttered a few hushed curses before storming out the door and down the stairs.

Ava gave Vincent an apologetic look. "Sorry for all the shouting, Vin. Ill bring you up some water and a couple ice packs." Ava said before Lester closed the bedroom door as they left him to relax. The couple walked down the hall a ways, stopping at the top of the stairs before they both breathed a sigh of relief, Lester leaned back against the wall. Ava looked at him with a sly smile. He had a puzzled look on his face but his lips started to tug upward.

"Whatcha lookin' at me like that for?"

"You're kinda hot when you get all angry." Ava giggled as a blush coated his face. He grabbed her by the belt loops of her shorts and pulled her to press her body against his.

"You think so?" He asked as her arms wrapped around his neck. She bit her lip and nodded with a giggle. He pulled her in for a deep kiss when the sound of a car horn was heard coming from just outside. They separated with a sigh.

"Were finishing that later." Ava pointed at him with a wink as she started descending the stairs.

"Yes ma'am." The couple jogged downstairs, Ava headed for the door while Lester went to go find Bo. She looked out one of the front windows to see Percy's signature mustang in the driveway. Ava walked outside to meet her, walking around to the drivers side as the window rolled down.

"Hey Perc." Ava leaned her elbows against the door.

"Is Bo here?" Percy bit her lip, she looked worried. This girl could never go without her "southern tempest" for too long.

"Yeah hes inside, you gonna take him home?" Percy nodded and Ava laughed. "Okay ill go get him." She pushed herself off the car and jogged inside. Lester and Bo were standing in the kitchen talking and drinking a beer.

"Bo!" She called "Percy's here to take you home!"

Bo muttered a "thank god" before downing the rest of his beer and heading out the door, jumping in his girlfriends car. Ava shouted "Love you!" as they backed out of the driveway. The door quickly shut and the stressed out girl fell back against the wood.

"Oh thank god! I don't think I could handle another minute of all three of you under the same roof today."

☾ tag list: @rottent33th @cries-in-latino @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @the-pinstriped-hood @allthingsblood @25bohemianmoons

#angels of ambrose au #oc ava #ava walker #percy jones #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax

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bluejayblueskies · 2 years

Text

deathless

Words: 4.6k Fandom: Malevolent (Podcast) Relationship: John & Arthur Tags: Ghost AU, Fantasy AU, Modern AU, Emotional Intimacy, Queerplatonic Relationships

Written for @malevolentfantasyweek for the prompt haunted! CW for death mentions, threats, and possession (initially against one’s will)

|| AO3 ||

In hindsight, buying the ridiculously low-priced house with build papers from the late 1700s and an appeal for condemnation on record was probably an ill-advised move. But Arthur still maintains that ghosts are not a typical nor rational thing to worry about when browsing real estate, and—well. His financial circumstances had been less than ideal after the whole falsely-accused-of-murdering-his-partner thing. Between the lawyers and losing his job and flat and the relatively high publicity surrounding the whole ordeal … he could barely scrape together the funds to move out here, slim as they were. His bank accounts are dry, his pockets empty. He’s managed to pick up a job in town at a bookshop, but the pay is nowhere near that of his previous job, only enough for the necessary food expenses, property taxes, and the like. Arthur, quite literally, has nowhere else to go.

So when he startles awake in the middle of his second night there to a voice hissing in his ear, “Leave this place,” he swallows, reaches for his earplugs, and lies on his side with his eyes firmly shut until his heartbeat calms down enough to allow him to fall asleep once again.

“That place up on the hill?” the bookshop owner says the next day, raising a thin eyebrow. “Didn’t think they were still letting people live there.”

“Yes, well—I do, and I just … wanted to know if you knew any history about it.”

The bookshop owner—Mr. Abernathy, Arthur recalls—shrugs. “Sure. Been here since the town was built back in … 1795? Something like that. Beautiful place once upon a time. Nobody’s quite sure what happened to it—death, maybe, but nothing that’s on record. Either way, it’s almost certainly cursed.”

“Cursed?”

“Not a single person who’s moved into that house over the past century or so has stayed more than a few months. They hear voices, apparently. Keeps them up at night, wears away at their sanity. Pastor Emanual thinks it could be some sort of demon, but no blessing or exorcism has ever done much good.” Mr. Abernathy eyes Arthur. “If you don’t mind me saying so, it’s in your best interest to move. That place—nobody should live there. Should have been torn down decades ago.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m afraid moving is … not quite an option for me at the moment. I simply wanted some context so that if things do happen, I am prepared to handle them to the best of my ability.”

Mr. Abernathy stares at Arthur a moment more before shrugging and turning away. “All right. Can’t say I didn’t warn you. Can you shelve the new arrivals for me?”

“Certainly.”

As Arthur turns to head further into the bookstore, box in his arms, Mr. Abernathy says, “And Mr. Lester?”

Arthur pauses. “Yes?”

“You’d be wise to wear iron. Keeps the demons at bay.”

Arthur swallows. “I will … take it under advisement, Mr. Abernathy.”

Mr. Abernathy grunts and lets him be. He blessedly says nothing when Arthur slides him a few coins in exchange for a book on spirits and the supernatural. Just in case.

“That isn’t going to help you.”

Arthur is not ashamed to admit that he startles quite badly when the disembodied voice speaks into his ear yet again. He takes a shaky breath, then returns to his task of painting the symbol he’d found in the book on the doorframe in front of him. “Maybe not,” he says, feeling a bit silly as he talks to what is, by all appearances, empty air. “But it can’t hurt either. Besides, this is my house. I can decorate it how I please.”

There’s a long pause. Then, the voice chuckles, low and deep in a way that sends an unwanted shiver down Arthur’s spine. “Is it now?”

“Given that it is my name on the lease, yes, it is.” Arthur dips the paintbrush back into the bucket a touch aggressively, and the pale yellow paint within splatters across his trousers. “Damn.”

The temperature of the air around him drops without warning, and his breath fogs in front of him. “This is my house, not yours. It belongs to me. Leave, now.”

Arthur’s breaths are coming quicker than he’d like, and before he can think about the consequences of such a statement, he snaps, “Make me.”

The air is thick with tension, and Arthur can hardly breathe for it. For a moment, he is sure—absolutely certain—that he is looking at the last few moments of his life. Then, voice tight with ice-cold fury, the thing that haunts his home snarls, “You will regret this, Arthur Lester.”

The tension snaps like a thin rubber band, and Arthur gasps as the pressure on his chest lifts. He stands atop the kitchen chair he’d dragged over in order to paint the sigil, breathing heavily and trying to calm the rapid-fire beating of his heart. His knees feel wobbly, made of jelly. He sinks down to sit on the chair, putting his head in his hands and focusing on slowing his breathing lest he begin to panic in earnest.

That had … perhaps not been wise.

After a full week without incident, Arthur is feeling considerably less panicked and considerably more tired of the situation he’s found himself in.

“I don’t regret it yet,” he says, trying to sound casual as he stirs the soup he’s making. “Not that I’m trying to encourage you to enact your unholy revenge upon me—I like living, actually, and I also like all my body parts and such intact and where they should be—but I just thought I should say it. In case we aren’t on the same page about this.”

It takes almost ten minutes for the spirit to respond. “You are a remarkably irritating man.”

“I’ve been told so once or twice, yes.”

The spirit growls, low enough that it rumbles the floors slightly. “I’m working on it, okay? You think this is easy? I don’t have a fucking body!”

“And you are a remarkably tetchy … whatever it is you are.”

“Well what do you think I am?”

“If I had to guess,” Arthur says, setting his spoon down and retrieving some spices from the cupboard, “I’d say a ghost. Which sounds preposterous, but, well—here we are.”

“Congratulations. Your investigative skills are unparalleled.”

“No need to be rude.”

“There is a need, because I want you to leave.”

“Yes, you said. And I said that I’m still waiting for you to force me out. It appears that we’re at a stalemate.”

“We are not—”

The ghost cuts off with a frustrated noise. “… Fine. So tell me what I have to say to convince you to leave me the fuck alone?”

“I thought you were going to do something. Make me ‘regret it.’ Is that not on the table anymore?”

The ghost’s growl rumbles through the house, and Arthur barely catches the salt shaker before it tips off the counter and onto the floor. “Oh, it is very much still on the table. I just … thought I might be diplomatic first. Give you a chance to leave with your wits and your body intact.”

Arthur sets the salt shaker down on the counter and sighs. “Well, I’m not going anywhere. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t, so you may as well just give up now.”

There’s a pause, long enough that Arthur assumes the ghost has disappeared to wherever it goes when it’s not yelling at him. Then, just as he’s turning off the stove, the ghost says, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why couldn’t you leave?”

“That’s—honestly none of your business.”

“It is my business if you’re going to be staying here.” A pause. “If I’m going to allow you to stay here,” the ghost amends.

“You’re not ‘allowing’ me to do anything. This is my house—I bought it. It’s my name on the lease.”

“And it’s my bones buried underneath the floorboards, which makes it my house.”

That’s a … disquieting image. Arthur tries to put it out of his mind as he begins ladling soup into his bowl. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to share then. It’ll be our house.”

The spirit doesn’t say anything—just growls lowly, like it’s not pleased by the prospect but can’t think of a good argument against it.

“Oh, don’t be like that. It’ll be an adjustment for both of us. You’ll have to get used to having me around, and I’ll have to get used to talking to an invisible, intangible voice that I’m still not entirely convinced isn’t only in my head.”

“I assure you, I am very much real.”

“That is what a voice that’s only in my head would say, so I’m afraid I can’t put much stock in it.”

“You are infuriating. Get out of my fucking house.”

“I told you, I can’t.” Arthur collects his soup and sits down at the kitchen table—a round wooden thing that looks to be centuries old. “This is just how it’s going to be. I don’t suppose you can eat soup, can you? I’ve certainly made enough to share.”

The spirit’s irritated grumbling is answer enough.

Despite what Arthur likes to tell himself, he is not fearless, and despite what others tell him, he does understand how to be cautious and careful. Unfortunately, that does not equate to being any less stubborn or curious or impulsive or any of the other things that usually land him in situations such as this.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” Arthur snaps, trying to hide the fact that he’s fucking terrified underneath a thick mask of anger and frustration.

The voice comes from everywhere all at once. “Oh, Arthur. I did say you would regret it. You just assumed I’d forgotten.”

“No, I assumed we’d come to an agreement! You know, the one where you let me live in peace and I don’t find a way to exorcise you!”

“I recall agreeing to no such thing.”

“Fucking—bastard.” Arthur takes a few steps forward and promptly bangs his shin against something hard and unforgiving. “Fuck! Okay, that’s enough; give me back my sight you asshole.”

The answering chuckle makes Arthur grit his teeth. “No. I still don’t have a body of my own, so I’ve gotten … creative. This will have to do for now.”

“Do for what?”

A pause. “I want to leave this place.”

Arthur is breathing hard, on a knife’s edge between panic and fury. “What?”

“I want,” the spirit repeats, sounding irritated, “to leave this place. Surely that isn’t too difficult a concept for you to understand.”

“After all this about you wanting me to leave, now you do?”

“This is different. I’m not leaving for good; I’m just … stretching my legs, so to speak. If you’re not going to let me exist in peace, the least you can do it help me get out of this fucking house for the first time in centuries. Consider it … rent.”

“Rent?” Arthur says in disbelief. “Fuck you. You don’t own this house, and you do not own my eyes. Give them back.”

“No.” Then, when Arthur’s breathing starts to come quicker and more ragged: “Relax, Arthur. This isn’t permanent. I can choose to leave your body whenever I want, and everything else besides your eyes still belongs to you.”

“Oh, yes, because that’s reassuring. How do I know you’re ever going to leave at all?”

“You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me when I say that I will.”

“Bullshit.”

“Arthur, listen to me. I am fucking tired of this place. Imagine you’re stuck here, year after year, with no body. No way to leave. Nothing to do but linger at the boundary between life and death and try to let yourself fade enough that the days don’t pass by at an agonizing pace. Forgive me if I’m desperate for a change of scenery.”

“Then why try to force me to leave? Surely having somebody around is better than having nobody?”

“I get a bit … territorial.”

Despite everything, Arthur can’t help but laugh at that. “Territorial?”

“My body is attached to this place, Arthur. I’m tied to it. If it burns, I burn. So yes, I’m a little bit fucking territorial.”

The thought crosses Arthur’s mind, just for a moment, that it wouldn’t be difficult at all to find enough petrol to set the entire place alight within minutes. But it’s not a realistic notion. Aside from the fact that he would be well and truly fucked then, with no savings and nowhere to live, he’s not entirely sure what would happen to him with the ghost still attached to his body. Would it be pulled away cleanly, or would it bring his eyes with it? Best not to risk it.

Besides, it’s … it wouldn’t be the same as killing the ghost, not really, given that it’s already dead. But it certainly feels like killing. And despite all their disagreements and the whole … eye situation, that thought doesn’t sit well with Arthur at all.

“Fine. I suppose that makes sense.” Arthur feels his way along the wall to his couch, sitting heavily and running a hand through his hair. “So … what, then? You’re going to use my eyes to see things?”

“Unless you know some other function that they possess.”

Arthur laughs wryly. “Right. Of course, right. This is … fuck. Okay. I have to go to work in a few minutes and I can’t fucking see, but this is … this is fine.”

“Relax. I’ll guide you.”

How do I know you’re not going to run me into doors for the fun of it? Arthur does not say. He doesn’t want to give the ghost ideas.

They’re halfway to town before a thought occurs to him. “If we’re going to be sharing a body, at least for the time being, I’d like to know your name. You know mine; I feel it’s only fair.”

The ghost is quiet for a long moment, long enough that Arthur begins to worry that it’s gone and he has truly, actually lost his sight. Then, quietly: “I don’t remember.”

“You … don’t remember?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” the ghost snaps. Then, after a moment: “When you’ve spent as much time between worlds as I have, things begin to … slip away. Identity, personhood. I remember … very few things about myself. I was a man, I believe; I think I lived alone, though that’s just an extrapolation based on the fact that as far as I know, I’m the only spirit inhabiting the house. Beyond that…”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur says, and he means it.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Still. To not remember anything about oneself? I imagine it’s quite a lonely existence.”

“It … is.”

“Mm. I suppose you’re a John Doe then.”

“A what?”

“Oh, it’s—it’s a moniker given to unidentified individuals, often … deceased ones. John Doe. Sort of a … catch-all name for those who have none.”

The ghost hums. They walk in silence for a few more moments before it—he, Arthur supposes—says, “John.”

“Hmm?”

“My name. You can call me John.”

“Well,” Arthur says, smiling despite the truly unusual situation he’s somehow landed himself in. “It’s nice to meet you, John.”

Things become … not routine after that, but something close to it. For the first week or so afterward, Arthur wakes in a panic, momentarily forgetting his current situation in a haze of I can’t see why can’t I see oh Jesus Christ oh fucking god. John soothes him every time, which is—a bit strange at first, but Arthur gets used to it. He supposes one can get used to anything with enough time and exposure.

He’s able to move around much more deftly than he thought he’d be able to, largely due to John in his ear guiding him around corners and through doors. (Though the third time Arthur stubs his toe on something, accompanied by John’s deep, rumbling laughter, he begins to suspect that this is John’s way of being humorous.) Perhaps it’s because John has only seen the inside of the same house for hundreds of years, or perhaps the man is a poet at heart, but the descriptions Arthur receives of a town he’d perceived as average at best are nothing short of eloquent.

It’s a … surprisingly endearing quality. Equally as surprising is the fact that Arthur feels endeared in the first place by the ghost possessing his eyes. But it’s…

Well.

He likes John. It’s a feeling that grows over the weeks, despite their frequent arguments and the reality of the situation looming over them and the fact that John can really be a right prick when he wants to be. (Though John would tell him that he can be the same. Has told him, in fact. Many times. They should not be memories that Arthur is fond of, but he is.) Arthur gets the impression that, underneath all the snarls and prickliness, John is … longing for something, something he’s scared he may not ever get. Identity, maybe. Or freedom. It comes out when he talks about his history with the house, when they speculate about who he was, when Arthur takes a trip to the local courthouse and spends an afternoon digging through the records in an attempt to find something that sparks recognition within John. (Nothing does, and John leaves the encounter sullen and snappish. Arthur picks up a book that night and has John read it to him, and that becomes folded into their routine as well, another thread in the tapestry of their relationship.)

In their third week together, fifth since Arthur moved into the house, Arthur tells John about why he came here, to Harper’s Hill. He tells him about Parker and the accident and the trials and the near bankruptcy. He’s not sure how he expected John to respond—with a joke? With a half-hearted platitude? With a dismissive comment? He didn’t expect John to say, “I’m … sorry I tried to force you to leave,” more earnest than Arthur’s ever heard him before.

Something in Arthur’s chest tightened at the words, refusing to loosen even as the weeks rolled on.

It all comes together a few months after Arthur moved to Harper’s Hill, when Mr. Abernathy makes a comment about Arthur ‘spending so much time talking to himself.’ Arthur, who had genuinely forgotten that that was something other people might take note of, makes up an excuse about it helping him focus and ignores John’s hissed, Don’t tell him about me! because, Of course I’m not going to tell him about you, John, come off it.

Mr. Abernathy doesn’t look entirely convinced, but all he says before returning to the back storage room is, “You ought to find some friends, Mr. Lester. It can get awfully lonely talking to yourself all the time.”

And when Arthur has to bite back an, I’ve already got a friend, it clicks.

John is his friend. His best friend. They’re closer than perhaps even he and Parker had been, which is … a thought Arthur decides not to linger on, given that Parker’s death is still a bit of a raw subject for him. It’s something Arthur doesn’t put much stock in at first, because as well as they got on once the initial hostility faded, John is still technically possessing his body against his will.

… Is it against his will anymore?

(That’s another thought Arthur tries not to examine too closely.)

Still, he can’t seem to forget about it once it’s occurred to him. So one night after they’ve shut their book—Gulliver’s Travels, which John had picked out from the bookshop after significant needling from Arthur to just pick a fucking book, John, for Christ’s sake—Arthur decides fuck it and broaches the subject. “John, can we … can we have a discussion?”

“Of course,” John says. If he has any indication of what Arthur means, he doesn’t show it in his voice.

“Right. I wanted to talk about … my eyes. Our eyes.”

John’s voice is guarded when he says, “What about them?”

“I’m not—asking you to leave if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried. Why would I be worried? The leaving will be on my terms, not yours.” A pause. “If you’re worried, I assure you, I still have no intentions of making this a permanent situation.”

“Right. No, yes, you’re right—this isn’t permanent.” Arthur laughs, a bit wryly. “Honestly, though, I—I can’t really remember clearly what it was like to be able to see things, it’s been so long. I’ve … grown used to it.”

“Have you.” John doesn’t sound judgmental or skeptical—just a touch curious.

“Yes. I suppose one can get used to anything given the right motivations. But, regardless, that … that wasn’t what I meant either.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I—I suppose I meant that…” Arthur hesitates, considering. This isn’t something he can un-say, and he wants to be sure of it. “I suppose I meant that I am … glad to have met you. We’ve come a long way since our first meeting, I believe, and I … I don’t know. I think we get on well, don’t you?”

“I suppose we do. Arthur, if you are trying to tell me something, would you please just quit dancing around it and just say it?”

“Right, yes, of course. Well, you know that it was … difficult to adjust at first, to not having my sight. There are times when we still don’t quite see eye to eye—er, no pun intended. There are things I miss—not being able to see the sunrise, for example, or needing the illustrations in books described to me—but there are also things I … I have come to appreciate, like the way a book feels when read aloud and the nuances of the sounds around me. And I do mean it when I say that I would rather this not be a permanent situation, I do, but I also…”

“Arthur, for fuck’s sake, just say it.”

“You can have my eyes,” Arthur says, all at once, like an exhalation.

There is a long pause, during which all Arthur can hear is the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears. Then: “What?”

“You can have my eyes,” Arthur repeats, steadier, surer of himself. “If you’d like. Perhaps when we’re here, in the house, I could … we could separate, as you’re able to exist on your own, but for the rest of it … I’m willing to be this for you. Your way to be a part of the world outside of this place.”

“You’re … you’re sure?” John sounds hesitant. “Arthur, this isn’t a decision that you should make lightly. Taking possession of your eyes the first time, it … it took most of my strength. I likely would not be able to do it again by force should you find some way to cast me out. But if you are willing, it…”

John trails off. “If you give me permission,” he says slowly, “I will be able to repossess you any time you are in this house. You cannot take it back. You may … you may come to regret it.”

“Maybe,” Arthur concedes. “Maybe not. But honestly, John, it’s been some time since I felt genuinely disquieted by your presence. Perhaps if you had some control over the rest of my body, I might feel differently, but even if I did come to regret it … my will and actions would still be my own.”

“But not your sight.”

“No, not my sight. In any case, it doesn’t matter, because I don’t believe I’ll regret it.”

“You cannot possibly know that.”

“No, but I know you.”

“Do you? We don’t even know my real name, Arthur. We know nothing about me.”

“I know that you like to read,” Arthur counters. “All kinds of books, but with a particular soft spot for adventure and happy endings. I know that your favorite spot in town is the bluffs overlooking the lake because you like the blue of the water and the way the wind stings your eyes when it’s strong enough. I know that your favorite flavor of ice cream is strawberry because, even though you can’t taste it, you like the color of it, the vibrant pink. I know that you snap when you’re upset or scared and that you regret hurtful things immediately after you say them but double down regardless because sometimes your conviction in yourself is all you have to defend yourself with. I know that you care about other people—the lady who lives next door whose flowers you admire, the elderly woman struggling with her groceries just the other day who you insisted we help, the young boy who nearly fell off the cliffs while chasing after his dog last week and would have done so had we not stopped him in time.

“And,” Arthur says, feeling all at once terribly vulnerable, “I know that you’re my friend. I trust you. You … you mean a lot to me, John. I can only hope that you may feel the same.”

There are a few beats of silence, during which Arthur worries his thumbs along the edges of the book pages. Then, softly: “You are my friend as well, Arthur. If you’re sure about this—"

“I am.”

“—then … all right.”

Arthur isn’t quite sure how to describe what happens then—a tingling feeling deep in his skull, a sensation not unlike that of falling off a very tall cliff. Then, between one blink and the next, his world—for so long nothing but nothingness—explodes into color so bright he’s blinded by it.

“Ah!” Arthur presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, but he can still see the light-shadow of the lamplight burned into his corneas. “Fucking hell, John.”

John chuckles, low and rumbling. “My apologies.”

“You might at least try to sound more convincing,” Arthur grouses. “Fuck. Where’s the switch? For the lamp.”

“To your left—no, your other left, Arthur. A bit higher—yes, you’ve got it.”

The lightbleed from behind his eyelids vanishes as he flicks the lamp off. Arthur tentatively opens his eyes again to darkness—not pure black like has been his reality for the past few months, but close enough that it’s familiar.

“Well?” John says. His voice sounds like it’s coming from everywhere at once yet also like he’s speaking directly into Arthur’s ear. It’s exactly the same as it’s always been, like nothing has changed at all, and Arthur smiles.

“Come on,” he says, standing up and heading toward the door that leads to the porch, where he knows John will be able to follow. “Let’s go look at the stars. Perhaps you can describe them to me.”

“But you’ll be able to see them yourself.”

“True.”

“Then why—”

“Humor me.” Arthur opens the door and steps out onto the porch. He sits on a wooden swinging bench set up near the edge, padded with worn pillows. They’d bought them second-hand a few weeks after John became Arthur’s eyes, so he’s never seen the faded, cherry-red hue in person. It’s somehow duller than he’d expected, and he doesn’t think it’s a consequence of the faintness of the moon and starlight. “Well?”

John sighs, in that exasperated way that Arthur knows by now hides fondness. “Fine. Above us lies the night sky, black at its center and tinged blue around the horizon where the light of the sun still bleeds into it. The stars are many, forming glittering white constellations that overlap one another and create an impression not unlike that of a river, or perhaps an ocean. To our left, a purple nebulous cloud can be seen, glowing a pale yellow near its center, like there is a great storm brewing somewhere deep in the cosmos. To our right lies…”

As John continues to speak, describing the world around him like it’s something wondrous, Arthur closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and smiles.

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #malevolentfantasyweek #my writing #my fic

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phanfictioncatalogue · 1 year

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Fics With Titles that Start With V (2) Masterlist

part one

Valentines Day - danalingphil

Summary: Dan and Phil comforting each other when they’re both single on Valentines.

Valentine’s Day Baking - stuckinyourfreakshow

Summary: Dan and Phil decided to do another baking video and things got a little messy.

Valentine’s Desires - jilliancares

Summary: Phil knows that what Dan really wants is a rim job.

vampires will never hurt you (ao3) - howellesterfics

Summary: Dan is embarrassed by his mistake of a Halloween costume, but not everybody has such negative feelings towards it.

Vandalism - mairieuxes

Summary: There’s a desk. And there’s a class. It’s more than enough to help two bored students find a distraction. And maybe, even something more.

vanilla softserve sort of day (ao3) - zsunsetz

Summary: dan doesn't want to go outside today, but when his best friend and crush phil lester turns up at his doorstep...well, he had to change his plans a little

Variety (ao3) - omgdatphantho

Summary: Phil makes it clear that variety in the bedroom doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Various Shades of Grey - camisadan

Summary: Phil loves halloween, but probably not for the reasons you'd expect.

vegas lights - softiejace

Summary: 2012 is not going as planned, but phil still takes dan to vegas for his 21st birthday, the city that is said to hold adventure, risk and fortune – and maybe a flimsy hope for conciliation?

Velvet Underworld (ao3) - Cadensaurus

Summary: So Dan finds out he thinks neko outfits are pretty cute, and Phil buys one for him, and there's toying and teasing and a whole new side of Phil that Dan never knew existed.

Venice: City Of Dreams (ao3) - expiredlove

Summary: Dan and Phil are on holiday in Venice, Italy, with two of their best friends. They discover the city with their unprofessional tour guide Phil and end their day with a romantic stop at the Accademia Bridge, which is known for its so called love locks.

VETSCO à gogo (ao3) - sierraadeux

Summary: The guy is just really hot, and maybe Dan’s also a bit concerned he’s going to fall with all the times he’s watched him wiggle and wobble on seemingly unsteady limbs. He never does, or at least he hasn’t yet, but Dan would like to think he’s got his back if he ever does.

the twitch streamer who just can't seem to get his roller skating neighbor out of his mind

Vice Versa - phancyphanfiction

Summary: Phan gets outed.

Vidcon Surprises - dxnhowell

Summary: Dan and Phil are in a secret relationship. Phil is worried that they’re relationship will be outed when they hang out with the other youtubers. Louise spots Dan and Phil kissing and shows the others the picture they took and they have to decide what they want to do, if they should tell Dan and Phil that they know of their relationship.

Video Games - dxnhowell

Summary: Dan always wins when they play video games together. But for once, Phil wanted to make sure that he wins. He tries to distract Dan by touching his neck because Dan hates it.

Visionary - thespianhowell

Summary: As much as Dan loves how Phil looks in glasses, sometimes they are less than ideal.

Visions, Voice, Person: The Soulmate Process (ao3) - Star4545

Summary: Visions, Voice, Dreams lead up to meeting your soulmate. Dan is a West End actor and Phil is teacher leaving them to busy schedules, but they work it out. They are soulmates after all.

voice on the radio (ao3) - overcastphan

Summary: Dan should be old enough to know not to fall in love with the voice on the radio.

Vocal Rest - dxnhowell

Summary: Dan and Phil had just finished tatinof, unfortunately... Dan lost his voice so he’s been on vocal rest. Dan just wants to get work done, and Phil wishes his boyfriend would just relax for a moment.

vows (ao3) - lionkid

Summary: Phil works as a video producer for Buzzfeed UK. Dan, a coworker he's not particularly fond of, comes up with a video idea: two single people have to act married for a week. He just so happens to volunteer to 'marry' Dan.

Based on Buzzfeed's "Single people get married for a week" series.

Vulnerable (ao3) - prettysweet

Summary: Phil got his girlfriend pregnant then she left him with the child and Dan is too kind to leave Phil to raise the child by himself.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phan #phanfiction #phanfic #masterlists #ficsv masterlist #ficsv

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lebenspurpur · 3 years

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{slashers x fem reader who has a blood kink? sorry if this is against ur boundaries u don’t have to if ur uncomfy!!!} submitted by anon but I accidentally deleted the original ask because I am an idiot.

Also darling, you're fine, all my boundaries got destroyed years ago.

Warnings: blood (duh), knives, a lot of cutting, mentions of self-harm and necrophilia.

Also a female reader this time.

Michael Myers

Oh Michael loves it.

Blood always gets this man going, I think we've established that.

Wait a second.

You want to cut him? *slowly backs off*

Yeah, he doesn't necessarily trust you with a knife.

Michael doesn't mind the pain, his pain endurance is way too high for that. It's just that cutting him would be a dominant action. And Michael really doesn't want to give you dominance.

He'll let himself get cut if he can cut you.

Michael is all for period sex if that's your thing. Be careful though, he is not going to be soft just because you're sensitive.

Michael just thrives off of the fact that, not only are you shedding blood, you're very sensitive and you're in pain as well.

A pure sadist, this man.

Vincent Sinclair

Blood? Doesn't that involve you getting hurt?

Vincent is skeptical.

He really, really doesn't want you to get hurt.

It would turn you on?

Hm.

Let's test it first.

Vincent will be very slow and careful, stopping as soon as he thinks something's wrong.

You have to reassure him to get going quite a lot.

After he realizes what effect blood has on your body, he overthinks it again and then consents.

He's going to create a new and very special safe word for this, just in case he ever really hurts you.

He himself doesn't really mind getting cut, as long as it makes you happy. This man would do anything for your happiness.

To be quite honest, Vincent loves the marks you leave on him. He looks at them in the mirror the next morning, a bashful grin painting his handsome features. I am so soft for Vincent please.

Period sex? Are you sure you're not in pain during that?

Vincent isn't grossed out by body fluids, but he won't go down on you during your time of the month.

His problem with period sex is that you're already hurting and he doesn't want to cause further harm.

He's perfectly fine with just fingering you and receiving blowjob though he can do without those if you don't want to until you're off your period again.

Vincent would literally do anything for you and I'm not kidding.

Bo Sinclair

"Woah there sugar... didn't think you'd be into that."

He's a bit surprised in the beginning.

Period sex is a no for him, don't even bring it up. He'll probably vomit already at the word period.

Him cutting you is totally fine and he likes that if you're fine with it.

However him getting cut is not going to happen.

To make it up to you, he can fuck you after he just killed a victim.

He'll thrust into you, fresh dark-red splashes of blood painted on his face.

"Do you like that? Knowing that I fucking killed a guy and then immediately came in here to fuck the shit outta you? I bet'cha do sugar."

Lester Sinclair

B-..blood?

Lester is pretty concerned until you explain it a bit better.

After that he's still concerned.

Hmm, how about animal blood?

Lester just doesn't want to be in pain and he doesn't want to put you in pain.

If you're fine with non-human blood then he's very relieved, having been scared that you'll leave him.

Please reassure your feelings for him or he's going to worry for months now.

Baby Firefly

She's a bit astonished in the beginning. She just didn't expect that from you, out of all people.

But, being a part of the Firefly family, she's totally down for it!

She'll gladly pepper you in little cuts and then suck at them. Baby loves using her tongue on you anyway so it's a win-win situation.

She's also very open for period sex. After all, she's done worse than eat someone out during their time of the month.

Baby is the best at aftercare. She'll make you a hot bubble bath, clean the cuts and she got sparkly pink band-aids for the both of you!

Otis Driftwood

Did you just say blood? *drags you to his torture room*

Otis... is so down for this.

Can he.. like carve his name into your body?

Oh and can he take a picture of you?

Can he take a picture of you next to a corpse?

You just wanted to see him bloody, god damnit.

Period sex is not something he'd insist on doing but he'll never say no to fucking you.

Billy Loomis

You want to do what?

Billy has never heard of a blood kink before. It reminds him of his love for the red substance though.

The only difference is that he doesn't use real human blood.

It takes a lot of coaxing but after a while he might be okay with cutting you a little bit..

After seeing how much you enjoy it, he might let you cut him too.. but not too deep!

Billy would also really enjoy fucking you after coming home from a kill. He'd be drenched in blood, the red fluid clinging to his chest and slowly smearing onto your back.

He smirks as he spreads the red fluid on your perky nipples, watching you throw your head back and moan shamelessly.

Stu Macher

Sure, why not?

Stu is an incredibly adventurous person, even when it comes to sex.

You trust him and he trusts you so where's the problem?

I don't think Stu would actively enjoy a blood kink but he's not going to say no since you asked him so nicely.

The pure facts that you're getting so aroused from a simple liquid is enough to make him turn feral anyway.

Who needs blood when you can have Y/N begging on her pretty, little knees for your cock?

Brahms Heelshire

"No."

"But-"

"I said no."

Yeah no, blood scares him.

It will need a lot of coaxing to even get him to try it.

I don't think he'd like it very much.

But Brahms will gladly kill the grocery-boy for you if you'd like to see him drenched in someone's blood.

Thomas Hewitt

Blood? Sweetheart, what if you get hurt?

He'll gently cradle your face in his big palms, searching for sincerity in your eyes.

Upon finding it, he'll nod and ask you to explain it to him again.

He'll try it for you. If you're going out of your way to ask this of him, he has to try it in his opinion.

He doesn't like the act of cutting to get either your or his blood and he'd rather have the blood to be his.

Tommy is a big, strong man. He can take a few small cuts.

But you're his tiny, sweet Y/N, he can't cut you?!

So yeah, to get him to cut you will be quite a quest.

As soon as he sees your reaction to blood, he blushes, desire clouding in his brown eyes.

Maybe this is a good idea after all.

He'd still have you or him covered in animal blood, rather than human blood.

Thomas doesn't care if you're on your period or not, but he'll immediately stop when you're in pain.

Just relax Y/N, he'll go get a towel and then he'll take care of his "little problem".

Josef

Blood? But why?

Okay, for you, he might try.

He enjoys it more than he originally thought.

Blood has an important meaning to him too and to see it spread all over your pretty body.. just does things to him.

Period sex is not his thing.

I don't even think he knows how periods work.

Amanda Young |TW SELF HARM|

Amanda has heard about blood kinks before and you can not change my mind.

She's down to try it if you both feel comfortable.

However, Amanda has had struggles with self-harm in her past and would therefore prefer you getting cut.

She just doesn't like willingly adding new scars to her collection.

There's something so arousing about you licking her bloody fingers clean, she can't help but press her thighs together.

Period sex?

She isn't the biggest fan of that idea but fingering you is not a problem to her.

She's kind of confused since her cramps are too painful to get aroused during her period.

Her aftercare is also very good. Amanda always has bandages and band-aids stacked away somewhere and she knows how to deal with the wounds she's left

#slashers x reader #slashers headcannons #michael myers x redaer #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #baby firefly x reader #otis driftwood x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #josef x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #amanda young x reader

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aggravatetheaxe · 3 years

Note

Hey! Saw your post and saw you said you were upsettie spaghetti so I wanted to cheer you up!

Slashers who stop everything they’re doing because their “My S/O needs me” senses are tingling and go to their rescue to comfort their angry s/o?

I was hoping to come up with A way for you to get your emotions out through your writing- 😅

Hope you feel better! 🖤

I've never done a post in this style before so hopefully I do okay! I think I covered pretty much all the slashers I write for so far (I didn't do Billy Lenz because I still need to read the novelization). I may have gone way overboard, so if I do these in the future, I'll probably just pick a few instead of doing the whole roster 😅 (or you can pick for me). But doing this much work did distract me!

Above the cut:

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Included below the cut:

Michael Myers (OG)

Jason Voorhees

Leslie Vernon

Thomas Hewitt

Bubba Sawyer

Brahms Heelshire

Erik ("The Phantom")

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC slasher)

Kathleen Montgomery (OC slasher)

Masterlist

***

Bo Sinclair

Despite being autistic, Bo is very in tune with peoples auras and body language. He has to be to manipulate and deceive people with any modicum of success. He's trained himself when it comes to these things; even besides masking or manipulation, he needed to be keenly aware of when his parents were in Bad Moods so he could either avoid them or prepare himself.

The mood he's probably best at when it comes to this, for those reasons, is anger. He can smell anger a mile away. So if you're fuming, you better believe he notices.

At first he's annoyed and will demand to know what your problem is. He's not a very tolerant person, and he can be a bit of a hypocrite. He's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but when it comes to others having big, messy feelings ... he's not so comfortable with that. He gets overwhelmed.

Once he realizes that this is more than an attitude problem, he'll take it much more seriously. And assuming you're not mad at him, he'll want the rundown on the whole situation from beginning to end. He wants all the dirt.

He'll let you rant, and honestly, he'd think you being this angry (when it's not directed at him, but even still sometimes) is kind of sexy. And don't expect him to shut his mouth, either; he'll be ranting right along with you, affirming you and insulting whomever/whatever you're angry about.

He doesn't wanna cuddle. He genuinely thinks you can't cuddle anger away. He'll put on some loud-ass music and let you vent your frustration however you prefer. Maybe suggest a long drive down to the lake or into town or just ... picking a direction and going. He has fantasies of running away from his anger sometimes. He knows how it is.

Depending on what you're angry about, it could definitely get to the point where he's angrier about the situation than you are. And if it really hurt you, he will not let it go as long as he lives. The best he will ever do is maintain a grudging neutrality or distance from the person/situation that made you angry.

He's very protective. If you're angry at someone you need to maintain a relationship with, you're going to have to keep an eye on Bo to make sure he doesn't deliver revenge for you behind your back. If it's something he can solve, he'll do it, so if you don't want him running his mouth, watch him.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent is in the same boat as Bo when it comes to sensing auras, though his handle on body language and facial expressions is not as keenly honed. While Vincent was not physically abused as brutally or as often as Bo, this wasn't because of some sterling quality he had that Bo lacked. He was always The Good One because he saw what his parents did to The Bad One and knew he needed to protect himself. He tried not to do anything that might provoke his parents.

You can feel anger before a fight like you smell ozone before a storm. Vincent is attuned to the feeling not just because of his parents but because of Bo's temper, too. Because of this, like Bo, he can very accurately sense anger in particular.

His initial reaction is to observe you, gauging if you need time to cool off. If you need space, Vincent is the Sinclair for you. He's used to being quiet and deflecting and riding out anger.

However, once he realizes that your anger is not directed at him or isn't explosive enough to become a problem for him, he's concerned. Rather than asking what happened, he will ask if you're okay, and leave it up to you whether you'll tell him about it or not.

If you vent, he'll sit and listen patiently, maybe even thoughtfully working on a sculpture while you rant. He's not judgemental and he can be very emotional himself, so you could say the most ridiculous, dramatic things and he wouldn't even bat an eye. Let out all your messy, destructive thoughts and feelings. Just try not to throw or punch anything; that's when he shuts down.

If you decide you just want comfort, or decide you need comfort after ranting, art is his first suggestion. It may seem cold to you at first, that his instinct isn't to hold you or kiss you but rather to redirect you to a project - once you got to know him, however, you'd know that's his most genuine way to show he cares. Redirecting to something creative calms him down more than platitudes ever could, and he wants that for you. He's nonjudgmental about the art you create as well, even if it's objectively terrible. It's not about the quality.

He won't turn you down if you need physical affection, however. His twin is extremely tactile, so it wouldn't be the first time he held someone after a breakdown. He prefers to do this if he's certain you won't lash out physically, but if you were in a really bad way and needed to be touched, he'd do it regardless.

Lester Sinclair

Lester witnessed his parents' anger, but it was usually indirectly; if Bo was the Bad One and Vincent was the Good One, he was the Overlooked One. He's not a perfect person, probably not even a good person, but of the three brothers, he's the most normally socialized. He isn't trained to be tuned into everyone's every shifting mood in order to survive.

It takes Lester a little longer to pick up on your anger than his brothers, but not too much longer. It takes him a couple tries at trying to talk to you or get your attention before he realizes something is really wrong.

His first reaction is to get upset. He soaks up emotions like a little sponge, so he's suddenly cranky, too. He also jumps to conclusions and assumes that you're angry with him, and he does not take rejection well. He might be bitter and passive aggressive. You being angry just makes him want to go in another room and not be around you, and yet at the same time, he wants your reassurances. It's messy and sad.

Once he realizes - either through observing you or through you communicating with him - that you're mad at another person or situation, then he'll feel comfortable enough to approach you and ask you about it. You'll definitely need to reassure him that you're not mad at him though.

If you wanna rant, he'll take you on a long drive and let you vent your heart out to him. He won't be quite as aggressive as Bo, but he'll be on your side, frowning with disapproval, telling you "Ya can't fix stupid." If you want only comfort or need comfort after venting, he feels much more equipped for that. He'll put something relaxing in the VHS or let you play his old Super Nintendo, get you a beer, just let you chill out. And he'll let you win at Doctor Mario.

If the situation is something really serious, you best believe he'll be talking to his brothers about it the second he gets a chance. He may be a sweet guy, but he can be real nasty, and he doesn't fuck around when it comes to you. You might have to keep an eye out to make sure he doesn't tell someone off or punch out someone's lights.

Michael Myers (OG)

In 1978, Michael is not very in tune with any emotions besides fear, and even then he only really understands it in an abstract way, as his condition and upbringing haven't really been conducive to him learning about emotions. Unless you're screaming in terror, have tears running down your face, or are shouting angrily, he really can't read your moods. Without any obvious change to how you normally act or look, there's a huge chance he might just not notice if you're angry. He spends a lot of time in his own little world.

In 2018, even though he's spent over 50 years institutionalized, Michael has had time to take in the world, and he's seen a lot more. He understands fear much more than he did when he was 21, but what he understands most of all is anger. His anger fuels him. He would pick up on yours right away and be curious, though he wouldn't verbalize it.

If you tell him how you feel, he'll take note of it. If he witnesses you doing something destructive because of your anger, he'll simply observe. He would be fascinated with this thing you're doing, because it's not something you normally do, and though he might not notice emotions, he certainly notices routine and pattern. Either way, you'll have to tell him how you feel, because he'll simply watch you otherwise.

One thing that can be said for Michael is that he's a good listener. He may not internalize everything you say, but he will remember what he thinks is important. You may be surprised; he may remember tiny little details that seem inconsequential to you but loom large in his mind.

Unless you were caused serious physical or mental harm, he would not be angry on your behalf. He would, however, do nothing to assuage your anger. He thinks it would be kinda neat and interesting to see you snap. He's not 100% sure why you don't just do it.

In 1978, he won't be much help beyond listening to you, but he would be curious to see what you do to vent your anger. You may find him by your side more often, observing you. He may also want to find and observe the object of your anger, especially if it's a person. In 2018, he would, in his own way, suggest you solve the problem by murdering someone/something. He's insatiable, but killing is the closest he's ever come to satisfaction. You should try it.

Jason Voorhees

Out of all of the slashers, Jason is the most likely to actually literally sense your anger, especially if you're psychically sensitive/powerful like Tina Shepard. I'm talkin'—assuming you have a pre-established relationship—he'll be doing something else and just get this itch that tells him you're out there somewhere, pissed off.

Obviously this is untenable. As long as he's not super busy or Pamela has other plans, Jason will stomp his way through the woods to get back to you, regardless of the urgency of your anger. If Pamela doesn't approve, well, he'll let a little anger go and assume you're okay. If he suspects you may be in danger, though, he's sprinting regardless of what Mom says. There's time for both things, Ma!

The first thing he'll do when he returns to you is scan your dwelling, then you, making sure nothing is broken. At that point, you'd probably be able to sense his confusion even without him signing. Jason doesn't experience emotions quite like a human anymore, and he's quite tactile besides, so a lack of tangible or visible clues as to why you're upset would trip him up for a second.

He doesn't want to comfort you at first, he wants to know what's wrong. He'll listen to you vent only long enough to understand the situation and identify his target. His immediate next move would be to eliminate the problem. You'll definitely have to hold him back, and it may take a bit of convincing. Earthly consequences don't really apply to him.

Before comfort comes blowing off steam, for you and for him. His first choices would be mangling some trees (you can pretend it's for firewood) or skipping/throwing stones into the lake. You're welcome to join him if those things calm you down; watching him get his stone to skip like 11 times on Crystal Lake may make you feel better, at least.

You might hang out there for hours before he suddenly decides it's time to go home. He'll do what he can to make your comfortable or stay out of your way while you make yourself comfortable, then comfort you as you please. His go-to choice is always foot or hand massages.

Leslie Vernon

Leslie is extremely observant and surprisingly analytical given how silly he is in the day to day. His intuition makes it pretty easy for him to read people, but especially you, since you two are so close. Especially-especially if you're his Survivor Girl (gender neutral term of course). You two are in sync, so he knows if something's up. Maybe even before you fully figure it out.

God, you're so hot when you're angry, you really are. He almost wants to let you scream and holler and go nuts. But he prefers you only get angry like that at him, especially if you're his Survivor Girl, so his first move is to comfort you or talk you down to a place where you can be comforted. He'll speak to you calmly and rationally, reassuring you and touching you if you wanna be touched—on your upper arms or shoulders or face, or with one arm around your back.

He doesn't just want to comfort you, though, he wants to calm you down enough that you can tell him what happened. Even if you claim you don't want to talk about it, he will coax it out of you eventually. He's gotta know what got you so upset. It's his business to know everything about you!

Assuming you're angry at someone/something that isn't him, he'll talk it through with you. If you're upset about an argument with someone, he has the capacity to see it from the other side, but ultimately, he's there for you. He'll let you bitch as much as you want, still touching you, and he'll be disgusted and/or disappointed with the situation.

Above all, though, what he wants is to see you smile again. The only worries on your mind should be the ones he comes up with, and man, he's not even halfway done grooming the next batch of unlucky teenagers. He'd pat your face or touch your hair and tell you to cheer up, and probably defuse the situation with a stupid quip or joke. Take you out somewhere fun, maybe.

Once you were cheered up, he'd humbly suggest you solve your problem with a little murder. "I mean, I know killing's not really your thing—you're really good at it, though, a talent! You know that..." Pause, considering you. "You want me to do it? 'Cause I can clear my schedule for the rest of the night." If you decline, he'd be like "Suit yourself" but may or may not still murder whoever upset you. If you agree, he'd be super excited to make a romantic night of it. His mind would be going a million miles an hour planning everything out.

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy knows anger when he sees it. Not only does he have loads of internalized anger, he's been on the receiving end of it plenty. He's far too large to be scared of anyone in a physical sense anymore, but he's been shouted at countless times. To know when to shut up and do as he's told versus arguing back, he's learned to gauge intensity and direction of anger, and he well knows that anger can be redirected to him.

So, he instantly recognizes your mood, but it might be a while before he approaches you. When he does approach, he'll let you decide what to do, whether that's throwing your arms around him or banging your fists on his chest to vent your anger. You won't hurt him.

Eventually, once you're all hugged or cried or screamed out, he'll wrap his arms around you and give you a reassuring squeeze. There's no need to tell Tommy what's wrong—he won't ask unless you're obviously in serious distress or injured—but if you decide to speak, he'll listen, brows drawn tightly the whole time. He's thoughtful about the situation.

If you're mad at someone in his family, there isn't much he can do for you besides comfort you and assure you that whoever upset you—Hoyt, probably—didn't mean what they said. If you were hurt physically, it would be another story, but his family gets in shouting matches all the time.

Rather than offering help, he'd wait for you to request it of him. Whatever you ask, shy of hurting his family, he will do. Murder someone? No problem. Make you some food? You got it. Bring you a blanket? Sure. Give you some quiet alone time? That's fine, too.

If you need to vent, he's got plenty of ways to get out your frustration. Plenty of farm work to do, or you could work on something around the house with him. He might suggest knitting or sewing or some other handicraft you enjoy. It always makes him feel better to buckle down and use his hands for something.

If you're still preoccupied/upset by the time you two bed down, or heaven forbid the next morning, then he starts taking it more seriously. Something that disturbs you for that long is bad news. He'll watch you carefully the next couple days to see how you're doing, waiting for you to need him for something.

Bubba Sawyer

Like Tommy, Bubba has been on the receiving end of anger many, many times, so he's familiar with what it looks and feels like. Despite his size, he's still susceptible to physical violence at the hands of his loved ones, so he's very wary of anger.

However, he doesn't have a female presence in his life like Luda Mae, who expresses her anger through passive aggression—so, he's more used to shouting and screaming. If you aren't prone to screaming and shouting, it might take a little bit for him to realize you're not just sad or upset, you're angry.

Bubba will be over you. He'd give anyone else their space because he'd be afraid of retaliation, but you're his special person, and he's pretty sure you're not going to hurt him. He'll touch your hair, your arms, your wrists; he'll babble as he tries to figure out what's wrong. He just wants to comfort you and let you know everything is all right.

If it's too much or you're overwhelmed and you snap at him, he'll ease back. He'll blubber like a kicked puppy, but he won't give up. He'll still try to comfort you, just in other ways, such as getting you a comfort item or article of clothing, or maybe some food. And boy will he helicopter.

There's no need to tell Bubba what's wrong. In fact, it might be better if you didn't; if it's something he can't fix, it would do nothing but majorly stress him out. If it was one of his family members who upset you, as with Tommy, he wouldn't be able to do much. Even if you were hurt, he's just not in a position to stand up for you. That fact would absolutely kill him, though. He'd end up getting even more upset than you.

He doesn't know what help to offer you beyond comfort, but like Tommy, if you requested something specific, he'd try to carry out your wishes. He'll also try to cheer you up with some music and dancing, or just being silly like you like.

Need to blow off steam? He's got plenty of coping mechanisms! Bubba's idea of a perfect de-stress session is turning up the radio and getting lost in crafts. He's got lots of supplies, mostly to create clothing and accessories, and you're special, so you can have your pick. A drive and the radio might be nice, too. If neither of those appeal to you, he'll try cooking or baking with you. He loves sharing the kitchen with someone.

If none of that works and you're still upset, be prepared, because he's gonna be an anxious mess until you're better.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is somewhat familiar with other people's anger. He certainly has a whole fountain of internalized anger brewing just beneath the surface, but that's different. He knows that when Mummy is angry, she yells and cries, and when Daddy is angry, he seethes and stews. The former would be obvious to him, but the latter would take him a few minutes to be quite sure about. You're not acting how you usually do. Are you being stern or are you angry? Are you cross with him?

He does not have a lot of empathy for other people, so if your anger gets in the way of his routine or the attention he wants, he'll be irked, cranky, sad. Not necessarily at you—though that is possible—but the situation in which you find yourselves.

Much like Bo, he's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but it makes him uncomfortable and scared when other people have those feelings. He might even hide from you for a while, especially if you screamed and cried.

Once he realizes something is really wrong and you're not mad at him, however, he'll start thinking of ways to cheer you up so things can go back to normal. He hates having his routine interrupted; he's very particular. And he cares for you, so seeing you in distress is very scary and uncomfortable for him.

He'll start by fetching you something you like—something manageable for him like your favorite juice or a sandwich, or if you have a special item or article of clothing, that. He's quite shy, though, and like I said, he'll probably be hiding, so he'll leave it somewhere he knows you'll find it (on the bed, outside your door, on your desk, etc.)

If that doesn't calm you down and your anger is really getting in the way of his routine, or otherwise making him uncomfortable, he'll finally make an appearance. Very bashful and timid at first, using his little boy voice. "What's wrong, Y/N? Did something bad happen?"

If it's something that can't be helped, he'll suggest you do something together to take your mind off it (most likely something he likes to do). He may even be coaxed into taking a walk around the grounds, though he doesn't like to leave the manor at all, so you'd have to convince him. He prefers quiet playtime, maybe some coloring books or loud music to vent your emotions. It would intrigue him to see someone else use his toys to calm down. As long as you recognized he was being very nice, sharing them.

If it was an argument you had with someone, he would want more information. Are they likely to leave you alone, or will they come to the manor? Will he have to deal with them? Because it's scary, but he'll do it for you.

If, for some reason, none of those things work, he may cry or throw a fit. Either way, he'll be frustrated. Adult Brahms may make an appearance and try to help you in more Adult ways.

Erik

Though he lives five cellars beneath an opera house now, Erik hasn't always been entirely reclusive. Even these days, when he can stomach it, he sometimes goes out to see the world. As a younger man, he observed people's lives and moods with a hungry fascination (that has now mostly been replaced by melancholy and longing and bitter anger). Like several of the other slashers here, he's had to train himself to sense fury to protect himself. He's also incredibly wrathful, so you could call him an expert!

He has a very keenly honed sense when it comes to you specifically, since he's watched you so much. He notices the change in your demeanor immediately.

If you know him as the "Angel of Music," his voice will appear to you once you're alone, asking you what's wrong and assuring you you can confide in him—he will insist you tell him, though. "There are to be no secrets between us, Y/N." He will listen without interjection as you vent your heart out, and when you're done, soothe you. Don't let his calming voice deceive you, though; behind that mirror, he's seething, planning to take matters into his own hands.

If you know him as Erik, he will go to you the second he recognizes the shift in your mood and take you from what you're doing, regardless of your wishes. He'll sit you down, kneeling before you with your hands in his, and gaze into your eyes, imploring you to tell him what's wrong. He'll absolutely allow you physical comfort, but he will also absolutely insist you tell. He'll need reassurance that you're not angry at him, because that thought would break his heart.

He will let you vent however you wish. You could have the most dramatic breakdown ever—throwing things, beating your fists on his chest, wailing—and he wouldn't judge you. He would be awfully concerned, though.

Will be 110% on your side. You are his poor little meow meow. "My poor love, my poor Y/N!" He is beside himself with sympathy for you and you only, and is very offended on your behalf.

He will always suggest music as an outlet for your anger, but he will have taken note of your other hobbies and interests as well. He'll fetch your things for you without being asked, as long as it won't separate him from you for very long. If you'd rather just have comfort, that's fine, too. He could hold your hand and caress your face for hours on end under normal circumstances, so no problem there. He may also suggest a little time on the surface, if you normally live in his home. Fresh air will do you both good, he reasons, and he enjoys spending time with you where others can witness it. It fills him with pride and love.

Otherwise, he's at your service for any other soothing activities you need. A calming bath, some sweets, shopping, anything. Perhaps avoid asking for any sexual contact, however. First of all, being asked directly makes him very skittish and nervous; second of all, his method of love-making (when you can coax him) is very intimate and tender, which may be tedious if you're in an angry mood.

Unless the situation is extremely serious or dire, his first priority is making sure you're soothed. Once that duty is fulfilled, however, he is absolutely angrier about it than you are. If it's not that serious, he won't skip straight to killing, if only because he knows it upsets you. He will definitely be writing an extremely strongly worded letter, however. If someone slighted you seriously, they're getting threatened. If someone hurt you physically, they're meeting the Punjab lasso.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Deacon definitely knows when people are angry. His step-mom was a passive-aggressive laundry-folder and his dad was a storming out of the house kinda guy; when the two of them were together, they were all hushed but heated arguments at night when they thought he couldn't hear them, or else extremely embarrassing passive-aggressive arguments in public. Growing up, he found himself around a lot of angry people. And there's no shortage of anger in him, either.

So yeah, Deacon knows when people are pissed, and he knows when people are pissed at him. The thing is, he just thinks it's fucking hilarious. He was that kid that would goad peers and teachers just to be an asshole and had virtually no friends as a result. He's a menace on the internet, too: a horrible troll for no reason, stirring the pot even when he doesn't have a stake in the argument. He's trained himself to find people's weak spots so he can strike at them. He does it to make himself feel more in control of his life and his own anger.

So when you're ticked off, he's gonna notice the change immediately. If you made a vent post on social media, he probably knows you're angry before you even see him. He follows all your social media (even if you don't realize it) and checks it constantly. He'd call you out of curiosity to ask what happened. He's open about his stalking tendencies: "I saw your post, babe, who do I need to stab?"

If you otherwise come home angry, he'll be up on his feet, following you around the house and pestering you, trying to get you to tell him what's wrong. If you try to hug him, he won't push you away, but he'll be distracted, trying to needle answers out of you the whole time.

There's no question in his mind as to whether or not you're angry at him. He just assumes you're not; he has a pretty good handle on how you act when you're angry at him specifically.

He'll let you rant all day if you want. You could talk about the shit that's pissed you off for hours and he'd still listen. Outwardly, he might poke you a bit and play devil's advocate for the other side of the argument, if there is one. This is purely for the purposes of being a little shit.

Internally, he's already going down his pre-murder checklist. If it was someone at work, they're dead. Someone in the neighborhood, dead. Online? It'll take a couple days, but they're dead. Even if you're not angry at anyone in particular, just a situation, he'll find someone to menace. He'd walk through fire for your approval.

He's not good with soft, emotional comfort, so instead he'll try to think of something to help you let off steam. His go-to is something competitive, especially if it involves you chasing each other. A Nerf or water gun war, a PVP game with you on opposite sides. He'll put up a good fight, but you always kick his ass.

Once the immediate situation is addressed and you've ranted your heart out to him, he can't keep his hands off you. "Seeing you all pissed off drives me crazyyyyyy." He's grinning, brown eyes sparkling. "Come onnnnn ... I'll get it off your mind!"

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC)

Courtney is a hunter of all manner of game, so he's used to interpreting non-verbal cues and body language—when an animal is in distress, when an animal is about to attack, etc. His grandfather was a very angry man, as well, in a simmering sort of way. He would seethe about something before suddenly delivering one decisive strike. Courtney himself is not a particularly angry man, unless some prey is really giving him a hard time, but he can read your body.

If you come home angry, he'll stop in the middle of what he's doing and watch you, still and quiet, just confirming his suspicions. If you leave the room he's in to go collapse on the sofa or something, he'll follow you, looming over you and waiting for you to tell him what's wrong. He's patient.

If you want to vent, he'll sit and listen thoughtfully, doing something with his hands while you speak—probably cleaning his gun or some other weapon. He doesn't look at you. He wouldn't demand greater context to the situation but he would ask "Why?" and "Who?" until he understood Enough.

If you want comfort, he'll sprawl on the couch and let you lay on top of him. He'll probably pull a blanket on top of you to try and encourage a nap. If the nap doesn't make you feel better, he's feeding you protein. Do you like homemade jerky?

Sex is also on the table (not literally ... unless). He's found it's a great way to blow off steam, and he's more than happy to make all worries, troubles, and other thoughts go away for a little bit. Expect that to be the rest of your night, though, because he doesn't do quickies.

Generally, he trusts you to handle your own shit, so he would be more focused on you than whatever made you feel the way you do. However, if days passed and you were still angry/upset/sad, or if it plunged you into a breakdown or was an otherwise extremely serious situation ... just give him a target. It's up to you, but if you tell him to take the shot, it'll be quick and clean. If you're unable to make the decision, he'll decide for you without hesitation.

Kathleen Montgomery (OC)

I'm still developing her so this one won't be as in-depth and is subject to change.

Kath makes it her business to know everything about you. Chances are she's seen you explode screaming while stalking you ... chances are, if you've been in a relationship for a while, she's made you explode screaming. She knows what you look like when you're angry. Besides, she's strong for her size, but she often has to take down people who are much bigger and stronger than her; she uses manipulation and trickery to help ease that divide, so she's good at reading people.

Like Deacon, she also monitors all your social media, so if you made a vent post, she already knows you're in a shitty mood before you come home. Unlike Deacon, she doesn't tell you how she knows, so you're left to assume she's just all knowing. Considering her god complex, that works for her.

She'd probably text you to come home, and she expects you to answer. If you're unable to come home, she'll call you to ask what's wrong.

Once you're together, she wants to know everything about the situation. Even as you're speaking, she's already on her phone or laptop, looking up the people involved. Instead of getting mad on your behalf, she laughs. She's a fan of emphasizing how pathetic or weak the opposition is.

She takes your feelings on the subject seriously, but everyone else in the situation? Insects. Not even worthy of your time or concern, let alone hers. You're obviously in the right here (even if you're not). She'll tell you as much, and say some pretty intense, over-the-line things about whomever/whatever you're angry at.

Overall, however, she's calm and collected about the situation. Your bout of anger is a chance to get you to be reckless with her. She'll do your hair and makeup and dress you up nice, then take you out. Fast driving, drinking, baiting people at bars, menacing neighborhoods ... maybe a little killing, if you'd like.

***

Masterlist

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frenziedslashers · 2 years

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Hello! 🦋💜 may I ask for Vincent where his s/o gets him to take a break and cuddle, brushing his hair and falling asleep together with Jonesy 🐶

This is so cute, of course I can do this!

Vincent and his s/o cuddling and falling asleep together

This was the third night in a row that you had been lying in bed by yourself. The chill of the night getting to you rather fast without Vincent right beside you, like he normally was. You knew that he had things on his mind, that he was a stubborn guy that wanted everything done right away, but you felt this was all getting rather ridiculous.

So you decided to put a stop to it all.

You found him where you knew he would be. In his study, working on fixing up a newer wax figure- or person.

"Vincent," You spoke with a frown. The brunette turning around. Hair a mess and covered in wax. The sight making you roll your eyes. Biting your tongue to fight back a smile.

"Why don't you come to bed? It's cold," You complained, folding your arms in attempt to warm them up.

You only frowned more when he motioned back to his work. Letting out a quiet. "Be there in a sec." A small sigh of defeat leaving your lips. Then another idea came to mind. Smirking over at the male with a shrug. Which seemed to notify him that you were up to no good. "Fine, I can find someone else to cuddle with." And before he could say anything to protest you were running out of the room and the house. Towards the mechanic shop where you knew Lester and Jonesy were visiting with Bo.

All of them seemed to take a liking to you. Glad that you were the bright light in Vincent's dark life. So when you came jogging up to them. Bo, Lester, and Jonesy all turned there heads to watch you with a bit of concern.

"Everythin' alrigh'?" Lester asked with a small smile, watching you nod as Jonesy hopped up and ran over to you.

"Can I borrow Jonesy here to prove a point to Vincent?" You asked, Lester nodding with a grin. He loved that you interacted with his dog. Thankful that his little Jonesy had made a new friend.

"'Course ya can!" Lester exclaimed with a chuckle. Watching Jonesy beg for your attention as it is. "What point are ya provin'?" Bo asked with a small smile and a quizzical brow.

"Well, ya see here. Vincent has refused to come to bed for the past three nights. So I told him I would find someone else to keep me warm." You chuckled. Vincent's brothers both letting out little bits of laughs themselves. "Well, good luck, Jonesy there's like a space heater, so I hope ya don't get too hot at night." You shook your head with a chuckle. "Nah, Vincent's room normally feels like the arctic, so it might be a nice change. I'll see ya two in the mornin'" You added, waving to the two men, then heading back off in the direction that you came from. Jonesy trailing behind you, excitedly.

When you got into your shared room it was empty like you assumed it would be. You knew that it would take Vincent at least another 15 minutes to pick up everything to be sure he didn't light the place on fire. That was the last thing that you all needed...

When he did walk into the room, though. He caught sight of what he wasn't expecting. You curled up on your side with Jonesy in between your arms. He honestly wasn't sure what to expect when you said that you were going to find someone else to cuddle with, but this sure wasn't it. He knew none of his brothers would agree to it, but he forgot about Jonesy. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous over the dog. Watching the dogs head peak up to look at him. Licking his chops and then wagging his tail at the brunette. Obviously excited to see him.

He crept into the room. Unsure if you were asleep or not. Not wanting to wake you if you did happen to be asleep. He stepped further into the room. Jonesy unable to control himself. Climbing out of the bed to greet the man. Vincent trying to keep the dog quiet as it whined and barked out of excitement.

"I was wondering when you would come to bed," You sat up to look at the other, raising a brow with a smile. Vincent looked over to you in defeat. Giving you a small half smile.

"Did you get everything cleaned up and shut off?" You asked, and he nodded. Changing out of his dirty clothes into clean, more comfortable ones. Looking back to see you scooted up on the bed. A brush in your hand to brush the wax out of his hair. Which was probably one of his favorite nightly routines. Just you brushing his hair and holding him.

He hurriedly finished up what he was doing to climb into bed next to you. Blushing at the chuckle that you let out. Obviously finding what he was doing cute, or something.

"Did you finish what you were doing?" You asked him, shocked when he shook his head 'no.' "Oh, you didn't?" He looked back at you as he sat between your legs on the bed. "Wanted to try and get back here early." He spoke with a small smile. Your own smile tugging at your lips. It was nice of him, even if you were still a bit irritated, you couldn't be that upset.

So you went to work at brushing his hair. Feeling him almost become putty in your hands as you brushed at his hair. Hands running through the hair with each brush. Flakes of wax falling onto your lap and his back. Your free hand holding the top of his locks of hair. In hopes to not tug too hard. If you did he would let out a sharp hiss, apologies leaving your lips in hopes to calm him. Though he normally wasn't too upset about it. He had brushed his own hair before. It was hard not to tug sometimes. Especially with the knots mixed with the wax.

You were both in a happy silence. The only noise being the sound of the brush untangling and smoothing out his hair. It was peaceful for the two of you. Though Jonesy seemed to be tired of it. Wanting attention for himself. Rolling over into Vincent's lap which had him laughing at the dogs neediness.

"Doesn't he remind you of someone?" You asked, Vincent nodding. "Yeah, you." You snorted, rolling your eyes. "I was thinking more so, you." You shot back. Putting the brush on the bedside table. The dogs tail wagging faster as Vincent scratched at its belly. A playful smirk on both of your lips. "Maybe it's why we get along so well." He mumbled, and you giggled. Hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Your legs wrapping around his waist. your chest and stomach pressed snug against his back.

"You're funny, Vincent." He only chuckled at that. A small yawn leaving his lips. Getting both you and Jonesy to move so he could lay down. Pulling you close to him with a small hum. Shutting the light on the bed side table off. Jonesy taking his absent arm as a chance to squeeze in between both of your bodies. Giving you both a good lick or tow before calming down just a little. The two of you giggling at the dog.

"We should get a dog," You hummed with a smile. The light from the moon outside that peaked in through the window was the only light the two of you had, but you could still see the faint smile o each others faces. "What about a cat instead?" Vincent asked. Making you roll your eyes with a chuckle. "Is a dog too needy for you?" He smiled more with a chuckle. Leaning in to kiss your lips. "Maybe just a little."

#the house of wax #house of wax #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #jonesy #vincent sinclair fluff #vincent x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #slasher x reader

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applesontheground · 2 years

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I loved those growing old headcannons you made! Do you mind if I request some more with Thomas, Vincent, and Lester?💞

awww i'm glad you liked those ;w; and yes! i'd love to do that. you're really itching my sinclair and leatherface love all in one go, so thank you for that lol!

headcanons - Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, & Lester Sinclair spending the rest of their lives with you (GN Reader)

Bo, Bubba, & Norman with this prompt can be found here!

🎼: x, x, x

Thomas Hewitt 🐖

☆ The more that the people inside change, the more the Hewitt house stays the same. You still sit by the steps leading down below the floorboards, even as someone with a little more time put inside of their weathered hands and shriveling face, and you’d still whistle for Thomas. You even remember the old tunes you’d always use for him, and the next time you look down he’d be there with an expectant look. Nothing new about that one, both of you would concur, and before he could fully walk away again, you’d jump up and rush down the stairs at a pace that makes him hitch his breath and give you a sharper look. ☆ Thomas would be more protective as he got older. Hell, even more so. You’re not falling apart on him or anything, but whenever you’re slow with standing or even a little worn down quicker than you once were, he’s at your side with a glint of concern in his expression. No amount of waving him off would sway that, either. “You’re just as stubborn as you were twenty years ago, you know that?” You’d huff, and he’d only glower at you, a hand still on your back. The fact you don’t even stop him is enough to tell him to keep doing it. ☆ When it’s just the two of you, neither of you really talk in general. Everything you could tell him has either already been said on a newer day or doesn’t need to. It’s mostly through actions, longing looks, and the way you two still refuse to not be attached at the hip whenever possible that you show love. It’s safe and it’s comfortable, something both of you once lacked but now couldn’t do with out, and like the protective nature it only gets worse with time. ☆ More often than not, you’re holding each other at night too. Especially on days where there’s too much work to be done, and it’s the only time you two get to be as close. ☆ Similar to Bubba, the saw does not age even if you two do. Anyone who tries to make a point in getting too close to you while passing through, or even if they step foot in the house with a hint of hesitance from you, there’s an aged fury standing in the shadows... One wrong move will disturb the man’s natural tendency to protect what he knows he needs to hold onto for the rest of his days. Without you, Thomas Hewitt isn’t what he’s made himself out to be. He wouldn’t be where he is without you by his side.

Vincent Sinclair 🕯️

☆ There was a point where Vincent had realized that he wasn’t going back on what you and him had made together. The connection was too ingrained into his daily habits, it had come out so many times in his work that it was becoming a part of the town, and he soon realized that you were as prominent his life as even his parents and bothers were/are. He feels like he’s let something great slip past him before, so he knows to not let go of it this time. It’s almost an obsession, as big and suffocating as the work he does day in and day out. When he’s not focused on that, he wants to focus on either Bo, Lester, or you. ☆ Like his brother, Vincent probably doesn’t find a need to get married -- especially as he realized you guys were going to take each other to the grave regardless of some symbol trying to guarantee that. ☆ He’d hold your hand like my romanticized version of a married man would, the warmth exerted in his palms like water curling around your fingers. It would be as if he was trying to send the love he felt with every touch and every glance in your direction. You knew those eyes well, sitting with him on the steps of the museum every other night. Now that the town of wax has long since been fulfilled, he has more time to focus on something (or rather, someone) standing in the midst of it. He can still recall the first time he saw you standing in the streets of Ambrose, around the time he decided he was going to keep you around. ☆ Vincent never learns when it comes to the work he does have left to do, though. You’d make it a habit to at least roll the cramps out of his hands with your own after he’s been using them for hours on end, griping about how he needs to be wary of how he can’t just do that sort of thing with how old he’s getting, but still kissing the back and the palm if he makes noises of discomfort and complimenting the work sitting behind the both of you.

Lester Sinclair 🕯️

☆ Some things never change despite age starting to show on the people and the place. Lester still drives the same old truck, refusing to get rid of it despite even Bo making comments. Whenever you’re the one giving him shit, the face that has grown his scruff out just a little bit with the years gone by and the bright eyes now gaining some crow’s feet in the corners will narrow in glee and retort, “Don’t get rid’a you, do I?” ☆ He also makes the same old jokes. They probably get even worse as he gets older, actually. You watch him carry a paper bag by the handles in, and it immediately tears because the stuff inside is too heavy. You watch in bemusement as he looks down, and know it’s coming as he slowly looks back up and shrugs. “Well, didn’t have a handle on that one, [Y/N].” Cue laughter that goes on too long while you shake your head, murmuring his name with a tired lull to your voice. ☆ Lester would still have a decent bond with Bo and Vincent as an older man, but there came a point where Lester and you became each other’s home away from home. He didn’t really mean it, but soon he found himself just wanting you with him everywhere. That was weird, because he had spent a lot of time just by himself before you came around, and he never anticipated to be that kind of guy that liked having someone around all the damn time. Even Bo and Vincent kind of notice it, the way he'll sometimes turn his head just to make sure you’re still following him, pausing in his endless ramble to see if you’re still listening. ☆ It means more than he might let on, but you find out in little ways. In the long Summer days spent sitting on the edge of a pond that only he knows how to get to, pretending to be asleep on his shoulder as he absently plays with your hair, talking quietly to himself about how he doesn’t know what the hell he’d do if something like you wasn’t there for him “now that I’m all old and shit”. He doesn’t know that you’re catching it unless you decide to reach down and scare the hell out of him with a rub on his knee. “How much of that did you all hear?” “All of it.” “...And?” “You know you’re stuck with me until you and I take a dirt nap, Les.” After that, he’s quiet for a long time.

#thomas hewitt x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #requests #slasher requests #headcanons #✏️#🐖#🕯️

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