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justfangirlthingies · 3 years

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Caught my eye (Corpse Husband x reader)

Soulmate AU: In which everyone has one eye in their own eye colour and one in the colour of their soulmate. However, when you are close to meeting each other, your vision will change to the soulmate's one, letting you know you are close. When your eyes meet they will change their colour to their original eye colour.

Word count: 4189 words

Warnings: cursing because that is automatically given when writing about Corpse

Another Soulmate AU from my Wattpad account let's go!

Staring into the camera were a pair of, colourwise mismatched, eyes, one iris a deep brown and the other one a shimmering (e/c).

It was not unusual for someone to have two different eye colours in one set of eyes, it simply meant one had yet to find their significant other.

Pressing record on your camera you let your eyes stay right in front of the lens for a second before rolling backwards on your chair, your torso now in frame as well "Hello all of you beautiful individuals! I'm (y/yt/n) and as always I welcome you here!" You waved at your camera, a warm and welcoming smile gracing your lips. "In case this is your first time stumbling over this channel" you paused a second and giggled "Hi, welcome to this chaos!" Slowly you neared the camera again "Leave while you still can" you whisper shouted into your microphone.

"No hold on don't leave please! I was just kidding" You joked at your camera.

A happy sigh escaped your mouth as you leaned back in your chair "Today is q & a time isn't it?" You wiggled your eyebrows at the blinking light in front of you "Well let's get to it then...hmm...lemme see. Youtubetrash asks 'how old are you (Y/n)?' Do you always have to ask that question guys?" You scold playfully "I'm 19, but I really don't get why this is so important to you that I have to answer it in every video, like do you want to know the exact amount of days and minutes? Will you stop asking it every goddamn time then?" You chuckled as you ran a hand through your (h/l), (h/c) hair. "Right, next question! SusanIsAFish wants to know which eye colour my own is. I can easily answer that with either 'both are' or 'hell if I know' I've always had two eye colours like how am I supposed to know." A grin spread on your face as you continued to interact with your community's questions...

"Alright alright these are the last two questions guys. Nightmaresscareme...honestly same" you laughed as you read the users name out aloud. When you calmed down again you cleared your throat and continued "Ahem, anyways they wanna know if I found my soulmate already and who it is....Do I look like I found my soulmate?" You asked smiling as you approached the recording device once again and pointed a finger at each eye. "I have no Idea who it is but maybe you find whoever it is because all of you people are little Sherlock's I swear, you find out everything." Laughter erupted from your throat once again as you pointed at your camera.

"Last but not least, (y/n)stan asks 'when will you collab with Jack again? The two of you promised to make a video or something together?' Woah calm down, honestly I don't even think he remembers that, it was years ago. How do you even remember that (y/n)stan? I swear to god that's exactly what I meant with ya'll being Sherlock's." You wiggled your eyebrows again "But if you do remember, Seán and you magically happen to see this video. What happened to our collab plans dude?" You giggled "Alrighty guys that's it for today's video. Stay awesome my dudes, dudettes and in betweens and I'll see ya in the next one!" You winked and waved before stopping your recording and going straight to editing your video.

Just as you were about to upload your piece of work, your phone rang, scaring you in the process and causing you to delete your video. You groan in frustration holding your head in your palms.

"This better be important..." you mumbled to yourself as you went to check your phone. Seriously?! It was a Twitter notification. You sighed and ignored it for now, saving your video was a priority right now.

After hours of retrieving and re-editing your footage you finally uploaded the video to the worldwide known platform and picked up your phone to see what Twitter wanted from you.

As you opened the app you saw that it was a private message from none other than Jacksepticeye. What a freaking coincidence you thought, a smile now appearing on your face as you read the message. All your frustration was gone and instead replaced with confusion and laughter. "What kind of message is that?" You muttered as you shook your head laughing.

Jacksepticeye:

Hey (Y/n) what colours are your eyes again?

(Y/T/N):

What kinda question is that? Lmao

Jacksepticeye:

Just answer my question dum dum :)

■

A raven haired male was on a discord call with his online friend that he had just revealed his face to. "Jack what are you doing now?" The young man laughed at his friend.

"Hold on, I'm texting someone."

The dark haired man sighed and waited "that's not very polite you know" he smiled.

"Pschh I'm finding your soulmate, what's impolite about that?" The Irish man looked up from his phone and back at his Computer screen. Only to start laughing at the other's reaction.

"Corpse? You good?" He kept on laughing at the dumbfounded expression on Corpse's face.

Who as a reaction turned off his camera, suddenly feeling very insecure towards his friend again.

"What do you mean?" His deep voice asked cautious.

"Don't worry man I'm not leaking your face or any info to anyone" he smiled reassuringly. "Your eyes just reminded me of someone else with the same or very similar ones. At least I hope I remember their eye colours correctly" He rambled on.

"Oh..." came from the other line, which was now more quiet than usual.

Seán noticed the change in his friend's behaviour and immediately stopped what he was doing. "I'm sorry Corpse..." the Irishman scratched bis neck awkwardly "I should've asked you first"

"I-it's fine. I just can't imagine anyone wanting to be my soulmate" the male sighed.

His friend flashed an encouraging smile at the screen "Dude! Anyone would be happy to be your soulmate. I know I would be! You are great, I know you probably don't believe me but I mean it bud. Besides, your soulmate is your other half, it's like they were made for you"

One could hear a sigh coming from the black screen as Corpse turned his camera back on, his pink tinted cheeks now showing up on screen as well. He had put his eye-patch on, leaving only his brown eye visible. "And you're really sure?" He asked quietly.

"100% sure! Anyone with half a brain would know how lovable you are" the blue eyed male grinned. "Besides, the person I'm thinking of also has a YouTube channel, I think I still owe them a collab, sooo I could maybe invite them to play some kind of-"

He cut himself off. "They answered!"

■

(Y/T/N):

Well they're like brown and (e/c), it's such a weird mix though.

Jacksepticeye:

Interesting.

Hey (Y/n), how about we do that collab? You could fly out and we meet up

(Y/T/N):

You still remember that? XD

Yeah sure I'd love that, I just had someone ask me about that collab today.

But seriously dude why are my eyes interesting to you all of a sudden? You found my soulmate or smth 🧐😂

Jacksepticeye:

😏😌🤭🤫

Right....

So when are you coming?

(Y/T/N):

Dude!

You literally just asked me if I even wanna come! Like come on, you think I've booked a flight already? Just like 10 minutes after you asked me to travel there?

Jacksepticeye:

As a matter of fact I don't just think so, I know it ;)

So when do I have the honors of picking your jet-lagged ass up at the airport?

(Y/T/N):

...

This weekend

Time skip

A happy sigh escaped your lips as you felt the plane reaching the ground of its destination. You swiftly grabbed your bag and left the plane to get the rest of your luggage.

A yawn escaped your mouth as you grabbed your stuff, staying awake during the whole flight probably wasn't your best idea, but you couldn't help it. To you it was simply impossible to fall asleep on a journey by plane.

Your eyes skimmed the airport as you were searching for your friend.

After a few minutes of looking around you decided to sit down and wait, he was probably still on his way to the airport.

Just as you decided to open up your phone you got smacked in the face... With a balloon? "What the hell?" You whispered as you were pulled up from your seat and embraced. "(Y/N)! Hey! I haven't seen you in forever"

You looked up a little confused as you reciprocated the hug. "Well hello to you too Seán"

He chuckled and grabbed one of your bags before dragging you with him. "How can you be so motivated and energetic?" You giggled and tried to keep up with your Irish friend. "That (Y/n), is simply because I'm not sleep deprived like you"

■

Setting up his stream was a curly haired nervous mess. He was always nervous when he had to stream. But today was somehow worse.

The half Mexican ran his fingers through his hair. It was just a game with friends right? However, he had never played this game before.

His nerves getting to him caused Corpse to cancel the idea of a stream. "I'll just be there and play along, that's fine too. I don't need to stream every time I'm playing a game with my friends..." he muttered to himself.

With a bottle of water beside him he started the game and went through the tutorial. "Man this game is fucking cute" he laughed before joining the discord call, just to be engulfed in a complete chaos of voices.

"Hey Corpse is here! Hi hi!" A Swedish voice boomed through his headphones along with the rest of the group greeting him. "Hey guys" he replied as he joined their server in the game. "So what are we doing? Why is no one starti-" the deep voice started but was cut of by someone else.

■

"HOLY FUCKING- Who the hell was that?! Hello by the way" The whole call erupted in laughter at the reaction of the (h/c) haired individual.

"Uhh hi, that was me" Corpse answered laughing as he scratched his head nervously "and you also just answered my question for me thank you, whoever you are" Everyone laughed once again.

"Okay but seriously who are you?" Dave asked.

"Jack! You said you told em that I'd join" you huffed as you glanced At your friend next to you, you were sharing one discord account for this call as you sat right next to each other and didn't want the quality of the call to go down because of an echo. Both of you streamed online on twitch.

"Whoops! I thought I did" he chuckled once more as he introduced you to the party. "Well then..." he coughed in an attempt to clear his throat "Drum-roll please! this is (Y/n), they came to visit me this weekend. (Y/n), that's Dave, Felix, Joel, PJ and Corpse."

"Hi" you said suddenly a little nervous because you thought everyone knew you'd join.

Luckily no one seemed to mind that you were here as they greeted you. In fact, they seemed ecstatic to meet you.

"So have any of you not played this before?" Pewds asked the group. "Uh yeah, me" Yours and the deep voice said simultaneously. "But I did the tutorial" Corpse added. "Well I didn't" you laughed. "Great then we're all set, shame on you though (Y/n)!" Seán shouted.

"Jeez man, you told me to skip it and I can hear you! I'm right next to you and not deaf in case you didn't know" you sassed back, causing laughter to bounce through your headset once more.

"(Y/n) and Corpse you two haven't played before that means you count as one person for the group things cause both of you are noobs and if you count as one we have even team numbers" The swede joked.

■

"We're the Meowfia" Jack laughed, starting off with his puns for this game.

(Y/n) snorted at that as everyone chose the animals of their teams. Corpse chose the cat with an eye-patch along with his team. "Maan this is peer pressure!" Your voice called out "lucky for me I like cats"

"That is the truth" the Irish voice boomed through the call once again, "I mean you should see, even their headphones have cat ears"

"I wanna see that!" Dave shouted.

"Can we see them in your cam Jack?" PJ asked.

"Not completely, they're streaming on Twitch though, its at (Y/YT/N) on Twitch and YouTube" Seán smiled as he pat your back.

"You can't just expose me like that!" The cute voice answered panicking.

"I gotta see that, hold on!" Felix shouted as he opened up your stream smirking as he followed you. "Corpse, they'll ruin your life" he continued as your cheeks flushed a bright red, suddenly feeling so exposed and put on the spot "why...why am I ruining his life?" You asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Corpse had also opened up your account as he stared in awe at the enchanting individual now on his computer screen. Were you the one Jack had meant? No it couldn't be.

"Well you see, he wrote a song about cat girls ruining his life. Right Corpse?" This statement made him come back to reality and quite flustered at that "Huh? What- ...ohhh uhm- uh- yeah" he responded in a stutter, the pale skin of his cheeks heating up and turning red.

"Corpse are you alright?" you asked, concern not only laced in your voice but also written all over your face, which he saw. This whole ordeal just made him blush more. There was a short pause "...Yeah.." the raven haired responded. But not even a second later a laugh erupted in the call "Did we just catch you right handed?" The voice belonged to Dave. "What do you mean?" Corpse asked confused. While he waited for a response from his friend, he started fiddling with his rings as he kept his eyes on (Y/N)'s stream which was still pulled up on his screen. "Well, did we catch you watching her stream?" Dave replied trying to hold in his laughter.

Your expression changed as your eyes went wide and you looked right at your camera "Is that true?" Your voice chimed in as a hint of pink spread across your cheeks, one of your eyebrows arched. "Well..." The man with the username 'CORPSE' cleared his throat "I had to see if Jack and Felix were speaking the truth..."

A smirk spread across your face "And? Were they honest?" you laughed as your Irish companion moved his face into the frame of your camera wiggling his eyebrows. The only answer you got to your question was silence before the deep voice continued "Alright let's start this game." Yet another laugh escaped your throat when you noticed the lack of a reply to your question. However, one could say that silence was an answer on its own.

■

The young guy sighed loudly after the game had ended, rolling back, away from his table, in his gaming chair he ran his hands through his curly hair. The game was fun, but it was exhausting for the man to concentrate on a game this long. Just as he was about to get up, turn all devices off and leave, he heard a familiar sound coming from his computer screen.

A discord call and video call at that was incoming from none other that Jacksepticeye. So, Corpse rolled forward in his chair again as he checked if his camera was turned off and covered. After reassuring himself that his face was hidden he accepted the call. "Hey whaddup?" He greeted his loud friend who immediately responded with a "Hey my man". His mismatched eyes widened as he looked at the screen, it was not only Jack on the call...they were there as well, a shy smile plastered on their face as they kept their eyes closed "Hey Corpse, tell me when your camera is off. Sean told me it might be on and I don't want you to accidentally expose yourself to me." "Oh yeah, it's off. You can open your eyes it's fine." Just as he finished his sentence their eyelids slowly fluttered open as they stared at the black screen and waved. There was no way to describe the feeling that went through him as he admired you in awe. He seemed starstruck and without thinking he blurted out "You have to visit San Diego sometime, but like soon"

Your eyes widened slightly not knowing how to respond to that "Umm...yeah I dunno, maybe someday?" Jack gasped dramatically "You never invited me over even though I'm the one you trusted enough to show your face to!"

Yet another time today, the male behind the black screen felt a blush grow on his face. "Well i-it's your fault for introducing me to your friend. And umm sorry if I was a bit too blunt there" He stuttered. "No it's fine. I'm a very spontaneous person ya know." You replied an embarrassed smile gracing your lips once more "But you could be a killer for all I know...sorry you probably hear that one a lot haha. Also, would you even be comfortable enough to meet up..." slowly you started drifting off with what you were saying. As soon as you realized you were trailing off of the topic at hand, you tried to get back to the conversation "ahem.. yeah, anyways as I was saying...someday sure. I mean...I am traveling around at the moment because I flew to Brighton. Maybe you know, we could get to know each other a bit better first" you smiled nervously as you replied.

"Ah yes...of course. Though I do have a question for you Seán. Is (Y/n) the one we spoke of a few days ago?" came back as a reply. He had a plan to gain their trust if they really were his suspected soulmate. The man next to (Y/n) nodded and gave a wink to the camera they used for the call. This action just confused you even more and it must have shown on your face because your loud friend started laughing at you. "Don't worry it was nothing bad" Jack reassured. "Hold on, is this about the random-" there was a lot of shuffling coming from the black screen. The noise had startled you a bit, causing you to stop mid sentence. "the random question about my eyes?" You continued your question, looking at that Irish friend of yours, but you didn't get a reply for there was another loud noise coming from Corpse's side of the screen. You shifted your attention back to the screen in front of you again just to be met with more shuffling and a sudden colour change of the screen. Your eyes widened as you saw a face only briefly for a split second before your vision suddenly changed. You looked around to see an unfamiliar room and as you saw the sight before your eyes you felt as though they were going to pop out of their sockets at any moment.

No...

No fucking way...

"Holy shit" you heard the words leave both your mouths. You just stared at the screen in front of you to see yourself, who apparently sat on the other side of the screen next to Seán. And you also saw the live view of a young man with black curly hair, dressed in black in a small window of the computer. You felt really dizzy all of a sudden and the light before your eyes went black briefly before returning to more used surroundings again.

Realisation dawned on you as you blinked a few times and spoke aloud "I-I just imagined that right? There's no way. C-Corpse you didn't happen to experience that right now, did-did you?"

"Holy fuck..." you heard a low mutter coming from the speakers.

Jack looked at you, eyebrows raised in confusion for a second before realization dawned on him and a knowing smirk appeared on his face as he shouted "CALLED IT!"

The two of you could not yet comprehend what was happening, let alone listen and realize what your mutual friend had to say.

After a few minutes of complete silence you tore your eyes away from the pen on Jack's desk, which had become the most interesting thing and perfect staring partner for the past minutes and shifted your gaze back to the young raven-haired individual before you, a small smile and a huge blush grazing your facial features as you spoke up, voice quiet and soft, but also full of nervousness "soo...umm...Corpse, are you gonna give me that address in San Diego?"

The question stood in the room for a few moments as silence engulfed you once again. Corpse's expression on his bright red face however, showed he was pondering."Y-yeah of course...sure...I-I'll text it to you if you give me that number of yours..." Then there was a pause. "Whe-When can I expect you then?"

This time it was your turn to think. "How about directly when you leave Brighton?" Jack chimed in. "But th-that's like in two days..." you stuttered in response. It was a nice idea and you did feel a pull to meet this handsome stranger as soon as possible. "Well yeah, that's the point is it not? I already checked for flights while you two where staring off somewhere....Sooo? Should I buy the ticket real quick? You can thank me later." Your mismatching eyes kept switching your gaze from your friend who had made this crazy suggestion and your apparent soulmate who now wore an eyepatch and was watching you expectantly while patiently awaiting your answer. A small sigh left your lips as you made your decision. When you tried to verbally answer though, your voice had left you, so you made eye-contact with the man also known as Corpse Husband, who had trusted you enough to reveal his face to you, and just gave him a small nod. He seemed to understand and gave you a reassuring smile.

"It's final then?" Seán, who had watched this whole ordeal unfold asked smiling happily as you just nodded once again "Y-yeah"

■

Two days later you found yourself on yet another plane ride, but this time it was not to England, nor was its destination your home. You sat on your seat in silence, music which you couldn't concentrate on, blasting through your headphones while you twiddled with your fingers, bouncing your leg up and down quickly. What were you gonna say? He would pick you up outside of the airport in order to avoid bumping into things when the view-switching-thing would happen.

■

Meanwhile, the faceless YouTuber had finished tidying up his apartment and prepared everything for your arrival. He would be lying if he said he didn't look you up on the socials to learn more about you.

About half an hour before the plane would land he drove off to your designated meeting spot. He arrived there 10 minutes early so he could mentally prepare himself. About 5 minutes later he put on his black face mask and exited his car. At first he was gonna wait for you here, but his nerves and heart got the better of him, so he made his way closer inside the airport building to meet you halfway. What he didn't know was that your plane would land early. So, as he made his way through the people, which was way out of his comfort zone already, he started to see black dots clouding his view, but suddenly he came from the other side. Oh no. The body kept walking until he saw himself in the crowd.

Your eyes met as you tried to navigate through the crowd of people, it was hard as you had to control your own body somehow even though you could only see what your soulmate would usually see. Finally you had gotten somewhat closer to one another and as you came to a halt, your bodies mere inches apart as your eyesight returned to your own again. You looked up at the man in front of you in awe. Your eyes were fixated on his as you noticed the (e/c) in his one eye fade away, just to be replaced by this beautiful shade of brown that was in his other eye. The colour you knew so well because you had seen it in the mirror in one of your own eyes everyday. "Your eyes" you whispered. He smiled in return "yours too..it's nice to meet you (Y/n). My soulmate. You are even more dazzling in person" he complimented. "I can't say anything else besides the same applies to you" You smiled in return as your face went red. "Well then...Shall we?" he grinned as he took one of your backpacks and started walking. "Hey! Wait up!" You laughed as you ran to catch up to your soulmate...

#youtube #youtubers #corpse husband #corpse #corpse x you #corpse husband imagine #corpse x reader #gender neutral reader #soulmate #soulmate au #corpse soulmate au #corpse husband x y/n #youtube imagines #youtubers x reader

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yet-another-fan-girl9 · 4 years

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Inhuman (1)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 2 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3400

A/N: Yay! The re-write is here! I changed it so now there are flashbacks and stuff and the chapters are longer! I’m also posting this chapter a day early because of reasons. Anyways, enjoy!

[New York, New York, March 2024]

‘Soulmates?’ You had never heard of the concept.

‘We are destined to be together. The universe made it so.’

You shot up in bed, a light sheen of sweat covered your body. Loki’s words replayed over and over in your head. You hadn’t heard his actual voice in so long but it was still as clear as if he was speaking to you now. It had been twelve years since you had seen him in Germany and he had tried to take over.

‘We are destined to be together.’

The words echoed in your mind. ‘Destined’ huh? Well, if you’d learned anything from the past four hundred and eighty-six years that you were not with Loki, it’s that the universe does a shit job at keeping you together. You ran your fingers through your hair, easily smoothing out the tangled mess. It was too early to think about Loki.

You slipped out of the silk sheets that covered your king-sized bed in your two-level, top floor Upper East Side penthouse. You were very proud of how far you had come. The view was amazing. You could see some of Central Park from one side and the stereotypical New York skyline from another.

As you walked out of your room, you caught your reflection in one of your full-sized mirrors. And that was definitely a nice view. When you came out of Terrigenesis almost five hundred years ago, you quickly discovered that you were now the blueprint for a perfect person. Straight, white teeth, surprisingly tameable hair, and clear, unblemished skin were some of the visually obvious changes. In addition to your perfected looks, you had increased senses, healing, strength, endurance, and your favorite, pain tolerance. Oh, and don’t forget you basically look twenty-five forever.

You checked your phone while you made breakfast in the kitchen downstairs. There were a couple of emails from your employees on their latest jobs. You opened one from Max, your right-hand man. You were reading over some job offers he had handpicked for you when you got a text from the man himself.

Bringing up some donuts!

Max was the only person from work to have access to your penthouse. He was your best friend. The two of you had met when you were at Afterlife nearly fifteen years ago. He was an Inhuman as well. All of your employees were Inhumans, using their specialties to carry out their jobs. Max had the power to change surfaces. It was a strange power, but he had learned to make it very useful. He could cause his pursuers to slip on the suddenly ice-like ground or climb up a glass skyscraper.

“Hello, bitch! I brought donuts!” Max called from the elevator.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Max walked in holding the goods. He always wore eccentric color-coordinated outfits. Even the times you saw him in stealth mode, he had to have some lace or frill somewhere. Today he wore a mixture of neon green and pink with matching eyeliner.

“Are Cosmo and Wanda disguising themselves as your clothes?” you asked.

“Haha,” he deadpanned. “I knew you were going to say something like that. You’re so fucking funny. Soo…” He plopped the three large donut boxes onto your kitchen counter. “Have you heard of the Avenger’s new quote-unquote recruit?”

“Um, I think it’s your job to keep tabs on heroes.” You opened the nearest box and happily pulled out your favorite donut.

“Okay. Number one: I’m not speaking to you as your right-hand, right now, but as your friend.” He held up his finger. “Number two: it’s not really a job if I do it in my free time anyways. You’re paying me to do something that I do on an hourly basis.”

“You stalk the Avengers on an hourly basis?”

“No? Anyways, number three: it’s Thor’s brother. It’s your Loki.”

“What the fuck?” you choke on your donut. Max was the only person who knew you that you and Loki had a history. And that’s all he knew. Nothing about soulmates or all that shit. “What the fuck, Max? Did you try to use donuts to soften the blow? Stop laughing.”

“I-I wish I had caught that reaction on camera,” he said in between fits of giggles.

“Haha,” it was your turn to deadpan. “Fuck, man. I guess we just have to double our efforts to keep ourselves off of their radar.”

“Do you think they’ve forgiven him for New York?” Max composed himself.

“I mean, they must have if they’re letting him join the team.” You chanced another bite of your donut.

“But lots of people haven’t.”

“Lots of people still haven’t forgiven Barnes,” you pointed out. You didn’t know when or why Loki had attacked New York. That Loki was nothing like the man who you had grown to love back in the 1500s. But you were nothing like that girl either.

“Have you chosen a new job from the list I sent you?” he changed the subject.

“No, not yet, and you have a little…” you motioned to the corner of your mouth.

Max got the hint and wiped some powder off of his mouth. You noticed the sprinkling of grey that was mixed into his curly black hair. He displayed the last fifteen years proudly while you remained unchanged. Max was the closest you’ve been to someone in a long time, and just like everyone before him, you would outlive him. But you would remember him. You remembered everyone. You remembered everything.

Right now, you thought of Agnes, your first real friend. She was your handmaiden and you had met right before everything went to shit. She had helped you cope after you underwent Terrigenesis, although you hadn’t known what it was back then. She had helped you run away and even died for you. You had only known her for nine years, but you compared everyone to her. Max held second place, right after Agnes.

“I think we should take the Senator’s offer,” Max said, jolting you out of your memories. He pulled up the offer on his iPad. “One million to off his upcoming competition.”

“Damn,” you whistled. “He’s desperate, isn’t he? Is there a deadline?”

“No, but I assume we should get it done quickly.”

“Send over the info.”

🌹

You shoved the flower into Jake Morano’s mouth. Blood from the bullet wound in his forehead trickled down until it turned the perfect, white rose red. You snapped a quick photo on your burner phone to send to the Senator as confirmation. With a huff, you looked around the apartment. Mr. Anderson had put up a fight, although it didn’t do anything to deter you and Max. A few glass awards were in pieces on the hardwood floor, family pictures were shattered, and the wall behind you held a couple of bullets from Anderson’s gun.

“All good?” Max asked from his location by the computer. He was deleting all footage of you being there. And everything else, just to be safe.

“Yep.” You walked over to him, your boots making a satisfying clicking on the ground, and proudly displayed the picture of the dead body. “Got the confirmation picture for the Senator. How’s it coming?”

“Almost… there. We’re good to go.”

The two of you left in your favorite black Lamborghini. Unfortunately, you actually had to drive places now that Gordon was dead. You followed his advice, though, and bought a plane along with four other sports cars, a helicopter, and a couple of motorcycles. You knew how to operate every single one of them. What else were you supposed to do except for establishing your contract killing empire?

🌹

Loki stood in the middle of his assigned room with his hands on his hips. It certainly was much nicer than the last prison the Avengers had kept him in. They may say it wasn’t a prison but the twenty-four-hour surveillance from Stark’s new AI said otherwise. Even though it was nicer than the shitty glass cylinder from twelve years ago, it was empty. Thor had shown Loki the few things in his room: books, photographs, and his own goddamned merchandise.

Would Loki have his own merchandise one day? Everyone was redeemable as shown by Romanoff and Barnes. Maybe there would be plastic replicas of his helmet? No, Loki thought that was stupid. Only heroes got merchandise and heroes had to show up to events and sponsor health drinks or whatever the fuck they do. Heroes had to be nice.

Nothing good ever came from being on Midgard. Most recently, there was his father dying, although what followed was worse. Before that was the attack he had been forced to make on the city. And the first time he had ever come to Midgard had ended with disappointment and heartbreak.

Loki sighed and waved his hand to conjure green and gold accents, sheets, and blankets. At least there was color in the room now. No doubt the AI had reported that he had used his magic. He hoped it had also told them that all he did was improve the room, he didn’t need anyone talking to him at the moment.

“Good afternoon, Reindeer Games,” the AI echoed through the room. Loki glowered at the sound of Stark’s nickname. “There is a meeting in Conference Room Five that the entire team is required to attend.”

Loki hadn’t the faintest fucking idea where the conference rooms were. He left his room and caught sight of his brother and the Valkyrie. The God of Mischief followed the pair down to where the meeting was taking place. Did he really want to go? If he wanted to be part of the team he would have to. He preferred the Revengers, though. While it had lasted. It was smaller.

Everyone was sitting around the long table. Of course, Loki would be the last to arrive. Stark and Barton both glared at him when he entered. Understandable. Romanoff remained impassive, but Loki knew she would bash his head in the first chance she got. Rogers had to remain positive that Loki could be redeemed because if the Norse God could redeem himself, then so could Barnes. Bruce had warmed up to Loki on the journey to Midgard. None of the newer members of the team outright hated him, but they were still cautious around him.

Loki found himself sitting in between his brother and Bruce. Stark went up to the screen at the front and everyone fell silent.

“This is Jake Morano.” The screen turned on to show a dead man with a rose stuffed in his mouth. “He was going to run for Senator against this guy.” The screen changed. “This guy is William Anderson, a very corrupt Senator. In the last month, Morano began to gain a lot of support including a sponsor from us. Well, a sponsor from me in the name of the Avengers.”

“Are you implying that Anderson killed Morano?” Rogers asked.

“I’m saying that Anderson hired someone to kill Morano.” The screen changed again to display multiple bodies left with a rose in their mouths. “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. do a quick search of bodies with roses found in their mouths and we found a shocking amount of similar deaths. The first ones dating back to the nineteen twenties. More recently, some of the deaths have happened at the same time on opposite sides of the globe. Deaths include, but are not limited to, shooting, stabbing, poisoning, drowning, burning, missing organs, being found stuck in a wall, and looking like a suicide. They all have a white rose soaked in blood in their mouths.”

“Are you sure it isn’t a serial killer?” Wilson questioned.

“Yeah, it’s probably not the same guy,” Romanoff pointed out. “Especially if it goes back to before Steve looked like that.”

“It’s gotta be an organization,” Barnes guessed. “Been around for a while, a couple of deaths happening at the same time, and one constant MO.”

“Loki?” Everyone looked at the God of Mischief when Stark said his name. “You’re technically a part of this team now. What’s your opinion?”

“Barnes is probably right,” Loki said after a moment’s hesitation. “The locations are all over the place and there are many different ways the victims met their demise.”

They nodded and Loki returned to silence.

“Alright, game plan.” Stark clapped his hands. “We have to get Anderson into an interrogation room. Round one is the good cops: Steve and Sam. When he doesn’t crack, and he won’t, we up the intensity. Nat and the Manchurian Candidate will do some intimidation. If he still doesn’t crack we can send in Wanda, or even Reindeer Games if she’s not comfortable, to search his mind.”

“Are all Midgardian politics like that?” Loki heard the Valkyrie ask Thor after the meeting. Thor only shrugged so she turned to Bruce.

“I mean, I haven't been here in a while but it’s always kinda been fucked up.”

Only an hour after the meeting, Anderson took out one million dollars in cash. Stark tracked him to a small cafe where he was going to, no doubt, pay the assassin. The team rallied, but of course, Loki wasn’t going. Apparently, he wasn’t ‘cleared’ yet. The only other people staying behind were the Valkyrie, Thor, and Barton due to a recent injury.

Loki went to his room to sulk, although he told everyone he was thinking. He didn’t want to be here. Maybe he wanted to go somewhere that reminded him of home with tall buildings that reached the sky…

🌹

"Hello, (Y/N)." Loki’s voice was as smooth as it was in your head, but it was different. The only way you could describe it was that it was solid. It felt less intimate. Like he could bless others with his words, but it was more special because he was here.

"Loki," you breathed.

"You look more beautiful than I ever could imagine." He stepped closer.

You touched your hair self-consciously. There were multiple knots, and it probably looked like one of those bird nests the dogs always knocked out of trees. You had woken up in a hurry and your hair being trapped in the hood of your cloak probably didn't help.

Then it occurred to you that you were wearing only your nightgown, and you tightly wrapped your cloak around yourself. Loki wouldn’t hurt you, but no man has seen you in an outfit so revealing. Still, you took another step closer.

"I do not know what to say." Fortunately, your voice didn’t shake or waver as you had feared, but Loki could probably feel your nervousness.

You both took a final step closer. You reached up and cupped Loki's face in your hand which tingled slightly when you made contact. You admired his sharp features and bright blue-green eyes. Then you shivered in the cold winter air. Loki noticed and pulled you into a hug. You leaned into him and felt a shiver, a different, better shiver, shoot through your body.

“You’re real.” Your soft voice was almost lost in the biting wind. “I was so scared that I was dreaming.”

Another goddamned dream about Loki? You groaned into your pillow and pushed a few damp strands of hair away from your face. Why now, all of a sudden? Was it because he was so close? Just a few hours upstate in the Avenger’s compound.

Pushing the dream aside, you stretched and got ready for the day. You had sent the photo to the Senator, who you had learned was very fucking corrupted, and he replied with a location. That changed your plans a bit, you hadn't physically met a client in decades, but it was for the better for multiple reasons.

The first reason was that the cafe he had chosen was next to a flower shop where you got your supply of roses. The second reason was that it meant his apartment would be empty. While you went to get the money, and eventually kill Senator Anderson, Max was going to rob his house. It wasn’t something you’d usually do, but honestly, the shitty asshole deserved it.

Your lips were painted red and you wore your usual boots and a leather jacket. Your regular hair was hidden behind a pink and green wig, courtesy of Max. A baseball cap and large sunglasses further hid your appearance. Though if somebody knew your face, the hat and glasses did nothing. There were multiple knives hidden on your body as well as a handgun tucked into your waistband and a pocket pistol in your, well, pocket.

As you walked into the cafe, Izzy, the auburn-haired florist, nodded to you. She had Botanokinesis, plant manipulation, so your supply of white roses was never low. Every once in a while, Izzy would take a job but she had told you she was very happy in her shop.

You noticed the Senator immediately. He still wore a suit and the sunglasses did nothing to hide his identity. There were two young women behind the counter and you suspected that the four other ‘customers’ were too buff not to be the Senator’s security. Anderson had his back to the door which meant you would have to get past his security to get out. You zeroed in on the black briefcase on the ground by his feet.

“Senator,” you greeted and sat down across from him.

“You can’t possibly be the one I talked to,” the asshole replied. “You’re just a girl.”

“Well of course I couldn’t be,” you rolled your eyes behind your heavily tinted glasses. “My boss is too busy and smart to meet you in public.” He didn’t notice your sarcasm. You pulled out the burner phone and showed him the messages as proof. “Now, I’m also busy so if we can get this over with?”

“Sure, darling.” He put the briefcase flat on the table and pushed it towards you.

“Open it.” Even though small boobie traps wouldn’t hurt you much, it wasn’t a piece of information you wanted to give him.

Anderson sighed and complied. Then you turned it around to quickly inspect the contents. One thousand one hundred dollar bills. Hello Mr. Franklin. You nodded in satisfaction and comically rubbed your hands together to inconspicuously grab a knife that was hidden up your sleeve.

“Thank you, Senator. That will be all.”

You closed the case, stood up, and plunged your knife deep into his left carotid artery. As his security descended upon you, you pulled the knife out and his neck satisfyingly squirted blood. The Senator collapsed with his hands clutching his wound desperately. The pool of blood rapidly grew underneath him.

The two baristas screamed behind the counter and the Senator’s security drew their guns. You flipped the small table for cover as bullets pierced the cafe’s window behind you. Perfect. Just a bit more.

You pulled out the handgun from your waistband and with practiced ease, shot three of the four goons. The last one got the bloodied knife to the face. You elbowed the already damaged window and it finally broke, raining glass down on you. Ignoring the small cuts, you jumped out of the cafe through the window as a familiar red and gold suit landed in front of you. Why the fuck were the Avengers here? What about Loki?

You darted into Izzy’s shop and she played her part well, screaming that you had run out the back when you had actually gone into the side room. You listened as the Avengers followed her directions. One person, maybe it was the Black Widow, stayed behind to help calm down the seemingly hysterical Izzy. If she wasn’t so happy at her shop and she didn’t want to work directly for you, she could be a great actress.

You rolled back the rug on the ground to reveal a metal trapdoor. You entered the code to unlock it and climbed down into the darkness. Behind you, you heard the trapdoor’s magnetic lock click back into place. Two centuries ago, you had tunnels dug underneath Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens for easy getaways. If you went… that way, you would end up in Sandra’s souvenir shop which was a couple of blocks away from your penthouse.

With a million dollars in one hand and a handgun in the other, you walked down the concrete tunnel.

Taglist:

@kaithehero @liliannyah @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury @aberrant-annie

#inhuman #loki x reader #loki x soulmate reader #loki #mcu #marvel #avengers #Captain america #steve rogers #iron man #tony stark #hawkeye #clint barton #natasha romanoff #black widow #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch

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pantsusnifferr · 3 years

Text

I’m gonna be hella honest here, 2020 wasn’t the drastic life changing year i had hoped it’ll be.

Now its a tradition, well maybe, not really. Who knows...

Let’s start with the goals which ive accomplished in 2020 yeah?

Have less regrets Live more, experience more, get out of the comfort zone Be hardworking, be brave Work hard for the company Rekindle ties to the ones important to me Start working on my YouTube channel for company Study hard Be more confident, be more social Be a nicer and kinder person

Yes i definitely have had lesser regrets overall, i learnt that listening to that gnawing feeling in my gut is one of the few things that will lead me to get less regrets. Perhaps that’s an indication of something that you really want on the inside. Many times this year i just took a leap of faith and made decisions on the fly, going out of my way many times just to do the things i wanted to do. The me a year ago would never have done any of these things, let alone spend any money or time into such ‘frivolous’ activities.

Lets go through some of the highlights for my accomplished goals.

1. Bought Airshow tickets on impulse and rented camera lenses just because i had a shot i wanna get.

Ended up getting that money shot and feeling pretty accomplished. It was nice to meet up and connect with fellow aviation enthusiasts and friends from my Air Force days, but i still felt like i didn’t fit in. Oh well, i didn’t regret anything. I set my mind to a thing i thought would be fun and challenging and i did it!

2. Trespassing into the green corridor for an assignment during the circuit breaker

haha...Definitely isn’t worth the trouble in the end due to shitty unusable footage and total lack of input when it comes to the editing process. BUT STILL, the feeling of walking through thick jungle and jumping over construction barricades and barriers in the middle fo some goddamn forest just to get some footage is an experience nonetheless! Shitty teammates, good thing we managed to pull through and made some friends along the way. Wasn’t worth it, but i didn’t regret the experience one bit.

3. Got into more active activities with an open mind.

Went to the gym with friends a lot more and tried to lead a healthier lifestyle, cycling, hema classes (more about that in a bit) The me from a couple of years ago would definately never give this idea a shot. Running at least once a week, keeping track of my health, all these made me feel a lot better. I should really get into it more though.

4. Hema classes .

Never thought swinging swords around can be that much fun! And i almost didn’t want to show up because i had a sudden surge of social anxiety in the morning before. Glad i powered through that to get to that class that october aternoon. I was mostly on autopilot, depressed and wanting more...but for the last few months of the year, hema classes gave me something to look forward to, and this really changed up my entire outlook then. I suppose having a newfound hobby you never knew you liked changes people for the better.

5. Going out of my way many many times just to help out a friend. Or just to hang out.

I remember being too lazy to go out and have fun. Too lazy to wanna get up to get something done even with friends. Installing internet access points, cleaning up rooms, setting up laptops etc. Perhaps its the large amount of FOMO i’ve started to develop, or maybe its just me sick of being a sad loney wreck. Who knows, all i know is its a blessing to have friends and i am so glad that they’re willing to give me their time of the day as well.

6. Making videos for work.

I didn’t HAVE to do this. Autopilot at work is a scary thing, its my own company and i could’ve done so much more... but i didn’t... or rather i couldn’t. I don’t remember what came over me and how i manage to find the willpower to shoot the videos then edit them over a few days. And i have no idea how i managed to actually follow through with it and get the damn thing edited. Not my proudest work, but damn am i proud of myself for actually doing the thing!

7. Keeping at it for school and not giving up.

Statistics, the killer module. Logistics, another killer one. I studied so so hard for it, i thought i was going to fuck it up like how i fucked up my assignments. But I am so so so glad that it paid off. Taking days of work to study is the correct move and i am so glad i had the discilpine to stick with it. Haha discilpline i said, more like letting the panic set in untill i find myself studying as if my life depended on it. But still, an A and a B+ feels really great though. My first A, that’s still something to celebrate for! Thanks for helping, you know who you are!

8. Giving more of a shit for my company

Im a little undecided about whether i should put this under the part about having no regrets. I am happy with the money and growth we’ve got in our company, alongside the many happy customers ive got, I still somehow felt that i have struggled so much and had a lot more anxiety and stress as compared to the previous years. Perhaps i just need to chill. Although i don’t doubt the fact that taking more responsibility does indeed make things less mundane. Appreciate the increase in pay and bonuses though.

9. Spent quality time with family

I used to have this feeling whenever i am around my cousins, these are the people whom i’ve grown up wit,h and who i used to consider really close friends. I just felt that over the years we have just became different people altogether. They’re normies with normal hobbies, living their lives normally and successfully while im just a weird outsider.

Im somewhat glad that we managed to find some common ground in gaming and our talking sessions. Attending their wedding is a weird feeling but im still somewhat glad that a part of them is still the same on the inside. We might not be as close anymore but im still happy that they treasured the times and memories we had just the same as i did. Lets hope i’ll not fuck it up and i’ll need another chance to rekindle this relationship. Still, them being more successful in life and work still gives me this crazy inferioty complex around them.

Talking with my mom has given me a lot of peace of mind. I am so glad that I have a responsible parent and business partner who shares the same values as i do. Makes things a lot less stressful to know that she’s got my back.

10. Became more social

Yep, went out of my comfort zone many times to talk to people and help out when i could! Its always good to do the kind thing and reach out, when i’d just brush it off as someone else’s problem previously. I am really proud of myself for this.

Now for the goals ive failed. Start work on my personal YouTube channel Join the weeb club to find more gamer weeb friends Learn weeb speak Be healthy Learn 2 songs on bass guitar or ukulele Draw at least once a month (I did but they’re not completed art)

Oof, i don’t know perhaps its the lack of time or the lack of effort. Maybe i’ve been putting in so much effort into the other things i don’t have the mental energy to process these. Perhaps i don’t want it bad enough...

Art and drawing in particular has been really bad. I want to be good at drawing so badly but i really just can’t be arsed to practice. Music too.

I think i am definately healtheir than before but i am nowhere near where i should be. Gotta step up!

Now here’s what i wanna do for the next year

Keep healthy, Lose weight! Be even more social! Start work on personal youtube channel Learn ONE SONG on any instrument Draw at least twice in the next year! Live even more, experience more, get out of the comfort zone more! Be hardworking, be brave

#2020 year in review

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vagrantblvrd · 4 years

Text

Lay Your Bones Down (1/1)

Summary: When it comes to soulmates people tend to fall into two camps of thought.

Notes: Prompt fill for the wonderful @ahwuum who has been super patient and supportive. <333!

(Read on AO3)

When it comes to soulmates people tend to fall into two camps of thought.

The ones who go all-out looking for their soulmate. Buy into what Vinewood and other “experts” have to say on the mater. Read all the books on how to recognize the signs or whatever, watch the television specials and pay close attention to their horoscopes and magazines aimed at helping people find them.

Sign up for the websites and download the apps once they become available because it’s a driving force for them, part of their pursuit of happiness and everything.

Sometimes it works, they find their soulmate and live happy fulfilling lives with them.

Other times it doesn’t, and they make themselves miserable looking for a needle in a haystack all their lives and let every other chance for happiness pass them by and it’s. It’s just sad, is what it is.

Then you have the ones like Jeremy who – he’s not going to lie, okay.

He’s curious who his soulmate is. What kind of person they are, if they’d even like each other, get along like a house on fire or hate one another at first sight. (A different way of getting along like a house on fire, and to be honest saying’s always bothered him but that’s a conversation for another day, or something. Whatever.)

He used to think about it a lot more when he was a kid, bright future ahead of him and all these possibilities, right? Smart kid like him? Could have done anything.

And he did.

For a while.

Then one of his buddies got caught up in some trouble of his own making, and stupid idiot Jeremy thought he could help get him out. Only got dragged into the same kind of trouble and into a literal pit facing off against guys twice his size trying to get back out again.

Stopped wondering who his soulmate was when his primary concern was not getting his face beaten in, and then things escalated to the point all of that slipped to the back of his mind.

Soulmates and the criminal life don’t go so well together, puts a crimp in things. (He figured if he did meet his soulmate doing the things he does now, it wouldn’t be a ringing endorsement for either of them.)

So, yeah.

Jeremy pulls himself out of the fighting rings in Boston, but doesn’t do it clean. Has people who’d be glad to put him down, so he decides it would be a good idea to get the hell out while he still can.

Goes from city to city doing what he can to get by. Realizes he’s in a goddamned ridiculous line of work and figures if he can’t beat them he might as well join them (something like that) and goes all-in.

Picks up the Rimmy Tim thing somewhere along the east coast. Browsing through the offerings in a thrift store where he finds these hideous yellow suit pants. Catch his eye, have him cackling like an idiot, but that might be more the painkillers blunting the ache of a stab wound in his shoulder.

Finds a purple suit jacket a few cities over and something about it hits him just right.

It isn’t until he’s somewhere in Texas he spots the cowboy hat. Gas station with a tired looking woman on the register and news on the television talking about something going on in a city named Los Santos.

Jeremy gives her a bright grin, all nice and friendly because he’s just passing through, ma’am, no trouble here. Watches the footage of another gang war in progress play on the television as the woman rings his purchases up.

He’s been seeing more and more about Los Santos the closer he gets, figures it’s a big deal in this part of the country. (Liberty city’s got the east coast locked down for chaos and carnage.)

Gets this little itch going in the palms of his hands because everything he’s seen tells him it would be smarter to stay the hell away from a city like that, but.

Jeremy’s kind of an idiot.

And, you know.

There are still people out there with a grudge to bear against him and a city as big as Los Santos seems like a good place to get lost in.

Can’t possibly get caught up in anything big enough to make the news like half the things he’s seen so far anyway, right?

========

There are books out there that have a lot to say about the placement of people’s Names. Conflicting information based on what old wives tale the author grew up on, their region of the country.

All of them agree on one thing, though. Names closest to the heart mean you’re bound for a happy match once you find your soulmate, get that happily ever after everyone’s running towards.

Jeremy’s Name is on his back, running along his spine, and the one book he read about Name placements had nothing to say on the matter. Didn’t look further into things because he was afraid of what he’d find.

Awkward placement for him to get a good look at it, but he’d tried when he thought he had a chance to find his soulmate. (When it would have been a good thing.)

Did all sorts of crazy things to get a picture.

Tried taking a picture using the bathroom mirror but he only got parts of it in the frame. Set up a series of mirrors like an idiot and got better pictures out of it he played around in the edit mode to flip it.

Other things like that.

Realized his soulmate has the shittiest handwriting known to man or maybe something was wrong with his eyes because even now he can barely make out what it’s supposed to be.

A signature for sure, the way most of them are.

Starts with a big looping letter and ends in this indecipherable scrawl like whoever they are they either gave up along the way or couldn’t be bothered with the rest.

Sometimes he’ll catch sight of it in a bathroom mirror of whatever shitty motel or apartment he’s staying in, wonder what could have been.

========

Jeremy’s supposed to be watching this hacker.

Keep an eye on him to make sure he’s doing what he’s supposed to be doing, or keep him safe, his current boss didn’t specify.

Squirrely little bastard, though.

Scrawny.

Looks like a twig with a wild tuft of hair and this nose that got him picked on as a kid. (If the way the rest of the crew treats him is any indication, that never stopped.

Jeremy might feel bad about how the others treat the guy, if he wasn’t such an asshole.

And anyways, it’s his first job in Los Santos. Some dirty little gang that’s been outsourced to do a job for an ally of theirs.

He’s hired muscle here and so low down in the pecking order he might as well not even have a name.

Just Goon #2 or something.

“What kind of name is Rimmy Tim?” the hacker asks out of the blue, not bothering to look up from his work. “Did your parents draw it out of a hat like a raffle?”

The two of them are alone in the warehouse the gang operates out of. It would be real easy to kill him and pretend he didn’t know how it happened.

Just.

So easy.

The thing that stops Jeremy from doing it is that murder is a bit of an overreaction to the annoying bastard. And, he’s being paid to watch the guy so he’d be shooting himself in the foot. Also, it’s clear he’s not thinking about the words coming out of his mouth.

Some idle thought floating around in his head while he focuses on his work and no brain-to-mouth filter.

“Yeah,” Jeremy drawls. “They used this hat to do it to. Gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday to commemorate the occasion. Even gave me a lasso so I could catch my first horse.”

The hacker keeps tap-tap-tapping away on his laptop for a few moments afterward before he processes what Jeremy said.

Slowly lifts his head to squint at Jeremy like he’s sure he’s being fucked with, but also maybe not?

“Wait, what?”

Jeremy smiles and tips his hat at the asshole as he gets up to grab a beer out of the fridge.

========

As much as Jeremy tries not to think about the Name on his back, the rest of the world makes that impossible.

Television shows and movies. Best-sellers at the store. Songs on the radio. Marketing campaigns every-fucking-where and shoved down people’s throats at every turn.

No wonder so many obsess over their Name when they’re made so aware of it every waking moment.

It’s still kind of weird, though, listening to the guys he works with gossiping about them. Doesn’t matter who he’s working for, where he is, there’s always someone like that.

Stone-cold killers and no remorse to them, and they’ll kick back for a poker game and someone will start up a conversation about the Name on their shoulder.

Curling script and little hearts dotting the ‘i’ and wondering what they have to think about their own rough scribble of a name. (Good penmanship isn’t a requirement for their line of work.)

It’s enough to make Jeremy wonder what it is about Los Santos that people like them think about their soulmates like that. Hope they’ll get the chance to meet them even though they’re on the wrong side of the law and the odds of them getting something good out of it are so damn low.

========

Jeremy’s been in Los Santos for about a year, two, before his name gets put out there as someone people might want to watch out for.

Well, one of his names, anyway.

He still gets strange looks when he introduces himself as Rimmy Tim, but considering Los Santos is the kind of city where everyone’s scared of some idiot in a rubber mask calling himself the Vagabond, he figures he's doing alright for himself.

He’s been hired on by a crew that hasn’t tried to fuck him over since they brought him on to be an extra gun for them. (Yet.)

Decent pay that helps with the rent for the place he shares with a couple of idiots he’s fallen in with in Matt and Trevor, and until recently they were playing it smart.

Did nothing to attract the notice of the bigger crews in town, but that’s changed the last few weeks. His boss with his eyes set on moving up in the pecking order which means coming up against those same crews who could squash them flat with barely a thought.

Trevor keeps harping on him to get the fuck out, fake his death if he has to and have Matt gimmick him up a new identity, the whole works, because.

Fuck, because his boss is taking swipes at the Fake AH Crew.

Just about the worst crew to mess with, what with their reputation for not taking kindly to that kind of thing and all.

The crew Jeremy’s working for keeps bringing in new blood because they’re dropping likes flies with every skirmish they get into with the Fakes.

No mercy to the Fakes when one of theirs gets hurt, just this single-minded anger snapping back around on whoever is stupid enough to go after them.

If Jeremy was smarter, he’d listen to Trevor, he would. But Matt’s got these debts and smart as Trevor is he hasn’t been able to find a way to get him out of them other than paying them off. Jeremy does his part to help, which means being the kind of idiot out there tempting fate working for a certified moron with a death wish.

It’s how you say, not great.

Jeremy’s boss knows he wants out, but he also knows Jeremy doesn’t have a lot of say about it, so he keeps giving Jeremy the worst jobs. Sends him out with the other expendables on what amount to suicide missions and no skin off his nose if they don’t come back.

Which is how Jeremy ends up being partnered with some other disgraced bastard in the crew to put a little pressure on a weapons dealer looking to side with the Fakes. Convince him he’d do well to stick with them, but they pick a bad (good?) time to do with, what with the Fake AH crew members they run into there.

Guy in a leather jacket with a snarling wolf’s head on the back, the goddamned Vagabond, and some pretentious asshole with gold-framed sunglasses and stupid hair.

There’s a moment where they all stare at one another in shock, and then at the scumbag weapons dealer has the temerity to hiccup nervously before the shooting starts.

Jeremy’s not sure who fires the first round, but the moment they do it’s a free-for-all. Bad lighting and not the best anything and it’s confusing as hell.

Bullets flying and enough yelling to almost drown out the gunshots.

He hears one of the Fakes yell something about bringing the car around when things get bad. Sees a figure go pelting out a side door like a bat out of hell. The remaining Fakes doubling down to push Jeremy and his partner back, buy time or just put an end to things.

Jeremy drops behind cover, pops off a few shots and watches his partner – stupid asshole, stubborn as hell and just plain dumb – go down without a sound.

Swears under his breath and returns fire, with the realization he can get the hell out of there or die, and he knows which one he prefers. Cuts and runs like a coward, or just someone with a brain who doesn’t need to run the numbers to know he’s facing shitty odds, whichever.

He finds a door that leads to an alley and runs like hell until he hits a side street. Glimpses an ugly little purple car puttering down the street towards him from the corner of his eye and jumps in front of it to get the driver to stop.

Thanks God the idiot didn’t think to lock their door before he’s ripping it open and forcing them into the passenger seat, means to kick them out entirely but the Fakes find them before he can, spilling into the street.

“Fuck it,” Jeremy says, and “sorry, pal, but you’re probably safer in here than out there,” and then his foot is on the gas and they’re zooming out of the alley to...somewhere.

Jeremy doesn’t fucking know, okay.

He’s shot and bleeding and apparently a kidnapper now?

So.

Yeah.

He drives for God knows how long until he hears this quiet little laugh next to him. Incredulous, disbelieving, and -

“I can’t believe you still have the damn cowboy hat.”

Jeremy almost slams on the brakes because that voice.

British accent and infuriating as hell and what are the odds?

But, the part where he’s running from the Fakes and can’t do that – traffic and all – and just, it would be bad if he slammed on the brakes.

Instead he slows down a bit to keep from plowing into the car in front of them as it slows down to make a turn, and then whips around it the moment he can and keeps on going. Waves his gun in the hacker’s direction to shut him up, intimidate him, who knows, and heads to a safehouse he knows.

Only, the gun doesn’t shut the little idiot up, no.

“You’re bleeding,” Jeremy hears, which is not news to him.

He also hears, “That looks nasty,” which, he imagines it would. Bullet plus squishy human flesh and he’s not great at math, but even he can figure that one out.

Also?

“This is going to be so difficult to explain later.”

That makes no sense at all to Jeremy, but then the hacker’s reaching for his arm and Jeremy sends him a sharp look, because maybe don’t fucking do that when he’s got a gun sort of kind of aimed at him?

Takes a chance by taking his eyes off the road and almost swallows his tongue as he goes to tell him to very fucking politely not because -

“Oh, fuck me,” Jeremy mutters, because.

Stupid hair and gold-framed sunglasses, and Jeremy's kidnapped the Fake AH Crew’s Golden Boy by accident.

Accident.

There are people in Los Santos who’d pay an obscene amount of money for someone to do it on purpose and Jeremy did it by accident.

Awesome.

========

The Golden Boy plays it smart, in his own way.

Doesn’t shut up, no, but realizes Jeremy doesn’t appreciate him trying to stop him from bleeding all over the interior of his car (not so much the bleeding part as the potential risks of what he could do to Jeremy instead, so yeah) and keeps his damn hands to himself.

Babbles as Jeremy navigates backstreets and alleys to get to the shitty little safehouse Trevor scouted out for the three of them a few months back. Paranoid as hell, Trevor, and smart enough to know things would go to hell on them sooner or later.

Either Matt’s debts or the mess Jeremy’s trapped in, who the hell knows.

Trevor’s good about planning ahead, and Jeremy trusts him like no one else he’s met in this shithole city. (He trusts Matt, don’t get him wrong on that. But Matt is the same kind of dumb as Jeremy and it’s just. Better to look to Trevor for shit like this.)

Safe enough to hide out here to patch himself up, figure out what to do from there.

He parks the car a few streets over because you can never be too paranoid in this city. Pushes the Golden Boy ahead of him while they keep to the shadows and the gun ins his jacket pocket as incentive to go along with things for now.

No damn idea what he’s going to do with the little idiot, not that it matters because Jeremy’s fucked any way you look at it.

The Fakes will tear the city apart looking for him, and they know where to start looking. His own crew would sell him out in a heartbeat to save their own skins.

The only good part about this, if it can be called that, is that Trevor will figure out something went wrong when Jeremy doesn’t go back to their crappy little apartment and want to know what happened.

(Hell, now might not be a bad time to listen to him about faking his death before the Fakes find him.)

So until then...yeah.

It’s a mess.

Jeremy’s a mess, suit jacket ruined along with the shirt underneath. Something more than a simple graze that turns his stomach and hands nowhere near steady enough to stitch himself up.

“Fuck,” he says, and again a little stronger as he stares at the his wound, still bleeding sluggishly, ”fuck.”

The Golden Boy shifts. Nervous? Anxious? Who knows.

Says, quiet, careful, “I could help?” like he’s not sure how Jeremy will take it after the whole thing in the car with the glaring and everything that followed.

He shrugs when Jeremy looks up at him, pushes his stupid sunglasses up into his stupid hair. Looks tired without them hiding his eyes. Dark bags and under his eyes and this crooked little smile Jeremy doesn’t remember seeing before.

“I’ve done my share of stitching people up.”

There’s something to the way he says it that makes Jeremy believe it. Him. Whatever.

(The Fakes are known for being vicious about protecting their own, hurt one of them and you’re fucked and he’s never thought much about it before, but. There’s got to be a reason for it beyond not looking weak to their enemies, rivals.)

Jeremy’s out of options, knows he’s probably making a mistake here, but that part about being fucked anyway, so.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, and pushes the first-aide kit towards the Golden Boy.

Watches him like a hawk as he picks through the thing making these little tutting noises as he does because Jeremy may or may not have forgotten to restock it after the last time.

Rolls up his sleeves and Jeremy follows the motion without thought. Eyes going to the line of letters he can see just on the Golden Boy’s his inner forearm. Something familiar about them, but then the Golden Boy notices Jeremy staring.

Clears his throat and pulls his sleeve down to hide the Name inked on his skin. They’re a liability in this business, get people killed, and Jeremy pulls his gaze away guiltily.

“Sorry,” he says, because he’s an asshole and a ruthless criminal as these things go, but even he’s not that far gone. Not the kind of monster who’d take advantage of knowing who the Golden Boy’s soulmate is, use that against him. Not like he can say that and expected to be believed, but still. “It’s...sorry.”

He can feel eyes on him, knows the Golden Boy is watching him, judging him, and then there’s a little sigh.

“No worries, love,” he says, striving for bright and cheerful, just this hint of uncertainty, maybe even fear to it. “Not your fault, now is it?”

(Is it?)

Jeremy remains silent, winces as the Golden Boy sighs again before he picks up a washcloth Jeremy scrounged out of a cabinet to clean away the blood. He works quickly and efficiently, murmurs an apology when Jeremy hisses in pain as he plucks out cloth fibers and whatever else have gotten into the wound before he starts on the stitches.

Neat, even things, and a little laugh afterward when he says it might not scar noticeably.

Not a major concern for Jeremy, but still nice to know.

“Thanks,” he says, as the Golden Boy tapes off the bandage covering the stitches. “Just, uh. Thanks.”

Awkward as hell, thanking the guy you’ve kidnapped (accidentally, and he’s never going to get over that) for patching him up, but hey.

That’s Jeremy’s life in a nutshell.

(Or...something.)

He watches the Golden Boy pack the first-aide kit up nice and neat, reach for a stay bit of trash from the supplies he used, sleeve riding up again and this time Jeremy gets a good look at the Name on his arm.

Realizes why it had seemed so familiar from the glimpse he caught, and reacts without thinking.

Grabs the Golden Boy’s wrist with his good hand, painfully aware of the way the Golden Boy freezes like a deer in the headlights because Jeremy’s still got his gun and the whole being kidnapped thing.

Ignores the pain ins his bad arm as he pushes the Golden Boy’s sleeve up to reveal the Name on his inner forearm.

Jeremy’s name.

Knows his signature after years of using it, every upward sweep and downward loop, and his heart drops because this, this is how he meets his soulmate, of course it is.

“Jesus Christ,” Jeremy mutters, releasing the Golden Boy’s wrist, aware of the way he recoils away from him like he’s been burned. Holds his arm close to himself, hiding the Name on his skin from Jeremy, and he feels sick about his reaction.

(How could he? Why would he?)

Probably thinks Jeremy’s like all the other sick fucks in this city who’d pay anything to know whose Name someone has on their skin. Use it against them and do it happily because it gives them power over them, and fucking hell.

“I - “ Jeremy’s voice fails him and he thinks about just whipping his shirt off to show him why, but that’s.

Gonna send a bad message if he can’t explain himself first, and he can feel himself on the verge of laughing like a lunatic because this is not now he saw today going at all.

He looks up to see the Golden Boy watching him. Wary, as Jeremy would expect him to be after watching Jeremy act like the aforementioned lunatic.

“What,” the Golden Boy asks, voice cracking a little. “What was that all about?”

Jeremy stares at him, because he looks scared, sure, but also?

Angry.

Like he’d kill Jeremy rather than let him use his Name as a weapon or a threat against him. Willing to protect the idiot whose name is indelibly inked on his skin with everything he has because that’s what you do for your soulmate if you give even the tiniest of fucks about them. (Even without their unique situation.)

People are so stupid that way, and it’s both the funniest and saddest things about them to Jeremy.

Because.

He’s got a name running along his spine and he may not know a hundred percent what it is, what with the horrible handwriting, but he knows without a doubt it’s this little idiot’s.

Knows it like he knows every other important thing in his life, and this just complicates things even further, doesn’t it?

Rival crews and a carjacking that led to an (accidental) kidnapping. A soulmate that looks like he’s trying to decide the best way to kill him to keep Jeremy from using himself against him, and it’s getting real confusing in Jeremy’s head.

One thing he does know, though. He can’t let his soulmate (Jesus, Trevor will never let him live this down and neither will Matt) think he’s one of those scumbags who’d use his Name against him.

“Rimmy Tim isn’t my real name,” he says, which should be obvious by now because no self-respecting human being would go through life with it as a name and not have it legally changed at some point.

Just, no.

The Golden Boy’s still watching him. Cocks his head at Jeremy’s admission, eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out where Jeremy’s going with this.

“This is...” Jeremy trails off, knows if he just tells him his name is Jeremy it’s not going to come off well, given the current situation, so. “Uh, this is going to seem weird, but bear with me, okay?”

It’s a bit of a risk, what he’s about to do.

Turn his back on someone with every reason to use the opportunity to attack him, kill him, but he can’t think of a better idea. Just. No better idea and sure as hell doesn’t want his soulmate to think he’s in a situation where his Name is something to be used against him, that fear, even if it backfires on Jeremy.

He twists around and pulls his shirt up, hears the Golden Boy’s confused ”What?” and ”Oh, God, what?” and then this sharp inhale followed by silence.

A long, long moment of silence and this shuddery exhale, cool fingers on Jeremy’s back tracing the letters running along his spine.

Quiet laugh, shaky, and, “Bloody hell,” he hears, followed by, “I knew that couldn’t be your real name,” and another laugh that just sounds tired.

Which, yeah.

Jeremy gets that, he does.

He pulls his shirt back down and turns around to find the Golden Boy watching him again, but there’s a thoughtful quality to it this time.

“So,” he says like he still can’t believe it. “You’re my soulmate, are you?”

Hard to get a bead on how he feels about that, what with the being carjacked and kidnapped at gunpoint thing they have going for them. The way things are a little too Romeo and Juliet for Jeremy’s tastes seeing how well that went for all parties involved in that little disaster.

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy says, for whatever it’s worth. “I guess I am.”

========

The mirror in the safehouse’s bathroom is dirty as hell, has this crack running straight down the middle of it like the fault lines under Los Santos.

Good enough to get a decent picture of his back at least, have Jeremy frowning at all the scars he’s picked up since the last time he did this. (Five, six years ago? Maybe longer.)

It’s late now, few hours past midnight and the Golden Boy’s sacked out in the bedroom. Tired after a long day and what seems to have been an even longer week for him. Put up a fight because he wasn’t the one with a bullet wound, but Jeremy had overruled him on the basis of 1.) being carjacked, and 2.) being kidnapped after being carjacked.

Not to mention the reason for the carjacking and subsequent kidnapping and just...everything else on top of that they haven’t addressed properly.

More like stared at one another for a long moment trying to process before the Golden Boy yawned, reminding them both of the late hour, and they decided it would be better to pick things back up in the morning.

Sleep on all of it and figure things out then and Jesus if that’s not reason for Jeremy to grab his stuff and get the fuck out. Run off with his tail between his legs before his soulmate tells him thanks for the terrifying day and all, but he just doesn’t see things working out between them – carjackings and kidnappings do not a good relationship make – but do take care.

But he hasn’t, has he. Is creeping around the safehouse being an idiot instead.

Jeremy sighs as he fiddles with the limited photo editor app on his phone, flips the picture he just took so he can read the Name on his back.

Everyone in Los Santos calls him the Golden Boy, sometimes though they refer to him as the Fake AH Crew’s Golden Boy, sometimes he’s Ramsey’s Golden Boy, but his name’s not a secret.

That first letter on Jeremy’s back is definitely a ‘G’, and knowing what he knows now, he can see the rest.

And now that he knows, he’s afraid to say it out loud because there are -

Just.

A lot of unknowns in their future.

Or, not.

At the very least, he knows who his soulmate is now, won’t have to wonder about it anymore, and that. Well, it has to count for something, doesn’t it?

========

“So now what?”

The Golden Boy – no, Gavin – is watching Jeremy closely. Head cocked to the side and so very careful.

Looking at him, Jeremy realizes he never searched him for weapons when they got the safehouse. Wasn’t in the frame of mind to think of it with the chaos of the shootout, pain from his injury and everything that followed. World-changing realizations and all.

Can spot at least one gun on him. A few knives. Who the hell knows what else because rumors say he worked with the Vagabond for a while before the Fakes snatched him up and he’s picked up a few habits of his along the way.

Good news, no immediate rejection regarding the soulmate situation. Bad news, he’s still not indicating how he feels about the fact Jeremy’s his soulmate.

Playing it safe, smart, given the everything else that’s happened or something else, Jeremy doesn’t know.

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asks, because what does that even mean?

Gavin gives him this look, and gestures at himself.

Ego aside, he makes for one hell of a prize.

Any of the Fakes would be to be fair, but the Golden Boy?

Jesus, what stroke of luck to catch him.

Hit the Fakes where it would hurt the most because he’s always been considered untouchable, all these attack dogs keeping him from harm and poster boy for the crew, more so than Ramsey ever was.

Silver-tongued negotiator with an impressive string of successes behind him in the allies the Fakes have won over to their side since they clawed their way to the top.

That whole thing where he’s got a price on his head in the city only the craziest bastards would even think about cashing in on. Catch him and sell him to the highest bidder and live a life of luxury. (Until the Fakes found out who’d managed it and went hunting.)

Jeremy stares at him because 1.), no, and 2.)? Also no.

“How about this,” Jeremy says slowly. “You take that piece of shit car of yours and go back to your crew and I go back to mine and we pretend you did not just suggest what I think you did.”

Because, and Jeremy cannot emphasize this enough, no.

Even if he wasn’t Jeremy’s soulmate the answer would be the same. Jeremy’s an asshole, but he’s got limits. Lines he won’t cross and something like that?

No.

If he did have a personal grudge against the Fakes, well.

Honestly, there are only two things that would be part of that, and they’re both idiots. If something happened to them and the Fakes were involved...

Jeremy can’t say what he’d do then, but he likes to think he wouldn’t sink so low as to do something like that. (You never know what you’d do until you’re in that situation though, do you.)

There’s a long, long moment where they stare at one another, Jeremy’s heart beating double-quick time in his chest because Jesus fucking Christ. Also this sudden, violent urge to throw up because the whole soulmate thing on top of everything and how repugnant the matter of selling him out is with that factoring in?

Yeah.

Gavin laughs, tension seeping out of him as he regards Jeremy.

“Well,” he says, “that’s good to know.”

Like he really thought Jeremy could – would – sell him off like that even without the soulmate thing, Jesus.

“Yeah, sure.” Jeremy scrubs a hand over his face. “You’re welcome?”

Gavin hums, and then Jeremy feels a touch to the back of his hand and looks up to see him watching him.

“I never would have thought,” he says, and laughs like he’s still processing the whole soulmate thing. “I never would have thought you’d be the one.”

There’s...Jeremy swallows because there’s this note of wonder in his voice, the way he’s looking at Jeremy.

“Thought for sure I’d annoyed you past all reason.”

Not...not quite.

Annoying as hell, sure, but there was a part of him that appreciated watching a fellow horrible little bastard at work. Amused as hell at the way Gavin got under the skin of the others they were working with just because he could.

Yeah.

He should have known something was up then, but it was just a job at the time. Jeremy scrabbling to get by and just another job to put money in his pocket and all kinds of excuses that fall flat when he looks back on it.

“Nah,” Jeremy says, and smiles. “I mean, I wouldn’t say past all reason.”

He laughs to soften things, and is rewarded with a quiet laugh and then...it’s not awkward between them, just.

There’s.

“I should contact the others,” Gavin says, reluctant about it. “They’re sure to be worried by now.”

As if they wouldn’t have been the moment they realized something was wrong with a crew known to be as close-knit as theirs.

Trevor and Matt have to be worried about him as well by now, and the two of them can’t just hide away here forever no matter how tempting it is.

Should have gone their own ways the night before everything got complicated on them. Kicked Gavin out of the car somewhere his crew would be sure to pick him up before continuing on to the safehouse, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly.

Too late for that now, though.

“I - “ Jeremy sighs, because there’s no putting things off any longer. They’ve done enough of that as it is. “Yeah, okay.”

========

There’s not much for Jeremy to do as Gavin makes his phone call, but he finds reasons to be out of the room. Give him some privacy.

Wanders around straightening up for the next time someone needs to use the safehouse. Make a list of things he needs to get to restock the first-aide kit. Sends Matt a text letting him know he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere and he’ll tell them everything when he gets back home because he’d rather avoid Trevor’s heavy judgment for the time being.

He laughs when he gets a thumb’s up emoji from Matt, and then a few moments later a succinct Fuck you, man, that’s sure to result from Trevor expressing his disappointment in Matt for not pressing Jeremy for details.

Jeremy makes his way back to the living room just in time to catch the end of the conversation the Gavin’s having with whoever he called. All this exasperation to it and dumb little smile and he just.

Watches him for a long moment since Gavin doesn’t seem to know he’s there yet.

No telling what will happen once they leave the safehouse.

Jeremy’s got to be high on the Fakes’ most wanted list by now, and the smart thing for him to do is stay under the radar until that changes, if it will.

So. Yeah.

Gavin finishes his call and looks up to catch Jeremy’s eye, amused smile playing on his lips so so much for going unnoticed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, just,” Jeremy shrugs. The safehouse isn’t big, not a lot of places for him to putter about while Gavin was on the phone.

Thankfully Gavin seems to understand that because he laughs, and Jeremy.

God.

He’s heard the stories, you know?

From his parents, other people who found their soulmates and had things work out. The way you just. It’s not some magical thing where everything’s suddenly easy, everything nice and clear and simple, but.

There’s a difference.

This thing where you look at your soulmate and you know.

Their smile seems brighter than anyone else’s, fills you with this. Love, warmth, whatever the hell that can help flip a shitty day over into one that’s a little more bearable. Small things that make life better in a million little ways, make you feel less alone in the world.

Not easy, and shit still happens, but it’s not. Not overwhelming anymore, like you know you can make it through a bad day and any others that come after it because someone’s there to help you through them.

Jeremy sits down next to him and reaches for his hand, feels stupidly relieved when Gavin reaches back.

========

In the end, Gavin gets in his Blista and drives back to his crew, and Jeremy watches him until he’s out of view.

Out of the two of them, he’s the one with the target painted on his back, and while Jeremy’s not delighted about letting him go alone, it’s the smart thing to do.

Jeremy’s a nobody compared to him, can find his own way home without worrying about running into trouble, and he does.

Gets an earful from Trevor who’s doing a good job of looking his usual put-together self, but Jeremy knows him too well by now to miss the signs of Trevor in full-on Deeply Concerned mode.

“Trevor,” he says, because goddamn they’re all kind of dumb. “Shut up.”

He drags Trevor into a hug despite his half-hearted protests – he is lecturing, Jeremy, and hugs are illegal you fiend. And then he does the same to Matt who’s off the side nibbling on a breadstick and trying to look bored and disinterested like he’s not just as worried.

“Where the hell were you?” Trevor demands, hands on his hips and ridiculous as ever. “We heard about what what happened, and then you didn’t come home and - “

Jeremy winces at the fear he can hear plain as day in Trevor’s voice even with the dramatics he’s throwing in to cover for it. The dark circles under his eyes and bloodshot eyes from a lack of sleep and just. Everything he can see mirrored in Matt.

“It’s a long story,” Jeremy says, which is the wrong thing to say even if it’s the truth because it sets Trevor off all over again with his own side of things.

Because Matt keeps tabs on Jeremy, on Trevor. Might as well have animal tracking collars on them or gone and microchipped them in their sleep. No way to hide from him even if they wanted to. (A lie, because they’d find ways around it, but what would be the point when he does it to look after them in his own Matt Bragg way?)

And when Jeremy dropped off the radar after the shootout with all the “extra touches” at the safehouse to prevent them from being tracked there...yeah.

“I, uh.” Jeremy doesn’t know how to put this gently, so he just goes for it. “I carjacked the Golden Boy and found out he’s my soulmate?”

There.

Perfect.

Good job all around, well done him.

Jeremy turns on his heel and power walks to the kitchen to grab something strong to drink while Trevor’s brain tries to process that and Matt stops choking on his breadstick.

While he’s there he decides to be civilized and grabs glasses for Trevor and Matt because he gets the feeling they’re going to need them.

========

Trevor can’t actually ground Jeremy, because for one, Jeremy’s a fucking adult? And two, he’s not the boss of him. (Something Jeremy thinks in the safety and privacy of his own mind lest he give Trevor ideas.)

But.

The three of them are in agreement it would be safest for Jeremy if he kept a low profile for the time being, which means he is more or less grounded.

Sits around the apartment pestering Matt while he works on whatever Matt does. Offering unhelpful suggestions until even Matt has enough of his bullshit and kicks him out of his nerd lair so he can work in peace.

Thinks about doing the same to Trevor, but Trevor is by far the smartest one out of them and voted most likely to plot intricate, painful revenge Jeremy will never see coming, so he doesn’t pester him.

Watches a lot of daytime dramas and talk shows instead. Some DIY videos from the internet on his laptop which is great, because he finds this one channel of a guy who helps him expand on his homemade explosives repertoire.

Also?

Picks up a few delicious recipes and other things from people not out to topple governments or just make really, really, questionable life choices involving explosives.

And then one day Trevor comes up to him with a package bearing the logo of a small delivery company.

He looks conflicted, like he’s not sure what he’s doing is a good thing.

“This came for you the other day,” he says, and holds it just out of reach. “I had Matt check it over first, just in case.”

Jeremy sets his game controller aside, because Trevor has a shifty look on his face. Is having a hard time looking Jeremy in the eye.

“Trevor?”

Trevor clears his throat, fidgets in a way that is very, very alarming coming from him.

“I realize I may not have come across as happy for you as I should have,” he says, waving a hand at Jeremy and his everything. “About this whole. Soulmate thing of yours, and I apologize. For that.”

Jeremy cocks his head.

While Trevor’s not wrong, he’s not. Jeremy knows him, okay. Knows Trevor’s glad he found his soulmate, but there was the matter of everything else to deal with too because Jeremy’s a damn idiot who can’t do anything the easy way.

“You really don’t need to - “ Jeremy starts to say, and snaps his mouth shut when Trevor levels him with a look. “But, ah. Thank you?”

Trevor harrumphs, scowl slowly lightening to a rueful smile as he holds the package out to Jeremy.

“Anyway, this came for you the other day and Matt says it’s not going to kill you. Or, it might, but if it does it will be from cancer due to long-term exposure to radiofreqeuncy radiation and not explosives or what have you.” Trevor pauses for a breath. “But as we both know, that won’t happen for decades if there really is a link between cell phone usage and cancer, so, uh. Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

Jeremy doesn’t know what to say to any of that, so he accepts the package with a simple thanks and scurries off to his room before he catches whatever the hell Trevor has.

(Too late to avoid the insanity, but he already knew that.)

========

There’s a cell phone in the package, but Trevor gave that away with his unsettling warning about the hazards of cell phones or whatever that was.

There’s also a note.

From Gavin.

Awkward and sweet, and Jeremy laughs as he reads if for the third time because he’s an idiot and a sap.

It’s a chance to get to know Gavin better and a burner phone to make that possible.

Side note about this being for the best until Gavin can talk sense into his crew regarding Jeremy and this rambling tangent that has nothing to do with anything, but still makes Jeremy smile.

They’re getting further and further away from the bizarre Romeo and Juliet situation they were in at first, but everything’s still unbelievably stupid and ridiculous in their own way.

Still.

Jeremy sets the note aside and unlocks the phone and brings up the contacts. Stares at the only one saved for a long moment, nerves and whatever else getting the best of him for a moment before he shoves all of that aside and presses the send button before he can think better of it.

========

A month goes by before Trevor deems it safe to let Jeremy out on his own unsupervised, which is just as insulting as it sounds.

To be fair, it’s taken that long for his bullet wound to heal to a point he can take on work again without making things worse, so it works out.

He’s been talking to Gavin every chance he can get, gone from once or twice a week to three to four to every day thy better they got to know one another. Realizing they might be among the lucky ones to find their soulmate and someone they could stand to share the rest of their lives together with.

He’s been itching at the chance to see him in person again, and Gavin feels the same because he texts Jeremy the name of a cafe along with a time and date, and Jeremy -

“Good God man, you can’t wear that abomination on your little lunch date!” Trevor looks personally offended because Jeremy’s dressed in his finest Rimmy Tim ensemble, complete with a new hat to replace the one he lost in the shootout with the Fakes.

All shiny and white because he felt like a change was in order, and also they were out of brown.

Jeremy keeps a straight face by sheer strength of will, something not helped by the thumb’s up Matt’s shooting him over Trevor’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong with it?” Jeremy asks, looking down at himself like he’s looking for a stray piece of lint or wrinkled fabric. A loose button, something along those lines. And, “You don’t like it?”

Trevor makes this...this noise in the back of his throat that somehow conveys frustration, disgust, and barest touch of rage as he throws his hands up.

“You march right back into your room and find something to wear that isn’t both horrendous and garish right now, young man!”

There’s a delicate silence in the moment after his outburst.

And then Jeremy makes the mistake of looking at Matt, and that’s the end of that. The two of them crack up laughing while Trevor heaves this sigh of utmost suffering that comes from having to deal with idiots like them.

========

Jeremy changes into clothes Trevor deems far more reasonable than Jeremy’s Rimmy Tim getup and makes it to the cafe with time to spare.

Follows the hostess out to an outside seating area and can’t help the goofy smile on his face when he spots Gavin waiting for him at one of the tables.

He looks.

Well.

He looks nervous, fussing with this coin he’s rolling over his knuckles in an obvious nervous habit, but he also looks good.

Button-down shirt that makes his eyes stand out. Pressed slacks and dress shoes, hair – still an unruly mess but it’s more artfully messy rather than all-out disastrous. Those ridiculously expensive sunglasses of his hooked into the collar of his shirt and best of all, he looks rested. Like he’s finally managed to get enough sleep, and the smile that crosses his face when he catches sight of Jeremy -

Blinding.

“Jeremy!” he gets to his feet and pulls Jeremy into a hug, and the last of Jeremy’s nervousness vanishes in the face of his clear excitement at seeing him again after so long.

Jeremy closes his eyes and breathes out a sigh of relief as he hugs Gavin, because nerves and this...he doesn’t even know.

Like part of him somehow thought he’d imagined it all from the shootout to the carjacking (Jesus Christ, that’s going to make the story of how they discovered they were soulmates a tricky one to tell people) to the events at the safehouse.

The phone calls that had spilled over from one burner phone to the next until Jeremy had decided the hell with things and started using his own instead. (A risk, sure, of the Fakes finding him to “have a little chat with him” Gavin had warned him about when he told him, but more than worth it.)

Everything.

This ache in his chest at being so close and so far after all these years of wondering. Maybe there is something to the soulmates thing science can’t explain because it feels like Jeremy’s taking his first full breath in far too long.

The world feels a little more real, brighter when he opens his eyes to look at Gavin.

Something.

Gavin laughs again and they untangle themselves, sit down at the table Gavin’s gotten for them and stare at one another like idiots for a moment.

It’s a beautiful day, sunny and bright and the people of Los Santos are making the most of it. Pedestrians out for a walk for the hell of it or out and about on errands or other business talking on their cell phones or enjoying the break in weather from the spate of rain they’ve had the last week.

Dogs barking, birds singing. People laughing.

All of it paints a different picture of the city than Jeremy’s used to seeing and for a moment he can almost pretend it’s any other city.

Almost.

“Uh,” Jeremy says, because pretty as things are right now, Los Santos is certainly not any other city. “Did you know - “

Gavin rolls his eyes, mouth quirking as he leans towards Jeremy. Drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Ignore them,” he says, gleam of amusement in his eye. “It’ll drive them mental.”

Jeremy raises his eyebrows at that because Gavin knows his crew best, of course, but still.

There’s a car idling at the curb just beyond the patio they’re seated at.

Shiny chrome number and the guy with the wolf on the back of his jacket Jeremy remembers seeing from the shootout behind the wheel.

Glaring at Jeremy.

Another car is parked across the street opposite him. Sleek black number with bright green accents. Too far to make out more than an outline of the driver, but Jeremy’s sure he’s wearing a skull mask. (He’s seen that car on the news too often not to know its owner.)

Not even two tables away from them are a pair of people in the absolute worst disguises Jeremy’s seen outside of a spy parody movie.

Dark sunglasses, fake mustaches and beards, and holes cut out of the newspaper one of them is reading along with oversize trench coats on a beautiful early summer afternoon in sunny Los Santos.

“...Okay?” Jeremy says, because okay.

And...he gets it, he does.

The Fakes are a close-knit crew and he and Gavin didn’t kick off this whole...soulmates thing between them in the traditional way.

At all.

To be honest, there’s a part of him that’s relieved they’re being this overprotective of Gavin. Watching out for him in an admittedly creepy way.

It’s just.

Weird as hell, too.

“Jeremy,” Gavin says, and gives him this look like he knows, but better to go along with it than fight it at this point, which.

Again, yeah, okay.

He can handle dealing with Gavin’s crew if it means he gets to have this...chance with Gavin. (Besides, he hasn’t even met Trevor or Matt, and God knows they’re going to be as terrible in their own ways, idiots that they are.)

They chat for a bit as they look over the menu, knot of worry and doubt in Jeremy’s chest unraveling as Gavin laughs at Jeremy’s stupid jokes. Smiles at the truly awful ones like he can’t help himself even though they both know how terrible they are.

Jeremy doing the same as Gavin tells him about his recent exploits with the Fakes, little adventures he got up to on his own when he managed to slip away from his minders. (Paranoid after the incident where some inconsiderate bloke carjacked Gavin.)

“Are you ready to order?”

Jeremy freezes.

Looks over to see a man dressed like one of the cafe’s waiters standing next to their table. Impressive mustache and tattoos he can see peeking over the collar of his shirt. More on his hands holding a notepad and pencil and this glint in his eye as he ignores Gavin to stare Jeremy down.

He’s seen the Kingpin on the news. Heard all kinds of wild stories about him, the things he did with the Roosters before coming to Los Santos to start his own crew.

Ruthless.

Merciless.

Only man in all of Los Santos who could get the Vagabond to join a crew and all the other rumors out there making him to be this terrifying figure in his own right, and for good reason.

And now he’s in a waiter’s uniform waiting to take their lunch order and Jeremy has no idea how to proceed, because his brain is having difficulty processing the situation.

Jesus.

He feels a sharp pain on his shin and snaps out of his daze or whatever the hell he’s fallen into to look at Gavin.

Gavin, who just kicked him under the table and is now giving him this look. All remember what I told you, and follow my lead and God’s sakes, Jeremy, don’t let them get to you, they can smell fear.

A lot to convey with a single look, but somehow Gavin pulls it off

“Actually,” Gavin says, looking back at his menu. “I was wondering if there’s any shellfish in the shellfish cioppino? I’m allergic, and it would absolutely ruin my day if I had even the smallest bite.”

That’s a blatant lie. They were just talking about Gavin’s love for shellfish after they got onto the topic of the east coast and Jeremy’s hometown of Boston in particular, but alright.

Jeremy stares at Gavin who lifts his eyes from his menu to wink at Jeremy before gifting their waiter with an arch look.

The Kingpin glares at him.

Takes a deep breath and in a voice that says he’s going to have words with Gavin later, and says, ”Yes, sir. Unfortunately there is shellfish in the shellfish cioppino as the name implies. Perhaps something else on the menu appeals to you?”

“Oh,” Gavin says, crestfallen that his first choice might kill him if he was in fact allergic as he’s claiming to be. “That’s a shame. What about the steamed mussels?”

It goes on like that for a while as Gavin asks about every dish on the menu where shellfish is a key ingredient and several where no seafood is involved at all.

The Kingpin goes from being annoyed to resigned and defeated, staring off into the middle distance as he answers Gavin’s questions.

“Well then,” Gavin says, when he’s done torturing one of the most feared men in Los Santos. “I suppose I’ll have the shellfish cioppino.”

There’s no reaction at first, but when the Kingpin realizes Gavin’s done tormenting him he snaps back to himself. Draws himself up to his full height and scowls down at Gavin as he angrily scribbles down his order to keep up the pretense as their waiter.

Gavin beams at him, hands folded neatly in front of him on the table.

The Kingpin snorts, corner of his mouth twitching before he turns his attention on Jeremy.

“And what would you like to order?”

He’s not glaring at Jeremy now, but it’s close enough to count.

“Hmm,” Jeremy says, mimicking the posh accent Gavin had slipped into. “Are there any mushrooms in your smoked mushroom ravioli? I have this allergy to them.”

No doubt he’ll regret it in the long run, but when he hears Gavin laugh figures it’s another one of those things he can deal with just for that.

========

They go for a walk along the beach after lunch, a nice leisurely stroll.

Sure, they’re being watched by members of Gavin’s crew, but Jeremy barely notices it anymore with Gavin laughing next to him.

“Oh, God, did you see his face?” Gavin’s giggling, all lit up with it, and Jeremy’s heart does that little flippy thing it started doing halfway through lunch with Gavin laughing and smiling and happy. “Geoff will make me pay for it, but his face.”

Gavin won’t be the only one paying for what they did, but that’s a future worry.

Right now it’s the two of them enjoying a nice day and being the horrible little bastards they are.

Amazing.

Their shoulders bump every so often, shifting sand under their feet and wandering along aimlessly as people are wont to do like this. Their hands do too, and after a while it gets to be a problem, so Jeremy has no choice but to tangle his fingers with Gavin to put an end to that.

Heart in his throat as he reaches for his hand, and that flippy sensation in his chest when Gavin slides a look at him, crooked grin on his face as he slides his fingers through Jeremy’s.

========

All good things end, or something like that, and Jeremy and Gavin find their way back up to the street next to the beach.

Gavin leads them to a pretty little thing parked next to the curb. Matte black and low-slung. Looks like it could go from zero to sixty in no time flat and Jeremy would love to see that happen one day.

He laughs when he notices Jeremy admiring it, hint of a blush on his cheeks as he gives it a fond pat on the hood.

“It was in the shop at the time,” he says, and shrugs, a story behind it he’s not telling Jeremy just yet. “That’s why I was driving my Blista.”

Jeremy raises an eyebrow because those stories Gavin told him earlier and his far from spotless driving record. Gavin coughs, gaze sliding away.

They lean against Gavin’s car and watch the waves roll in below them, sun starting to sink towards the horizon. They’ve shed their escort in Gavin’s crew, one by one until it’s just the two of them now.

Jeremy passing a test he wasn’t aware of or them getting bored enough to go off to wreak havoc in another part of the city, who the hell knows.

“We should do this again sometime,” Gavin says, light and casual, like he’s not holding on to Jeremy’s hand as though it’s a lifeline. “I had fun.”

Jeremy could do that. He could. Spend hours with Gavin without keeping an eye on the time.

“Me too,” Jeremy says, and squeezes Gavin’s hand. “I’d like that.”

Gavin ducks his head, and Jeremy laughs because.

Yeah.

The whole soulmate thing isn’t a guarantee you’ll fall in love the moment you meet yours, or that you’ll even like them, but goddamn is it nice when you do. (Amazing.)

After a moment Gavin looks up at him, expression on his face like he’s thinking hard on something, and then he breaths out this sigh. Annoyed at himself for something as he straightens.

“Jeremy,” he says, and he sounds determined. Focused. About to take a risk and intent on following through. “I think I’d like to kiss you.”

Jeremy bites back a laugh because it’s so formal of him. Right and proper and all that. Very British sounding.

“Yeah?” he asks, grinning at the annoyed huff from Gavin. “I think I’d like it if you did.”

Gavin’s eyes narrow because he knows Jeremy’s laughing at him, and try as he might he can’t hide his own amusement at their ridiculousness.

“Jeremy,” Gavin says, because this is no joking matter.

Jeremy tries to wipe the grin off his face, he does, but he can’t with the way Gavin’s looking at him and the way his heart is doing that flippy thing again.

Good thing, then, that Gavin does it for him when he leans in for that kiss of his.

========

Jeremy’s life isn’t all kittens and sunshine now, no.

Matt still has those debts of his that Jeremy and Trevor are helping him with because God knows he’s an idiot and things are getting better on that front.

Los Santos is still the same shithole it’s always been.

He’s still at the top of the Fake AH Crew’s most wanted list, albeit for a very different reason now.

But.

Jeremy’s found his soulmate and while the two of them have to deal with a few more hurdles in their path than most people do, they manage just fine for themselves.

“Gavin - “

Gavin laughs, pecks Jeremy on the cheek to shush him as the lights go down in the movie theater around them.

“Ignore them,” he he whispers, like Ryan and Michael aren’t a few rows behind them making sure Jeremy doesn’t kidnap Gavin (intentionally) under cover of darkness. “They’re just being ridiculous.”

“I - “Jeremy sighs, because Gavin’s got a point. “Okay.”

The Fakes like to show up on their dates from time to time, scowl and glare at Jeremy because they’re just “like that” according to Gavin, but they disappear after a while to let them have time to themselves.

More of a running gag by now than actual threat, even if Ryan still wears the mask half the time.

It’s weird as hell and definitely not the way Jeremy imagined what finding his soulmate would be like back when he used to think about it, but it works for them and that’s the only thing that matters.

#jerevin #ragehappy #fahc au #soulmates au #ahwuum #Prompt Fills #Kings of Nowhere #vagrant fic #thank you so much for supporting me friend!!!#<333333333333!#(...this is kind of what you asked for???#also it got out of hand on me #so there's that???#:D???)

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atomicdrop · 7 years

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WWE United Kingdom Championship Tournament - Day One (January 14, 2017)

I love me some tournaments so when I heard that the WWE was going to be running a tournament similar to the Cruiserweight Classic featuring the best wrestlers from the UK (and Ireland, which the WWE seems to think is a part of the UK) I was excited. That being said, when the announced the wrestlers competing I didn’t really recognize any of the competitors outside of Mandrews. Will that matter? I hope not!

We’re in Blackpool, England and as this is a WWE Network joint, Triple H in his, “I’m a good guy business man who wants to put on good wrestling shows,” guise comes out to welcome us to the WWEUKCT and say some stuff about empires before asking if we’re ready. I know I am! So let’s get it on!

Our announce team for the evening are Michael Cole and Nigel McGuinness. Michael Cole says “grapple fans” and they show us the brackets for the tournament and talk about their picks to watch in the tourney. From there it’s time for action!

Match 1: Trent Seven vs. H.C. Dyer

Like the CWC the competitors get little pre-match video packages where they talk about themselves and non-WWE wrestling footage appears courtesy of some non-WWE wrestling promotion. This is fantastic because, as I said, I really don’t know any of these guys at all.

Trent Seven gets hyped as a favorite in the tournament as he makes his way to the ring and the audience seems really behind him. I think he’s got a pretty great moustache and in his promo video he talked about hailing from Moustache Mountain which is just outstanding.

Dyer’s a little less of a character. He kind of looks like a default Create-a-Wrestler in a video game and his gimmick is a big punch.

They do the Ring of Honor handshake thing here and the match gets underway with a collar and elbow tie up. Early on the two go to the outside where Dyer roughs up Seven for a bit, but Seven gets back in control and delivers a series of chops while Dyer is leaning up against the ring post, but on the last chop Dyer ducks out of the way and Seven chops the fuck out of the steel ring post.

They head back into the ring and there’s some more back and forth between the two. Seven goes for a cocky pin (he twirls his moustache while kind of posing atop a downed Dyer) but Dyer kicks out easily.

The announcers play up that Dyer is looking for his big right hook throughout the match but because the two men have a similar reach he’s going to have a hard time pulling it off.

He finally does though, connecting with Seven’s jaw and sending the now glassy eyed mustachioed one to the canvas. Dyer goes for a pin, but Seven kicks out. Cole says that Dyer’s hesitation in making the cover (he stood in awe of what he’d done for a few seconds before making the cover) gave Seven a chance to recover from the devastating punch. McGuinness says it was a rookie mistake.

Dyer follows up a moment later with a Blue Thunder Bomb and goes for another pin, but in what McGuinness would call another rookie mistake, he doesn’t put enough weight on Seven’s shoulders allowing Seven to kick out again.

Dyer goes for a top rope splash, but Seven avoids it and gets back in control of the match. He hits a Seven Star Clothesline and gets the pin in the middle of the ring to have his hand raised in victory.

Winner: Trent Seven

This was a pretty good opening match. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen a good hard hitting match without a lot of flashy shit so this fit the bill nicely. I like that they made both men look good throughout the match and that Dyer’s defeat came more from a lack of in ring awareness than being outclassed in the ring. If they’re planning on doing weekly or monthly UK shows it’s beneficial if Dyer doesn’t look like a chump.

Meanwhile Backstage...

Jordan Devlin is waiting for his match. Cole says that he is Finn Balor’s protege. They cut to Danny Burch elsewhere backstage before going to...

Video Packages!

Burch used to be in NXT. I don’t really remember seeing him there so it must have been pre-2014 or in a very limited capacity post-2014. He explains that he’s been boxing since he was six years old and only feels at home in the ring. He’s in the tournament to win it.

Devlin talked about his in-ring style and describes himself as a technician trained in catch-as-catch-can style wrestling. He kind of looks like an off model Finn Balor.

Match 2: Danny Burch vs. Jordan Devlin

Before either man comes out we get a shot of Finn Balor sitting in the audience with some wrestling promoter guy who I probably would have recognized if I followed British wrestling prior to this, but I didn’t so I don’t. It’s still super weird to see other promoters or hear WWE announcers talk about guys being “one half of the Progress Wrestling Tag Team Champions.”

Burch is out first to little fanfare. Devlin comes out second and stops to point at the UK Championship belt which is on a podium on the stage. McGuinness talks about Burch being a favorite in the tournament and says that Devlin’s going to have his work cut out for him if he wants to win.

There’s some early back and forth between the two with Burch wrestling surprisingly quickly and technically. The two go hold for hold for awhile, trading counters. Before Burch takes control.

A few minutes in Devlin rakes Burch’s eyes and gets admonished by the referee. Michael Cole notes that Devlin needs to be careful not to get warned again because it will earn him a DQ and allow Burch to advance in the tournament.

They fight back and forth a little bit more with Devlin getting the upper hand. Burch hits a desperation move that lays both men out. The ref beings the ten count. Burch kips up and gets a decent pop from the audience. He then lays Devlin out with some punches.

Burch runs the ropes, but gets caught with a forearm. He recovers quickly though and hits a lariat that gets him a two count. He’s a house on fire now and hits a spinebuster that he follows up with a knee and a headbutt, but again he only gets two.

Burch locks on the Crippler Crossface but Devlin gets to the ropes and the ref breaks the hold. The crowd is not pleased. Burch goes for a German suplex, but Devlin’s a flippy motherfucker and lands on his feet and quickly gets Burch in a pinning predicament.

Devlin hits a double stomp and then a spinning kick to the back of Burch’s head that splits him open. Devlin goes for the pin and Burch clearly kicks out at two but the bell rings anyway. There’s some confusion as to what happen and Cole and McGuinness watch the ending again in slow motion.

“Back and to the left. Back and to the left.”

They determine that the shoulder was up at two, but apparently the referee’s decision will stand. Devlin is declared the winner and in a show of good sportsmanship, Burch offers him a congratulatory handshake, but Devlin kicks him in the face instead.

He goes up to the stage area where Charly Caruso interviews Devlin as he made his way to the back. He said that people wrote him off but he was a thoroughbred horse. Okay whatever, Evil Twin Balor.

Winner: Jordan Devlin

The finish to this was weird. Burch got split open legit and after Devlin made the cover Burch clearly clicked out at two but the bell still rang. It wasn’t really clear if the ending got messed up because of the bleeding or there was always supposed to be a questionable ending to this one, but either way the blood, the cheap victory, and the kick in the mouth after the match really established Devlin as a great heel, so it all worked out okay in the end, except maybe for Danny Burch who was a goddamn bloody mess at the end of the match.

Video Packages!

Michael Cole sends us to video packages for a man who “calls himself Saxon Huxley,” and Sam Gradwell. Huxley is up first and talks about how he reads books and meditates, but don’t let that fool you into thinking he’s some sort of nerd. He promises that he is going to truck through whoever gets in his way in the tournament.

Sam Gradwell’s mom was a drunk and his house was a “war zone.” He says the only thing he has in common with the other dudes in the tournament is the ring they’re in. He says that he’s here to win a permanent spot with the WWE and even though he might not be the best known name in the tournament, when it’s all over everyone will remember the name Sam Gradwell.

Match 3: Saxon Huxley vs. Sam Gradwell

This was probably the least action packed match yet. There was some sloppy back and forth between the two men, but Gradwell quickly took control and dominated for the bulk of the match. Toward the end of the match Gradwell hit a big clothesline and then went to the top rope and connected with a diving headbutt for the win.

Winner: Sam Gradwell

The crowd was annoying as fuck during this just singing random bullshit and shouting “Let’s go Jesus!” because I guess Huxley kind of looked like Jesus. I get that this wasn’t going to be a Five Star Mat Classic™ by any stretch of the imagination, but I wish they’d fucking cool it with the random garbage chants and just watch the match at least then I could have heard the announcers calling the action and shit.

Meanwhile In The Audience...

Hey! It’s Squire Dave Taylor! The Mothership...WCW Saturday Night baby! McGuinness talks about how Taylor was hella tough and also a great in ring technician. That must have been back in England because mostly I just remember him and Steven/William Regal getting destroyed by Harlem Heat or the Public Enemy a lot on WCW Saturday Night.

Michael Cole says that a lot of people compare the next competitor’s toughness to that of Dave Taylor. Time for a...

Video Package!

Pete Dunne looks like a smarmy motherfucker and calls himself a Bruiserweight. He says he doesn’t think anyone can beat him. The non-WWE wrestling footage that airs shows him biting a dude’s foot. The dude in question was wearing boots, which makes it seem more like a gross out thing than a move that would inflict much pain (on the person being bitten).

Roy Johnson gets the next video package. He was a power lifter so he’s strong as fuck. He says that he’s “wavy” but he can’t tell us what “wavy” means. Thanks for nothing, asshole.

Match 4: Pete Dunne vs. Roy Johnson

Dunne gets a much larger pop from the crowd as he makes his way to the ring than Johnson does. Cole compares Pete Dunne to “The Belfast Bruiser” Fit Finlay. Johnson does some dance moves in the early going which apparently ties in to his waviness, but Dunne just scowls at him and gets him in a front facelock. Johnson uses his power lifting power to power up and power out of the hold and hit a suplex.

Dunne gets back in control and targets Johnson’s wrist. He gets Johnson set up for a surfboard, but instead of executing it he removed Johnson’s power lifting glove and focused on the wrist again.

Johnson eventual fights his way out and eventually hits a shoulder block off the middle rope. Dunne responds with a kick to Johnson’s dome. Johnson is dazed, but hits a Samoan drop and goes for the pin, earning a two count. Cole and McGuinness said it would have been a huge upset if Johnson had gotten the pin there.

Johnson goes back to the second rope and leaps off of it right into a punch from Dunne. Dunne wastes no time and goes for the cover. but Johnson kicks out at two. The audience is completely behind Pete Dunne as he hits his finishing maneuver a weird pump handle flatliner thing to pick up the win.

Post match Johnson offers to shake Dunne’s hand, but Dunne just slaps it out of the way. Cole opines that Dunne never learned any manners before saying that Dunne will face Sam Gradwell in round two.

Winner: Pete Dunne

This was a pretty good match and one that was helped by the preceding video packages and the commentary. Knowing that Johnson was a power lifter made his power moves seem more devastating than they might have seemed if I just thought he was a regular guy doing a Samoan Drop.

Dunne’s a pretty great heel and I could really see him showing up in at least NXT very easily.

Video Package!

We get videos for the next two competitors: Wolfgang and Tyson T-Bone.

Wolfgang is the self-proclaimed King of Scotland. He talks about working in a pub and how that prepares him to fight. He’s been wrestling for ten years and isn’t afraid to cheat to win.

Tyson T-Bone has hella tattoos and is a gypsy or something.

Meanwhile Backstage...

Caruso interviews T-Bone who talks about traveling up and down England knocking fools out. He promises to knock out Wolfgang and then wonders who’s next.

Match 5: Wolfgang vs. Tyson T-Bone

Wolfgang and T-Bone come together to shake hands before the bell rings, but T-Bone just headbutts the fuck out of him. The ref checks with Wolfgang to see if he’s fit to fight and then rings the bell to get the match officially underway.

Wolfgang comes back with uppercuts and a dropkick that he follows up with a couple of splashes. Wolfgang goes up top and hits a double ax-handle earning himself a count of two.

Some more back and forth before Wolfgang gets back in control and hits a goddamn moonsault off the ropes and scores another two count. T-Bone makes a come back and hits Wolfgang with a German suplex and then a superkick to the face as Wolfgang gets to his knees. T-Bone goes for the cover and gets a two count.

He dumps Wolfgang out of the ring and goes out after him. T-Bone shoves Wolfgang into the ring post. Wolfgang recovers and knocks him away and goes for the ropes, but is cut off by T-Bone. T-Bone goes for a superplex, but Wolfgang shoves him off and hits a Swanton Bomb for the win.

Post match Caruso interviews Wolfgang on the stage, Wolfgang promises that in the second round Trent Seven will find out why they call him the Big Bag Wolf. He then promises to have a party once he wins the UK Championship.

Winner: Wolfgang

I liked this match a lot and hope to see more of Wolfgang. He kind of reminded me of mid-90s Hugh Morris (only hopefully less of a prick in real life) in that he was a bigger dude who could still hit some high flying moves.

I’ve watched a lot of NXT and 205 Live as of late, and think I may have built up a tolerance to high flying high spots, but here where most of the matches have been either technical grapple fests or straight up brawling seeing a dude (and a bigger one at that) hit a moonsault caused me to mark out.

Video Package!

Joseph Conners’ ear is all fucked up. He will do whatever it takes to become champion. James Drake is 23, but claims to be one of the most experienced wrestlers in the tournament. Both guys look like Jesus.

Match 6: James Drake vs. Joseph Conners

The audience shit all over this, chanting a bunch of stupid shit like “he’s got his whole face on his ass,” because Drake had a picture of his face on the back of his trunks. Cole puts Conners over and says that Conners is Cedric Alexander’s pick to win the whole thing because the big names Conners has faced in the past.

The two guys go back and forth for the bulk of the match. Conners keeps showing his fucked up ear as a taunt. I want that taunt in WWE 2K18. The bout comes to a close when Conners hits an elbow into a backbreaker that he follows up with his finisher, Don’t Look Down, to pick up the win.

Winner: Joseph Conners

The finish to this was pretty badass, but the crowd was bullshit during the bulk of the bout.

Video Package!

Hey it’s Mandrews guys! The pop-punk guy from TNA! He had a skateboard and a backwards baseball cap! He’s the only Welshman in the tournament and he says it would be a huge honor to win because he’d get to represent an entire generation of wrestlers.

Dan Moloney is a hardass. He comes from a bad place and has seen and done things people his age shouldn’t have seen or done. He doesn’t give a fuck about anybody except himself.

Match 7: Mark Andrews vs. Dan Moloney

Big pop for Mandrews as he comes out to the ring. The match gets underway with Moloney throwing Andrews around for awhile. Looks like it’s going to be power verses speed here.

After the early going, Andrews gets the advantage and hits Moloney with the 619 and a couple minutes in, Andrews hits a standing moonsault for a two count.

He sends Moloney out to the floor and hits a moonsault off the apron that the crowd loves. They head back into the ring and Moloney makes a bit of a comeback, scoring a two count on a rollup. He hits a running kick to Mandrew’s head and goes for the pin, scoring another two count.

Moloney goes for a suplex, but Andrews counters it into a stunner and then hits a Shooting Star Press to pick up the win. He’ll face Joseph Conners in round two.

Winner: Mark Andrews

Mandrews was the one dude I knew before this began. I liked him when he was in TNA so I’m glad to see him get a chance here in the WWE. I’ve said it before and I’ll probably say it again, but I really like that there’s a mix of styles here. Mandrews could have been in the Cruiserweight Classic where he’d just have been another high flying guy who does moonsaults, but here, where he’s the only guy who does flippy shit it stands out a lot more.

Video Package!

Tucker is from Northern Ireland. A year and a half ago he had knee surgery and was told his wrestling days might be behind him, but he’s here now.

Tyler Bate has a magnificent mustache that belies his 19 years of age. He’s from Dudley, England and says his age isn’t important since the only numbers he cares about are “1-2-3!”

Match 8: Tucker vs. Tyler Bate

Tucker is even more wrecked than the promo video let on as Cole points out a scar on his chest from where doctors inserted some sort of breathing apparatus when he was born 8 weeks prematurely. Bate, meanwhile, is said to be likable but having a short fuse.

At the start of the match Tucker goes for a superkick, but Bate avoids it. There’s some chain wrestling in the early going that the fans eat up. Less than a minute in and this is probably the match of the night for me.

The two play to the crowd and jaw with one another. Bate holds up his right hand and then punches Tucker with the left. Tucker responds with a back elbow off the second rope. Bate gets Tucker in a headlock, and then grabs his own foot to hit Tucker with it.

Tucker hits Bate in the dome with a kick. The audience begins a “This is wrestling,” chant as Tucker and Bate trade blows. I hate that chant. It’s all wrestling. A Mantaur squash match is wrestling. Ric Flair vs. Ricky Steamboat Five Star Mat Classic is wrestling. Chikara is wrestling. A FMW match between Mr. Pogo and some dude in a janky horror movie mask throwing each other into barbed wire is wrestling. But I digress...

Tucker hits a running hurricanrana that he follows up with a forearm to Bate in the corner. He goes for a second, but Bate has the ring awareness to toss Tucker over the top rope. Tucker lands on his feet and slaps Bate and then hits a flatliner through the ropes earning a two count.

Tucker sends Bate to the floor and is setting up for a suicide dive when Bate catches him with a European uppercut. He follows up with a suplex attempt on the floor, but Tucker is like a goddamn cat and lands on his feet. He tries to shove Bate into the steel steps but Bate just leaps over them. Tucker follows after him, leaping off the steps and hitting a hurricanrana on Bate onto the entrance ramp.

Back in the ring Bate gets Tucker in an airplane spin for a count of two. Tucker gets back to his feet and nails Bate with a superkick that sends him rolling out of the ring. Bate gets back in and hits Tucker with a kick. Tucker punches him in reply and then Bate hits an insane rolling kick thing. He follows up with a Tiger Driver to pick up the win.

Winner: Tyler Bate

This was great. One might even go so far as to say that of all the wrestling that took place this evening, this was the wrestlingest of all. Tyler Bate was great and Tucker was no slouch either.

Meanwhile With Michael Cole...

Cole says that Nigel McGuiness is headed to the ring for a ceremony and goes on to say he’s losing his voice. There’s a brief recap of the the matches that took place this evening. Cole then hypes tomorrow night’s event and tosses it to Nigel for the ceremony.

Ceremony

Michael Cole is a liar. Nigel McGuinness is not in the ring. He is on the stage with the eight quarter finalists and William Regal. Regal’s all like, “You fellows are some fine competitors. I wonder what manner of superb grappling awaits us on the morrow.”

Nigel breaks down the matches for the following night. Bate and Devlin get called first. Both step forward and talk shit at one another. Seven and Wolfgang do the same. Dunne and Gradwell have a tough guy stare down as do Mandrews and Conners.

Regal wishes them all luck and reminds them that the UK Championship is not a tag team or trios championship so only one of them can walk away the champion tomorrow.

Off camera, Cole’s like, “Tomorrow night, someone will fulfill their destiny,” and then Pete Dunne nails Gradwell in the head with a forearm. The other competitors suffer from bystander syndrome and just stand there, but William Regal pulls Dunne off Gradwell and gets all up in his grill and is like, “DON’T YOU DARE MESS THIS UP!”

Final Thoughts

This was by and large a lot of fun. Unlike the Cruiserweight Classic, where I’d seen probably two thirds of the guys in it compete before, I wasn’t really familiar with anyone on this card (except Mandrews) so it was kind of neat to go in with no idea of who anyone was and with no preconceived notions as to who would win. On that note, the video packages were well done and helpful for people, like me, who know little to nothing of British indie wrestling. After day one I like Wolfgang, Trent Seven, Tyler Bate, and Pete Dunne the most and look forward to seeing what they have going on on Day Two.

How was the in ring action? By and large it was pretty good. Were there some dud matches? Yeah sure, but that was kind of to be expected because the in ring action was a lot more varied than the Cruiserweight Classic was. Here you had mat technicians, high fliers, colossal jostlers, brawlers, and everything in between which made for some more dynamic bouts.

Michael Cole and Nigel McGuinness were both really good on the mic, proving that Michael Cole can be decent when he’s doing stuff that Vince McMahon doesn’t give a shit about (he was also really good on Beast from the East or whatever that Network Special was called).

I liked what the did at the end with Dunne and Gradwell to hook people into watching the second night. I mean, I was going to watch it anyway, but the “What’s going to happen with Gradwell and Dunne?” hook has me more excited than I would have been for “Let’s see some more amazing bouts of grappling.”

#WWE #WWEUKCT #2017 #Review #UK Championship Tournament

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adambstingus · 7 years

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5 True Stories That Put Every Horror Movie To Shame

Show a group of people a randomly picked news article, and three personality types will emerge. Some ask themselves: “How does this affect me?” Others query: “What can I learn from this?” And then there’s a third group, which rarely wears pants and only wants to know: “What kind of horror movie would this be?” I’m firmly in that last group, and judging by how you clicked on this article, I’m guessing that so are you. So come — let’s grab a bunch of truly creepy news stories and give those stupid, rational types a sample of what the inside of our collective head looks like.

Boats Full Of Corpses Keep Washing Up In Japan

There are many horror plots you’d associate with Japan: creepy ghost girls, giant monsters, the lingering farts of long-gone otakus still haunting their apartment complexes. You wouldn’t necessarily include the classic “ghost ship” story in that list … which is why Japan, being Japan, has taken that trope and cranked it up to 11.

Instead of the traditional version where a ship is found with its crew mysteriously missing (and may or may not make its finders disappear as well, thanks to the vengeful sea ghosts haunting it), the country has opted for a real-life version where mysterious boats full of decomposing and mutilated corpses keep washing up on the country’s shores. That’s insane. Even the most visceral of ghost ship-themed horror movies tend to start with an empty ship, singular. Here, we have a whole bunch, turning up with some alarming regularity, and complete with a ton of well-worn corpses to bring some extra gore to the tale. Is … is this going to be a zombie situation somewhere down the line? Is this how the whole “undead pirate” thing from Pirates Of The Caribbean would really play out?

In the interest of accurate reporting, it should be mentioned that one of the boats has been connected to a unit of North Korea’s army, along with Kim Jong-un’s apparent insistence on fishing as a source of food and foreign income. So the leading boring theory is that these are North Korean ships, risking literal life and limb in order to catch a mackerel or six for the Great Leader.

Wait, hold on. That’s … actually even more terrifying than a dark saltwater god stealing fishermen’s faces or whatever. Imagine that your entire lot in life is sailing notoriously stormy and awful seas in a barely equipped vessel, only for your crew to face the unspeakable horrors of the ocean. Maybe things get so bad that you end up with a Donner Party situation. Finally, after the inevitable gory climax, you wash up in a foreign land, where your badly decomposed mortal remains are collected and cremated by stoic Japanese coast guards who have at this point seen way too much of this shit to give a damn.

Around Act Two of that story, having your soul eaten by a horde of ravenous ocean witches would probably be a welcome respite.

A Company Had A Secret Nuclear Reactor For Decades

Let’s say you’re a resident of Rochester, New York. You’re just minding your own business, pretending your city has famous people who are not Ryan Lochte and Kristen Wiig, when one day, your neighborhood is full of dudes in hazmat suits. Because a company next door had a goddamned secret nuclear reactor in their basement. But what kind of real-life Umbrella Corporation would go and pull a stunt like that … ?

… K-Kodak? The photography company?

What the fuck?

shurik/Pixabay Who knew a Kodak moment has a half-life of 24,110 years?

It’s hard for a corporate entity to seem sympathetic, but Kodak — a company most notorious for manufacturing film — is probably as close as it comes in an era where everyone has a camera in their cell phone. Finding out a firm like that has been gleefully playing with Fallout tech all along is like discovering that your sweet grandpa’s house has a secret dungeon for a 16-foot fuck doll constructed entirely out of rotting ham. Still, Kodak totally had a nuclear reactor. It was called “californium neutron flux multiplier,” and they started messing around with it in 1974. The company is quick to mention that the reactor was just a relatively small one, they were operating it remotely behind two feet of concrete, and they only used it for non-nefarious purposes such as testing chemicals for impurities. They might even point out that they themselves were, in fact, the ones who revealed that they had one in the first place.

To all that I say: Poppycock.

You know what kind of company just abruptly up and goes, “Hey, guys, did we ever tell you the story of this doom machine we’ve had in our basement for decades? We didn’t? Well, how about that, ha-ha!”? One that’s doing damage control, that’s what. I can imagine around least a dozen reasons for Kodak needing an unsanctioned, rarely mentioned nuclear reactor that was suddenly decommissioned in collaboration with the government in 2007. None of those reasons include the words “making photography shit better,” and absolutely all of them include the term “super mutant.”

I’m calling it: They were totally running a nuclear-themed supervillain plot on the side, and something happened in 2007. Maybe their scientists finally managed to create a film that could capture future events, and were driven to homicidal insanity when every image persistently featured forests of flaming skeletons where trees should be. Or maybe, just maybe, they finally managed to recreate my favorite Masters Of The Universe failure Fearless Photog, who proceeded to tear through the facility like the Demogorgon in Stranger Things.

Mattel If nothing else, he’d take found-footage movies to another level.

Family Flees Their Dream House Because Of A Mysterious “Watcher”

The “mysterious stalker in the shadows” trope is present in roughly 95 percent of all horror movies, but in real life, that particular plot device can usually be solved with a call to police, a restraining order, or a swift dropkick right in the dick.

Which makes it all the more intriguing that in 2015, a creepy entity known as “The Watcher” actually managed to stalk a family out of their New Jersey home. And wait, it gets better — said home happened to look like this:

There’s a reason our villain was called the Watcher and not, say, the Melon Baller Eyeball Collector — as befits the majesty of his preferred stalking grounds, he was all about psychological terror. The name of his particular game was threatening letters. And although that could technically put him in a “disgruntled dude who lost the bidding war” or “guy who really hates neighbors” category, he pushed his way into horror movie territory with his … peculiar methods. Here are some choice quotes from his messages:

“The windows and doors allow me to watch you and track you as you move through the house. Who I am? I am the Watcher.”

“Have they found out what is in the walls yet? In time they will.”

Or, in reference to the family’s children:

“I am pleased to know your names now, and the name of the young blood you have brought to me.”

Hahahahaha! That’s awesome … ly, uh, awful for the family, that is. The letters kept coming, and as they included apt “young blood” references and hints that the writer actually did keep uncomfortably close tabs on the house and its renovations, the family was too afraid to make the house their home. In fact, they never dared to properly move in.

What really makes this one for me is that as a horror movie, it’s clearly a sequel. Not only does the family heavily insinuate that the previous owners who sold the house to them were already all too aware of The Watcher, the Watcher himself started his campaign of terror (a mere three days after they bought the house in 2014) with a statement that his grandfather and father had watched the house before him, and it now fell on him to “wait for its second coming.”

A real creepy, haunted-looking mansion where every owner is stalked by generations of unknown, hostile entities? Say that sentence out loud three times, and Wes Craven’s ghost will appear to high five you, because you just got yourself a horror franchise.

A Family Finds The Walls Of Their House Are Filled With Animal Carcasses

The Watcher may or may not have been hurling empty threats about “things in the walls,” but in Auburn, MA, one villain damn well delivered … a good 70-80 years in advance.

In 2011, the Bretzius family bought a house. They were thorough in what they were looking for. They had it inspected, looked for radon, the whole nine yards. Everything went well, and they moved in … which is when the dead animals started coming out of the walls.

In 2012, the family discovered to their horror that the walls were full of dead animals, spices, and assorted trinkets, all wrapped up in newspapers from 1930s and 1940s. Intrigued by the what-the-fuckedness of it all, they sent dozens of the carcasses and other finds to experts, who concluded that they likely had something to do with pow-wowing, a peculiar form of Amish folk magic where tricks like this were used to “heal” ailments.

Personally, I call bullshit. It’s one thing to perform a little ceremony for health, like sacrificing a goat whenever you pass through a doorway for the first time (you guys do that too, right?). Stuffing all your walls full of death and spices is the work of a serial killer who wants to show the devil who the boss really is. With that logic, and in the context of Pennsylvania Dutch magic being at play here, I’m forced to assume that the house is haunted by buckriders — demons who ride flying goats from Satan’s flock. Have those guys ever featured in a horror movie? They’re about to!

Still, before the spirits of Bokkenrijders inevitably rise and possess them, the residents of the house are a good example of how haunted houses really screw up a person’s life. Although they are on record for having been adequately “shocked, horrified, and disgusted” when they first found the terror-spell ingredients hiding in their walls, they are more concerned with the fact that this has forced them to do a buttload of expensive renovation their insurance company wants to hear nothing about, and the mold and terrifying smell of the animals has tainted the whole house. That, friend, is the true, mundane yet long-term, horror you’ll face the next time your ceiling starts weeping ectoplasm.

Man Arrested For Smuggling Roasted Black-Magic Fetuses

Wait, what?

I’m … That’s … What?

The Telegraph SIX?

Gold leaf. Jesus.

Look, creepy babies are generally a pretty safe course for any horror movie worth its salt. But it’s one thing to go full Rosemary’s Baby, and completely another to roast fetuses, cover them in gold, and waltz off to the airport with a bunch in your luggage while attempting to whistle innocuously. That’s not the plot of a horror movie — that’s what gets you kicked out of the villain treehouse for creeping out Pennywise The Clown. Even the fact that the guy probably didn’t personally make the horror babies like a good, old-fashioned maniac doesn’t help matters; instead, he bought them from someone else for $6,000 and intended to sell them for profit as black-magic good-luck charms known as kuman thong.

Gilded. Roasted. Fetus. Black. Magic. Good luck charms. That someone out there is actively manufacturing for sale.

You know what? Fuck it. I’m out. I hope you’re proud of yourself, fetus guy. You can’t be spun into a horror movie, because you already are something way, way creepier. In other circumstances, I might say that you won, but I think we can agree that we all lost something precious today. Now, who’s hogging the brain bleach?

Pauli Poisuo is a Cracked columnist and freelance editor. Here he is on Facebook and Twitter.

The proliferation of beer pong and craft beer may have you think that we’re living in one of the peak times to get drunk, but humans have been getting famously hammered for millennia. Like a frat house’s lawn after a kegger, history is littered with world changing events that were secretly powered by booze. The inaugural games of the Roman Coliseum, the drafting of the US Constitution and the Russian Revolution were all capped off by major parties that most attendees probably regretted in the morning.

Join Jack O’Brien and Cracked staffers Carmen Angelica, Alex Schmidt, Michael Swaim, plus comedian Blake Wexler for a retelling of history’s biggest moments you didn’t realize everyone was drunk for.

Get your tickets here:

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/23/5-true-stories-that-put-every-horror-movie-to-shame/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/162144044077

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samanthasroberts · 7 years

Text

5 True Stories That Put Every Horror Movie To Shame

Boats Full Of Corpses Keep Washing Up In Japan

Around Act Two of that story, having your soul eaten by a horde of ravenous ocean witches would probably be a welcome respite.

A Company Had A Secret Nuclear Reactor For Decades

… K-Kodak? The photography company?

What the fuck?

shurik/Pixabay Who knew a Kodak moment has a half-life of 24,110 years?

To all that I say: Poppycock.

Mattel If nothing else, he’d take found-footage movies to another level.

Family Flees Their Dream House Because Of A Mysterious “Watcher”

“The windows and doors allow me to watch you and track you as you move through the house. Who I am? I am the Watcher.”

“Have they found out what is in the walls yet? In time they will.”

Or, in reference to the family’s children:

“I am pleased to know your names now, and the name of the young blood you have brought to me.”

A Family Finds The Walls Of Their House Are Filled With Animal Carcasses

The Watcher may or may not have been hurling empty threats about “things in the walls,” but in Auburn, MA, one villain damn well delivered … a good 70-80 years in advance.

Man Arrested For Smuggling Roasted Black-Magic Fetuses

Wait, what?

I’m … That’s … What?

The Telegraph SIX?

Gold leaf. Jesus.

Gilded. Roasted. Fetus. Black. Magic. Good luck charms. That someone out there is actively manufacturing for sale.

Pauli Poisuo is a Cracked columnist and freelance editor. Here he is on Facebook and Twitter.

Get your tickets here:

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/23/5-true-stories-that-put-every-horror-movie-to-shame/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/06/23/5-true-stories-that-put-every-horror-movie-to-shame/

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allofbeercom · 7 years

Text

5 True Stories That Put Every Horror Movie To Shame

Boats Full Of Corpses Keep Washing Up In Japan

Around Act Two of that story, having your soul eaten by a horde of ravenous ocean witches would probably be a welcome respite.

A Company Had A Secret Nuclear Reactor For Decades

… K-Kodak? The photography company?

What the fuck?

shurik/Pixabay Who knew a Kodak moment has a half-life of 24,110 years?

To all that I say: Poppycock.

Mattel If nothing else, he’d take found-footage movies to another level.

Family Flees Their Dream House Because Of A Mysterious “Watcher”

“The windows and doors allow me to watch you and track you as you move through the house. Who I am? I am the Watcher.”

“Have they found out what is in the walls yet? In time they will.”

Or, in reference to the family’s children:

“I am pleased to know your names now, and the name of the young blood you have brought to me.”

A Family Finds The Walls Of Their House Are Filled With Animal Carcasses

The Watcher may or may not have been hurling empty threats about “things in the walls,” but in Auburn, MA, one villain damn well delivered … a good 70-80 years in advance.

Man Arrested For Smuggling Roasted Black-Magic Fetuses

Wait, what?

I’m … That’s … What?

The Telegraph SIX?

Gold leaf. Jesus.

Gilded. Roasted. Fetus. Black. Magic. Good luck charms. That someone out there is actively manufacturing for sale.

Pauli Poisuo is a Cracked columnist and freelance editor. Here he is on Facebook and Twitter.

Get your tickets here:

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/23/5-true-stories-that-put-every-horror-movie-to-shame/

0 notes