#percy jones

[jt1674]

[the-pinstriped-hood]

Needle and Threat

Debuting Yet another new character, Alison Crowley, aka the future, Ragsy.

Name: Alison Crowley

Age: 22

Height: 6'10"

Weight: 125.6 lb

Sex: Female

Gender: Female

Sexual Preference: Straight

Eye color: Hazel

Skin Color: Caucasian

Haircolor: Mud Brown

Likes: Animals, Origami, Street Magic

Dislikes: Peanuts, Her Parents (Deceased)

Backstory: Older sister to @bluecoolr's Zombie girl Stephanie. Was never told of her baby sisters fate and is living on her own from a young age. Parents were drunks who were killed by another junkie on the Fourth of July one weekend two weeks after Stephanie was missing and was presumed dead. Alison never believed that and spends every hard earned dime she has to try and find her baby sister, unable to let go of the past and move on. While hitchhiking, she joins a group of college kids heading to New Orleans for Mardi Gras.. you know what happens next.

AMBROSE.

But while the other kids are off getting slaughtered, Ali slips away at the mention of a witch on the swamp. Alison is at the end of her rope and goes to find her.

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

[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

[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." 

[nuagederose]

”the ghost mills” 🕯️

ig: badmotorartist

[slaasherslut]

An Angry Bean Rises: Ava's Side

You Aint Goin' Nowhere 1 | 2 from @bluecoolr

Red part 2 from @cries-in-latino

You Aint Goin' Nowhere 3 from @bluecoolr

Red part 3 from @cries-in-latino

The Devil in Disguise from @probably-a-plant-thing

You Aint Goin' Nowhere 4 from @bluecoolr

I Wanna Talk from @the-pinstriped-hood

An Angry Bean Rises from @rottent33th

Percy's Side from @the-pinstriped-hood

Michael's Side from @kalid-raven

This is a continuation of the stories above (the list is in chronological order, Ava's Side coming right after Michael's.)

Please message me and lemme know if i missed anything above or if anything is in the wrong order i love all of you so fucking much <3

Ava sat on the couch plucking away at her guitar strings when a heavy knock came at the front door.

"Come in!" She shouted as she continued moving her fingers. The door slowly opened and a dishevelled Vincent stumbled in. Ava did a double take on him.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what the hell happened to you!?" She threw her guitar on the couch as she quickly rose to her feet. Vincent clutched his stomach as he wobbled in the house. She quickly shut the door behind him.

"What happened? Lemme see it." Vincent gave her the OK as she gently lifted his sweater. His stomach had a massive area where a purple bruise was starting to form. She gently touched it and he winced.

"Sorry." She said quietly. "Anything feel broken?" Vincent nodded. She pulled his shirt back down. As she did she noticed a small trail of blood coming from underneath his mask and moving down his neck.

"Fuck okay come on, lets get you into the kitchen." She guided the injured giant to the kitchen and pulled out two chairs at the table, motioning for him to sit in one. He gently lowered himself into the chair with a grunt and Ava sat in the chair across from him. She put her hands on either side of his mask before looking at him for approval. It was then she noticed how swollen his eye was. Vincent hesitated for a moment before nodding and she gently slipped off his mask, setting it on the kitchen table. His face was bruised, cut and swollen. A black eye already starting to form around his unscarred eye. Several small abrasions dotted his pale face, a trail of blood flowed from his nose, coating his mouth and the inside of his mask.

"Jesus fucking Christ Vinny, you get into a fight with a brick wall or something?"

"No, Michael." He signed.

"Same thing." She chuckled as she stood to grab the first aid kit that was kept in a drawer in the kitchen. She cracked it open to make sure everything she needed was inside, grabbing a small towel from the counter and running it under the water in the kitchen sink.

"So" She started as she walked back to her seat. "You gonna tell me what happened or do I have to play twenty questions?" Vincent looked down at the floor in shame. She gently grabbed his face to face back up at her as she examined his wounds. He was going to be fine but he already looked like shit. She gently took the towel and began wiping the blood off his face. She tried to be as gentle as possible but Vincent still let out a wince every once in a while. Once the blood was mostly gone he breathed a sigh before explaining, hands moving with nervous shakes.

"I got into a scuffle with Darrell..." He hesitated, fingers curling and uncurling trying to find the words. "I tried to kill him.." Ava went silent for a moment, hands freezing before they dropped to her knees. She gripped the towel hard, squeezing out a mixture of water and blood that ran down her arm.

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Ava screeched. She arose from her seat and started pacing around the room, her fingers from one of her hands raked across her scalp in frustration while the other still gripped the cloth in her hand. Tiny drops of water and blood trailed around her. Vincent was surprised when she started laughing. She started yelling, waving her arms like mad, blood flew from her hands to the wall behind her. "I honestly cant believe you, I cant fucking believe you right now, Vincent.. You tried to fucking kill your girlfriends best friend! Are you insane or just plain fucking stupid!?" His heart shattered even more than it had before. He knew he deserved this but her words just really fucking hurt.

She threw the towel down on the table and leaned against the chair she was sitting in.

"What for?" She asked. Vincent didn't move.

"I said WHAT FUCKING FOR VINCENT?! WHAT WAS SO BAD THAT YOU FELT LIKE YOU NEEDED TO KILL HIM!?" Ava was screaming now, she was absolutely fuming. Darrell was an incredibly sweet guy, like family to everyone in Ambrose. She had no idea what the fuck was running through Vincent's mind when he tried to murder him.

Vincent grunted before aggressively signing. "Hes a killer, Ava... A murderer." Ava stared at him absolutely dumbfounded. Murder had sort of become something of a normalcy in Ambrose, but she never expected Darrell to be a killer. That didn't really matter to her though. The man she lay next to every night had a kill count higher than the amount of men she had slept with. Murder was little to nothing.

"Yes and?" Ava rolled her eyes at him.

"What do you mean 'and'?" Vincent asked. "You don't care?"

Ava laughed again, even harder this time. "Okay so you're insane and stupid. My best friend is a killer, the man I have a home with is a killer, I have a killer sitting in my fucking kitchen! So no! I don't care!" Ava was so mad she almost started crying. "And you're a hypocrite if you do care. You're a killer too Vincent! So stop acting so fucking godlike You're not doing any acts of service here!"

Ava went silent, and Vincent didn't dare to say anything. Not that it would have mattered, anything he said would have just angered her more. She collected herself and walked towards the living room, coming back a few seconds later with her black purse. She scavenged through it, pulling out a prescription pill bottle with an assortment of different pills and a label that has long since faded. She poured a handful into her hand and grabbed four red and white tablets, handing two to Vincent.

"Take these, they'll help with the pain and take the swelling down a bit." Vincent accepted them and nodded his head. "The bed in the guest room is already made, you're welcome to hide out there for a while." He nodded again, signing a quick thank you before reaching for his mask.

"Leave it. Ill clean it for you." She didn't even look at him. He slowly pulled his arm back before giving her a final look and retreating to the upstairs bedroom. Ava sat back down at the kitchen table and dry swallowed the two other pills before putting her head in her hands.

"Fuck, this is going to be a nightmare."

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

[soupbabe]

Percy and Maggie enjoying My Cousin Vinny together?

We joked how they would know every line in the movie.

Girls Night (Percy Jones + Magnolia Sinclair)

Percy and Maggie have a movie night.

I hope I did Percy justice!! It was fun writing for her ♡

Percy Jones belongs to @the-pinstriped-hood !!

Percy's arrival in Ambrose traveled fast within the town. From Bo to Vincent to Lester and to finally Maggie, all of the Sinclairs welcomed her to their home with open arms. She was a good change to happen to the quiet town, but as days went by, Maggie began brewing up an idea.

It's safe to say that Bo wasn't the only one itching to know everything about the novelist.

Maggie scoured the Sinclair home before stopping in the dining room. Sitting at the head of the table was Percy; her hair was tied back and her glasses reflected the walls of text from her laptop. "Hey Percy, do you have plans tonight?" The brunette glanced from her computer to the blonde and groaned. "I will if I can't clear out these emails..." Maggie pulled out the chair across from her, resting her head on her propped up hands. "Well, if you get your work done early, I thought we'd have a girls night! I've always wanted to have one and I think it'd be a nice way to know each other."

Percy hesitated before resuming to her computer. "What do you have planned?" Maggie smiled, "Just a movie night down at the theater. I talked to Bo and it turns out you have good taste." Percy's brow quirked upwards, "Really now?" "Really! It just so happens that My Cousin Vinny is also my favorite movie. We can camp out in the theater." At the sound of the title, Percy immediately shut her laptop and gave her full attention to Magnolia.

Her smile was soft and her eyes lit up, "Count me in."

Later that night, the Ambrose movie theater was alive. The girls showed up in their best attire: a matching purple and white PJ set for Maggie and Bo's old Johnny Cash tour shirt and grey sweatpants for Percy. The shorter woman was quick to grab all the necessary snacks and set the movie up for her new friend. "How often are you in here?" Percy gazed around the cinema, a smile dawned her lips as she admired the vintage decor. "A lot. When you have a whole place like this to yourself, it'd be a shame not to take advantage of it."

As the movie started, the girls mostly remained quiet. Though, they couldn't help talking in between smaller scenes. From sharing small behind the scenes facts to Magnolia giggling whenever Mona Lisa came onto the big screen. The energy was light and fun, and it all came ahead in the scene.

Mona Lisa Vito was called up to be an expert witness.

Mindlessly, Percy mumbled along with the movie. "No. The defense is wrong." Maggie giggled and lightly nudged her, "Are you sure?" "I'm positive." Line by line they acted along the film; their increasing giggles became hard to suppress. Percy smiled at Maggie's overacting as she took her hands. "Thank you, Miss Vito. No more questions. Thank you very, very much.

You've been a lovely, lovely, witness." At the drop of Percy's hands they broke into chuckles.

"Y'know Magnolia, this idea wasn't too bad." The Sinclair smiled. "Please, call me Maggie. "

[josiebelladonna]

pakt is coming out here on thursday, right as we’re about to get bitch-slapped with a huge atmospheric river.

how are they not calling this the pineapple express tour.

[dustedmagazine]

PAKT — Live in NYC (Moonjune)

PAKT Live in NYC by PAKT - Percy Jones, Alex Skolnick, Kenny Grohowski, Tim Motzer

No one needs reminding of live music’s absence in the summer of 2020. Those days are gone, but in the middle of that uncertain season, one intrepid improvising quartet played live at Brooklyn’s Shapeshifter lab, appropriately distanced and with a very small audience. Guitarists Alex Skolnick and Tim Motzer, bassist Percy Jones and drummer Kenny Grohowski (calling themselves PAKT) found the experience so satisfying that they’ve continued collaborating, Moonjune dropping three new concert releases in July of 2023. Live in NYC is particularly special as not only did the February 18,  2023 Nublu event bring them back to New York, but the evening was organized to honor Jones, a long-time NYC resident.

Far too often, groups of high-profile players such as this one are doomed to failure before a note is played. This has nothing to do with talent, and it’s not about improvisational ability, as the same thing happens in the world of strictly composed music. An ensemble can look fantastic on paper, but playing styles and temperaments just won’t coalesce; the music suffers. PAKT improvises each performance, and while each release to date does exhibit a similar flow, it’s only the container for some extraordinary music making, which is the band’s saving grace. Yes, the NYC concert wends its way through the metric ambiguities of a requisite introduction into groove-laden collective improv but dig the dialogue! As dynamics and activity slowly build, flare and then dissipate, each moment brings interaction worthy of comparison with the most attuned improvising aggregates, regardless of genre. At around 13:50 of the first piece, just as the evening’s second groove is being set up, Jones settles on an ostinato after abandoning a few others. Grohowski grabs hold, the two lock in, and Motzer takes on the rhythmic role of a keyboard player, accenting his way into the complexities. Skolnick alternates registers, first abetting Jones and then heading upward to fill in the minuscule spaces Motzer’s left open. The whole bristles with rhythmic counterpoint that never oversaturates, but there’s plenty of melodic interplay in the mix. Listen for Jones and Skolnick’s motivic banter as the volume slowly escalates, a fray into which Motzer then jumps with alacrity.

It's difficult to articulate just why the band chemistry is so powerful. It could be about subtlety, a strange concept to be sure given the music’s vast scope and extraversion, but even the points of reference regularly evoked by each improviser address inculcation of astonishing depth. Motzer straddles the Alan Holdsworth/John McLaughlin line several minutes into the third part just before the whole band brings on some of the syncopated funk associated with Pierre Moerlen’s gong, Grohowski particularly tight as he drives and slams those moments into focus. Each player slides in and out of transtemporal monologue, as when Skolnick shifts midstream in the final stretch from a bit of Al Di Miola riffage into some blues shredding. Each note, each drum-stroke and even the occasional extramusical sounds conjure the best elements of progressive rock and psychedelia that then open doors for so many other layered associations. Finally, after all the rising and falling chaos in context, the two guitars usher the whole thing into silence with an overlapping figure as quietly poignant as it is appropriate to end what was obviously a satisfying evening for all.

Marc Medwin

[solmints-messyocdiary]

So Percy Jones is a writer, (write lol jk) up the Patrons alley. His thoughts on her career? If she wasn't soulfully attached at the hip to Bo, would the Patron persue her?

Love you Sol!

Thank you, Caittt 💗

Ohh! Percy! I know a little of her from what I've read and what you've told me of her.

Percy, Persephone...

Her name alone will cause great interest in the Patron. Persephone meaning to destroy. Persephone, both a maiden of spring and a queen of the underworld. How delightful.

Most of the Patron's muses are found by chance. Their paths so happening to cross one way or another.

With her being a writer, luck and her name. I don't see why he wouldn't be interested in getting to know her better. Relationships with him don't have to mean anything romantic or sexual after all.

He wants company and a kindred soul to match him.

[magicmenageriestuff]

My Pop Life #58 : St Elmo's Fire - Brian Eno

My Pop Life #58

St. Elmo’s Fire   –   Brian Eno Brown eyes and I were tiredWe had walked and we had scrambledThrough the moors and through the briarsThrough the endless blue meanders.In the blue august moon In the autumn of 1975 I had a crisis – my girlfriend had left me and meant it, I had left home and gone to live in the nurses’ quarters of Laughton Lodge Hospital, and I walked out of my Cambridge Entrance…

[jt1674]

[the-pinstriped-hood]

Quick HC's for the Percy Jackson AU with OC's

Name: Persephone Jones

Age:15

Parents: Amelia Jones (deceased, childbirth complications)

Hades, God of the Underworld

Percy has a quirk for finding crystals and gemstones, given that her father is the god of riches

Loves sour candy more than most people and always has either Sour Gummy worms or sour strings with her at all times.

Favorite Band is My Chemical Romance and is convinced they were blessed by her father.

Favorite Gemstones are Opals as they take on many different forms. She plans to be a Gemologist if she ever gets to grow up.

Takes her "sister" Abigail, a daughter of Hecate, goddess of magic, under her wing and teaches her about the perks of necromancy.

Has a wide collection of gems she finds and keeps in an old chest. She just likes looking at them.

Is convinced she has something she refers to as "Magpie Brain" in which she likes spotting shiny things! It sometimes comes in handy. Most times it could give her trouble when she's in a fight.

Has a Celestial Bronze and Stygian Silver Bident she named Soul Thief.

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

[damien-mlm]

Percy hugging Red. Red needs hugs and stat!!!

spoiler alert [angst cuz u know me]

"She was the splitting image of his mother, her voice as kind and sweet, clawing ferociously at his heart.

He could feel himself become like a child, helpless and vulnerable, the more time he spent around her.

He hated it, how much he missed her.

How much he missed Her."

[nuagederose]

Percy & Alex & Kenny & Tim.

ig: badmotorartist

[slaasherslut]

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