#bo sinclair x percy jones

[bluecoolr]

You Ain't Goin' Nowhere

Darrell arrives in Ambrose. [Part 1/5]

Links to Part 2 3 4 5

Warnings: the girls being teeth-rottingly sweet to newcomer, Lester being an excited rambling cutie, Bo being Bo, and jealous!Vincent

A/N: When I have all the parts ready, I'll be putting links on each post. I'm just really excited and wanted to post this. Also the title has no business being that threatening since I took it from a Byrds song...

Featuring the Sinclairs, Jason Vorhees, RZ Michael Myers and the ocs of @rottent33th (Ellie) @slaasherslut (Ava) @kalid-raven (Alia) @the-pinstriped-hood (Percy) @cries-in-latino (Red) and @angxlslasher (Merry). I hope y'all don't mind!

Sunlight woke Darrell the next morning. There was a dull pain in his neck where his backpack had been the night before. Stirring, he groaned and opened his eyes.

He was greeted by the sight of a large, dark snout. A moment of panic arrested him, until he remembered where he was. In a field. By the highway. The curious quadruped before him was not a razorback, but a cow. She chewed noisily as she inspected him.

"Down, Bessie." Darrell patted her head. She flicked her floppy ears and grazed on the grass right by him.

Darrell sat up from his makeshift bed. He used a liberal amount of water from his canteen to rinse his mouth and wash his face. Reaching deeper into his pack, he pulled out a scrupulously rationed breakfast of potato chips and a chicken sandwich.

Funny. He tried so hard to shake off the Marine in him, but here he was - acting like one again.

Well, minus the potato chips, he thought.

Bessie snuffled at the little ziploc bag, eager to have a taste. Darrell reached in, crushed a handful of chips, and fed it to her. Once he was done, he bid farewell to his new friend and straddled his bike.

"On my way now," he told his non-cattle friends through text.

Do a wheelie.

Darrell smiled involuntarily and asked Red, "Got bail money? 🤨"

Wheelie you fucking coward.

He did two on the empty highway. Just for fun.

The way to Ambrose was long and winding. Too long, he remarked, eyeing the fuel gauge. He cursed inwardly and, with the same breath, begged heaven to let him have enough to get there.

"Ack! Where's God when you need 'im?" he grumbled as his dirt bike stuttered.

He set the bike on its stand and scratched his head. No soul for miles. No help in sight. Guess he was going to have to push his defeated steed along. He went on for about thirty minutes or so, with the punishing Louisiana sun and the 40-ish pounds on his back bearing down on him.

Panting now, he turned from the Interstate to the byroad Ellie had told him to take. Trees hedged him from either side. The ground was a mixture of silt and dust. It made his throat scratchy.

Darrell became aware of an approaching vehicle from the thrum of an engine and the clatter of tools behind him.

"You need a hand, man?" asked the driver as he let his truck go idle.

Darrell looked through the open driver's side window and regarded the stranger politely. He was grimy and slightly flushed, no doubt from the exertion of a day's early work.

Darrell cleared his throat. "No... I need gas, actually."

The stranger cracked a pleased smile. "Well it's your lucky day! I got some gas right here."

He giddily rummaged about in the cab and retrieved a beat up looking gallon jug. The stranger stepped out and wordlessly urged Darrell to bring his bike forward.

"Please, if it ain't too much. I just need enough to get to Ambrose."

For a moment, the stranger, almost miserly, held back the jug. "Why're ya goin' to Ambrose?" he asked, face cloudy with suspicion.

"Visitin' some friends. M'overdue, s'matter o' fact. Was supposed to get there last night."

Realization twinkled dimly in the stranger's brown eyes. "Say… ya name ain't Darrell by any chance, is it?"

"Yessir, it is."

The stranger eased and flashed him a toothy grin. "Now, ain't it a small world," he cried. "I've heard loads about you from the girls."

Darrell rubbed the nape of his neck. He smiled. "Did ya?"

"Yeah! Boy, you've got everybody standing watch. Tell ya what," said the stranger, "Help me haul your bike into the back. I'll give you a lift."

"Aw, shucks… I-"

The stranger waved him quiet. The gas sloshed in the jug. "No ifs. No buts. No coconuts." He gestured to his truck. "Get."

Darrell stammered thanks and apologies for the trouble. The stranger moved the litter of animal carcasses.They loaded the bike onto the truck, shut the tailgate, and carried on.

"Sorry. What cha say your name was?"

The stranger chuckled. "Lester."

They shook hands as the truck went on its jittery way. Lester was kind to offer Darrell a rag to mop his sweat with. Darrell dragged the cloth over himself and wiped each of his fingers clean.

A strong feeling of liking for the traveler stirred in Lester. That rag was filthy. He had hesitated to hand it over, but Darrell had grabbed it without question.

"You can get gas at the station in Ambrose. Bo, m'brother, runs it."

Darrell shamefully looked at his boots. "Sorry 'bout the dust."

Lester gave another chuckle, his glance straying to Darrell's feet. "S'alright," he assured him, "Truck's had worse than that, f'ya know what I mean." He jerked his head toward the window behind them.

"Good I picked ya up or else you'd be trudging in that for 15 miles more."

"Preciate it, really." Darrell smiled. He was brushing dust off his pants. "Been walkin' for about half o' that 'fore ya found me."

Darrell was quite remarkable to look at, Lester decided.

His hair was the first thing you'd notice: Teal blue and long. The way it tumbled down his shoulders in wisps reminded him of paint, pulled out by water in bright, rippling clouds when you dip your brush into the glass.

There was a silver ring that pierced his plump, pale pink lower lip, and he seemed to have a habit of nibbling on it. He was also very tall. Taller than Bo or Vincent. Almost as tall as Michael. (Really, he didn't think there was anyone taller than that fella.)

His broad chest stretched the fabric of his shirt. His thighs were doing the same to his jeans.

He was handsome, Lester would give him that.

He was also sporting a knife on his right shoe.

Two kinds of bells rang in Lester's mind; An alarm to beware of this stranger, as he wasn't sure of his intentions, and another that told him to hurry and show him his own knife. After all, he had been polite. Hadn't been mean or fussy.

Lester was itching to pull out the bowie when Darrell cheerfully turned the conversation toward matters that concerned him - How had his day been? His work, the weather, the town, the girls? - things he was glad to talk about.

Before he knew it, he saw the wash-out up ahead.

"Think you'll make it?" inquired Darrell, his hand on the dash.

"Just have to flip the hubs into four-wheel."

He didn't have to ask. Darrell hopped out and got to work on the wheels on his side. The beat up truck rattled over the stones, the men inside shared a laugh. "Felt m'brain rattle in m'skull like a bean in a can!" Lester cried as he tried to shake himself right.

Gravel gave way to asphalt and they entered the town. Lester pointed out the gas station just at the end of Main Street. When Darrell asked for the grocer's, he did some quick thinking and said, "There's Flannery's back where we came, but don't cha go in there. F'Joe Flannery sees ya and gabs, you'd be in there all day. If ya need anythin', I'm sure Ellie would be happy to get it for ya. She's an amazing cook. There's Bo!"

His older brother gave the truck a cursory glance, and, with practiced charm, greeted their guest.

"You shoulda called in," said Bo, obligingly filling the dirt bike's tank with gas from the pump."Would've picked you up myself."

Lester had wandered off and was now coming back with the hose. He was aiming it at the bike. He turned the nozzle and a sudden jet of water blasted out of the end, splashing Bo and Darrell's shoes.

Noticing the scathing glare Bo gave him, Lester lowered the hose and apologized. "I got blood and gunk all over your wheels," he told Darrell.

"No! It's fine. It'll wash off." Turning to Bo, he declared, "Wouldn't have made it without him. He's a lifesaver." He extended one large hand and patted Lester's shoulder.

It prompted Lester to step in and swing his arm over Darrell's shoulders. He was awful pleased with himself. It didn't matter that he had to stand on his tippy-toes.

"Sure." Bo said dismissively. "You came down here all the way from where? Devil's Prick?"

"Yessir."

"How's it there? Heard it's haunted."

Darrell laughed. "By hicks like me."

While they spoke, they were blithely unaware of Ava and Percy scuttling from the Sinclair house, down Main Street, to Ellie's house. They had heard Lester's truck and spotted the tall man at the station.

They came running back, now with Ellie in tow, one hand hiking up her dress skirt and the other clutching a lime green frog.

When she screamed "DARRELL!", the three men leapt clean off the ground. Lester's fingers instinctively tightened on Darrell's jacket, and he had to clutch his chest to make sure his heart wasn't going to give.

Ellie shoved the frog into Lester's hands and braced her arms around Darrell's torso. "You made it! I was so worried when you didn't arrive last night!"

"I-I know, Ellie… I'm sorry."

She gave him a light squeeze. "Shh! No! Don't apologize. Now, I want you to meet my sisters."

She passed Darrell around for the girls to fawn over, which they did despite his shyness. "I'm covered in God knows what. I probably smell like a dog in the sun."

"That's two of us, then. I've been out in the garden."

"Alia and Michael are back there too," Percy said. "They'll be delighted to meet you!"

Ava looped her arm with Darrell's and started to lead him to the house Ellie shared with Vincent. "Come on! Jason and Merry are set up not far from there."

All three women began to chatter, making Darrell throw his head from side to side.

"That boy's gonna end up like a bruised fruit by sundown!" Bo chided. His warning fell on deaf ears.

He saw his twin in the distance - shoulders tense and visibly uneasy. Bo knew that look. He was sizing Darrell up, suddenly unhappy about the attention he was getting from Ellie.

Psst!

Vincent snapped out of it and met Bo's gaze. With a frown, Bo wordlessly told him to be nice. Try to get along for godsake.

Vincent, hunching as if to get away from a whip, buried his hands in his pockets and trailed after the girls.

"Here. Hold this."

Lester was holding out the frog.

"No," Bo said flatly - body poised to bolt.

"Ok."

Lester set the frog down on the ground and trotted after the girls. It stayed put, locked in a standoff with Bo.

He picked up the hose. Aimed and blasted the frog away. Then, he wheeled Darrell's bike into the garage.

[damien-mlm]

A storm washes over Ambrose (Red - Part 3)

Warnings: more of Red's backstory, slasher-typical violence, gay stabby man misses bigger stabby man, Ellie and Skulk are mentioned, Percy worries for Darrell, Red gives Bo a literal run for his money

Darrell belongs to @bluecoolr

Skulk belongs to @probably-a-plant-thing

Ellie belongs to @rottent33th

Percy belongs to @the-pinstriped-hood

He was on his third beer when he started feeling the raindrops fall on him. The sky was dark with clouds and the moon was long hidden behind them, must have spaced out again.

He hopped off the trailer and onto the increasingly wet floor, scrambling to get the keys from under the doormat. Rain was on full blast once he got inside.

Red didn't turn any lights on, he just sat on Darrell's bed, drinking and staring into nothingness for what felt like hours. 

I miss him

Why? It's only been a day

He'll be back home soon

Why didn't I go again?

Red went through Darrell's drawers and took out a hoodie, it looked comically big on him, but he didn't care. The trailer was dark and cold, but the hoodie and the bedsheets smelled like Darrell. He dressed a pillow with one of Blue's shirts and clung onto it for dear life, he was almost angry at himself for being so sentimental.

Almost.

The harsh smacking of the raindrops on the metal surface of the trailer drowned out his silent cries, and soon lulled him into a deep, exhausted sleep. 

Ever since he could remember, the color red was there, haunting and taunting him.

Staining the tiled floors of the bathroom.

Searing hot with rage on his pupils.

Coating his hands in warm slick.

Burning away at the last remnants of his past.

All he could see was red. All of it. Everywhere.

That night, so long ago, when he had decided he'd escape, or die trying. Red.

He was eighteen, old enough to try and fend for himself, and he knew the world wasn't kind but his father was less than so.

Years he spent under his father's helicopter-like monitoring, he had learned to hide himself, who he really was and how he felt, in hopes of survival.

A hurricane was afoot, the power supply was cut to the entire city, so the electric locks on the doors were out of service.

He quietly stuffed a backpack with some clothes, and headed for the safe in his father's study, where he kept most of the money. His father never trusted banks, and he had hit the jackpot with his unconventional ways of psychotherapy. If you could even call them that.

He sat in front of the small safe under the desk, thinking of how the hell he could crack it open, he needed to leave soon. The storm would cover his tracks nicely.

Maybe a date?

A birthday?

His? His mom's?

The day they got married?

After trial and failure, a thought crossed his mind.

Red.

Maybe it's the day she… no… he wouldn't. Right?

He put the date in.

CLICK!

Red.

That sick bastard���

He stuffed all the cash in a trash bag, his hands shaking with anger and hurt. A lightning bolt illuminated the night sky, it almost seemed like it was the middle of the day. For a split second he saw something shine next to the last few wads of cash.

A revolver, next to an unopened box of rounds and a silver letter opener. The gun itself looked like it was never fired. 

He took them, of course.

Just then, he heard the old wooden floors creak, making him hunch and hide under the desk.

His father had entered the room, in search of a midnight drink at the liquor cabinet he kept by his books. The boy was so quiet, you couldn't even hear his breath. The storm was loud, but adrenaline had his senses heightened. The sounds of glass and liquid, his own heartbeat, blasting in his ears.

And red behind his eyes. Stinging tears building up, threatening to spill.

Red.

Blinding and all-consuming.

Another flash of light from the sky. He was standing behind his father, silent as a ghost, letter opener in hand. The blade sank onto his father's back the second that thunder erupted. Drowning his screams.

In and out.

Red.

Again and again.

Red.

Staining his hands and his soul.

The blade was dull, but the point was sharp enough. His arms were strong enough. He pierced through cloth, through skin and flesh, over and over again.

Panting, his eyes darted between the liquor bottles and the corpse at his feet. He smashed bottle after bottle, stopping himself at the last one, just to down its contents in one swing.

A lit match was all he needed.

The study was ablaze in a split second, flames devouring everything they touched.

It spread quickly, he soon had to exit the house.

And he stood under the rain.

Out in the storm, he gazed at what was his house, a raging inferno.

Red.

Blinding and all-consuming.

Thunderstruck forced him awake, back to where he was. Surrounded by all things Darrell, except the man himself. Back in the cold darkness of the trailer. Blue's trailer.

Blue…

I miss you…

He looked at his phone, 5 am. He scrolled through his old conversations with Darrell, looking for something. A map to Ambrose, Darrell's friend, Ellie, had sent him.

Fuck it.

Sorry, Skulk…*

Darrell and Percy had just come back after a long day of shopping, the days were shorter at this time of year, and the ongoing storm didn't help.

Red hadn't texted since the previous night, he was worried out of his mind.

"Are you alright, sweet boy?" she asked him, her words laced with concern.

"Yes, Momma. Just thinkin' bout Red, 's all…" his eyes looked out the window.

"Well, I'm sure he's okay. He'll answer you any minute now, I just know it!" she placed a hand on his back.

"Thank you, ma'am. 'Scuse me, please, I need a smoke." he was polite as usual, but a bit too cold to be him. Percy let him on his way.

He lit up his cigarette, standing under the porch awning to shield himself from the water pouring from the sky. He took a long drag before exhaling the smoke out in exasperation.

What if he got in another fight?

Skulk had told him he didn't see Red around all day.

Not in his trailer, nor the cabin. 

Not around the bar nor the diner either.

What if he got hurt?

What if he's in the hospital?

What if-

A distant flash caught his eye, not lightning, but a vehicle's headlight, far on the main road of the town. He squinted and catched the sight of a red quad bike, a figure all in black on top, inquiring Bo about something. 

Bo pointed towards the house's general direction and he could swear he heard the engine roaring back to life in a split second, the figure fast approaching him while Bo ran behind him, yelling at him to stop in a futile attempt.

Darrell was speechless, his smoke long lost and drowned in rainwater. In less than a minute, the quad bike was in front of him, its driver looking up at him, both chests rising and falling rapidly in heavy, ragged breaths.

He removed his helmet, letting red locks fall free, quickly drenching under the rain. A flushed, desperate look on the one brown eye.

"Hey, Blue… I-... I missed you too much"

*Sorry, Skulk... You'll have to deal with the hogs on your own.

Taglist: @slaasherslut @allthingsblood @ajarofpickledtears @texaschainsawslvt @angxlslasher @kalid-raven @mr-trick

[the-pinstriped-hood]

The Devil of Ambrose

has an angel

Wings once as bright as sunlight and white as a cloud

They've turned black as tar with the blood of each Innocent she spills.

She does not repent

She does not show mercy

She bathes in the glow of hellfire.

Did the Devil ensnare her with rope and chain? Dragging her kicking and screaming?

No.

There is no silver chain around her neck, no binding contract signed in blood.

There is only the ring on her finger and the deep, lust heated devotion he shows to her while on one knee proclaiming his love for her.

Tags: @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @solmints-messyocdiary @rottent33th @slaasherslut @bluecoolr-main @devil-doll13 @angxlslasher @probably-a-plant-thing @damien-mlm @slasherscrybaby @soupbabe @ahmnom @kalid-raven

[devil-doll13]

Wax & Wane

(Part 3)

Tw: Violence, Blood, Gun, Swearing, References To Scars/Past Wounds, Medical Stitching, Bo being Bo, also Bo & Percy get ever so slightly suggestive w/ their PDA lol.

Ellie who is mentioned here belongs to @rottent33th!

Percy belongs to @the-pinstriped-hood, also thankyou Pin for your help in writing her and all the great ideas and excerpts you offered to me in this!

Summary: Percy awakes to find an invader in her home and must bargain with her in order to survive. In turn, she finds herself connecting with the mysterious girl.

Part 1

Part 2

Dividers by firefly-graphics

A loud door slam from downstairs woke her rather suddenly from her peaceful dreaming, and the psychedelic mountain biking trip she’d been taking gave way to the fine grain of a table and darkened rows of books. A familiar sight.

Percy looked up from where her cheek was nestled on the silver laptop and, rubbing her bleary eyes, saw how her dashing hero Halloran had gone from wittily chatting up her newest femme fatale character to babbling incoherently, including various numbers, hash signs and exclamation marks.

Well, she always said that he’d developed a mind of his own. Turns out he’d learned to speak in tongues.

Clicking on an antique lamp she once scavenged from one of the old abandoned houses, she roused herself from the wooden chair she’d pulled up in the library, stretching luxuriously. Her glasses had left a thin indent on the side of her head where they’d been left askew. Readjusting them now, she realised she couldn’t see Macavity anywhere… Maybe he was snoozing on her and Bo’s shared bed? Percy stifled a yawn as she leaned back against the well-loved bookshelves. She had gotten up from her seat a little too quick and now she felt slightly lightheaded and dizzy. Her vision swam around for a while.

She clapped her laptop shut and wandered into the dimly-lit landing, joints still popping. Her work ethic meant falling asleep at the desk wasn’t rare for her, but it always left her with a not-so-pleasant ache afterward.

“...Honey?” She called out sleepily.

Percy peaked around various doorways upstairs, searching for her bad-tempered lover. She supposed he was still down in the kitchen or living room…

The door slamming didn’t worry her - Bo had his stormy moods at times but he would never be violent or abusive towards her - but she did feel a twinge of motherly concern tug at her heartstrings. Was it a victim? An argument with Vincent? It was usually at least one of those two things, in her experience. She'd learned her Bo-ology so well by now.

She descended the creaking staircase, still wiping the post-nap gunk from her eyes. It was one of those old fancy ones done in a winding spiral; something Percy had always liked about this house. A yellowy fluorescent light coming from the kitchen told her Bo was probably raiding the fridge right about now.

I wonder if he found my gift yet?

She grinned to herself cheekily, remembering the big sandwich she told him she would prepare for him earlier. Had all of his favourites in it and everything; mayo, onion, tomato, lettuce, all the fancy meats, she had even made the bread from scratch herself. Percy knew he would love it. All she could think about was lounging in his lap like a spoiled cat and having him all to herself for the night…

There was no time to prepare for it. Percy swallowed thickly as a large kitchen knife pressed harshly against her throat, and her blood froze. She felt her windpipe constrict as her body was immobilised, arms forced behind her back.

I’m being held hostage. By an intruder. Breathe.

"Excuse me..?" She asked in the gentlest voice she could muster. "Can I help you?"

“Yes, you can.” A sharp voice hissed from behind her ear like a serpent; blowing an icy puff of air that caused her to shiver. “Be my little flesh shield.”

The lightbulb surged a vile green up above, blinding.

So bright. Bo. Everyone… Is this how Ellie felt?

“You don’t have to kill me.” She began, her mind racing with panicked thoughts.

The woman’s body felt eerily like a stiff, gelid corpse.

Be diplomatic. Be smart. Like Halloran…

“I can fix this, I’m part of the family, I-I know they’re after you. I can convince them to stop…”

The air was dead; putrid, necrotic.

“No. No.”

Her refusal chilled Percy in shock.

“See, here’s what’s going to happen here.”

Percy squeezed her eyes shut, wary of the lethal tip of the blade looming ever closer to her neck. If only she had her baseball bat right now, if only…

“When those two break down that door…”

It’s too cold. A vice grip clamped down on her shoulder like the bite of a viper. The dining table and chairs stacked were up against the other door. Oh. Bo’ll have to-

“I’m the only one who’s getting out alive.”

Her mouth went dry. It seemed all her eloquence as an author left her now. The situation was dire; perhaps this would be it, this would be her end…

Then, Percy was made faintly aware of something warm seeping into the back of her flannel.

“You’re bleeding...” She licked her lips, pouncing on the opportunity. “Does it hurt?”

“…”

Percy couldn’t tell if the silence was a good sign or not, but she pressed it, her voice dipping into the warm, maternal tones she used on her ‘kids.’

If logic and rationality won’t get through to her, maybe emotional appeals will… She clung to hope that the invader wasn’t entirely heartless.

“It’s alright… I know it probably does. There’s a soothing balm in my bathroom cabinet that could help once we get it properly cleaned up.”

Her heart leapt as she felt the blade waver; unsure.

“If, if it’s a bad wound then it probably needs proper attention and stitches, or you’ll lose a lot of blood… There’s no clinic for miles around, so-“

She almost yelped as her grip twisted painfully, an almost electric crack flashing in the atmosphere as the lightbulb flickered a bright, sickly green again.

“You’re saying it would be better for me to let you do it, let you near me with a needle, is that what this is?” Percy could hear the incredulous sneer in her voice.

“So I should just let you sew me up?”

“…Yes.” Percy carefully kept herself calm, trying to ignore the sharpness pricking her neck.

“It would be safer for you. if you’ve already lost that much, you could g-get dizzy and faint before you even get to a hospital…”

“…”

“…I’d worry.” She added hastily.

That statement was preposterous considering the circumstances, but she found herself genuinely empathising with her. After all, if she hadn’t been lucky and made a deal with the devil, wouldn’t she have been in the exact same position back then?

A mixture of logic and emotion.

There was a weighty stillness as Percy waited with bated breath for her response. She hoped that she was at the very least contemplating her offer.

“And I promise not to do anything else but patch you up, okay?” She reassured gently, feeling the woman slightly loosen her hold on her.

“You can even keep the knife.”

While this bargain was fairly risky for her, it seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Her body screamed out in relief as her arms were released from the uncomfortable entanglement and she felt like she could actually breathe again. She blinked back her numbness as the Louisiana heat returned slowly to the kitchen, melting the frost that had glazed over the walls and countertops.

How…? It’s Summer…

That question lingered hazily in her mind, but her gladness for freedom soon overtook it. She had barely registered the strange phenomena from earlier…

It was then Percy slowly rotated her position and got her first glimpse of the other woman. It was a disturbing sight: she was hunched over and gaunt, much shorter than she expected, with green eyes, dark, knotted hair and grey-ish, pasty skin; a sort of unhealthy pallor she misattributed to blood loss.

“Stay there,” the corpse-like stranger instructed, still holding up her knife menacingly towards Percy as she moved to shut the door she had come through. “And don’t move.”

“Alright…” She obeyed, holding up both her hands in willing surrender.

Percy watched the steel handle of her baseball bat, sitting ready in the hall, disappear from view. The intruder retrieved one of the dining table chairs from her barrier and, that unsettling gaze never leaving the other woman’s form, sat down rigidly.

“I’ll sit,” her captor said quietly, noticeably wincing as she did so, “and you…”

“…I’ll go get the medkit.” Percy finished for her, nodding in agreement.

Percy saw a vast array of scattered medical supplies spread over the kitchen countertops, which told her that the intruder had obviously found their stash, but she clearly wasn’t an effective nurse. She allowed herself to relax a little now that she was no longer under direct pressure from the weapon, and then proceeded to inspect her new patient: she was gruesomely scratched and bruised; crimson stained bandages wrapped were haphazardly around her arms and thighs, which had already had a nauseating amount of scars carved out of them to begin with.

She cautiously tip-toed over to the supply, taking care not to make any sudden movements, as if trying not to startle a wild, wounded animal.

In a sense, that is what she is…

Percy approached her with the needle and thread in her open palms to show she was not concealing anything, but when she tried to gently pry open her crossed arms to look at her injuries, she flinched violently away from her hands as if burned, and silently threatened a stabbing.

“Look, I only want to help you…”

Her words were met with a suspicious glower.

The woman’s behaviour reminded her distinctly of a dog who had been frequently beaten, now accustomed only to painful and contemptuous touch. With that comparison, she no longer seemed like someone to fear, but rather more sadly pathetic.

With a weary sigh, her captor eventually relented. Slowly, Percy was allowed to gain access to her knife wound, which was ironically located by the same arm whose hand held her own blade, jabbing out warningly near her hip.

“If it helps, my name is-“

“Don’t,” the intruder interrupted, twitching her fingers restlessly around the handle.

“Names have… Power. It’s not wise to give them away so freely to someone like me.” She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, as if fighting off a migraine.

…Someone like you?

“…You’ll probably figure it out soon anyway.” Percy argued back gently, reminding herself that Bo was probably still scouring over Ambrose for her…

She watched the black-clad woman hack a ragged cough, her free hand flying to her mouth to contain blood and spittle.

Does she have an internal injury too?

“But I would not receive it from your own words. That is the difference…” She wheezed hoarsely.

Percy furrowed her brow as she continued to meticulously thread the needle through her wounded flesh, minding her occasional sharp intake of breath. She proceeded to dab away the dribbles of blood that would trickle out of the cut with a tissue.

Then… Is there any hope I will learn hers?

For a brief moment the future seemed uncertain, and she puzzled in her head for ways to reconcile all the conflicting persons at war here. Of course her immediate goal was survival and so far she had achieved that, but as she finished the suture on the woman’s knife wound, her sympathy grew further. Percy’s empathy was one her finest traits, and there was indeed a side to her that wanted to adopt yet another little waif; certainly everyone in Ambrose had their own story to tell, without her family to take her in, she herself wouldn’t have found her place here.

A brilliant idea revealed itself to Percy then.

“So…” She began, switching places to tend to the bullet graze on her other arm. “Do you like to read?”

“…Do I like to read?” She echoed back, blinking owlishly. It was a sort of childlike reaction that almost made her chuckle, despite her situation.

“Yeah!” Percy replied.

The girl knit her brows in deep thought for a moment, peering at her askance before seemingly deciding that this would not be overly sensitive intel.

“…I do. But why ask this?”

Is it so strange to want to know more about the person currently holding me hostage?

“Because,” Percy cleared her throat, brushing stray strands of hair away from her face as she finished patching up her other wound. “I’m a novelist.”

Her captor gave her a dubious stare, but Percy thought she detected a hint of rising curiosity in her eyes.

“I write noir style mysteries, if that rings any bells?”

She shook her head in response.

“Be more specific.”

Percy smiled a little. “Well, I was just wondering… If I told you the title of my book series, would you be able to guess my name from that?”

“…Maybe.”

She let her grin grow wider. Her interest was piqued; maybe talking about Percy’s favourite pursuit would ease the uncomfortable atmosphere.

“It’ll be better for you to sit down, in that case.”

Percy was then surprisingly allowed to retrieve her own dining chair, (under the obvious condition that she would not use it to bash her brains in) and pulled it up beside her in the kitchen. Now the knife lay harmlessly on the floor, just beside the woman’s scuffed boot.

“Actually,” her captor began, and Percy’s heart sank a little before she continued: “Telling me the answer would be too simple. I’d prefer to solve it with clues.”

…So first you hold me at knifepoint, and now we’re playing games? Percy was frazzled for a moment. This was… really not the turn of events she was expecting. The girl’s wan face held a grimly serious countenance, revealing no hints of playfulness or amusement. Once more, she was reminded of a sort of overgrown child, albeit a dangerous one.

“That’s fine.” She decided with a shrug, glad for her strange enthusiasm. That was better than a threat. “I guess I can make it into a puzzle for you.”

The woman’s green eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes. A mystery novelist should find no difficulty in that.”

“No, I guess she shouldn’t.”

“Then go ahead.”

Percy sucked in a breath. “The protagonist… Is considered very attractive.”

Just like Bo… His blue eyes flashed in her mind.

The girl clicked her tongue in a sort of defeated annoyance. “Well, that rules out ‘Phantom Jar.’”

Oh, I remember that series, we were neck and neck in book sales for a while…

“…It’s not ‘Donovan Fletcher?’”

“No.” Percy shook her head, smirking.

J.C. Price has nothing on me, sorry.

“They’ve been a suspect before,” she offered.

“‘Sub Rosa?’ ‘Void Library?’ ‘The Scarred Poet?’”

“None of those!”

She appeared to be deep in thought for a moment. Percy was mildly impressed by this selection, remembering sifting through them herself. The formidable talent that made up her competition was not to be scoffed at; and all writers are avid readers.

Although TSP was kind of a flop, Sub Rosa is practically a cult novel…

The intruder gripped the bottom of her chair like she was being asked to solve some kind of impossible maths question. Percy decided to throw her a bone.

“I’ll give you another hint: ‘Ice Drops‘”

This obscure reference seemed to click with her.

“It’s Midnight Papertrail…” She murmured, a sort of awe-filled realisation dawning on her face as she looked back up at Percy.

“…By Persephone Jones.”

“Yep! That’s me.” Percy smiled back happily. It was then she had realised she’d almost relaxed all tension from her body, and her captor mirrored this.

The intruder tilted forward, holding her knees.

“You’re Persephone Jones?”

“Yeah, I am, though most here just call me ‘Percy.’” She pushed up her faltering glasses. “I came here about… A couple of years ago?”

Percy saw her shocked expression and laughed.

“You’re probably wondering how I survived, right?”

Her captor nodded soberly, evidently finding no lack of things to criticise about the Sinclairs’ rather unique concept of ‘Southern Hospitality.’

“Let’s just say… I made a deal with the devil.” Percy leaned back in her chair, for now content to leave it at that. Eventually she’d figure that one out…

Then the dark-haired woman cast her a weighty gaze that struck Percy, again, as unusually grave.

“…A deal with which De-“

Then, a raucous slamming from the hallway, the stomping of boots, and a heavy weight banged hard on the door, followed by a masculine yell and beside her clattering of wood on tiles as her captor shot instantly to her feet, knife in hand!

Percy jumped from her seat in fright, her breath stolen so abruptly from her lungs…

“Percy! Percy!” Bo’s voice shouted out as a series of fierce kicks assaulted the door so viciously that it rattled the dining table pushed against it across the kitchen floor. A terrible silence followed and Percy’s gut dropped, knowing that if he had his shotgun, she’d be caught in the blast!

“Bo!” Percy yelled quickly, “I’m in here!”

“PERCY!”

She could hear the raw desperation in his voice as he screamed, pounding the wood even harder now, frantically jiggling the knob.

“N-no, It’s fine, I’m fine!”

Percy shot a glance at the other woman, who had now abandoned her chair as it lay sideways on the floor. Her venomous green eyes were fixed intensely on the handle, fingers still curled tightly around the large knife.

I don’t know why, but that lock has something to do with you, doesn’t it?

“Stop!” She ordered, no longer afraid of her wrath. “You’re only making things worse!”

Percy came to stand in front of her, blocking her line of sight with her taller figure. “Listen, I can fix this situation, but I need you to cooperate!”

“Will he?!” The girl spat through gritted teeth.

“Yes, he will because it’s me!”

Then, the raucous shattering of glass as a large hand punched through the kitchen window, and Vincent’s waxy visage appeared.

They must have staged a pincer attack…

His black boot kicked away the remaining shards as he attempted to vault the newly created opening. The woman ducked behind Percy and threw her knife straight at him, which he deflected smoothly, his blue eye blazing with protective fury.

She snatched up a knife block and drew up another, notably serrated blade. Though her negligence led the kitchen door flying open and revealing Bo with his double-barrel shotgun, she faced down both twins as if ready to fight to the death.

“You witch, you get the fuck away from her!” He hollered, brandishing his shotgun in rage. His nostrils flared in realising Percy was close enough to be hurt!

“Bo, stop!” Percy waved her hands, hurrying to stand between all of them. “She’s fine!”

“…What?!” He gawked at her in complete disbelief.

Bo had no choice but to halt his plan to fire with Percy shielding his target, who consequently looked as dazed and confused as he did.

“She‘s fine,” Percy repeated, strangely out of breath. “Bo, Vincent, stop, she’s not going to go to the police!”

Well, I don’t know that yet, but…

“I’m not hurt, look!” She urged, gesturing to herself.

There was no concealing the worry that lined his face as he did so, and Vincent himself stood stock still, muscles still taut as if to strike.

“I… Wha…”

He seemed at a loss for words as he looked to his brother, then to his would-be-victim, then back to Percy, his aim faltering somewhat.

“Look, everyone, it’s all going to be fine,” Percy repeated, “Just calm down…”

The woman drew in a sharp breath behind her.

“No need for fighting.”

It was Vincent who broke the standoff first, lowering his knife, though still tense and poised for action. Percy noticed his clothes were scratched and frayed somewhat, but he did not appear injured in any capacity. He loomed menacingly over the intruder, who mirrored his black hair and pallor so much she almost looked like his little sister.

“… I … Perc, what the hell is goin’ on, here?” Bo spoke again, not daring to lower his gun. He was similarly unhurt, though sweating hard from exertion. His dark hair curled against his damp forehead, his mechanic’s coveralls soaked with wet spots.

Oh, he still looks far too handsome…

The intruder peered suspiciously over her shoulder at the two men, and Percy gave her a stern glance.

“Put the knife block away.” She ordered.

Percy knew that, exhausted as she probably was, it would be wiser to take this opportunity while it was still available. Clearly, she was smart enough to take it, and dropped the block where she stood, her narrowed eyes never leaving Bo’s. A selection of knives spilled out, clattering on the kitchen tiles.

Honestly, she’s just like a cat or something…

Still, she was mildly shocked that she held so much sway over her. Already, she appeared to have tamed this wayward child.

“See?” Percy looked to her fiancé again, watching him try to work out the situation in his head. His shotgun wavered slightly.

With a hitch of her breath, the girl concealed another cough, as if any sign of weakness would doom her, and lifted up her chair again. She seemed unable to relax, still glaring at the twins with unrestrained malice. Vincent retreated back into the shade, his long curtain of hair concealing his masked face.

Then Bo’s broad shoulders slumped in defeat, exhaling a shaky sigh. He seemed to start to speak once, then threw his hands up helplessly. Instead, he turned around and sluggishly opened the fridge.

His handsome features once again contorted in rage.

“You ate my fuckin’ sandwich?!” Bo whirled around to yell at the unnamed woman.

The intruder’s eyes popped open momentarily in a sort of shocked realisation. Still, she sent him a sharp, venomous glare to match his own.

“You ate my fuckin’ sandwich.” He repeated through angrily gritted teeth, fuming. “That Percy made for me.”

He slammed the door, and it shook the whole fridge from the heavy impact.

“Ya’ sure got some nerve walkin’ in here, sittin’ down on our goddamn chairs eatin’ our food, ya’ fuckin freak!” He spat, jabbing a finger in her direction.

“Well how about you consider it compensation for trying to murder me?” She hissed back, coiling up like a defensive snake.

Percy tensed up again. It seemed they both found it impossible not to fight.

“Both of you, stop…” She began, but…

“Is that right?” Bo ignored her in his fury.

“And what about all those cars you destroyed, huh? Or, I don’t know, the priceless piece of artwork ya’ messed with, you with your fuckin’ godless voodoo!”

…Voodoo…?

The woman rolled her eyes; in which Percy was unwillingly reminded of a petulant teenager.

“You should be grateful I showed mercy on you.” She sneered haughtily, somehow looking down on him even from her modest place on the chair.

“Oh, mercy?” Bo scoffed, a glint of dull amusement in his eye. “So that’s whatcha wan’ call it, huh? Alright. Alright…”

He shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly.

“Me, I’d call that runnin’ away like a wounded animal. Real pathetic like, I guess I got you scared. And not a hit on me, how lucky! In spite of all yer’ big talk.”

The girl’s face fell swiftly, but she said nothing in response. Her glare was withering, as if she hoped to disintegrate him on the spot.

“Ya’ got bloodstains fuckin’ everywhere, y’know. Vincent ain’t too pleased about that, let me tell you.” Bo pounced, seeing an opening; a chink in her armour.

(The man in question sent him a look from where he was silently watching the exchange, half-hidden by the darkened doorway.)

Bo lit up with a smile, as if he’d just had the most wondrous idea. “In fact, just maybe I’ll have you personally mop it off the goddamn floor so you can compensate me! Now how about that!”

He still kept his fingers curled around the wooden underside of his shotgun, and he gestured threateningly with it now, causing Percy’s heart to jump right up through her throat.

“How’s that bullet wound doin,’ by the way?” He smirked mockingly and thrust his chin forward in a taunt.

The intruder scowled.

“Just fine, seeing as your aim was so shit.” She grumbled quietly, holding a self-conscious hand tightly over the wound on her upper arm.

A bead of sweat appeared on Percy’s forehead as her eyes darted between the two hotly bickering, very dangerous individuals. She could practically feel the taut, barbed razor wire sizzling in the air, ready to snap at any moment.

This would not end well for anyone…

“Guys, please…” She tried to interject again, but…

“You sound so very defensive.” Another sharp retort cut through instead, as the intruder seemed to have recollected herself.

Percy goggled at the woman. She was trying to help her here, did she seriously want to get herself shot!?

She smirked. “I suppose you must feel quite ashamed, letting this single unarmed woman run figure eights around you and your lackey. Not exactly something to brag about, in my books.”

(It was then Vincent came to share his brother’s angry stare)

“I think you were afraid, Bo.” She spat out his name with acidic vitriol. “You needed that shoddy tool to fend off my… What did you call it? Voodoo? Hah!”

The witch laughed; a high-pitched, shrill cackle.

“Did that little stumble earlier remind you of that fact perhaps? Hm?” She batted her eyelashes with a coy head tilt, as if mocking the girls in his magazines.

Bo tightened his jaw, gnashing his teeth together with an unpleasant grinding sound. There was a joyless grin on his face that Percy recognised as one of murderous intent, bubbling just beneath the neatly groomed surface.

Oh, no, he’s going to-

“You should be grateful I don’t blow a fuckin’ hole through your ribcage right now, you little-“ He started, raising his gun as if to actually do so…!

Percy’s eyes practically bulged out of her head.

“Stop fighting!” She suddenly yelled, loud enough that both of them jumped in reaction. It was if they’d both forgotten she was there in the midst of their vicious banter.

“…Please.”

The green-eyed woman took a breath, the wooden chair squeaking as she leaned back. She refused to look at him, as it seemed he ultimately repulsed her. Bo huffed in indignation - clearly just as disgusted by her - but he backed down as well. He turned a kinder look to Percy now, softening his gaze.

“You alright, darlin…?” He offered, drawing her closer to him and away from the interloper.

“Yes, I’m completely fine.” Percy reassured him. “I just fell asleep in the middle of a paragraph, you should see the mess it made of my dear detective.”

“And don’t worry, I’ll make you another sandwich…”

"Y'promise?" Bo’s voice fell to a hushed whisper as they blocked out their audience, pressing her flush against himself.

She giggled a little, forgetting them all.

"Of course. I'll even melt the cheese this time!”

“An ice cold beer, bubble bath..." Percy whispered enticingly in his ear, feeling the heat creep up his neck. Vincent averted his gaze respectfully, shuffling his feet as if he no longer felt it necessary to be in the room anymore. The green-eyed woman sat gaping at the two, silenced.

“…You gonna join me?" Bo gave her a subtly pleading stare, reminding her of a begging puppy dog.

"Absolutely, honey. I'm just glad you're okay.” She purred, caressing his lapel. “Now c’mere…”

They shared a loving kiss, sealing an unspoken deal.

And that was how Percy convinced her begrudging fiancé to take in another stray.

Bonus:

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @goldrose-star, @soupbabe, @bluecoolr, @flower-crowned-lady, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @solmints-messyocdiary)

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[angxlslasher]

Merry! Hey I wanted to ask if when you Jason was free if he could help train me a bit more in attacking tourists. My bat swings aren't as strong as they used to be and I'd welcome some help from him. Any chance he'd up for giving me some pointers when you guys get here?

- Percy

“Huh…” Merry looked down at the map spread across her lap. She was trying to pinpoint the location of the wax town now that they were nearing Louisiana. The air outside of the car was thick and humid and paired with unrelenting sun above, it felt as if they were in a sauna; hot, muggy, and smothering.

‘At least it’s warmer than back home,’ She thought with a sigh as her finger followed the along the length of the road on the map. Ellie had given her directions when she first planned the trip, which she was incredibly thankful for since Ambrose wasn’t on any map.

Merry didn’t bother looking up when her phone dinged with a notification as she was absorbed in mapping the rest of their route. “Hey, honey, could you check that for me?”

Jason had been looking ahead at the cracked road, noting how the pavement in the distance almost looked as smooth as glass from the heat. He wanted to help Merry with the map, but with her stubborn streak and his lack of knowledge of anything beyond his territory, he figured it would be best to let her handle it. He trusted her and her smarts. When she asked him to check her phone, he pulled it from the cup holder and read the text she’d received from Percy.

Pride swelled in his chest at her question. He knew he could give her some good tips, seeing as how melee related weapons were his strong suit. In his delight, he tapped Merry’s arm and flashed her the screen so she could see the message.

Her eyes scanned over the words as a smile grew across her lips. It reminded him of the type of smile his mother would give him when he won awards for archery, or drew a picture of her. It was one of motherly pride, warm, and oh, so beautiful on his Merry.

“Ain’t that sweet?” She finally said softly, moving her amber gaze to Jason. “Want me to answer for you?”

Jason nodded quickly.

She giggled at his enthusiasm. “Alright, alright.”

She took the phone from him and started to type what he wanted to say.

‘Hey, Percy! Jason wants you to know that he’d be delighted to help you with swinging that bat of yours! He’s taught me a thing or two about using weapons around the house just in case, so trust me when I say you’ll be in good hands. He’s a very patient teacher and he’s always eager to share his knowledge on combat and survival.

He says whenever you’d like to practice, he’s down to help! We’re actually only a little ways away from Ambrose as I’m typing this. Maybe a few hours, so long as we don’t get lost or melt from the heat.

Anyway, we’ll see you soon, Percy!

- Merry💚’

Once the message was sent, she placed her phone in the cup holder and returned her attention to the map. Meanwhile, Jason was already making a mental list of the ways he could help Percy improve her strength.

[the-pinstriped-hood]

Percy loves Escape rooms.

Slashers: *puts Y/N in an escape room to test their skills*

Y/n: *happily kissing the security camera when they notice it*

Slasher: *smiling the talks over the speaker* baby you have to try and escape….

Y/n: but it’s so cozy in here

Slasher: *sighs and goes to get their partner*

[how-grand-trine-au]

Percy laughs. "Now THAT certainly sounds like Bo. Then again when he almost ran me over he was apparently on his way back from the grocery store one town over. On late nights when he was creep through my window, he found I wasn't eating as much and just about clutched his southern pearls. He made me a three course meal and asked me how I was coming along in my book.

Chris had just finished baking a big batch of Argentine style empanadas when he finally remembered to check his phone again.

The victims had been taken care of, and now it was time for dinner with Bo.

Vincent and Cande where in the wax museum basement, him doing his job, her being nosy and talking to him non-stop.

Chris set the empanadas down on the table and Bo just went at them, it was a big group, but most of them ended up poisoned by Chris, one knocked out by Cande, and two more by Bo.

They were mostly tired from moving the bodies around more than anything else.

Chris started reading Percy's e-mail and his eyes went wide, and almost chocked on the empanada he was munching on.

"Woah, you okay, darlin'?" Bo asked, giving Chris a few harsh pats on his back to help him get the food out of his lungs.

"Yeah I am- *coughs* I'm okay" he answered, Bo gave him a warm smile before continuing to down more empanadas like they were little Hershey's Kisses.

Chris just gave a chuckle and shook his head while he wrote an answer for his inter-dimensional friend.

A three course meal??! That's something! In the days I spent tied to the chair he was always hand feeding me, tho it was always PB&J or ham and cheese sandwiches, and water or orange juice.

Other than that he was extremely nice most of the time, I still don't understand why he didn't just kill me after the first night, and as much as I wanted him to, I'm kinda glad he didn't.

Taglist: @rottent33th @slaasherslut @allthingsblood @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @texaschainsawslvt

[charliedawn]

Hi, I take requests. If some people are interested. I would be happy to hear your ideas and give them life. So, don't hesitate to ask. 😇 I do imagines, one shots and fanfics of all kinds.

Here are the Fandoms I am a part of and I can write on:

- Teen Wolf

Derek Hale

Peter Hale

Stiles Stilinski

Scott McCall

Allison Argent

Chris Argent

Malia Tate

Lydia Martin

Jackson

Isaac Lahey

Theo Raeken

Liam Dunbar

Jordan Parrish

- Game of Thrones

John Snow

Daenerys Targaryen

Jorah Mormont

Sansa Stark

Arya Stark

Brienne of Tarth

Jaime Lannister

Cersei Lannister

Tyrion Lannister

Theon Greyjoy

Petyr Baelish

Sandor Clegane

- Divergente

Tris

Four

Peter

Caleb Prior

Eric

- The Witcher

Geralt of Riviera

Jaskier

Yennefer

- Grimm

Nick Burkhardt

Juliette Silverton

Eddy Monroe

Rosalee Calvert

Adalind Schade

Sean Renard

Black Claw

- The Hazbin Hotel

Alastor

Vaggie

Angel Dust

Charlie

Husk

Niffty

Sir Pentious

- Twilight

Edward Cullen

Bella Swan

Jasper Hale

Rosalie Hale

Alice Cullen

Emmett Cullen

Carlisle Cullen

Jane

Aro

Caius

Marcus

- Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon

Merle Dixon

Rick Grimes

Maggie Greene

Beth Greene

Negan

Dwight

Juanita

Mercer

Morgan Jones

Gabriel Stokes

Aaron

Alpha

Beta

Ezekiel

Carol

- Marvel

Tony Stark

Steve Rogers

James (Bucky) Barnes

Peter Parker

Bruce Banner

Wanda Maximoff

Pietro Maximoff

Stephen Strange

Clint Barton

Natasha

Thor

Loki

Carol Danvers

Deadpool

Moon Knight

Khonshu

The X-Men

- Justice League

Batman

Superman

Wonder Woman

Aquaman

Cyborg

The Flash

Green Lantern

- Encanto

Bruno Madrigal

Mirabel Madrigal

Isabela Madrigal

Luisa Madrigal

Dolores Madrigal

Camilo Madrigal

- Undertale

Sans

Papyrus

Toriel

Asgore

Chara

Frisk

Flowey

Asriel

Alphys

Undyne

Mettaton

Muffet

Grillby

Gaster

- Gravity Falls

Dipper Pines

Mabel Pines

Wendy

Stan Pines

Ford Pines

Bill Cipher

- Star Wars

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader

Padme Amidala

Luke Skywalker

Han Solo

Leia Organa

Poe Dameron

Kylo Ren

Rey

Armitage Hux

Finn

Rose Tico

Captain Phasma

Ahsoka Tano

Din Djarin/The Mandalorian

- Lost

James Ford

John Locke

Kate Austen

Jack Shephard

Sayid Jarrah

Charlie Pace

Benjamin Linus

Desmond Hume

- Harry Potter

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Severus Snape

James Potter

Lily Potter

Luna Lovegood

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

Ginny Weasley

The Weasley Twins

Percy Weasley

Hermione Granger

Draco Malfoy

Lucius Malfoy

Narcissa Malfoy

Cedric Diggory

Tom Riddle

Bellatrix Lestrange

Nymphadora Tonks

- Hunger Games

Peeta Mellark

Katniss Everdeen

Caesar Flickerman

Effie Trinket

Haymitch Abernathy

- My Hero Academia

All Might/Toshinori

Eraserhead/Aizawa

Present Mic

Hawks

Hitoshi Shinso

Dabi

Tomura Shigaraki

Himiko Toga

Kurogiri

Twice

Ochako Ururaka

Izuku Midorya

Eijiro Kirishima

Katsuki Bakugo

Shoto Todoroki

Tsuyu Asui

Momo Yaoyorozu

Kyouka Jirou

Denki Kaminari

Toru Hagakure

Fumikage Tokoyami

Tenya Iida

Hanta Sero

Mei Hatsume

Mezou Shouji

- Naruto

Naruto

Sasuke

Sakura

Kakashi

Itachi

Obito

Orochimaru

Rock Lee

Tsunade

- Izombie

Blaine Debeers

Olivia Moore

Peyton Charles

Clive Babineaux

Ravi Chakrabati

- Sherlock Holmes (BBC series)

Sherlock Holmes

Mycroft Holmes

John Watson

Enola Holmes

- Once upon a time

Regina

Emma Swan

Mary-Margaret (Snow White)

Prince Charming

Killian Jones

M. Gold (Rumplestiltskin)

Belle

Zelena

Ruby

Jefferson

Archibald

Viktor Frankenstein

- Shadow and Bone

Kaz Brekker

Alina Starkov

General Kirigan (The Darkling)

Matthias

Inej Ghafa

Jesper Fahey

Malyen

- Rise of the Guardians

Jack Frost

Pitch Black

Tooth Fairy

Sandman

Santa Klaus

Easter Bunny

- All of Hayao Miyazaki's animes

- It (both generations) and other horror movies

Michael Myers (RZ)

Freddy Krueger

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Jason Voorhees

Brahms Heelshire

Norman Bates

Hannibal Lecter

Jack Torrance

Penny (2017)

Pennywise (1990)

[bluecoolr]

You Ain't Goin' Nowhere

Darrell arrives in Ambrose. [Part 4/5]

Links to part 1 2 3 5

Warnings: self-proclaimed executioner with god complex comes to terms with being pseudo-adopted into a murders-for-funsies-but-sometimes-for-love family but there’s drama because his older brother/uncle-figure doesn’t like him all that much, so slasher-typical violence and gore, allusions to murder, jealous! and insecure!Vincent

A/N: OK I THOUGHT THIS WAS GONNA BE THE LAST PART BUT IT GOT TOO LONG. New (and old 👀) characters are introduced. As always, bold is ASL. HOPE YOU ENJOY!

Featuring the Sinclairs, RZ Michael Myers, and the ocs of @the-pinstriped-hood (Percy), @probably-a-plant-thing (Skulk), @slaasherslut (Ava). Ellie and Alia are also mentioned <3

Tagging some moots who might wanna see this! @rottent33th @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @cries-in-latino @kalid-raven @angxlslasher @allthingsblood

“You don’t believe me?”

“Vinny,”

Anger made Vincent's fingers stutter as he signed.

"You won't take my word for it? Why? Why, Bo? Do you trust him more than me? I'm your brother."

Bo took Vincent's hands in his, shushing him. "You are my brother. Nothing or no one would change that, but - tsk - listen to yourself. I know havin' people over is a new concept to you, but don't you think you're getting a li'l too carried away?"

He was looking at him like a raving lunatic, with that oh-poor-you frown wrinkling his brow. Vincent's breath hitched. He balled his fists and shook his twin off.

Bo regarded him sternly, like a silly misbehaving child. "Vincent," he warned.

Vincent grabbed the back of his chair and threw it back. It clattered against the tool chest.

"See for yourself, then." His one blue eye bulged in its socket. "Watch for the signs."

Bo watched him storm out of the garage and melt into the shadows beyond the pumps.

Darrell, a murderer? Where on earth did he get that?

Bo shook his head, raised his beer bottle to his lips, stopped. He glanced in the direction Vincent had gone.

Lesley Reinhart was settling into his sixties. Without much difficulty, one must note. If anything, he was in better shape than he ever was.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a muscular body that could put any recent police academy graduate to shame. Before he got out of his car - a sleek Porsche picked out of the city impound - he brushed back his hair and adjusted his tie.

His jaw clenched when he heard a wet squelch after he put one foot out. Mud. On his newly polished dress shoes.

It wasn't like he didn't know there was a growing hurricane, thought Hernandez as he trudged through the mud-strewn forest floor. He never understood how people grew vainer the closer they got to kicking the bucket.

The two men followed the well-trodden path to the shack the local townsfolk said was home to the last person who saw the missing teens.

They came upon the place. A sad brick and wood structure with an askew porch, which was lit by an amber light bulb. A loud humming told Hernandez the place ran on generator power.

Reinhart raised his voice. "Daniel Ray Williams?"

The scraggly boy who was chopping firewood stopped and lowered his ax. He took a cautious step back as the two men approached.

"Tread lightly, Moses, for the ground you walk on is holy ground… or some shit." A man, hidden by the shadow and fog, made his presence known. He sat on a rusty white-painted metal chair on the porch, smoking a hastily rolled cigarette. "Let's back you up, gentlemen," he said, "Off my property."

"Mr. Williams," began Reinhart, "my name is Lesley Rein-"

"Earl."

An impatient smirk tugged at the corner of Reinhart's thin lips. "My name is Lesley Reinhart. I'm a detective with the NOPD. This is my partner Detective Hernandez." He flashed his badge.

"Figured," said Earl, unimpressed.

"We're just here to ask Daniel Williams a couple of questions," Hernandez explained, adopting a more reasonable tone.

"That's my kid brother." Dan had made his calm, collected way up the steps and was now standing next to Earl. "Got a stutter. He don't talk much on account of it. You wanna know anythin', you ask me."

"This is about Brody Morgan and Carter Green," said Reinhart.

"Yeah, I heard about 'em. Got a dozen or so bluecoats sweeping the woods yesterday with dogs and whatnot."

Reinhart persisted. "We were hoping to get a statement out of Daniel, about what happened at the gas station."

Earl folded his arms over his chest. "Well, if you already know he was at the gas station, I'm sure you know what them boys did."

"We were also hoping he'd tell us about the attendant who was working there the day Brody and Carter disappeared."

Earl tipped his head and raised one wild eyebrow. "Why, he a suspect?"

Reinhart grew more impatient. "I'm afraid I can't divulge that."

"Level with me here, hoss."

"We'll be asking the questions here, Mr. Williams."

"Dan a suspect? Am I? Mighty convenient for you to have a bunch o' dirt-poor hillbillies to pin it down on."

"Respectfully, sir," piped up Hernandez, "Everyone who was within the area during the crime's occurrence is, and nothing was stolen-"

Reinhart shut him up with an authoritative wave of the hand. "Mr. Williams, I can charge you with criminal misdemeanor for refusing to cooperate," he barked.

Earl smiled. "I can also legally shoot you for trespassin', and so long as I claim fear of bodily harm the law is on my side."

It was at this point the two realized that the object leaning against Earl's chair was a shotgun and not a cane.

"We ain't got nothin' for ya, gentlemen," he said definitively. "Be a little more willin' if you'd done the same for every person that's disappeared from this mountain these past few decades, not just for city slickers whose daddies got dough."

Reinhart, seething from the insolence, turned away and marched back the way they came.

Hernandez braved Earl's hostile stare and placed his card on the damp porch. "Should you change your mind," he said. "Give me a call."

Earl leaned forward and read the name printed on the expensive cardstock.

Angel Hernandez

When the men had gone, he brought out his cellphone and sent a warning message to Skulk.

They're comin' up to the trailer, boy. Make yourself scarce.

Skulk had a habit of stealing Darrell's hoodies. They smelled like him and were warm, which was great for the weather they currently had going.

He got the message just as the detectives broke through the bushes. They narrowly passed him, sitting in a thicket as he was. Jebediah the little piglet, was sleeping soundly in his lap, remnants of a treat still hanging from his snout.

Skulk watched the detectives inspect Darrell's empty trailer. The older one kicked some of the sweet potatoes the naughty boars had dug from the vegetable patch. Skulk opened his and Darrell's conversation, filled with lewd little nothings they had sent back and forth. He typed:

On a more serious note, darling - there's pigs snooping about the trailer and not the usual kind.

The younger detective brought out a flashlight and peered through the tinted windows.

Had he locked the door?

Carefully shifting to his feet, though still remaining crouched, Skulk unsheathed his knife. Vibrating from the thrill of a possible kill, he waited. The second those cops opened the door, he would break cover. He could take them. One after the other.

The bigger man made him hesitate, but he was going to try. He'd left clothes there - unwashed clothes and tools of the trade. They all tried to be careful, but who's to say for certain the detectives won't find anything?

"Try the door," said one of them.

Jebediah stirred. The underbrush gave as Cristabella, grunting, arrived to take her brother home. Skulk bit his lip and held her mouth shut.

Incensed, Cristabella shook Skulk off. Her attention shifted to the strangers, and began to growl.

"What was that?"

Bellowing, Cristabella charged right at them. She bowled through them, knocking them clean off their feet. She was at them again, ramming her cutter tusks at their torsos. Clothes were shredded, yells rang, but the men were quick to get on their feet and they eventually got away.

Skulk watched, the squealing piglet under his arm, as Cristabella snorted in satisfaction as if to say Come back with a warrant.

—

Ava, Bo, and Darrell liked to hang out at the garage. Winds were picking up, blowing from the coast. Establishments were closed. Folk were told to remain indoors.

Ava and Darrell sat together while Bo tinkered with the engine of a sedan. He'd been trying to make it work for the past week. He couldn't fathom what he was doing wrong. The out of key strumming Darrell was doing on Ava's beat up acoustic wasn't helping.

Fed up, Bo unstuck his head from under the hood and winced at the two.

"Darrell, Darrell," he groaned. "You're never gonna learn to play with those clumsy fingers. Give that dang thing back to Ava."

Ava giggled and took her guitar back. "Don't listen to him," she told Darrell. "You'll get it, but won't you sing with me a while?"

She positioned her willowy fingers on the fretboard. Darrell returned her pick and she began to play.

Once the intro passed, Darrell followed through. The way the two friends' voices melded together was ethereal. Bo stopped in his tracks.

You go down just like Holy Mary

Mary on a, Mary on a cross

Mary on a, Mary on a cross

"Your beauty never ever scared me" Surprised, Ava looked up. She'd never heard Bo sing before. His voice was clear and cool, but higher in pitch than his speaking voice.

All three of them sang the last lines together, voices blending into a lovely harmony.

"Didn't know you had that in you," Ava teased.

Bo smirked and turned away. "Stick to singing, Darr. Leave the music to Ava."

To thwart the attention from himself, Bo turned up the radio. They listened attentively to another weather update, which was followed by a local news report.

Meanwhile, at Devil's Peak, the search for missing college students, Brody Morgan and Carter Green, continues. Police authorities race against the oncoming hurricane to uncover as much information about the boys' current whereabouts.

Brody Morgan is the son of media mogul, Arthur Morgan. Detective Lesley Reinhart assures the public that the New Orleans Police Department is doing everything in its power to find the boys.

Bo's ears burned. Three paces away, Darrell continued to sing softly to Ava's guitar, but he could see it: a tremble of the lip, a glassy faraway look in the eye. Guilt. Worry.

Darrell appeared to have not heard, but Bo knew he was listening closely.

That night, Bo roused Vincent out of bed, like a spectre at his bedside. They came to a shaky agreement behind the house.

"If we do it now, it'll be the end of it."

"Wait. I'm not too sure. Let me talk to him."

Vincent scoffed - a harsh nasal puff. "You think he'll admit to it? Idiot."

Bo grabbed him by the shirt. "You don't move til I say you can."

—

All was quiet and gray the next day. Percy sat at the dining table, her fingers clacked busily on the keyboard as she wove a new chapter. She peered over her glasses at the amassing clouds from the window. "This must be what they mean by 'the calm before the storm'," she remarked. 

Darrell was sitting in the chair next to her, poring over one of the books she had written. "You made Halloran look like Bo," he noted with an amused smile. 

"I did." She watched him fondly. She reached over and pushed a stray strand of hair from his face. "You know what, maybe I should give Halloran a sidekick." 

Darrell looked up, brown eyes gleaming. 

"I think I have an idea on what he might look like."

Darrell put down the book and rested his chin on her shoulder. He squinted at the walls of text on her document. "That's a whole lotta words, Momma," he sighed. 

Percy smiled, feeling rather proud of herself. "No big feat, to me. What do you think so far?"

Darrell gave it a good, careful read. He sighed softy, blown away. "Shucks, I dunno how you do it." 

There was an urgent hammering at the window. Michael stood outside. He held a grubby baseball in his hand. 

"Be right back, Momma," said Darrell. 

"Hey, Mikey," he said at the door. "Don't think it's good weather to play catch in. Alia won't approve." 

Michael stared up at him, lips sealed. He tilted his head and raised the ball again. His posture hinting that he wasn't asking. 

"Ok." 

Darrell took the ball and the glove he had brought. In their game, Darrell was the only one who did the throwing and catching. Michael would hit the ball as hard as he could with a bat, and watch as Darrell struggled to catch it. Peak entertainment. 

"Further?" Darrell called from down the street, the House of Wax behind him. 

Michael kept pointing at him to go further. He was going to knock the ball right out of town. Darrell reeled back and pitched. The bat hit the ball with a deafening thwack!

It rode the air like a comet. Arching high, Darrell knew chasing after it was futile. Then, it dipped, whistling, and crashed through one of the lower windows of the House of Wax. 

The glove slipped off of Darrell's hand. Michael turned on his heels and let the bat clatter on the street. In case they incurred Vincent's wrath, he was detaching himself from the incident. 

Darrell picked his way through the wasteland of discarded car parts, cut through a crack in a wooden fence, and entered the House of Wax. 

The door swung right open and he crossed the slightly dusty threshold. He was greeted by a main room glowing with yellow lamps, filled with intricate carvings that he knew for a fact were all wax. In an odd trick of the eye, the bulbs seemed to fill the room with shadow more than light. The result was dismal and bleak. 

Darrell's thoughts strayed unhappily as he eyed the sculptures. It was as though the misery stored in that room was seeping into his bones. Distracted, he went from one display to another, admiring the detail of each handiwork.

Vincent was so talented. He and Ellie went together perfectly. If only he could understand what he had done that made him so angry. 

There was a rapid clicking on the floor. He recognized it at once as the padding of an animal. Jonesy, tail wagging and mouth bearing the rogue ball, watched him from a safe distance. 

Darrell dropped to a crouch. "Hey, girl! Good job! Give it here." 

Jonesy tucked tail and ran. 

"Hey, no! Come back!" Darrell gave chase and stumbled from one room to another.  Jonesy girl, no! I'm not supposed to be in here."

He came upon the back of the building, past an elaborately decorated dining room, and into a doorway that led to the basement. 

There were sconces in the walls, housing steadily burning candles. Embedded among these were different faces, each with a unique expression. Darrell followed the faces upwards and looked overhead. Spanning the ceiling, her eight spindly legs astride the stairway, was Arachne - Horrid, freakish, and beautiful all at once. Face smooth with youth. Bosom full and immodestly bare. Eyes hungry. Head held high with pride. 

"What is this place?" muttered Darrell. 

Bark! Jonesy had dropped the ball at the bottom of the stairs. 

Darrell crept down the steps. As he was reaching for the ball, Jonesy's jaws snapped at his wrist and she made off with the ball again. He walked into the room. It felt like a furnace. Great, big cauldrons of wax hung on chains over large fires. Knives, saws, and sculpting tools hung on the walls. A bloodstained steel table stood in the middle of the room. 

But worst of all, there was a figure - human-shaped - suspended in a macabre iron contraption.  

Darrell was pulled to it by some sick fascination. He thought he could see the glimmer of an eye under the rough wax, blue and bright. He stood inspecting the thing, heart hammering. 

Its fingers twitched, and Darrell screamed. 

He spun around and found himself face to face with Vincent. There was a knife in his hand. 

Darrell interposed the table between them and made a run for the stairs after circling it twice. Vincent tried to grab him by the hair but missed. 

Darell ran right into Michael in the dining room. The taller man stepped in and locked Vincent's wrist in a crushing grip. 

Crack! 

Vincent had landed a punch on Michael's jaw. Michael recovered almost immediately and was able to grab the blade of the knife just as it was about to pierce his side. Blood dribbled onto the floor. 

He changed his hold on the blade, used his free hand to hold Vincent's arm, and knocked the weapon out of his grasp. 

When he looked back, Darrell was gone. He was sprinting down Main Street, sweating, panting, heart hammering. He understood it now - why the town had felt so empty, why the girls had tried to keep him entertained indoors at all times, why the sculptures looked so real. 

Lester found him sitting on the curb sometime after dinner. "Y'alright there, buddy?" he inquired cheerfully. 

Darrell did not respond. 

Lester sat down beside him. "I, uh, heard what happened." 

"S'Mikey ok?" 

"Yep. Didn't feel a thing, Alia said. He's been patched up." Lester took a crumpled pack from his pocket and lit a cigarette. 

"Ya in on it, Les?" 

Lester did not respond.

"Y'know," Lester began, "What we do out here, we been doin' it a long time. An' ya know, you can get used ta anythin' if you're 'round it long enough. It ain't easy to put it down."

He blew the smoke out and brought Darrell's attention to the cigarette. The red glowing tip flickered as he waved it around.

"It's like quitttin', ya know?" he explained, "Ya can't just do it." 

Darrell was nodding. He knew how that felt. 

"Besides, this is my family," Lester added, "I love them. More than anythin'."

Darrell had begun to think of them as his family, too. It had felt too good to be true. 

"Here's one for ya. Those missing kids, d'you do that?"

Darrell glanced sideways at Lester. There was no judgment in his eyes, no hate like in Vinny's. His expression was open, sincere. 

"D'you kill 'em?" 

Darrell resigned himself and said, "Killed more than just them." 

"Are you gonna stay with us?" 

"Can I?" 

"Sure!" 

There was thunder overhead. They raised their eyes to the sky. Lester grinned. "Anyway, with that comin', you ain't goin' nowhere." 

[the-pinstriped-hood]

I honestly had this concept rolling around in my head while I took a shower this morning. (This was actually a few days ago)

I suppose it's like a dream concept? A little angsty, a little funny but it's all in Bo's head. It's before he proposes to Percy)

Let's see how it turns out.

And idea struck Bo one evening that made his stomach turn: Percy was tying Bo down. That was the whole point of tying the knot wasn't it? But some part of his selfish heart spoke to him.

"Is she really that good enough to put a ring on? There are thousands of women to be waitin' for you to bed them and you pick the most Plain Jane of them all?"

He was sitting in a white void in his pajamas. Nothingness for miles except for a man in an all black suit. Himself.

His selfishness was an old friend. One he admittedly not seen in a while due to Percy.

"You really gonna tie yourself to her? After all these years of partying it up as a single man, bedding every woman you could possibly nab with our rugged good looks and you choose little miss secretary?"

Bo sighed, upset he had to go over this in his own head. "Yeah, of course I chose her. Where in the hell am I ever gonna get another woman like her?"

"You could always leave." Selfish hissed with a smile. "Leave her, Vincent and Lester. Live your life the way you want it. You don't have to be beholden to anyone but yourself. Besides, you've been lookin' out for number one all this time. What's stopped you this time?"

There was a clearing of the throat from the other side of the room. Another vision of Bo this time in a white suit. "His conscience."

"He don't have one."

"Not until Her, she didn't."

This Bo stood from his chair, tired and hair slightly frayed, helping Bo up from the floor. "I haven't had a voice for years until now, you've always been in control." He stared daggers into Selfish.

Bo stared at his conscience. "Percy gave you a voice…"

Conscience nodded with a smile. "The woman you love gives you more than her time, love and physical self. She gives you the tools to do right, minus the murder of course."

The three were in agreement.

"Why would you leave her? For some 15 minute fling in some seedy hotel with some other woman you'd never see again? And do what? Break Percy's heart and the hearts of the family who loves you?" Selfishness stalked over only to be chained up by a wave of the man in whites hand.

"You aren't a part of this conversation anymore. Bo, listen to me. You're gonna get preweddin jitters, all couples do. Do you love Percy?"

"More than anything. I saved her."

"Exactly and she repays you by loving you every day of your life. You know she could do better but here she stays, with you. Because she sees herself in you and vice versa. Ruinin' your life for a single selfish thought is not the way to go."

Bo was silent as White spoke again. "Everytime she looks at you, what do you see?"

"That she believes in me, that she loves me unconditionally. I just don't get it though. Why would she trust me? She watched me try to kill someone and she didn't turn tail and run. I still don't get it..."

"Because regardless of all that she loves you. You're protecting your family. She finds that to be a shared trait. You saved her by not runnin' her over and she repaid you...?"

"By savin' my life in turn."

"Exactly. Any other woman you know would've done what she did? Or turn you in?"

Bo nodded.

"well there you go! Bo, what you have on your hands, is a soulmate. Someone who's soul almost matches yours. The other half that makes the two a' you feel whole. She's not afraid to get upset with you, she's an equal. Wouldn't you rather have someone standin' beside you an' not behind you?"

Bo woke up the next morning feeling extra sure of himself. Whatever came next, he wanted Percy as his partner in crime.

Tags:@rottent33th @slaasherslut @soupbabe @bluecoolr-main @probably-a-plant-thing @damien-mlm @flowercrownedlady @6lostgirl6 @texaschainsawslvt @slasherscrybaby @shonkgobonk @kalid-raven @allthingsblood @angxlslasher

[slasherscrybaby]

I’m cackling Lester really said Ight time for me to shut this shit down “Go downstairs and shut the fuck up for cryin' out loud!” Crying

LIKE OKAY LESTER I SEE YOU!! SHUT THAT SHIT DOWN MY GUY

Lester really said:

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

[the-pinstriped-hood]

A small thing about Percy and Bo.

Percy once grilled the heads of the publishing company she works for because they were stealing from all the massive checks she was getting from her books. Bo had been in the background of that call sipping his coffee. Her voice was calm but cold as ice with that southern accent she had picked up from Bo.

"I ain't stupid. Now, if I don't get the money I'm owed, ya'll are gonna have a lawsuit the size of Louisiana burnin' a hole in ya. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Hayes?"

Safe to say Bo had to go take care of something upstairs.

Tags: @rottent33th @slaasherslut @devil-doll13 @bluecoolr-main @ajarofpickledtears @shonkgobonk @soupbabe @slasherscrybaby @solmints-messyocdiary @ahmnom @probably-a-plant-thing @damien-mlm @kalid-raven @angxlslasher @allthingsblood

[bluecoolr]

I barely have any words!!!!! The way this is written makes my heart go badump badump but crazyyy 🥺🥺💖💙

The image of Red in the trailer and the backstory made me 😭😭😭😭

They're together again and Bo's gonna have to lace his boots real tight for the fire Red's bringing!!

Also let's hope Skulk doesn't get held hostage by the hogs poor gummy

A storm washes over Ambrose (Red - Part 3)

Warnings: more of Red's backstory, slasher-typical violence, gay stabby man misses bigger stabby man, Ellie and Skulk are mentioned, Percy worries for Darrell, Red gives Bo a literal run for his money

Darrell belongs to @bluecoolr

Skulk belongs to @probably-a-plant-thing

Ellie belongs to @rottent33th

Percy belongs to @the-pinstriped-hood

He was on his third beer when he started feeling the raindrops fall on him. The sky was dark with clouds and the moon was long hidden behind them, must have spaced out again.

He hopped off the trailer and onto the increasingly wet floor, scrambling to get the keys from under the doormat. Rain was on full blast once he got inside.

Red didn't turn any lights on, he just sat on Darrell's bed, drinking and staring into nothingness for what felt like hours. 

I miss him

Why? It's only been a day

He'll be back home soon

Why didn't I go again?

Red went through Darrell's drawers and took out a hoodie, it looked comically big on him, but he didn't care. The trailer was dark and cold, but the hoodie and the bedsheets smelled like Darrell. He dressed a pillow with one of Blue's shirts and clung onto it for dear life, he was almost angry at himself for being so sentimental.

Almost.

The harsh smacking of the raindrops on the metal surface of the trailer drowned out his silent cries, and soon lulled him into a deep, exhausted sleep. 

Ever since he could remember, the color red was there, haunting and taunting him.

Staining the tiled floors of the bathroom.

Searing hot with rage on his pupils.

Coating his hands in warm slick.

Burning away at the last remnants of his past.

All he could see was red. All of it. Everywhere.

That night, so long ago, when he had decided he'd escape, or die trying. Red.

He was eighteen, old enough to try and fend for himself, and he knew the world wasn't kind but his father was less than so.

Years he spent under his father's helicopter-like monitoring, he had learned to hide himself, who he really was and how he felt, in hopes of survival.

A hurricane was afoot, the power supply was cut to the entire city, so the electric locks on the doors were out of service.

He quietly stuffed a backpack with some clothes, and headed for the safe in his father's study, where he kept most of the money. His father never trusted banks, and he had hit the jackpot with his unconventional ways of psychotherapy. If you could even call them that.

He sat in front of the small safe under the desk, thinking of how the hell he could crack it open, he needed to leave soon. The storm would cover his tracks nicely.

Maybe a date?

A birthday?

His? His mom's?

The day they got married?

After trial and failure, a thought crossed his mind.

Red.

Maybe it's the day she… no… he wouldn't. Right?

He put the date in.

CLICK!

Red.

That sick bastard…

He stuffed all the cash in a trash bag, his hands shaking with anger and hurt. A lightning bolt illuminated the night sky, it almost seemed like it was the middle of the day. For a split second he saw something shine next to the last few wads of cash.

A revolver, next to an unopened box of rounds and a silver letter opener. The gun itself looked like it was never fired. 

He took them, of course.

Just then, he heard the old wooden floors creak, making him hunch and hide under the desk.

His father had entered the room, in search of a midnight drink at the liquor cabinet he kept by his books. The boy was so quiet, you couldn't even hear his breath. The storm was loud, but adrenaline had his senses heightened. The sounds of glass and liquid, his own heartbeat, blasting in his ears.

And red behind his eyes. Stinging tears building up, threatening to spill.

Red.

Blinding and all-consuming.

Another flash of light from the sky. He was standing behind his father, silent as a ghost, letter opener in hand. The blade sank onto his father's back the second that thunder erupted. Drowning his screams.

In and out.

Red.

Again and again.

Red.

Staining his hands and his soul.

The blade was dull, but the point was sharp enough. His arms were strong enough. He pierced through cloth, through skin and flesh, over and over again.

Panting, his eyes darted between the liquor bottles and the corpse at his feet. He smashed bottle after bottle, stopping himself at the last one, just to down its contents in one swing.

A lit match was all he needed.

The study was ablaze in a split second, flames devouring everything they touched.

It spread quickly, he soon had to exit the house.

And he stood under the rain.

Out in the storm, he gazed at what was his house, a raging inferno.

Red.

Blinding and all-consuming.

Thunderstruck forced him awake, back to where he was. Surrounded by all things Darrell, except the man himself. Back in the cold darkness of the trailer. Blue's trailer.

Blue…

I miss you…

He looked at his phone, 5 am. He scrolled through his old conversations with Darrell, looking for something. A map to Ambrose, Darrell's friend, Ellie, had sent him.

Fuck it.

Sorry, Skulk…*

Darrell and Percy had just come back after a long day of shopping, the days were shorter at this time of year, and the ongoing storm didn't help.

Red hadn't texted since the previous night, he was worried out of his mind.

"Are you alright, sweet boy?" she asked him, her words laced with concern.

"Yes, Momma. Just thinkin' bout Red, 's all…" his eyes looked out the window.

"Well, I'm sure he's okay. He'll answer you any minute now, I just know it!" she placed a hand on his back.

"Thank you, ma'am. 'Scuse me, please, I need a smoke." he was polite as usual, but a bit too cold to be him. Percy let him on his way.

He lit up his cigarette, standing under the porch awning to shield himself from the water pouring from the sky. He took a long drag before exhaling the smoke out in exasperation.

What if he got in another fight?

Skulk had told him he didn't see Red around all day.

Not in his trailer, nor the cabin. 

Not around the bar nor the diner either.

What if he got hurt?

What if he's in the hospital?

What if-

A distant flash caught his eye, not lightning, but a vehicle's headlight, far on the main road of the town. He squinted and catched the sight of a red quad bike, a figure all in black on top, inquiring Bo about something. 

Bo pointed towards the house's general direction and he could swear he heard the engine roaring back to life in a split second, the figure fast approaching him while Bo ran behind him, yelling at him to stop in a futile attempt.

Darrell was speechless, his smoke long lost and drowned in rainwater. In less than a minute, the quad bike was in front of him, its driver looking up at him, both chests rising and falling rapidly in heavy, ragged breaths.

He removed his helmet, letting red locks fall free, quickly drenching under the rain. A flushed, desperate look on the one brown eye.

"Hey, Blue… I-... I missed you too much"

*Sorry, Skulk... You'll have to deal with the hogs on your own.

Taglist: @slaasherslut @allthingsblood @ajarofpickledtears @texaschainsawslvt @angxlslasher @kalid-raven @mr-trick

[the-pinstriped-hood]

Pinch me

Bo x Percy (Angels of Ambrose AU)

The few days of Christmas and afterwards were a rush for Bo. After finally announcing their engagement the rest of the group went nuts save for Ava who had already been on it. They celebrated and finally after days Bo had a chance to clear his head.

Working on his truck with Percy all curled up with a book, they both needed a break. The garage was silent, minus the snowfall and cold wind. Bo had closed the bay door and turned on the heater to keep them both comfortable. Both knew how the other was feeling. Overwhelmed, still in shock but happy and content. Percy messed with her new ring and admired it, Ava had done a phenomenal job.

Bo finally put down his allen wrench and sighed. He looked over his shoulder to his gorgeous fiancee. He huffed and walked over as Percy made room.

"Could you do it one more time? I wanna make sure..." He smiled faintly. Percy chuckled and pinched his arm again.

Tag: @rottent33th @slaasherslut @bluecoolr-main @damien-mlm @probably-a-plant-thing @slasherscrybaby @angxlslasher @texaschainsawslvt @kalid-raven @allthingsblood

[the-pinstriped-hood]

A Short Prelude to 'Long Time No See'

(this is just a short before hand of @soupbabe's Long Time No See with their OC Emil Muller, Mia belongs to @kalid-raven )

The crickets chirped outside the Sinclair-Jones home, on the top floor, master bedroom. Steam hissed from the connected bathroom as Bo was taking a long hot shower before bed. The bathroom door open and a conversation going on between him and Percy, his bride-to-be.

The novelist looked over her emails in bed, looking over offers for appearances for her newest book, Midnight Papertrail: The Alpine Codex. The had talked about Bo possibly going along this time since he couldn't stay away from Percy for a week while she was in New York last time.

There has been a new offer for a book signing in New York at various bookstores. Definitely not a lot of people and so the stress level would be minimum. Mostly for Bo's sake.

Bo dried himself off and wrapped the towel around himself, wetness gluing his handsome curly locks to his forehead. "You already got it all set up?"

Percy nodded yawning. "Just you and me in New York for a week. I might splurge on us just a little. It'd be your first time there so, I want you to at least be comfortable while we're there."

The southerner crawled into bed after hanging up his towel and climbing into bed in a pair of sweatpants. "You really gonna spoil me? Bottle service, room service, fancy digs n'all?"

"The whole nine yards, Bo. You and I don't travel as much, so I'd like to have a nice time while we're there. I'd like to bring Mia, but I'm afraid for her safety….Maybe I'll take her to Disneyland one day. A family trip, you, me and her. Sound nice?"

Bo laid his hands behind his head. "Sounds Perfect, Darlin'. C'mon get to bed."

Percy closed her laptop and yawned again setting her laptop on her dresser and climbing into bed, turning off her light and crawling into Bo's arms.

Tag: @rottent33th @slaasherslut @bluecoolr @probably-a-plant-thing @damien-mlm @slasherscrybaby @angxlslasher @allthingsblood @flower-crowned-lady @solmints-messyocdiary

[the-pinstriped-hood]

So I recently read a Sleepy Sinclair HC's by @visceravalentines and completely accept all these head cannons about the brothers and how each of them sleep! I wanted to do one for my Angel of Ambrose, The Corrupted One herself! Percy!

(Hey, @rottent33th @slaasherslut wanna get in on the fun?)

Okay! Here we go!

•Percy when it comes to clothing during sleep is the complete opposite of Bo, bare minimum. Shirt and panties. That's it.

•She will often steal some of Bo's favorite band tees to wear to sleep because they are comfy and smell like her lover.

•Gets really bad nightmares. She and Bo are in the same boat when it comes to trauma and so either they'll both be up or the other will be comforting them.

•Percy, compared to Bo is a really light sleeper due to her mind racing constantly with new ideas and often sneaks downstairs past Bo, who will sometimes grab her wrist when she sneaks past him to go put her thoughts on paper. Bo has tried to get her to keep a journal on her nightstand. She won't budge.

•Girly girl runs cold and cannot retain it very well. A slight breeze will have her in chattering teeth, thankfully Bo is a human space heater and her skin gets cold so it works out for them mutually in the long run.

•Is with Bo all the way about keeping water on the nightstand. Percy keeps hers in a reusable drink cup filled with ice water for Bo so they can both share when need be.

•Both of them get tangled up in eachother way too often. Percy is often the small spoon due to her shorter stature and Bo likes having something to hold onto during the night should his dreams turn vicious.

•Percy hugs her pillow. Sleeps with it sideways and refuses to sleep any other way with a pillow. Ellie once told her it means she likes hugs. Ellie is correct.

Aaaaaand that's all of them!

Tag: @rottent33th @slaasherslut @kalid-raven @cries-in-latino @allthingsblood @texaschainsawslvt @coppasulfate @angxlslasher