#in some other universe i look exactly like that and am a fucking chad

[gfslasher-remade]

IDT IVE EVER SEEN YOU BEFORE so i always picture u as being like..Very Sleek & fluid looking with like. vampire teeth & gold earrings & maybe in a billowy dracula coat or somethign too awnlcafsndklj

BHVBDSA god i wish..... the closest is the earrings but im hijabi so like... theyre secret 😏 

[dulafer]

REHAB

Another old one where I only posted links to another site. Twin brothers, one with great career and drinking problem. The other fills in for him. It’s long, detailed etc....

The Favor

I haven’t seen my brother Marcus in years but he needs a favor, so of course he called. He didn’t provide any details,  just that he needs a ride to Cleveland, Ohio and for me to watch his car for a few weeks. Marcus is my identical twin, down to a tribal band tattoo we got on spring break in college. Even our initials are identical thanks to our mother’s naming us ‘Michael Robert Thomas’ and ‘Marcus Robert Thomas’. Growing up, our parents could never tell us apart and many times we’d trade places even through college. 

We both graduated from University of Michigan with a degree in marketing but I took a minor in finance. After graduating, he craved the big city, high pay lure of Chicago while I stayed in Ann Arbor working for a trendy web marketing company. We haven’t been close since graduating from college.

Personality wise, let’s just say Marcus is the charming, outgoing twin and I’m more of a wall flower. In high school and college he was always getting the girl, or guy and sharing with me. He’d do all the work and I was happy with sloppy seconds. Many times we dated the same person without them knowing—that’s how identical we are. Nowadays, we talk occasionally and on our birthday. He’s got his life, I’ve got mine, and I keep up with his via his very active Instagram and Twitter accounts. I’ve got enough ‘marketing’ in my life so I’m more of an online stalker, never posting anything.

According to his Instagram, he just got promoted vice president at Coleman Marketing—a very prestigious firm in downtown Chicago. Someone tagged him in videos from last night celebrating his promotion. He’s raking in the money while I just got laid off. Not that I’m worried as I got a nice severance package and have a few leads on jobs. I was head of a marketing department for an automotive trim manufacturer. Truthfully, I was the marketing department completely.

Marcus pulls up to my house just after 7 am looking exhausted getting out of his BMW. It looks like he’s dressed in what he had on last night. He's wearing a great black leather jacket. His hair is gelled and spiky, and he’s clean shaven. I’ve let myself go lately, not shaving in days and no haircut in weeks. I’ll worry about a haircut and shave when I get a job interview. I greet him on the stoop.

“Marcus, when the hell did you leave Chicago? I was expecting you at lunch. Since when do you get up before noon?” I mock him.

“I was on a high, celebrating my promotion and couldn’t get Chad, my boyfriend, to come home with me. So I didn't sleep, packed up my things, jumped in the car and drove right here. Got coffee?”

“Sure, plenty, help yourself. You look beat bro.”

“You look like a bum bro, what’s with the scruff and hair?”  He angrily fires back.

“Using up some vacation time here, getting things done around the house. Love the BMW bro, awesome machine.” I cover for my job loss and change topic.

Marcus walks in, heads straight to the Keurig and makes himself at home. “I just drove 4 hours straight without stopping. You’re driving the rest of the way.”

“Nice, I love BMWs. So what in the hell is in Cleveland, Ohio?  Nothing that I know of.”

“I’ve been court ordered to check into St. Joseph Rehab Center.”

“Jesus, what the fuck did you do?” I act shocked but I’m not. 

“I had an accident, totaled my car and someone else’s, there was alcohol and drugs involved and it’s my fourth offense.”

“Is everyone okay? Are you okay? You look fine?”

“Yeah, other car was parked and empty, My Land Rover crumpled like paper but it really protected me.”

“Wow, you were lucky bro. I always told you—“

“Shut up, I know, I know…. So I go into rehab for a few weeks, get the doc to sign off that I’m fine and no one is the wiser.” He grabs his head like its pounding.

“A few weeks?  Tammy went to rehab for six months!”

“She didn’t have my lawyer.” He boasts.

“So I drop you off, pick you up?”

“That’s it. Keep it quiet, call into work for me Monday, take a few weeks off due to the death of our father.”

“Our father who died seven years ago?”

“Exactly, be all broken up about it. Shed some verbal tears. I have your script written, who to talk to, what to tell them.”

“Why don’t you call them yourself?”

“Once I check in, there’s no phones, computers or visitors allowed.”

“Jeez, sounds like a prison but you’re dressed like you going to a club bro, love the jacket.”

“Yeah, I’m a little over dressed. I came straight from the bar. They said to just bring sneakers, jeans, sweatpants, hoodies and t-shirts. The jacket is Coach, got it a few weeks ago shopping with my boyfriend Chad on the Mag Mile.”

I feel his jacket. “Can I borrow your jacket while you’re locked up.”

“Well, you are driving the rest of the way.” He takes it off, hands it to me and I pull it on over my t-shirt.

“Looks better on me bro.” He snickers at me. “It’s not meant to pair with a t-shirt. Mind if I take a quick shower? I was out all night with friends, haven’t showered yet.”

“Sure go ahead.”

He takes his coffee into my bedroom. The shower turns on while I find the keys for the BMW in his jacket I’m still wearing. I head outside and unlock the sleek black metallic M8 with a stunning red interior. Behind the driver’s seat is his briefcase and in the trunk is a large suitcase. I jump in, hit the start button and she roars to life with a powerful purr. It’s a remarkable car and I can’t wait to drive it.

Back inside I snap a pic of myself and finish up my coffee. Marcus steps out of bedroom, refreshed, wearing a pair of my jeans, a University of Michigan t-shirt and my new Nikes.

“Hope you don’t mind bro. I’ve been in the same clothes since happy hour last night, needed a change.”

“Not a problem, I’ll have my manservant launder and press your clothes.”

“I was sorta overdressed for this place.”

“You think? Now you look like someone with the drinking problem.” I laugh.

“I look like you doofus!” He heads to kitchen and has another cup of coffee. 

I grab my hoodie and toss it to him to wear. “I love this jacket bro, you can wear this. Since you won’t be needing anything this nice in rehab, I’ll just borrow it for a while.” I order him.

“Bro, it’s a $1100 jacket. You're not keeping it.”

“Fuck bro, no wonder it feels so soft.” I feel it more. “What you’re wearing now is more appropriate for the Betty Ford Clinic, or wherever the fuck you’re going.”

While he’s rummaging through my kitchen for something to eat, I head back to my bedroom.  His outfit is tossed on my chair. I quickly strip out of my sweats pants and dress in his clothes. He’s wearing my best sneakers and favorite t-shirt, I want to try out his look on me. I slip into his Polo Chinos, tuck in his dress shirt, fasten the belt, step into his driving shoes, then check myself out in the mirror. I try fixing my hair like Marcus’ but it’s too long.

I walk out to the kitchen, feeling my new pants, his eyes pop out seeing me. “Damn bro, I’ve never worn pants this soft.”

“Polo, all I wear, got them at their flagship store—“

“On the Mile.” I interrupt him, already knowing the answer. “Cole Haan driving shoes? Really? A bit pretentious if you ask me.”

“They match the jacket and belt man plus they’re so comfortable. You’ve been living in bumfuck Michigan too long, shopping at Walmart. You need to get a sense of fashion. You look presentable now though.” He snidely responds.

“What are you talking about ‘Michael’, I have a great fashion sense, just look at me.” I smile, assuming his identity then confidently pull back on his jacket and hand him my baseball caps. 

“Don’t get too comfortable in them, I’ll be back in a few weeks.” Marcus warns me while putting my baseball cap on backwards.

“We’re still identical after 29 years bro.” I look in the mirror seeing a scruffy Marcus staring back, my brother comes up behind to compare.

“You just need a decent haircut, some hair creme and shave. Hey, since you’re the scruffy one, you should do rehab for me.” He jokes.

“In your dreams bro. I’m not the one with the drinking problem.” I shoot him down.

“Whatever ass wipe, you probably can't get a decent drink within 30 miles of here. It’s no wonder you don’t drink. I can take an elevator from my office on the 19th, up to the 95th floor, to the best bar in all of Chicago.” Marcus brags, thinking I’m impressed.

“Oh I drink but not to the point of not getting home, almost killing myself and getting a DUI. You’re the pathetic one.” 

“Whatever bro, just remember—dad’s death, then vacation time to get his affairs in order. I have plenty of time to do this without anyone finding out.”

“So call into work for you, lie to them, drive your car around and pick you up in two weeks. Easy.”

“That’s it, by the way, you’re driving since I’m not legally able to. Keys are in my jacket” I pull them out and toss them in the air.

“Great! Just great. Guess I should be grateful I’m not bailing you out of jail.”

Road Trip

We leave Ann Arbor and he talks the entire trip about his accident, how he was drunk and high, driving home from Chad’s place, paying an expensive lawyer, promotion at work, buying this new BMW cash and how he’s going to change. I’ve heard this since college. He’s so self absorbed that I barely talk about myself and don’t mention my job loss or hunt.  I’m actually very jealous—his career is exploding even with his fuck ups and mine is imploding. I feel like a loser but driving this new BMW, in his expensive clothes, at least I look like a winner.

As is typical for Marcus, his coffee consumption has me pulling over at a rest stop on i80 not even an hour after leaving my house. I glance in the vanity mirror and start fussing with my hair, thinking of his comment. He’s right, we’re still identical—a haircut and shave would make us indistinguishable. I could have fun as him for a few weeks I think to myself and grin. His phone rings while I’m sitting in the car waiting, so I answer it.

“Hello?”

“Marcus, are you on your way? You’ve got to check in by noon today.” ID shows Stephen Backes.

“Yeah, I’m making good time, according to GPS, I’ll be there about 11am.”

“Please tell me you’re not driving.”

“No, a friend is driving me.”

“Okay, so I have some bad news for you. The judge didn’t agree to two weeks like I thought he would. You’ll be there three to four months, sorry man.” This has to be Marcus’ high price lawyer. “I’m so sorry. Are you there?”

“Fuck!!” Is all I could say while thinking of me needing a job.

“Believe me, we’ll get you out sooner, I won’t stop fighting for you. I’m pushing for a reduction already.”

“So what can  I do?” I’m stunned as Marcus will be.

“There’s nothing you can do. Check in today, do all they say and don’t make a scene. I’ll keep in contact via the staff there. I can’t visit and you can’t call out. Get yourself clean. On the bright side, the Alexanders aren’t pressing charges for the property damage, which is great news.”

“Silver lining.” I mutter.

“Okay, don’t worry, I'll get you out in no time.” He hangs up.

I sit there as a crazy thought forms in my mind—Marcus away for three months. I need something to do and who knows about his rehab stint? It’d be fun to step into his life for a while. We did it all the time growing up and in College. During summer break just before graduating from college, we traded places for a few months. He went to Daytona Beach with my boyfriend while I stayed home and partied as him. It worked out great because I was sick of Jonathan’s flaming personality. Marcus’s boyfriend was hot and he was bored with him. It was a great summer being my douche brother, fucking his boyfriend, partying with his friends and living his life. I didn’t want to swap back. Even our parents never figured it out, we were so identical. I stare in the vanity mirror and check myself out, turning my head from side to side, playing with my hair. I’m certain I can pull it off. Just then the car door opens up, Marcus jumps in and startles me.

“Lets get moving bro, I need to be there before lunch.” 

“We’ve got plenty of time. So who at work knows about your DUI and rehab visit?” I start to question him to make sure I can step into his life.

“No one, not even my best friend Jason or my boyfriend Chad know. I just got a huge promotion and Coleman was not happy with my last DUI. This one I managed to keep quiet but if I get caught, bye bye career. I called my lawyer right away and was out in hours. I told everyone I bought the BMW to celebrate my promotion, not because I totaled my Range Rover.”

“So you’ll just tell them you’re taking care of dad’s affairs, email them a few times over the next few weeks and no one knows.” I question him.

“Oh fuck, bro, never thought of it that way. I’ll be cut off from the world. You’ll have to check my email and answer my phone for me too, respond to some of them. Tell them you’re having a hard time with mom and she doesn’t have internet or good cell service in northern Michigan. Just adopt my bullshit attitude and tell em you’ll get back to them.”

The more he talks, the easier it’s getting to pull this deception off.  “Wow, you haven’t thought this through. Where is your computer? Log in? Phone?” Gathering pieces of his life if I want to go through with this game.

“I didn’t have much time, my lawyer called last night during happy hour, told me to get to Cleveland today. Work computer and files are in the briefcase right behind you. Password is first 4 letters of our last name and last 4 numbers of my social security, 1785. Got it?” He points to the iPhone charging on the center console.

“You better write that down.” I propose. He reaches behind me, grabs the portfolio from his briefcase and starts jotting down notes in it. 

“What if someone calls about something specific, like an account or proposal?” I fake concern for more details.

“They’re all on my desktop in folders. You’ll have to email the Ballis Automotive powerpoint to Gary McClintock on Monday so he can handle presentation for me.”

“You always do this Marcus. One little favor blows up into a cluster fuck, just like one little drink for you.”

“I promise this will be easy. I start the position Monday, there is a great marketing team to manage, it’ll run itself for a few weeks. They’ll feel bad contacting me during such tragic times.” He laughs at his deviousness. 

He continues to talk the rest of the way, filling me in on his career, telling me what I should be doing, and bragging about his success.  He’s quite in love with himself, talking about his recent bonus, how his $2,000,000 condo is now worth $2,500,000, and his $500,000 salary. I know I can do his job in a heartbeat based on our discussion.

When we get off the Cleveland exit I pull over for gas. He has to use the bathroom again but I put my hand out for his wallet. 

“Wallet, PIN number?” I ask.

“0394.” He gives it to me without hesitating but it’s the same PIN he’s been using since college. 

I fill the tank and jump back in, tucking his wallet in my back pocket where he keeps it. 

We make excellent time, getting there at 11:00 am. He grabs his suitcase from the trunk and we head in. The receptionist just stares at us.

“I’m Marcus Thomas, checking in.” He walks up to the receptionist. 

“Yes Mr. Thomas, we’re expecting you. Welcome to St. Joseph Clinic, please fill out these forms. We need to check your bags for any substances. Also we discourage any valuables as things tend to go missing or are used to bribe staff.” A bright energetic nurse greets us. 

He looks at me and shrugs his shoulders.

“Here, take these, put them in my car.” He removes his watch and ring, and I put them in my pocket.

“I have your wallet.” I pull it out of my pocket.

“You won’t need a penny here Mr. Thomas. In fact we keep your wallet and money locked up to discourage any sorts of bribes. I just need to verify your ID.” The nurse says.

I open his wallet and hand her his ID. She hands it back to me and Marcus waves it away for me to keep it. They have Marcus fill out some forms and he puts me down as emergency contact person. Security rummages through his bag, pulling everything out and even checking the lining. While he is signing things, I take out my phone and sneak pics of his hair, making sure to zoom in on all sides. 

“Okay Michael, thanks for the ride. Take care of my baby. Everything for Monday morning is in my briefcase. Cya soon.” A large male nurse grabs his luggage and escorts him to his room. 

Heading Home?

Walking out to the BMW, I reach in my pocket and feel my brother’s watch and ring, then feel his wallet in my back pocket. In the car, I flip down the vanity mirror and start playing with my hair again, then adjust it down to admire my outfit. It would be the ultimate deception to step into his life like I did in college—fucking Chad, doing his job, fooling his friends and spending his money. All his personal belongings are in my possession. Marcus even said so himself “You just need a decent haircut, some hair creme and shave.”

I grab his phone and the facial recognition opens it right up for ‘Marcus’. His entire life is in my fingertips. I scroll through his calendar, texts, email and social media. His schedule is full of meetings and appointments, including the Ballis Automotive presentation coming up on Friday.  Twitter and Facebook are filled with political rants and chats with friends. Instagram is full of pics of his recent work promotion celebrations. There are videos of him suited up, celebrating in a conference room yesterday, and more at some bar late last night wearing this exact outfit. No wonder he looked like crap this morning. I respond to some of the comments with various emojis as Marcus would, knowing his twisted sense of humor.

After 10 minutes of sitting in the parking lot, I start driving back—straight to Chicago. I haven’t been to his place in almost three years after he moved in and wanted to show it off. His GPS has his home address set for me. It’ll be fun to step into his life for a few months and assume his identity. He’ll be pissed but it’s an opportunity I can’t pass up. I’ll frame it as saving his career when he finds out months from now.

A few miles down the road I spot a ‘Great Clips’ hair salon in a strip mall and pull in without hesitating. They’re not busy and get me in right away. Using the pics from my phone, I ask for the same haircut. A young girl cuts my hair, shaves me, adds creme to my hair, and completely transforms me into Marcus. I stare in the mirror, grin then casually rake my hand through my hair per my brother’s habit. I feel my clean shaven face and the back of my neck. It’s perfect and I tip her heavily from my new wallet. I pull on my new Coach jacket and check myself out in the bathroom before leaving the salon. From my pockets, I pull out my brother’s ring and watch and put them on. I look exactly like Marcus did when he walked into my house earlier today. 

Back in ‘my’ BMW, I take my old wallet and phone, and lock them in the center console. I’ll use my driver’s license if I get pulled over. I slip on the sunglasses my brother wore then glance in the vanity mirror seeing Marcus Thomas, vice president at Coleman Marketing. “Marcus Thomas, nice to meet you.” I say to my new reflection.

I’m doing this—taking over Marcus’ life for a while. It’s payback for him fucking my boyfriends growing up, behind my back without me knowing. I grin in my mirror, then check my Tag watch. It’s 12:30 and my Nav system says I’ll be home in Chicago by 5:30 pm.

During the long ride home, ‘my’ buddy Jason calls—It’s show time.

“Hey buddy, where you at? I stopped by your place and you weren’t there? Thought after last night you’d still be passed out?” He harasses me.

“Sorry, didn’t I mention I had to go see my brother in Ann Arbor?”

“Hell, you never even mentioned you had a brother. Hopefully he’s better looking than you and can hold his liquor.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m definitely the better looking one but he controls his drinking better. We’re not that close but he’s having an engagement party tonight and wanted to see him.” I laugh and play Marcus perfectly.

“So I’m guessing no Sidetracks tonight or golf tomorrow?”

“No, sorry, won’t be home til tomorrow night.”

“Any word on your Merit membership?”

“Nothing yet.” Not sure what he’s talking about, will check into it.

“Okay, don’t forget next Saturday, for sure at Harborside.”

“Didn’t forget, its in my calendar.”

“I need to run here. See you at work bright and early Monday Mr. Vice President.” He chuckles and hangs up. 

That went extremely well. I’d love to go out tonight but I need time to learn about my new life. I open up my Facebook while driving, look up Jason and recognize him from my party pics last night. There’s pics of 'us' doing shots, looking wasted. He’s a good friend and didn’t suspect a thing. Five minutes later ‘my’ boyfriend Chad calls. I’m a little nervous but answer it, thinking to myself ‘you’re Marcus Thomas’. My new boyfriend has no reason to doubt my identity.

“Chad, how you doing?

“You sound good after last night.”

“Yeah, good sleep. How you feeling?”

“Great, just got back from picking up sister, then lunch at Brewser's, getting her settled in. You up for meeting her tonight?” 

“Oh, I’m in Ann Arbor, my brother has a surprise for me, having a little party.”

“You never mentioned a brother.”

“Yeah, we’re not that close. I’m betting he knocked up his girlfriend and is getting married.” I chuckle. 

“Oh great, that should be fun.  When you getting back?”

“Late tomorrow I’m thinking.”

“Oh, you’re gonna miss my sister.”

“I’m sorry, this came up a few hours ago with no warning, so here I am cruising to Michigan.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll survive driving the Bimmer, just don’t get a speeding ticket. I’m sorry about last night but I had too much to drink and wasn’t feeling good.” Chad chuckles.

“Don’t worry about it, it happens.”

“I’ll make it up to you Monday babe.” He promises.

“I’m holding you to it.”

“You better hold ‘it’ to me.” Getting suggestive and laughing at his joke. 

Chad goes on and on about his sister, her abusive husband and all the drama in her life. I give him my sympathetic ear while he does most of the talking. He doesn’t notice anything different about his boyfriend. I like the sound of his masculine voice which matches his rugged scruff image on my Instagram. I can’t wait to get him into bed but I need some ‘Marcus’ time to learn about my new life.

I drive the rest of the way back to his condo without pulling over. It’s a long ride but the BMW M8 is one sweet machine and makes it pass quickly. Marcus has great tastes in automobile. I’ve never driven a car like this. According to my brother, it has 600 hp and it feels like it. I’m cruising 80 mph but feel like I’m doing only 40 mph. I admire my new car, outfit, ring and watch as I’m flying ‘home’. 

Making Myself at Home

The hardest part was finding his assigned parking space after pulling into the garage. This causes me to drive around in circles. I stroll in carrying my brother’s briefcase and find the elevator. Finding my new condo is easy because of my visit a few years ago—Marcus bragged about being just below the Penthouse on the 78th floor. Tucked in my wallet is my access card that gets me into my new home.

I’m immediately in awe of ‘my’ place. It looks like something from ‘Architectural Digest’ magazine. The living room, kitchen and dining room have unobstructed corner view of Lake Michigan. The view is stunning, eliminating the need for any art or focal points in the living room. I take off my jacket, toss it on the sofa, grab a beer and make myself at home. There’s a dividing wall between the kitchen/dining room and the living room with a huge flat screen TV and see-thru open fireplace underneath it. All the furniture is clean, square and contemporary.  On the built-in wall unit are pics of mom and dad and other friends but only one of us taken at Halloween where we look nothing alike. A lot of his personal items, like artwork, pictures and music collection reflect both our lives and tastes. There are pics of me but anyone who’d see them would just assume it’s Marcus. 

The bedroom is large with a huge master bath and two connected closets full of my new wardrobe. The closets are his and her but he has them set up for work and casual. On the wall in between the two closets is a large built in jewelry chest containing a Rolex, a few Omegas and Tags, and an Apple Watch on a charging stand next to it. There’s also a nice selection of cufflinks, bracelets and other miscellaneous items. Underneath the shelf are drawers full of underwear, jocks and socks. On the wall behind the jewelry box is a safe that opens up after trying a few variations of his social security number. Inside is a gun, cash, passport and his birth certificate. 

In my new bedroom, the suit Marcus wore to work and celebrated in yesterday is laying on a leather chaise lounge with his untied shoes nearby on the floor. I pick up the suit coat and try it on—a perfect fit as would be expected. Everything he wore, that defined him yesterday is there to transform me into him. A devious thought crosses my mind—heading out to the 95th for a bite and getting familiar with my work place, in his work outfit from yesterday. I rush to the bathroom to freshen up and check out ‘my’ toiletries. A little bit of hair creme, brushing my teeth, a quick dab of deodorant, a spray of cologne and I’m the epitome of my brother.

Back in my bedroom, I quickly strip out of my brother’s bar clothes and start pulling on his black Tom Ford suit. His cuffed pants still have his belt in as I pull them on. His white dress shirt with monogramming have the cufflinks still in place. It’s tapered and hugs my body as I tuck it into my pants. His black cap toe shoes are still tied and broken in, for me to wiggle into. In the mirror I perfectly knot his silver textured tie as our father taught us when we were 14. Pulling on his suit coat completes my transformation and in the mirror staring back is Marcus as he was at work celebrating his promotion. 

It’s 8pm and I’m starving and decide to stop by ‘my office, then grab a bite at the 95th since my brother is a regular. ‘My’ office is on the 19th floor, so that’s my first stop since it is necessary for starting my new job on Monday. In the mirror I check my hair, and tuck my wallet, iPhone and keys in my pockets. 

At his office, finding his parking spot is just as tricky as at the condo, taking me 10 minutes to locate. My RF card operates the elevator, taking me to the 19th floor, where I easily find my office a few doors down from Robert Coleman’s corner office. The view isn’t nearly as spectacular as my condo but it’ll do for a work space. I spend an hour sitting at the desk, exploring drawers and files, and learning the layout so I’m up to speed first thing Monday morning. I didn’t think to bring my computer or I would have stayed longer. 

Learning my way around this building is complicated—figuring what elevator gets me where. I have to take the business elevator to a public lobby and take the express elevator up to the 95th.  The hostess recognizes ‘Mr. Thomas’ and asks if I’m meeting anyone. I just tell her I’m grabbing a drink at the bar and she leads me to the bar where ‘Tony’ also knows me and hands me a Gin and Tonic without asking. 

“Thanks Tony. Busy Night?”

“Not really. Jimmy said last night was insane. You hungry?”

“Yeah it was busy. I’m starving.”

“The usual?”

“Yeah, that’ll do.” I have no clue what I’m getting but I’ll eat anything.

I then head to the men’s room, taking my time to learn the layout as Marcus would know. Based on ‘my’ Instagram account, I’ll be spending many happy hours here in the coming months. There’s a steak tenderloin sandwich waiting at the bar for me when I get back. Tony rambles on and on about my brother and his friends, talking about Jason striking out with the redhead from J.P. Morgan last night he heard about from Jimmy. We’re quite the regulars here and I’m glad I stopped.

I get home after 11pm, exhausted from driving all day. Just like Marcus, I climb naked into his messy, unmade bed and pass right out. The first thing I do after waking up is jump in the shower, using his body wash, shampoo and conditioner. I don’t hesitate to use his electric toothbrush, deodorant or other personal items as my own. The final touch is using my brothers hair creme and styling it as he would. I grin and say to myself “Good morning Marcus.” 

Standing in ‘my’ bedroom, I go to the closets and slowly finger all of my new clothes. I pull open doors and drawers and familiarize myself with the contents. I pick up a sweater from the top of the closet and can smell the scent of the real Marcus Thomas. I start to think of my new identity and of the months ahead of living here and wearing all these clothes - ‘Marcus Thomas’ clothes. Silently I think, “you know what they say about clothes making the man!"

I walk around taking it all in, noting how it’s organized. From his drawers, I pull on a pair of his black Under Armour briefs. From the casual closet, I grab a pair of tan Polo chinos and a baby blue cashmere v-neck sweater I recognize from his instagram. His Cole Haas chukka boots and matching belt from yesterday go great with my Sunday outfit. A gold Omega watch and his black/titanium ring complete my very Marcus look. I’m the embodiment of my brother. Once dressed, I go through my work closet and explore.

His work suits are at one end, organized by color. I scan them, pull them apart to inspect and try on a few. They’re all very high-end Tom Ford, Brooks Brothers, Brioni or Hugo Boss and the fit is impeccable as to be expected. These are easily $5000 suits, compared to my $300 ‘Men’s Wearhouse’ specials. Next to his suits are dress shirts in all colors and styles, many of them custom with monogramming. His ties, belts, and shoes are concealed in the wall via very unique organizers that rolls out from the wall. These pull out organizers separate his outerwear like topcoats, trench coats from his dress shirts and suits. There’s one empty ‘Coach’ hanger that must be for my leather jacket that I wore yesterday. 

Back in my bedroom, I pick up my clothes from yesterday and toss in the hamper, except my old pair of Calvin Klein underwear—they end up buried deep in the kitchen garbage can. There can be nothing to reveal my real identity, no connection to my brother Michael.

The kitchen is contemporary with high-end cabinets and appliances—sleek stainless steel, beautiful teak wood cabinets  and marble countertops. Breakfast is K-cup coffee and a power bar. On the counter is a note from a Trudy, informing ‘me’ that she’ll begin thorough cleaning on Tuesday. So I have a housekeeper, of course I do. During breakfast, I familiarize myself with the kitchen, learning where things are, what’s in his fridge and cupboards. 

I take my breakfast to his office and his home computer wakes up with no password, showing me bookmarks for his banking, retirement and other accounts. His Wells Fargo checking account has $50,000 in it and his spending is very revealing. The account reveals a $15,000 check that paid for his lawyer, a $5000 check went for his DUI fine, another $40,000 check for St Joseph rehab. Keeping his DUI secret wasn’t cheap but it didn't dent his finances at all. There’s a $1012 charge from Coach Chicago, and in ‘my’ emails is the receipt dated a few weeks ago. His checking account reveals his dry cleaner, ‘lovely home’ cleaning service and all his spending habits.  I’m definitely going shopping today on the Magnificent Mile or ‘Mag Mile’ as we locals call it.

His $24,000/monthly deposits from Coleman provide a great lifestyle but there’s numerous deposits from ‘Cayman National Bank’ of $100,000 going back years. Something doesn’t look right—there’s a lot of money moving around.  A Fidelity account reveals diverse investments worth $3m. There’s also a J.P. Morgan account for his Palladium VISA that ‘I’ used to buy my new BMW weeks ago. I don’t have a thing to worry about financially as Marcus.

I open up his work laptop and easily log in as him. There’s a few new emails to review, then I spend hours reading through his old ones, getting up to speed with Ballis and other key customers. Thanks to his email history, it’s easy to respond to a few new emails as he would. On his desktop are all the files he mentioned, that’ll help me to learn his work issues. The Ballis presentation looks to be complete, ready for me to give on Friday but it looks boring. Some things seem odd or missing—I’ll have to look at that later.

My First Performance

It’s now lunch, I’m hungry and grab my new leather jacket to go out shopping. With my phone, wallet and keys in place, I head down to my car to start my first day. My first stop is the Burberry flagship store where I buy a tan classic trench coat that I didn’t find in my closet. I’ve always loved that classic look but they’re $2700—a little steep for my brother Michael but not me. Across the street is the Under Armour store that I shop at monthly and just have to check out. Half an hour later, I’m leaving with new underwear and some workout gear. I walk into the Coach store and I’m immediately accosted by the salesperson who sold ‘me’ the leather jacket I’m wearing. To make his day, I purchase a black hooded leather jacket that catches my eye for $1200. As I’m loading everything into my BMW, the phone rings and I don’t hesitate to answer it.

“Hey Liam.” I love caller ID. I’m able to answer like I’ve known him for years.

“Hey Marcus, what are you doing?”

“Was out shopping, looking to grab lunch now and need to work later.” Reminding myself that I need more time in the office before my first day on the job. 

“Where you at, I’ll join you.” He offers.

“On the Mile near Burberry.” I respond eagerly but think of the test of fooling ‘Liam’.

“Great, meet me at Capital Grill in 30 minutes.”

“Sounds like a plan.” My brother’s usual lingo, or it use to be.

Capital Grill is a few minutes away, giving me plenty of time to dig up information on Liam. Based on text messages and emails, he is gorgeous with short brown hair, an amazing six pack, blue eyes, stubble and is definitely a love interest. It looks like my brother and him were hot and heavy during the summer, with trips to Saugatuck and Holland Michigan on weekends. According to recent emails, he moved to Detroit for a big promotion with Bank of America. ‘My’ Instagram is full of beach parties, bonfires and drinking on a beach. My phone is even better with pics of him naked in my bedroom. Nice one bro!

I’m sure I’ll fool him easily. He shows up 30 minutes later with a big wet kiss for me. I’m instantly hard seeing him and from passionately kissing a hot stranger. During lunch he’s teasing my legs with his toes and reaching across with his hands, touching mine. 

“How’s Detroit treating you?” I start with what I know.

“I hate it! It’s dirty, the bars suck and no there’s no shopping like here.” He teases my legs constantly.

“It’s a big change I’m sure.” I can’t help but stare into his blue eyes.

“Are you seeing anyone?” He probes.

“Not really, a few dates, you? Been busy with work and my promotion.” 

“We need to celebrate that, I saw your Instagram posts and would have come home a few days earlier had I known.” He has his foot in my crotch, feeling my hard-on with his toes.

“We could celebrate privately now back at my place.” I smile and take his hand.

He grabs mine, pulls me up and we head back to ‘my’ place. Once inside, I press him against the wall, ram my tongue down his throat then drag him back to my bedroom and rip off his clothes. I push him on the bed.

“Fuck man, your horny Marcus.” He reaches into the drawer, easily finds a condom and pulls me into the bed. In seconds I’m on my back, the condom is slipped on and he’s straddling me, riding my throbbing cock. 

“Oh my god Liam.” I scream out in ecstasy and explode in him.

It was a great afternoon, especially when he screams out “Fuckkk Marcus” and I pump him full of cum. 

“Man, you’re incredible as always.” He cries out exhausted.

“It feels like it’s been years, I’ve missed you so much. You’re so hot.” I collapse back with my hands behind my head, totally thrilled with my performance as Marcus.

“You’re one horny fucker, it must have been a while for you. You seem different, more relaxed, laid back?” He shocks me, then giggles and I join in.

“That was months of missing you.” I kiss him deeply and get hard again. 

He takes my stiff throbbing member in his mouth without asking, getting me off again in seconds. Fuck, my brother really should keep this one—he’s hot, smart, funny and great in bed. Men like that are tough to find. We shower, scrubbing each other and making out. I’m grinning in the mirror, seeing Liam walking up behind me with a look in his eyes. He hasn’t notice anything different about ‘Marcus’.

“You look handsome as ever, babe,” he says, reaching his arm around and grabbing my stiff penis. “You sure you have to go to work?”

“Sorry but tomorrow is my first day as Vice President, I have a lot of prepping to do. When do you leave?” I turn around and kiss him gently.

“Wednesday morning, let’s do this again Tuesday night. I have a business dinner tomorrow.” He whispers in my ear.

“It’s a date.” 

He pulls off the towel from around my waist, wraps his arms around my neck and starts deeply kissing me. I brace myself against the counter and pull him tight cupping his ass in my hands. Minutes later, he dresses and says goodbye with a peck on the cheek. I grab my iPhone and duplicate a pic that’s in my camera of ‘me’ from a few weeks ago, with only a white towel around my waste. My build and six pack appears to be identical to my brother’s. I grin knowing my new identity is perfect. I’m dressing in front of the mirror, thinking of the best sex I’ve had in years. It’s incredible being Marcus with all the benefits—hot men, great wardrobe and incredible condo. It’s off to work here though. I need to be up to speed tomorrow. I need to know exactly what I’m doing.

No one is in the office on a Sunday afternoon and I have the whole place to myself to explore. My office is very impressive, very high-tech looking with a great view. There lots of plants, large conference table, hidden closet and great desk with two large monitors that automatically sync to my laptop when I open it. I’m there for hours logged into the system learning the layout, looking up files/people and my dashboard. By the end of the night, I’m responding to emails as Marcus would and planning my week. As I’m leaving, I glance my image in the window and smile as satisfaction sweeps over me. I’m ready for my first day as vice president.

Work Day One

I get to bed at 11 pm but I’m up after midnight studying the social media of fellow employees. I drift in and out of sleep all night long. The excitement of being Marcus Thomas has me up at 5 am planning my day—my 1st team meeting to review projects at 9 am, lunch with MedTech CMO and Ballis review at 3 pm.  

I crawl out of bed a little apprehensive about pulling off this charade. Then I remind myself how easily I passed for my brother with Liam, his coworker Jason and his lawyer. Since no one knows about Michael, there’s no reason for anyone to suspect I’m not Marcus. A long shower calms me down and using Marcus’s body wash gives me his base scent. All his personal hygiene items, including his Polo cologne which he’s been wearing since college are on his counter. I’m not a big fan of hair wax and creme but Marcus is. I put a dab in my hand, warm it up in my palms and work it through my hair. Running his comb through it, gives me his flawless style, identical to the photos in my phone. I use his electric toothbrush, spritz on some Polo, lift up my arm and make a few passes with his deodorant. My brother’s scent is now mine.

Marcus has alway been anal with his appearance and style—planning and laying everything out before dressing so I adopt the same habit. I’ve reviewed his Instagram and photos looking for some guidance on what he likes to wear. They’re a wealth of information on his tastes. His charcoal glen plaid Tom Ford suit catches my eye and looked great on him a few weeks ago. I pair it with a white french cuff, spread collar shirt, purple textured tie and white silk pocket square. The Tag is fine for weekends and casual days but knowing my pretentious brother, I’m certain Marcus would wear either the Omega or Rolex watch for work. I select his white gold Rolex and a pair of matching cufflinks. His black cap toe Allen Edmond shoes finish Marcus’ outfit for the day. 

In front of the closet mirror, I pull on his, no, my socks, underwear and t-shirt, then cuffed pants and custom shirt. His cufflinks and tie are next. His Allen Edmonds are luxurious and broken in for me. The way everything fits, it's clear we're still the same size. Finally I pull on the suit coat, add watch and ring, then tuck phone and wallet into my suit pockets. I’m watching my transformation in the mirror, pleased with every detail that confirms I’m Marcus Thomas, new vice president of marketing for Coleman. 

It’s hard to believe how completely different ‘my’ life is now–looking in the mirror, my reflection isn’t my own any more, I’m Marcus Thomas. I reach up and rake my hand through my thick hair. I love being Marcus—his style, his money and sex life so far are great. I straighten and adjust the knot of my tie with a smirk. “I’m Marcus Thomas,” I say to myself as my new reality is settling in.

I drive to work even though I could easily walk but there’s emails from HR about my new assigned parking space. Knowing Marcus, I’m certain he’d be driving everyday to show off the BMW M8, even with his DUI issue. This version of him will do the same but in case I’m pulled over, my original wallet is locked in the BMW console. I find my new parking spot, shut off the engine and mentally prepare myself. “I’m Marcus Thomas, vice president at Coleman” I repeat to myself many times.

I pull out my new coach wallet and work ID with RF chip, then I notice ‘my’ driver’s license. It’s the one detail I need to assume Marcus’ life in Illinois—his driver’s license. Marcus’ drivers license is suspended and if I use it for a traffic stop, I’ll be in jail. I can’t call his lawyer to fix it and they probably wouldn’t restore it until rehab is complete and he’s free. Then the perfect solution hits me—first, I’ll change my name in Michigan from Michael to Marcus then ‘move’ to Illinois using my new name and Marcus’ address. I’ll have a valid ‘Marcus Robert Thomas’ driver’s license that’s perfect with a clean driving record.

A quick check of myself in the vanity mirror reflects Marcus back at me, looking very sharp as usual. I get out and stroll in with my briefcase ready for my new position. People are greeting me, congratulating me and asking about my weekend. Everyone knows about my party Friday night at McGee’s. I need to thank my team member, Richard Zeppa for that tidbit of information I was lacking.

I hang up my new trench coat but leave on my suit, not sure what the dress code is for upper management. On Friday everyone was in a suit jacket during the office party for my promotion. At the coffee machine, the office gossip, politics and small talk comes easy. It teaches me a lot about the company, helping me fit in. Back in my office the day begins with email and prepping for my 9:30 am review with my team. Marcus was kind enough to do the prep work for me, outlining all the issues and his concerns. It’ll be like he’s actually there. Come to think of it, he is here and I’ve got to think of myself as my brother completely. 

Jason shows up at my office looking even better in person. He walks in, shuts the door and jumps into one of my chairs. Too bad he’s not gay or I’d be all over my new best friend. 

“Look at you Mr. Vice President, all professional looking and in early. New tie? You look rested and ready to go.” He notices.

“First impressions are important, especially with a new team to impress. Nah, I’ve had this tie, just wanted something that pops.” I notice he’s keeping his suit on. 

“How was your weekend, when did you get back?” He asks and I’m ready.

“It was good, I met my brother’s fiancee, drank too much, a lot of family was there and pressure is now on me to tie the knot. I got home about 10 pm and crashed. What did you do?” I explain.

“You tie the knot? You can barely tie your shoes.” He mocks and laughs at me. “Crashed all day Saturday, went out with Christine to some comedy club, sex and golf with Ted and Will yesterday.”

There’s a knock on my door and I recognize Adam Trappe, Coleman’s President. Jason jumps up from chair and welcomes ‘Adam’ into my office.

“Adam, Come on in, we’re just catching up.”

Adam comes right in, I stand up as a sign of respect. “Marcus, Ready for your first day?”

“Sure, anxious to tear into the job.” I smile as he has no clue this really is my ‘first’ day.

“Don’t forget lunch with Andy Kramer from Medtech. We need to tag team him on his spend.” Adam reminds me.`

“Adam, with the proposal I have planned, he’ll be begging to give us more money and buying us lunch. I promise.” Doing my best impersonation of my arrogant brother, having memorized his talking points for lunch today.

Adams smiles. “I’ll drive, just stop by my office about 11:30. Kristi made reservations at Gracy’s.”

Jason and Adam leave and I review ‘my’ notes for my first team meeting. Apparently, Marcus’s rehab stint was a last minute event because he has the next few weeks planned out and prepped for.  Everything is right at my fingertips to be him.

The whole day was easier than I expected. For the project reviews, it was new for all everyone so I followed my standard practice and raised Marcus’ concerns from his notes. Lunch was a huge success as Kramer loved my proposal and agreed to increase his marketing budget. Adam’s only complaint was him having to pick up lunch for us. I spend the rest of the day with my new team in and out of my office, and catching up with a flood of emails. Overall, It was an incredible day.

Jason stops by my office for happy hour and a few of us head up to the 95th. The view of the city from up there is amazing but I try to ignore it since it would be familiar to Marcus. Jimmy automatically hands me ‘my’ usual Gin & Tonic. We’re there for a few hours, drinking and having appetizers. Unlike my brother, I know when to stop which Jason notices.

“You’re different Marcus, something wrong? You’re not drinking.”

“Rough weekend thanks to Friday night and you, then driving to Ann Arbor. Then starting new position today.”

“So why aren’t you drinking?”

“Because of Friday night and you.” 

He laughs at me. “Did you invite your boyfriend? Chad just came in with ‘Alex’ and is heading this way.”

Shit, Marcus mentioned Chad and something about the accident. I open up my phone and run to the bathroom quick. “I’ll be right back, beer is kicking in.”

“What beer?” He gets cocky with his best friend. 

In the bathroom I quickly review text messages from him, trying to piece together their relationship. The early text messages are about partying and clubbing at some trendy spots. Later messages are about sex, going out for dinner and hanging out. I’ll just have to wing it, can’t hide in the stall all night. I splash cold water on my face, stare in the mirror and think to myself ‘you’re Marcus Thomas, just look at you’. After straightening my tie and running my hand through my hair, I head back to the bar. One thing is certain, he’s hot and if he wants to have sex, I’m in. Chad comes over to me with a big hug followed by a tender kiss. I’m hard in a minute like I was with Liam yesterday.

“I knew I’d find you here babe. I’m sorry about Friday night, I just had so much to do Saturday and Sunday with my sister in town.” He pouts.

“Don’t worry about it. I forgot about a family event in Ann Arbor I had to go to.” I lie.

Jason whispers in my ear. “Don’t want to say the marriage word do you?” Then chuckles.

“I’ve missed you.” Chad says while his friend Alex gives me really dirty looks. I’m not sure who he is, if they’re related, friends or what.

“I’ve missed you, can I get you a drink?” 

“A vodka cranberry would be great, Alex, do you want something?” He asks his friend.

“Vodka cranberry would do the trick.” He says queerly.  I get a very jealous vibe off him.

I head to the bar and pay with my new Amex then return. Alex is hanging up his phone, excited because his boyfriend got home early and is waiting for him. He guzzles his drink and runs, leaving Chad with me and my friends. 

I play Marcus’ friends convincingly and no one doubts my identity. I make sure to take lots of selfies with Jason and Chad and post them on my Instagram and Facebook, using clever hashtags and comments. Instead of my usual Ultra beer, I’m drinking Marcus’ gin & tonic and notice that Jason is a Yuengling drinker. In the mirror behind the bar, I glimpse Marcus and his best friend drinking and getting shit face.

I’ve known Marcus my entire life while Chad has known him only a few months. After a few drinks, he’s grabbing my ass and kissing me. I lean in and kiss him deeply back, loving the credibility he gives me as my brother, accepting me so easily, loving it when he calls me Marcus. I want to fuck him so badly. We hurry back to my place and I fuck him in my brother’s bed. As I make my way down his body, I slide his underwear off, then delicately lick his perfect penis. He’s been here before as he has no problem finding my condoms and slipping one on me. I slip into him slowly and push in deeply, making him moan louder and louder. When he calls out ‘Marcus’, I climax immediately and he follows a minute later. I spoon him to sleep with my hands wrapped around his waist. 

I wake up to my shower running and him running around the apartment.

“Don’t get up, it’s early and I have a shoot at 6am with Charlie Matthews. He’s gorgeous.” His voice full of excitement.

I grab my phone off the charger and quickly google Charlie Matthews. “Not as hot as what you had last night.”

“Hot and sexy. I had a great time, let’s do this Friday night and we can sleep in Saturday.”

“Let me text you on that, Friday is really busy and I have a golf outing with Jason really early Saturday. I blew him off last weekend, can’t do it again.” I explain.

“Let me know then.” He comes over to the bed and kisses me deeply. I keep my hand on the back of his head and try to keep him from leaving. 

I’ve been Marcus for two days and have had sex every day—more than I had in the past six months as Michael. His life is better than expected and I wouldn’t change a thing. I wonder who else I could fuck, or hook up with Liam again since he is still in town. Marcus has been living the good life for sure. I then remember seeing Grinder on my brother’s phone, grab it and start swiping for some possible action for tonight. 

Work Day Two

In the shower, I grab my semi-rigid penis, think of my new sex life, rub one out then follow my routine. I’m in love with Marcus’s life—the sex, job, friends, car, and condo. Stepping into his life it has been easier than I ever imagine. I’m really appreciating his closet, especially his suits. When we were growing up, he always had a more ‘put-together’ preppy look, paying attention to details. I was more grunge and laidback. It was the only way our parents could tell us apart. He’s taken his preppy look to the next level. He has a subscription to GQ and collection on his closet shelf going back years. I never knew he was such a metrosexual. 

His appearance is easy to duplicate with his complete wardrobe at my finger tips. Thanks to his Instagram, there are years of pics and videos of him during and after work at happy hours. There are pics of him in a light gray window pane suit that catches my eyes. It’s dated a few months ago and it looked great on him. It’s a Hugo Boss suit that I easily find in his closet. All the details except the shoes are easy to find and pull together. As Marcus does, I lay everything out on my bed to perfect.

My second day starts with Jason waiting for me in my office.

“Where were you bro?” He demands.

“What?” I have no clue what he’s referring to.

“Hello? The gym? Did you forget?”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry man. I hooked up with Chad, was ‘busy’ all night and over slept.” Thinking quick because I had no clue about Marcus working out. I did notice a gym bag on the floor in the closet but didn’t think about it. 

“I didn’t see you leaving with him?” 

“Because you were busy with Cathy.” I give him one of Marcus’ devious smiles, like he ate the canary.

“All is forgiven oh great one.” He jokes, bows and twirls his hand as a sign of respect. 

The rest of my day is easy, getting into account and proposal details, working with my team. Jason is in and out of my office talking about anything and everything—I really like the guy and being his friend. We do lunch together at the Big Pig just across the street. According to my debit account, it’s at least a weekly occurrence if not more. Marcus eats anything so there’s no need to worry what I order. The only questionable choice was me getting a Coke instead of a beer. Jason commented and told him I drank too much again last night. It seemed to quiet him quickly. 

As we were finishing up, Liam called about getting together tonight and I don’t hesitate to say yes. I pick him up at his hotel, take him to Ghezzi’s for Italian. I ply him with wine while staying away from it. The wine doesn’t affect his ‘foot work’ in my crotch fortunately and I’m throbbing hard all through dinner. We skip desert and I he ends up with my penis as ‘desert’ and loves it. I’m now three for three with sex so far this week. Liam doesn’t stay so he can catch his early morning flight back to Detroit tomorrow. 

Work Day Three

Two days of work have gone fairly smooth. There’s been a few glitches, like Marcus’ gym habit or not knowing things off the top of my head, that have been out of character. There will be more missteps and I’ll just respond the best I can. 

To sort out the gym routine with Jason, I start with his gym bag where I find his gear but also his gym ID card and dry cleaning slip in the end pocket. He’s a member of John Hancock Center Fitness, and also uses the Hancock dry cleaner. On my calendar are blocked off areas for ‘gym’ on Tuesday and Thursday morning at 7 am. There are still a lot of blanks I need to fill out so I head to work early for a quick stop at the gym.

I’m greeted by ‘Gina’ the receptionist at the entrance. “Marcus, we missed you yesterday, Jason was looking for you too.”

“Yeah Gina, he tore into me in the office for it.” I laugh.

“What can I do for you?”

“I think I may have lost my ear buds here, did anyone turn a pair in?” I ask.

“Not that I know of but let me check.” She heads into the manager’s office while I head to the men’s locker room to find my locker.  There’s a number on my ID card that leads me to my locker and opens it right up for me. Marcus has his complete bathroom duplicated in here—Polo products, toothbrush and extra gear. There’s a clipboard showing a routine that he hasn’t used it in a year per the date but it does give me an outline of his habit. 

I grab my earbuds out of my pocket and head back to Gina.

“It looks like you’ve found them.” She notes happily.

“Yeah, left them in my locker like an idiot.” I laugh. “Hey was Jason in today?”

“No but then again, he never comes without you except on Sundays once in a while.”

“Oh you have his attendance history?”

“Sure, going back years to when you both joined.” She turns the monitor around for me to see. Right there is what I needed—Jason and I work out every Tuesday and Thursday like clockwork at 7 am, leave about 8:30 am, grab a coffee at the Starbucks per my spending alerts and head to work.

“Thanks for your help Gina, see you tomorrow.”

“No you won’t, remember Ron is on Thursday.” She corrects me.

“Oh yeah, it feels like Monday for some reason.” A plausible recover.

My gym routine is set for tomorrow morning with my best friend.

After a few days as Marcus, my life is already becoming routine. I’m using ‘I’ll get back to you’ a lot but I do get back to them after I research the issue. This helps with learning the job and customers. No one has questioned my identity but then why would they with my looks. 

Late in the day a young kid with a man bun knocks on my door and walks in. I have never seen him before.

“Mr. Thomas, hi, I’m Gavin from IT services. Are you having computer problems?” He asks.

“No, why?” I respond not thinking I have any issues. I’m in the system and seem to have full access.

“Well, we track logins and you haven’t been using your biometric scanner, just your PIN.”

Damn, I did see a fingerprint scanner on the desk and haven’t bother with it even though it blinks when I open up my MacBook. I tried it once then it turned red and rejected me. 

“It didn’t work on Sunday so I’ve just been using my PIN. Isn’t that okay?” I explain.

“The PIN should only be used when you’re traveling, working remotely. The fingerprint is much more secure, prevents hackers from gaining access. Mr. Coleman wants his senior staff more protected.” Gavin explains.

“Understood, I just wasn’t worried about it.”

“Shut down and reboot and try it.” He directs.

After it boots up, I try my fingerprint and it beeps red.

“Hmmm, your fingerprint file must be corrupt. We’ll rescan and reconfigure it for you. It happens now and then.” From his bag he pulls out his computer and hand size scanner. He hooks everything up and the scanner glows blue for him.

“Now just place your right hand on it and don’t move till it glows green.”

I’m nervous wondering if this will compare old and new, and alert him to the difference. He removes my hand, then types away at his laptop. 

“Okay, now reboot and try any finger.” He orders.

It boots up, I try my index finger and it approves. 

“All set Mr. Thomas. Next time it happens, call me right away. Also, we’ll be adding biometric scanners to all the executive offices and lobby entrance in a few weeks. You’re all set for that now.”

“Thanks Gavin, I appreciate the help.” Gavin doesn’t realize how much he’s helped me. I’ve been looking at that scanner all week, wondering how get my fingerprints recognized and afraid of asking for help because of fear I’d be discovered. I’m now Marcus Thomas with security.

I skip happy hour with my friends and head home to prep for tomorrow’s big presentation. On the way I stop at the cleaners and pick up a bundle of laundry, suits, ties and shirts. The elderly woman greets ‘Mr. Thomas’ and thanks me for my business. At home I review my dry cleaning as I hang up everything in my closet. There’s a sharp 3 piece charcoal suit that’s one of my favorites based on Instagram and will be my outfit for tomorrow. 

I work in my home office till 9 pm reviewing the Ballis files, meeting notes and account details. Marcus’ Ballis history spans almost 2 years. It’s obvious the quality of his work has vastly improved over those years. There’s a maturity to it now. I pull up the Ballis presentation and practice it for Friday’s meeting. The one difference between myself and Marcus is that I’m the better public speaker. There are a few videos of him giving presentations in his account files and we’re about equal now. 

TGIF

I’m awake very early, planning my outfit for today’s big presentation. I’ll be wearing one of my brother’s, I mean one of my favorite outfits—I’m all Tom Ford today.  I checked my shopping receipts and found that I purchased a ‘Tom Ford Windsor 3-piece peak lapel suit’ for $7200 a few months ago. That was just for the suit—add $300 for tie, $50 for a pocket square, $600 for a custom dress shirt, $2000 for a pair of English Tan leather shoes, $75 for black underwear, $145 for t-shirts and a stunning $4950 for ‘striped’ cufflinks for a total of $17,000.  They must love me at Tom Ford. It takes 30 minutes to find all these items in my closet. 

It’s amazing slipping into $75 boxer briefs that hug my ass. I never liked wearing t-shirts but Marcus always does so I pull on a brand new $145 Tom Ford t-shirt. For socks, I find a crazy colorful bright green pair with golf balls on them—for a pop of color. He showed these off on his Tiktok account which I’ve yet to use. I pull on the cuffed pants and add a belt, using the same hole as he has a few times. His custom shirt tapers to my waist. The striped cufflinks are a bit tricky but look like a million dollars. The tie decision is tough but I stick with the gold paisley Tom Ford he wore with this suit before. His tan dress shoes look great but are not yet broken in, but he left them tied so I just wiggle into them. I’ve never worn a 3-piece suit in my life but the vest adds an image of authority as it goes on. I remove the suit jacket and confidently pull it on, adjusting the cuffs and tie in the mirror. ‘My’ Rolex and ring complete my transformation into Marcus Robert Thomas. 

In the mirror is Marcus Thomas, vice president at Coleman Marketing, running his hand through his hair, checking every detail of his appearance. My new Burberry tops off my identity.

Friday cements my new identity. The Ballis presentation is flawless and after 5 hours, their marketing team awards Coleman a huge contract worth $5m. My biggest challenge was quickly learning the names of the key players since my brother had a number of meetings with them. Robert Coleman congratulated me at happy hour on the 95th. He pulls me aside and says. “keep doing this and you won’t be VP for long.” 

Jason, who wasn’t in the meeting, comes up to me and I have Mark take a pic. “Marcus, you’re the buzz of the entire office, even Adam is praising you.”

“Buddy, Ballis was just ripe for a new marketing direction and it all fell into place.”

“Well, it was your best work according to everyone in the room.” He adds.

“Robert quietly told me I wouldn’t be VP for long, so he’s either firing me or promoting me.” I smile while Jason jumps up and down hugging me. 

“You better not be stealing my boyfriend.” Chad shows up, puts his hand around my neck and pulls me in for deep kiss. 

“Babe, you’re late.” I note.

“Yeah, last minute phone call with California. I’ll make it up to you later.” He smiles.

Jason chimes in.”don’t keep him up all night, we’re playing Harborside bright and early.”

“I didn’t forget.” I assure him.

After Chad discretely reaches in my pocket and fondles my cock., we excuse ourselves, grab dinner and head back to my place. We fuck all night long, including in my shower, early the next morning. As soon as Chad leaves, Jason calls to make sure I’m up. 

He offers to pick me up and drive. I’m grateful since I’m clueless how to get to Harborside. Marcus’ golf clothes are in the casual part of my closet and his clubs are in one of my spare bedrooms along with his other toys. Marcus was always a better golfer than me and I haven’t played in years. Again, I use instagram to select a typical Marcus outfit—Under Armour shorts and shirt, Adidas cleats and his leggings since it’s chilly outside. He has a great set of Callaway clubs and bag but it doesn’t help. Jason points out that I suck more than usual but I blame it on not sleeping last night and not playing in weeks.

The best part of the day is Jason driving me back to his place to help him move some furniture. I now know where my best friend lives. We hang out for hours, watch some college football, and drink too much beer the rest of the afternoon. That night we hit up “Sides” and I get wasted for the first time in 7 years. My new friends are great and clueless they have a new friend.

Sunday is set aside as a ‘me’ day to celebrate my first incredible week living my brother’s life. I dress in my usual Polo Chino, a sweater and my favorite leather jacket. For breakfast I take the M8 north along Lake Michigan and find a little diner to eat then head back to the city to shop. Even though I mock the ‘Mag Mile’, there’s no better place to shop and that’s my plan. My net worth is north of $5 million now and I’m going to spend some of it. At the Polo store I’m recognized, kissed up to and end up spending $2500 for sport coat, pants and casual shirt. At the Rolex Boutique I spend $13,000 on Rolex Daytona, putting it on my Platinum VISA. The serious damage is done at Tom Ford where I spend $20,000 on a few new suits, suspenders, shoes and ties.  One is a double breasted, the other is a 3-piece suit and I haven’t seen anything like them in my closet. Everything I purchase reflects Marcus’ style and tastes, not Michael’s. 

Back home, it takes two trips to unload the car. Chad comes over for dinner and spends the night. He’s shocked to learn I can cook but I keep it simple with some steaks on the grill, potatoes and salad. He’s up early to go to work and I decline an invitation to join him so I can sleep in. I really enjoy spending time with him, especially the sex. 

The next week flies by like the first with long hours, working out and happy hours with Jason and friends. Robert has given me the AMP account to conquer next, bypassing Adam. My love life is insane. Chad fucked me in the bathroom on the 95th, Liam wants me to spend a weekend with him in Detroit. Merit approved my application for membership so Jason and I will be taking the AMP management team there for a round before the season end. 

I can’t believe how easy it’s been stepping into Marcus’ life and how much I’m enjoying it. His routine is now my routine—whether it’s working out, or happy hour or work. I’ve replaced him and no one has a clue. When someone says ‘Marcus’, I instinctively respond to ‘my’ name without hesitation. My fear now is losing it back to him and ending up back in Ann Arbor building websites and working for another little company.

Visit Number One

Marcus’ rehab clinic called, letting me know I can visit on Saturday and take him off campus for lunch. I confirm I’ll be there at noon and to let him know. On the way there, I stop by my house and change from his clothes into my typical Levis and t-shirt but keep the leather jacket on. I also wear my Michigan baseball cap to hide my new haircut. Marcus’ clothes are put in a duffle bag and hidden in the trunk to change back into later.

There are a lot of rules to agree to before Marcus is allowed out for the afternoon. He’s limited to a 10 mile area and no alcohol, drugs or cigarettes of any kind. A big male nurse brings him out to me and we jump in the BMW.

“You’re not getting out?” Is the first question I ask.

“Fuck no, I’m stuck here for 90 days at least according to my therapist. My fucking lawyer says it was a last minute change and that he even told me. I was so drunk the last time we talked, that I probably forgot the conversation.”

“Great, I was confused when the clinic called about lunch, figuring they meant taking you home. What about work? They’re expecting you on Monday.”

“I know, I know, I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for with Coleman. I was thinking we could swap places and you stay here but this ankle bracelet doesn’t come off.” He lifts his leg to show me.

“Jesus, you’re under house arrest bro. I could have, would have. I was laid off from my job a few days ago. We were bought out by Tyco months ago and when I refused to move to Philadelphia for them, they laid me off.” He’s not the only good liar in the family. 

“So what are you going to do?” Marcus asks.

“Well, I got a 9 months severance, even have some leads on jobs, so I’m in no hurry yet.”

“Bro, this is perfect! Go into work as me, cover for me.” I knew he’d come up with that on his own. Internally I’m smiling but outwardly, I look gravely concerned. 

“Oh come on bro, this isn’t college, this would be your life. This would be for months. How do I learn your job by Monday morning?”

“Michael, we’re both marketing majors, you have all my files on my laptop, all you have to do is clean yourself up, put on one of my suits and go in. It’ll be easy, like when we swapped for the summer in college.”

“You’re comparing this to college? We swapped boyfriends for a few months.”

“Yeah, it’ll be easy. I’m starting a new position with a new creative team that barely know me.”

“What about your coworkers, friends, neighbors and boyfriends? Your phone has been going crazy with people calling, offering condolences and wanting to send flowers. I spoke to Liam and Chad a few times, they’re worried about me, I mean you and our dad’s death. That lie traveled really far and fast.” I’m as good of a liar as Marcus.

“Oh, it was probably my buddy Jason, he’s as bad as a woman.” He chuckles.

“So Jason knows you really well, right? As soon as I fuck up, he’ll figure out I’m not you.”

“No, he has no clue I even have a brother, let alone a twin. He’ll have no reason to suspect you’re not me.”

“What about everyone else?”

“I’ll write down everything you need to know about my life. Pull into that Dollar Store and grab a tablet. Do you have my computer with you?”

“No, it’s in my living room along with your phone, wallet and jewelry.” I pull into the store and we grab all that’s needed. I throw everything at him and he starts writing feverishly while I look for a place to eat in this little town. We settle on a Sonny’s BBQ and get a table in the corner away from everyone. I keep my baseball cap on so Marcus doesn’t notice my haircut that actually looks better than his’. 

He’s quietly chatting and writing the entire time, only taking time to eat his BBQ ribs and drink some ice tea. He’s drawing floor plans, scribbling names with notes and paragraphs of information.

“Ok, here’s everything you need to know.” Marcus announces proudly and pushes papers towards me. “It’s in groups of work, friends and boyfriends.”

“Great, tell me about my new boyfriends, tricks or ‘friends with benefits’.” 

“Ha, Let’s start with the important people, those closest to me.”

“Do you have a little black book I can use?” I beg.

“Focus! Jason is my closest friend, followed by Mark. We do happy hours, work out, work together, golf, road trips, and watch football on weekends.” Marcus gets very serious.

“I need to have a little ‘fun’ bro.” I whine. 

“Here’s everything you need to be me with them.” He responds with attitude then passes me sheets labeled ‘Friends/Boyfriends’. He has their names listed, how they met, quirks, habits, hobbies, interests.  Then he hands me a ‘Coleman’ sheet.

“For work, Robert Coleman hired me, mentored me and I’m like the son he’s never had. He’s been easing out of the business, letting Adam Trappe assume more responsibility. I’m next in line for Adam’s President  position next.”

Marcus has detailed notes for all managers I’ve been interacting with for weeks. This gives me even more information that only the real Marcus would know. I use this to fire off more questions about my new life and the information just flows from him to me. 

“What about ‘my’ sex life bro? I need a boyfriend or boytoy. You have to have one based on texts and phone calls I’m trying to respond to. Oh, and the pics in your phone, fuckkkk.” I smile at him.

“No serious boyfriend so you’re safe. Chad, who you’ve talk to is latest. We met at an art showing for our common friend Peter. I fucked him in the back office of the gallery the first night and hook up weekly at least. He’s great in the sack.”

“I looked at his pics on your phone. He looks amazing.”

He goes on about Liam, Jim and Dennis, filling in a lot of blanks. Then he talks about Jason and his straight guy friends. About half the information is not new to me but the rest is great. Marcus fills in a lot of personal history about people, things like how they met, jokes they share, likes/dislikes and habits. A lot of the little things Marcus knows, are now part of my identity and strengthen my identity as Marcus Thomas.

“So how is the Clinic treating you? Making progress?” I ask.

“The last two weeks was me shaking, having withdrawals and night sweats. I would kill for a drink right now. There’s group therapy every day before lunch,  then after lunch are the one-on-one sessions. Dinner is at 6pm and the rest of the day is ours. There’s TV and complete library but no phones or internet.”

“What about your lawyer, record and trial? How does that work?” I probe.

“I get a weekly, 10 minute call. He says the 3 months of treatment may be counted as 3 months of jail time but I could still get real jail time of up to 5 years.”

“What about you driving? You’ll have a record.”

“It’s too early to know. I’m hoping I do 3 months here, have limited driving rights and no jail time. He’s also working on getting the arrest record expunged.”

“You have a lot riding on this lawyer, do you want me to contact him?”

“No, but check my mail for any of his bills and pay them. My bank login information is here, but it should be saved on my iMac.”

“What if I’m caught?” Not that I would but just want to play up my concern.

“Are you joking? You won’t be. With all this information and your looks, you’ll pull off my identity easily. Have fun at work Marcus.” He hands over his life to me.

I drop Marcus off but don’t go inside. It’s another 6 hour drive home with a quick stop in Ann Arbor to change into Marcus for another month. The entire drive home my mind is spinning with what just happened. My brother has turned over his life to me and I don’t have to worry about the last two weeks. Once I’ve changed back into my ‘Marcus’ outfit and driving the BMW, I only think of myself as him. I start thinking of work and upcoming projects, working out with Jason and lunch at Merit using my new membership.

The Better Marcus

The Ballis Automotive rebranding campaign kicked off a few weeks ago to rave reviews. Robert storms into my office all excited because we’ve been nominated for a number of Association of National Advertisers B2 awards. Just to be nominated is a huge honor even if you don’t win. The Ballis campaign was nominated for the categories of ‘Web Presence’, ‘Branding’, ‘Employer Branding’ and ‘Product Relaunch’. The B2 award gala will be held at the end of the month, at the Sheraton Grand which is less than a mile from our office. 

Marcus may have done the initial work on the overall proposal, but I’m the one who reworked the website and branding portions at the last minute. I’ve always been the more creative one. Robert is convinced this will catapult Coleman to the top for Chicago marketing. When Robert leaves, I look out the window, overlooking Michigan avenue and look at myself in the reflection. A deep sense of accomplishment and satisfaction hits me—I’m a better Marcus for sure.

“Is your head swollen? Will it fit through the door?” Jason comes running into my office after hearing the ANA news. 

“No, you better call building maintenance so they can enlarge the door so I can get out.” I turn around, he high fives me and I smack the back of his head for his comment.

“Ouch, you fucker! We’re heading up to 95th.”

“For sure, just give me a few minutes to finish up here. I’ll meet you there.”

I finish up some emails, then think about Marcus getting all the credit for my hard work. He’d have no problem sitting here with the award on the desk, showing it off, bragging while not having a clue what went into it. Thinking of this, just pisses me off. I’m not going to let him do this, he’s been taking things from me our entire life.

Happy hour is insane and even Jason notices I’m back to drinking ‘like a ho’. The whole office is here including Robert and Adam. Robert pulls me, Gary,  and Adam aside to let us know that we have a table for the black tie gala, we’re all attending in a few weeks and it’s black tie. It’s a huge celebration for just the simple nominations. 

I text Chad and he joins us then drives me back to his place for the night. This helps a lot since, like Jason, I had no clue where he lives. Sex with him is great. I don’t even mind him being a screamer, especially when he’s screaming out ‘Marcus’. Fucking him as Marcus is such a turn on for me, that I usually explode upon hearing my new name. I figured out, based on emails that Marcus dated him for about 6 weeks, and I’ve been at it for 4 weeks. Like everyone else I interact with, he’s clueless to the switch. 

Two weeks later ‘team Coleman’, as we’re now calling ourselves, is at the Gala dressed to the nines. I spent about $9,000 at Tom Ford for a new Tuxedo and accessories. There is a Brooks Brothers tuxedo in the back of my closet but wearing it would be out of character for Marcus. It was a brilliant night for Coleman and Ballis, winning ‘Web Presence, Employer Branding and Branding’—all areas that I created, not Marcus. Robert hands me one of the awards and has me talk about the web presence concept. Chad films it for my Instagram. We go back to my place to celebrate with more sex but I leave early for my lunch with my brother tomorrow in Cleveland.

The next morning I spend hours at the DMV getting my new Illinois drivers license. I walk in as Michael Thomas from Ann Arbor, Michigan and walk out as Marcus Thomas of Chicago Illinois. I managed to find the same shirt  Marcus used for his license, and wore it for my new pic. Putting both side by side, the only difference is the license number itself. At home I log into all of my accounts, like banking, work, travel and update them with my new drivers license number. My old wallet and my brother’s license are locked in my safe and I change the passcode. The new driver’s license replaces the old one like i’ve replaced Marcus.

I’m shamelessly using ‘my’ Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat and TikTok just like my brother. Whether I’m at happy hour, the gym or out on a date, I’m posting and bragging about my life. 

Visit Number Two

Six weeks have passed since my brother went into rehab and I assumed his identity and life. I’m firmly in place as Marcus, acquiring his friends and career—basically his entire life is now mine. I’m a better version of Marcus Thomas. This time I don’t change my clothes or identity to visit him. On purpose, I’m in one of his favorite outfits, that was well documented on his Instagram.  I’m there early and he’s waiting in the lobby for me. He jumps up when he sees me.

“Michael, you’re early.” Using a name I haven’t responded to in weeks.

“Come on bro, let’s go, I’m starving.” I sign him out with the front desk.

We jump into the car and head to the Sonny’s again. I bring in my briefcase and computer into restaurant with me, to have him help me with some account information. The hostess looks at us oddly, probably wondering if we’re twins. Marcus looks horrible with an overgrown stubble and long hair while I’m the epitome of Marcus Thomas. 

“Wow, don’t you look all spiffy in my clothes.” Marcus stares at me. 

“Yeah, I didn’t realize you were such a fashionista but I’m starting to appreciate it. You approve of my outfit?” I adjust my sleeves in my suit coat. 

“Ah yeah, because it’s one of my favorite outfits—Hugo Boss, my Omega watch and even my Prada shoes. Why so dressed up?” He notices the details.

“Yeah, I saw it on ‘my’ Instagram and loved it.” I’m wearing his Hugo Boss tan glen plaid suit with wine color dress shirt, and Prada lace up derbies. I duplicated it exactly from his pics on Instagram. “I thought I’d show you how much I look like you with hair done, in one of your outfits you. Don’t worry, I take off the jacket and hang it in the car while driving.” 

“Just make yourself at home, in my home and my life.”

“Actually it’s my life Michael. Your friends and coworkers haven’t noticed anything different about me. It’s been really easy being Marcus.” I smile at him, giving him my identity and he doesn’t say a word. 

“I can see why. You’re the spitting image of me, even the hair now.” He acknowledges. 

“Yeah I had to get a haircut of course. Learning your job, friends and life was challenging but I’m you.”

“What about Chad?” He questions.

“Oh my god, I’ve had more sex as you than I had in the past year. You’re still dating Chad and Liam visited. They’re both incredible in bed.” I grin devilishly at him.”

“You’ve slept with both of them?”

“Yeah, Liam was in town for work, called and we had lunch, then sex but he’s back in Detroit. I’ve been ’dating’ Chad regularly and he’s blast too.”

“Wow you have replaced me. I’m so horny and jealous. They didn’t notice a difference?”

“Only that I was better in bed!” I boast.

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

“So how is it going with rehab? Making progress?” I ask sincerely. 

“I would give you a million dollars for a beer right now. I finally started sleeping normally but the cravings don’t end. The other day I had an incident with my doctor when I rejected some pills to calm me down. I threw the bottle in a fit and pills flew across the room. They ended up injecting me with a needle instead and I was out for 12 hours.”

“I never noticed your drinking issue. In college you were no different than anybody else.”

“It happened after college with the job, daily happy hours and binge drinking.”

“I can relate now because Jason wants to do the 95th every night.”

“How is he doing? I miss hanging out with him.” Marcus sadly asks.

“He’s doing great, seeing a girl he met at a football game. He claims she’s the one.”

“Ha, yeah he says that with every new girl. I give it 4 weeks max.” He laughs a little.

“What’s the lawyer saying?” I ask seriously.

“It’s not good.” He’s down again. “He’s trying but not having any luck. He also says I have ‘at least’ three months here, that it could be longer.”

“Jail time?”

“3 to 7 years.” He says soberly.

“Fuck bro! Fuck!!” I was a little loud and some people heard me.

“Yep, I’m fucked for sure. Even 3 years in jail will kill me.”

“I’m sorry bro. I don’t know what to say.” I respond very quietly.

“It’s out of my control, nothing I can do. I just have to hope my lawyer is worth all the money I’m paying him. I don’t want to think about it.” Marcus sighs in defeat. “How is my life, you certainly have my look nailed.” 

“The first few weeks were sketchy, learning your job, habits and people who know you. You didn’t mention your gym membership and working out with Jason. He noticed that when I missed our ‘normal’ workout. Then I messed up when I was clueless about Nikomahs Casino, your first major success.”

“But has anyone discovered you, questioned you?”

“Look at me.” I lean back in the chair and run my hand through my hair in a typical Marcus gesture. “If our parents couldn’t tell us apart, do you think your friends can? They don’t even know you have a twin, so why would they think I’m anyone but you?”

“That is amazing but I shouldn’t be surprised, it was alway easy for us to swap.”

“I’m you, living your life and loving it. I’m doing one hell of a job.”

“No glitches or problems with people or issues?”

“Not a single person has questioned my identity but there has been some slip ups on my part. The worst moment was my lack of knowledge about the changes to the Nikomahs casino account over the past 6 years, that ‘I’ personally handle. I was so embarrassed but Robert jumped in and filled in the blanks. Afterwards he pulled me aside and asked what’s wrong, that I was not myself. I pulled the ‘mom isn’t well and I can’t focus. It seemed to work but that night I spent hours in the office reviewing every document and email about it.” I confess but lie. 

“You can’t possibly know my career history or little details.”

“That’s why you’re going to fill me in on the details. You’re going to fill in the blanks of your life for me.” I pull out his computer from his briefcase. 

“Sure, you’ve got 6 more weeks to cover for me.”

“I have to ask…what if you go to jail? What do I do?”

“I don’t know. Resign my job, sell my condo and put everything in storage? Make up some lie, like I’m starting my own business and moving to London.”

“Throw everything away? What if I keep your identity? Robert loves you like a son, and Jason loves you like a brother. They’d be devastated.” I toss it out there to see his reaction.

He gets pissed at me for saying it, I see his anger. “Then fucking live my life, you’ve always been jealous of me. You can be me! It’s the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this but I’m definitely doing a better job of it.” I get cocky back with him. 

“Yeah right, your vast experience of job hopping and creating dinky webpages really qualifies you for my job. Looking like me and actually being me, are two different things.”

“Fuck you. I’m crushing it as you. Robert has noticed a positive change in you since I cut back drinking and even Jason has admitted it’s time for us to drink less.” I fire back at him. 

“Fuck you, you may be sitting at my desk, doing my job but you’re not me.”

I open up my acceptance speech video from last night and shove his iPhone in his hand. “I’m actually better than you after only one month. Watch the new Marcus Thomas, ANA B2 award winner.”

He’s just watching in silence, mouth open in disbelief. “You accepted my award for Ballis?”

“No, it’s my award for my work. The meeting was delayed and I reworked about 75% of your proposal, which are what the awards were for.” I boast, he has nothing to say after that.

I open my notebook, pull up the Ballis proposal and shove it towards him. He scrolls through the entire thing, totally silent again. 

“So you built on top of what I created. If I had more time, I would have done even better.” He proclaims after reviewing the presentation.

“Oh, give me a fucking break. Your proposal put me to sleep the first time I went through it. Gary and Adam loved my new concept and Ballis was onboard before the meeting ended. Coleman never saw that happen. You’re welcome.” 

“I’m not thanking you for shit.” People heard that. He’s going thru his social media on ‘my’ iPhone stunned. “You’re living my life.”

“Like my new Tuxedo? It’s Tom Ford. I didn’t want to wear ‘my’ old Brooks Brothers tuxedo I wore for Mark’s wedding.”

“What did that cost me?” He snidely questions.

“Michael, not your concern little bro. I wanted to look my best for my 15 minutes of fame.” 

"My 15 minutes of fame!" He barks again.

“Like I said, I’m being you, including your stupid TikTok and Instagram. It’s what you wanted and it’s exhausting being a narcissist, keeping your ‘fans’ happy.” Actually I’m enjoying the attention and comments but I’m not letting him know. 

“Your TikToks are great and I can’t tell the difference in our posts and pics.” He calms down.

“Duh! We’re twins, you do realize that? You better hope I just don’t walk away tomorrow from your life. You’ll be screwed career wise. You’ll be designing dinky websites and taking crappy jobs.”

“You’d never do that, my life is so much better than your’s and you know it. You should be thanking me.”

“Try me. I’m the one doing you a huge favor, remember that!” I threaten him.

I’m in charge after that and we spend hours reviewing files and his work history. He doesn’t hesitate to answer any of my questions. After some quick shopping for clothes for him at Dick’s Sporting Goods, I drop him off at the entrance and head home. The long drive home gives me time for reflect on my new life. I'm really enjoying everything about it. After only 6 weeks, I don’t want to give it up. 

More Control

I'm living life exactly as Marcus would. The only difference is that I drink half as much as him. I love hanging with Jason and Mark, golfing, playing basketball and working out with them. I've slipped easily into his circle of friends. There's been a few incidences where I didn't quite catch a joke or references but they're usually drunk and don't notice. In Ann Arbor, I had work friends but outside of that I was a loaner, occasionally dating but nothing ever serious.

Other aspects of his life have fallen into place. I keep his appointment for a haircut with Steve at Halo, a hair salon not far from my place. It was a combination wash, haircut, manicure, eyebrow trim and hand job! As I was leaning back over the sink, he’s massaging both my heads at the same time. I’m wasn’t sure how to react but he whispers in my ear that he gets off at 8pm and he’d get me off by midnight if I pick him up. I play it cool as he makes out with me at the same time.

When I leave Halo, I post my shocked looked on Instagram. I pick him up at 8, take him out to eat, then back to my place. This is a regular haircut for my brother since he leads me back to my bedroom, wraps a condom from my drawer on me and rides it all night long. Marcus’ sex life is way better than mine and Steve doesn’t notice a difference just like Chad and Liam. I call Jason to apologize for blowing off Side Tracks but as soon as I say ‘haircut’, he calls me a slut and tells me how jealous he is. I’m grateful to Steve for the sex and for tidying up grooming details like my eyebrows  and cuticles.

I'm officially 'exclusive' with Chad but having too much fun with all this new attention. I’ve scheduled a trip to Detroit for a weekend with Liam. What can I say? He’s tight, fun and just my type. Chad thinks I'm going to a marketing conference in Detroit. Chad is great eye candy for my management to see me with and he’s as fun as Liam in bed. He’s been dating me longer than he did my brother but I don't see much of a future with him. Chad adds credibility to me as Marcus and I still explode when he screams out 'Marcus' as I ram his tight hole. The sex is awesome.

My job is going so well. I believe, no, I know I'm being groomed to be president, taking over Adam's spot. At least once a week, I do lunch with Adam and Robert where we talk about the future of Coleman and of Robert stepping back. They've both notice a change for the better in me, saying I'm more focused, more of a leader and creative.

Financially, I'm spending more than Marcus normally would but I did need a new tuxedo for the ANA, and joining the Merit Club wasn't cheap but it is a legit business expense for my taxes. I met with my Fidelity advisor, Andrew Gingerich, which is something Marcus never did in person, and never took an interest in his money. Good old Marcus, as usual, he only cared that he was making money. My advisor was happy to meet with me and help with diversifying my portfolio. In just the last month, my costs have dropped while my returns have increased significantly. 

One thing no one at Coleman noticed about the old Marcus is his embezzling of corporate funds over the years. We're talking about $500,000 per year that magically moved from marketing to his own personal Fidelity checking account via a Cayman account. No wonder his could just plop down $120,000 for his new BMW and $30,000 for his Merit Club membership. My brother would have eventually been caught and really ended up in jail. It took a while to unravel the money trail but then I returned it to Coleman, making sure it looks like a simple accounting error. My net worth has dropped by about $2m but more importantly, I have leverage over my brother.

Visit Number Three

It’s going to be a day of reckoning for my brother. I’ve been him for 10 weeks, making this our longest identity swap and also a lot more complex than when we were in college. I pick him up and head to our usual Sonny’s BBQ. Marcus doesn’t say a word during the short drive and he looks good but not happy at all.

“So what’s with the silence?” I carefully ask.

“Oh nothing really, just another month of rehab followed by 3 to 7 years in jail.”

“What? What the hell happened?”

“My worthless lawyer and a judge, with a stick up his ass for 4th time offenders.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect jail time for you. Can you appeal it?”

“Yes, and I could get parole in a few years.”

“When do you go to jail?”

“In about two weeks.”

In a small way, I feel bad for him then I think of his previous incidents, and him embezzling from his employer who adores him. He had it made financially just on his salary alone with no need to steal a penny. After a few fleeting thoughts like that, reality comes back and I think he’s not getting close to what he deserves. I’m also thrilled at the thought of keeping his life for myself.

“So you go straight to jail? No probation, no time in between?”

“The police will pick me up right here, the prison is in Jackson, Michigan. It’s for white collar criminals and addiction with continuing counseling.”

“Fuck man, fuck! What are you going to do?” I vent.

“How about we swap places and you do me a little favor.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds like a plan, especially with that nice ankle bracelet you’re wearing. Do you still have urges to drink?”

“In all honesty, after I got the news of jail time, I wished I was at the 95th, downing shots with Jason.”

“Well, it’s quite a lot to accept. That’s normal.”

“You’ll probably be let out early. It’s not like you killed someone.”

“Yeah, my lawyer agrees with you on that, but still, three years in jail.”

“What about your life and job?”

“Just quit my job, pack everything up and put it in storage.” He says it too easily.

“Throw it all away?”

“Yeah and when I get out, I’ll be doing websites and marketing for ‘Sammy’s Garage’ in Ann Arbor like you.” He laughs at his put down.

“Maybe you will be, in fact, you probably will, but I won’t. I’ve grown accustom to your life.”

“You’re moving to a big city and getting a real job? Oh yeah, I so see that happening.” He mocks me. 

“Already a done deal bro, not giving it up.”

“Are you saying, you’re keeping my life?”

“Why not? I’m the better Marcus, my coworker Adam says I’ll be promoted to his spot in a few months when Robert retires. Look at me bro, I’m you without the drinking problem. I’m set for life—great salary, boyfriends, great friends, awesome condo and hot car.”

“Why not? Why not? Are you fucking insane? First, it’s not your life, it’s mine. Second, I won’t let you do it.”

“I’ve been thinking about this and it makes complete sense. I need a job, I’m perfect for it and I’m a natural. No one has a clue I’m not you, thanks to my looks and your coaching.”

“I’ll have my lawyer make sure you don’t, you’ll go to jail for fraud. I’ll claim I had no clue what you were doing.”

“I don’t think so bro, unless you want to spend more time in jail for embezzling funds.”

“What?” He looks shocked.

“I know you have millions hidden in accounts all around the world. I bet Coleman would love to know how you screwed them.”

“How did you find out?”

“Oh come on bro, I’m not stupid. I looked at your tax returns and even if you saved every penny,  you’d be lucky to have $3m in the bank. Then there’s mysterious deposits from and to an account in the Caymans. It took a little sleuthing but with my degree in finance, it started to make sense.  Then when ‘my’ buddy Javier called from the Caymans, it all fell into place.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I told you, I’m taking over your life. As you mentioned, it’s pretty sweet, I’m good at it and you were right, I was a little jealous.”

“You fucking bastard.” He curses under his breath.

“Calm down bro, it’s not too bad. You can’t use it, you won’t need it for a few years. It’s going to be our little secret from now on. Oh and it’s permanent too, so even when you do get out, don’t come asking for your life back.”

“You won’t get away with this.”

“I have gotten away with this for months now. By the way, if something happens to me, I’ve made arrangements to blow this wide open and you will be back in jail. Also, Javier is no longer helping me, I put an end to your scheme.” His mouth is hanging up.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to your own brother.”

“Ha! Seriously, you’re playing the brother card? My brother who calls once or twice a year, who I haven’t seen in years and who keeps me secret. Nice try.” I laugh and mock him.

Marcus just sits there saying nothing, staring at his ribs. I can see he’s seething and thinking of his options. He’s just got to realize it’s checkmate and accept it.

“Bro, I’m doing you a huge favor. Your reputation remains intact and it’s actually gotten better with me in charge. I’m now well known in the marketing world. It’s best for both of us but it’s only fair that I benefit the most. When you get out, I’ll be here to help you get on your feet, hell, I’ll give your plenty of start up money and as me, you can create your own company even. You’ve got time to plan it.”

“Fine!” He blurts out defeated.

“Bro, I’ll come see you in prison, keep you updated on things. You’ll be fine, we’ll both be fine.”

We finish our lunch and he doesn’t say a word the entire drive back. We pull up front, I walk him in and give him a hug. 

“Cya bro.” Are my last words to him. I take my time driving back to my new life in Chicago.

THE END

[goatbi]

We know literally nothing about bleach but we know it's a special interest of yours so gimme bleach hcs legend

Uhhh let's have some fun lil six hearts sexuality/gender headcanons

Alright so, first off, Uryu is autistic and asexual, so jot that down. I'm also getting the vibes of aromantic from him, tbh, though maybe demiromantic. Not really sure on that front. He figured himself out very very quickly, simply because he likes to read so much, and just kinda vibes all the time, and figured 'hm something about me is different from everyone else around me' and then like. Figured it out. Was very open about it the SECOND he moved out of Ryuken's house, like, he doesn't ever talk to Ryuken, but Uryu was open about who he was at school enough that word got around to Ryuken very quickly. The reaction there was exactly what Uryu had expected. A fuck ton of passive aggressive bullshit! Also uses Ve/Ver He/Him and Phi/Phim pronouns cause Why Not ! I say so ! I bounce back and forth on if he's trans or not, because A) how obvious am I gonna be that I kin him, and B) just in general I dunno if I fully get The Vibes from him. Maybe he's trans sometimes because kinnie moments.

Ichigo gives me the vibes of like, a guy whose very very comfortable in who he is, but also has no clue exactly what that is, and whenever someone makes a dumb joke like 'oh what are you, gay?' Ichigo just kinda looks at them and then shrugs a shoulder like 'i don't fuckin know, I know I'm a teen and thats when you start figuring that shit out usually, but I'm busy, y'know, saving the universe and shit.' His level in comfort with himself does not change ever, I think, no matter where in the process of figured himself out he is, he's just like 'i'm chillin' cause at least he's not looking down the barrel of a gun with Yhwach or Aizen on the other side ! No clue anything about him other than that. He/Him

Orihime feels like a lesbian who was told all her life that she should just find a nice boy to settle down with, so she's like comp-hetting her crush on Ichigo hella hard, because he's like! The perfect boy to do that with! He's super powerful, he cares a lot, he's saved her when she was kidnapped, it was perfect and fun. They tried to date, the summer after high school, because despite what people think, Ichigo is not that dense all the time. They attempted it, lasted like two weeks, then very amicably broke up, because Orihime was like 'hey I think I'm actually a lesbian' and Ichigo was like 'sick, because I'm really not feeling romance here' and they were both just kinda like. Alright then. Back to friendship! She's also SUPER ADHD. Probably uses fae/faer pronouns too, and giggles cause her powers include fairies.

Chad is just kinda. There. He just identifies himself as queer, and that's about as deep into he's going. The intricacies of his sexuality and gender are a mystery to everyone, including himself, so. There's that. His grandfather was similar in that regard, which is why Chad is just so chill about it. He doesn't really care, he just knows he's not cishet. Other than that? Not really important to him. He's happy. He/They/Thon pronouns for this large man!

Rukia and Renji are really fun in this regard. Starting with Rukia, she spent a good amount of her life in Rukongai just existing and being whoever the fuck she was, not really caring who she was because who cares when you don't know if you're gonna be alive tomorrow to keep being that person, and then suddenly she was thrown into being a noble and having to fit that, so she spent so long constantly being like 'gotta be perfect for the clan' that she really didn't think about herself for ages! And then, when she finally got the chance, she started realizing things that would have upset the Clan Elders, and she was like 'Fuck! Time For Repression!' which worked, up until her execution fiasco, and then she was like 'fuck! I can't just die not knowing who I am and being happy with who I am! Fuck you people, the clan elders can't fucking stop me from doing shit!' and she had Ichigo's really chill ass right next to her like 'alright have fun!' Which lead down the road of her discovering that she was a bisexual, with a preference for women (and Renji's muscles specifically), and used any pronouns. She came out to Byakuya about this one day, and Byakuya, who was trying to be a good brother, told her that he would handle the clan elders. She didn't hear a thing about it from them, and Byakuya only smiled when he saw her later.

Renji, on the other hand, was in the same sort of thing, but never had to worry about disappointing anybody. Renji has always lived for himself and only himself. He got his tattoos because he wanted them and no one could tell him no. He's exists as he is because he fucking wants to. He's been like this since he's a kid, so in the Soul Reaper Academy, he was experimenting with everybody, just for the hell of it. He was gonna be proud of who he is, no matter who he found himself out to be, so it didn't matter how long it took him to figure it out. So, honestly, when he finally sat down next to the GAYEST MARRIED COUPLE OF SQUAD ELEVEN (Ikkaku and Yumichika) and finally went 'huh... I'm pansexual' it wasn't like, a big thing, he just kinda said it, and then Yumi was like 'are you like... nervous about coming out to us or something?' and Renji just kinda shrugged and went 'I don't give a shit, I'm happy with it' and Ikkaku was like 'right fuckin answer my man' so. The same sort of process with his gender happened, but that one's an ongoing thing, since again, no matter where he is, he's comfortable with who he is, but he hasn't really like, sat down to ask himself any questions about it. So he's kinda nebulous. Just uses he/him for now, but it's also like, that's just cause how everyone else sees him, very masc. If people used other pronouns for him, he wouldn't object to it.

[liquorisce]

decisions, decisions pt 2

Fandom : Bleach 

Pairings : Ichihime (ft. some ichi x ishi bickering which we love around here)

Rating : T

Part 1

A/N: A few months ago I wrote a post-tybw-karakura-gang-finishes-high-school kinda thing called ‘decisions, decisions’  ft career choice discussions and orihime thinking of leaving town for uni. I wanted to write some more of that stuff and more ichihime pining obvs, so here it is. also i hate myself for not being able to participate in ichihimeweek2020, i suck, but anyway, ‘nuff with the nonsense, here’s the fic: 

(ps: pls be nice to me and like/reblog/comment or whatevs and tell me what u think, ily thx)

...

It’s five minutes to two, and Ichigo fought to stifle a yawn. The menacing five hundred pages of English grammar exercises in front of him wasn’t helping. 

“... Unbelievable,” he curses, slamming the book shut, much to the annoyance of his bespectacled classmate sitting across him. “Why the hell can’t they just teach us proper English in school?! I’m absolutely fucking positive that Honda-sensei didn’t mention more than three tenses in her class. And what kind of English lesson takes place in Japanese anyway?!” 

“... Quit your whining, Kurosaki. Some of us are trying to study here.” 

Ichigo fumed. By ‘some of us,’ Ishida was pointedly referring to just himself and the long-haired beauty sitting right opposite him, who, judging by her giggling at his outburst, welcomed his distraction. The same giggling that was contributing to the problem, contributing to Ichigo’s immense distraction since after dinner. 

“You’re not even human, Ishida,” he says dismissively. “Keigo’s literally made his bed on my dad’s couch, you can hear his goddamn snores, and Mizuiro left to ‘watch the stars’ with some new girl thirty minutes ago.” 

“You’re the one who invited us over to your place for an all-nighter group study session and you’re calling it quits before the sun is up? As expected, you’re weak.” 

He was right, this had been Ichigo’s idea, Yuzu had offered to make them dinner and his dad had plans tonight, so they were guaranteed some peace and quiet. Despite the noise and the chaos of their group, he missed hanging out with his friends. Ever since the school had given them voluntary study holidays for the upcoming University Entrance Exams, he didn’t get to see much of everyone, as they were either studying or training for competitions. Even today, Tatsuki and Chad left after dinner because they had to get up early for practice and they had decided they wouldn’t be giving the exams anyway. 

Ignoring Ishida’s pointed attempts to rile him up, he turns his attention to Orihime, who despite enjoying their banter, was more focused on the cram book in front of her.  

“Inoue, how are you still so motivated and so… awake?,” he asks, exasperated. “It’s almost 2 am! And you’ve been scribbling away furiously for the last thirty minutes. What are you even studying?”  

“Mouuu, you’re right. I’m not able to solve this proof anyway. Maybe I should call it a night?”

“Electromagnetism?” Ishida asks, skimming the title of the chapter, “Oh, I’ve done this one, I can explain this to you if you want.”  

He doesn’t know what irritates him more, Ishida’s nerdiness, or the soft look in his eyes as he unfailingly offers to help Orihime out, as he’d been doing a lot more of late, ever since they had started studying for the entrance exams together. In fact, it’d been this way this entire evening, starting from when he took a seat right next to her at the table as if he fucking belonged there, leaning over into her notebook, whenever she needed help, his arm casually brushing against her long, silken locks, her answering smile bright and incredibly close to him, and - Ichigo forces that thought to a halt because it has him gritting his teeth.  “... For God’s sake, give her a break,” - 

“... Shut up, Kurosaki, not everyone is applying to study *English* in University”- 

“And what exactly do you mean by that, asshole?” Ichigo snarls, with more venom than needed, because despite having had enough with Ishida’s condescending attitude towards his study choices, his recent behaviour had Ichigo prickling under his skin.  

“... Err, Kurosaki-kun…” Orihime starts, because she’s used to Ichigo and Ishida arguing (they’re just being affectionate, she always insists), there’s a glint in Ichigo’s eyes that’s different.

“... Exactly what I said, some of us don’t have the luxury of skipping the math and science exams,” - 

“Ah, Kurosaki-kun is right! I think my brain really can’t function anymore tonight,” Orihime declares loudly, inserting herself in between them. “Kurosaki-kun, I think I will leave now. Thank you so much for hosting us today.” She bows, her formality annoying him even more, but still throwing him off guard.

As always, Orihime’s pleasant demeanour diffused the rising tempers… somewhat. With one last glare, Ishida grudgingly agreed, “Then I guess I will take my leave as well.” 

Ichigo wants to be polite and say something like, “we should do this more often,” but he’s pissed off, and couldn’t wait to be rid of Ishida’s arrogant mug, so instead he offers, “Inoue, can I walk you home?” 

He doesn’t notice the faint red on her cheeks or the hesitation on her face, when she mumbles, “If it doesn’t inconvenience you.” And he’s torn again - tearing his eyes away from the pretty blush dusting her cheeks unable to stop himself from wondering bitterly if she’d let Ishida walk her home without much protest.

“Ishida lives in the other direction and it would be out of his way, so I don’t mind.” 

“Well then,” Ishida says, looking at her with more fondness than Ichigo would have liked, “Your eyes are all red and puffy. Sleep well. Don’t strain yourself, okay?”

“Yes sir,” she gives him the salute, “... good night!” 

“... And text me that you got home safe. This idiot can’t be trusted with anything,”- 

“... for fuck’s sake, just go home already!” 

“Kurosaki-kun,” she whispers, amused, as she watches Ishida walk away with a cheeky grin on his face, “you’ll wake the neighbours with your angry yelling.”

“Ah, you’re right,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck sheepishly, as their footsteps fall into place beside each other, “I’m sorry for all the swearing, I don’t know why I let Ishida under my skin so much.”   

“Hmmm,” she says, “It’s kind of cute, your bickering. If this were a yaoi novel, I’d totally ship it!” 

“... what the hell?!” His face is red, not just because the thought of him… and Ishida… Ew. But also because this is coming from Orihime, the last person he’d ever expect to engage in fantasies of this sort.

Giggling, she quickly switches to a more somber note. “You seemed... on edge today. Did something happen between the two of you?” 

He doesn’t know how to answer that question. Truth be told, he’s barely able to understand it himself. Sure, there was the usual trading of insults that took place between the two of them, but it was different this time. His whole demeanour just pissed him off. The way he always seemed to know what Orihime was asking, the way he was always able to help her, the familiar way he spoke to her… and the revelation that they’d been studying together for weeks now! 

“I don’t know,” he sighs, because he can’t even explain what he is feeling, let alone the reason behind it, “... I guess it’s just the stress of the exam.” 

“Ugh, tell me about it,” she whines, “I’m so thankful Ishida-kun is giving the same exams as me, and we can share practice questions and tips. I really wouldn’t be able to do this alone.” 

He ignores her mention of him and the tick in his jaw in reaction. “But I don’t get it. You’re giving almost all the exams. Why?!? There’s surely no need.” 

She blushes, ashamed, “I know it sounds stupid, but I really haven’t decided what I want to study in University. I figured if I just gave all of the exams, I would have more options to choose from.” 

“... Come on,” - 

“... And I will also prefer to go wherever I get a scholarship.”  

His fist clenches, “... So you’re definitely applying outside of Karakura?” 

“Yeah, although I’m not sure if there’s any point. It’s so difficult to aim for the National Universities, I’ll never get through. But the counselor says it’s worth a shot for the scholarship.”

“... I thought your aunt was helping you with tuition?” 

“... Only till high school. And I cannot burden her anymore. I’ve received so much from her already.” 

Ichigo doesn’t miss the way her voice wavers at the end, the guilt evident in her words. And he can’t stand it. “... Cheer up,” he says softly, playfully elbowing her. “You’re one of the smartest kids in school. Rank #2 after all the shit we went through last year! If anyone can do it you can.” 

“... You think so?” she mumbles, looking up at him, her insecurities heartbreaking in the grey of her eyes.  

Everything about her is so honest, it hurts him a little bit because his first thought is to say no, to talk her out of it, because the revelation is too sudden, too jarring - he can’t bear  the thought of this town without her. But he nods, smiles encouragingly, because that’s just way too selfish.

Shaking his head out of these thoughts, he asks, “... what was the counselor’s recommendation, again? As a career path?” 

“Ah, Hirata-san said maybe I should just follow my love for baking,” she says, smiling. 

“... and? Why don’t you consider that? You wouldn’t have to give these blasted exams then.” 

He liked the idea of this, now more than before, momentarily regretting his role in convincing her to apply to university. Orihime working in the local bakery, coming around his house everyday to share the leftovers, staying back for dinner maybe… 

“... but Kurosaki-kun was the one who said I wouldn’t be very good at it!” She pouts, “You said I’d make too many things in weird flavours and nobody would want to buy them.” 

Crap. He truly felt like waltzing back in time and whacking the past version of him for saying something like that.  Because if it were anyone else shitting all over Orihime’s dream, he’d have sent the punk flying. Where were all these feelings coming from anyway?! 

“... Shit, I didn’t mean,” - 

“... it’s okay, you’re right. And besides I can work there part-time through University. I was thinking…” She took a deep breath. “Well, actually, it was Ishida-kun’s idea. Maybe I could study to become a doctor? My strength is in healing people anyway…” 

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Well of course, he'd say that. He's going to study medicine too." And of course he would try to talk Orihime into it. The bastard had taken every opportunity to slither by her side - 

She laughs, a pretty sound, interrupting the profanity in his mind. "Yeah, he did say it would be nice to have some company… but I'm not sure." Sighing, she asks, "How did you decide on English Studies?" 

It wasn't too difficult for him honestly. It helped that he was fairly certain he didn't want to study math or science going forward. "... I like stories. And I want to be able to read and share stories in a global medium, so I decided to study English." 

He looks at her only to find her looking at him in fascination, "... Truth be told, I didn't spend too much time thinking about it. The career aptitude test returned similar results as well, so I just went with it." He shrugs, "I think I'll enjoy it. Let's see." 

"Ahh, you sound so optimistic about your studies, Kurosaki-kun. I wish I could be like that." 

They've reached her apartment building now and she turns to look at him, wistfully. He wishes he could do something for her, ease her anxieties in some way. 

"What about you?" He asks. 

She looks at him, puzzled.  

"... You've told me all about what everyone wants you to do. What do you want to do? I'm sure you must have some inkling." 

“... I,” she stops, opens her mouth again to say something, but nothing comes out. “... what I want… ah, you’ll probably think it’s silly.” She smiles wistfully to herself, because this wasn’t something that she’d ever admitted out loud.

He rolls his eyes, “... Try me.” Because she was many things, and yes, definitely silly sometimes in that unique way of hers, but he would never, could never, call her dreams silly. It’s a moment of realization for him, when he gets angry with the way she dismisses her own dreams that way, and he feels overwhelmed with the desire to pick them up, and keep them safe where no one can trample them, along with that spaced-out, wistful smile of hers. 

“Well,” she gulps, nervous, “I’ve never really thought too much about going to university. Sensei says I’m wasting my potential... but honestly, I think I’ll be happy working.” 

She looks at him unsurely, waiting for a reaction, an opinion, like everyone else. Everyone who’d been urging her to continue school and pursue all kinds of studies that she could possibly do, but… “I just - I want to build a simple life with someone I love. A family, maybe, someday.” 

It comes out so fast, she wishes she could grab the words and shove them back in her mouth. She chances a glance at him, her cheeks hot and furiously embarrassed. 

His expression is unreadable as he gazes down at her. She’s beautiful in the moonlight, he thinks, and it isn’t really a revelation to him, but the melancholy of her beauty is, the loneliness that he wishes he could extinguish as easily as he does hollows. “A simple life huh…” he murmurs. And he can almost picture it, Orihime, ten years from now, a child in her arms, a little boy maybe, with her wide brown eyes and - 

“Well, looks like you have planned it out better than any of us,” he manages hoarsely, unable to look her in the eye anymore. Not with all these… feelings simmering so close to the surface. And before he can help himself, “Do you already know who this mystery man is?” 

He’s come to realize how absolutely unequipped he is to hear the answer, but her unassuming statement has already taken residence inside him somehow, a burning sensation accompanying it. 

 His question jolts her into consciousness, and she notices they’re almost at her apartment. “Ah Kurosaki-kun is very curious today,” she laughs nervously, “only one confession per day! That’s the limit!” The fake cheer in her voice grates in her own ears but she hopes desperately it will steer him away because she’s this close to telling him sometimes, and this was one of those times. Especially in these rare moments when she feels an odd mixture of weakness and greed, where she wants to latch on to him and ask him to stay by her side, hoping selfishly that his kindness will make him say yes. But Orihime was practiced at hiding those feelings away. 

 “Is that right,” he smiles teasingly, albeit weakly, “... I didn’t know you were so mysterious, Inoue. Well goodnight, then.” 

And as he watches her climb up the stairs to her floor, and then lean over the railings to wave goodbye one more time, he can’t help but think of that image of her again, happy and in love and so beautifully fulfilled. And he thinks of the shadow of the man next to her, who will protect that dream and that smile, and his stomach clenches bitterly. 

“You deserve it,” he whispers to her retreating figure, “... You deserve all of it.”

- fin - 

A/N : The ending was cheesy, I KNOW UGH

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

Face to Unfamiliar Face pt 2

“Wait, Lo, are you sure?” Bug demanded. 

“No, which is irritating,” Berry - Lo - admitted. “But it would explain the house, and Ro, and Virgil’s non-response.”

“That’s…” Bug was at a loss for words, and Lo looked rather wild, parsley growing rapidly at his feet.

“If no one were immune to Pat, there was no buffer to knee-jerk reactions, regardless of his avoidance of the gift.”

“No one in Wick Hills has ever looked a Banshee in the face and said ‘fuck you’,” Bug added. Leith might’ve been having an out of body experience. Could there really be an alternate timeline? What had happened to him in it? Had anyone really survived saying such a thing to his mother?

“And without a confrontation with Eirwen, there never would have been any cause for a grudge between the Gages and the Sanders - why he knows you and not me,” Lo continued.

“So…Pat’s all alone, and Roman hunts, and you’re…” Bug gestured in the vaguest possible manner.

“Virgil…” Lo breathed, as though completing a thought. Bug reached for him - just in time, it seemed, as he made an effort to lurch away. 

“Lo, hey!”

“Thomas, it’s Virgil, I have to -“

“Lo - Berry - hey. I know. But what are you going to do if I let you go?”

“Find the clearing? Find the shawl? I have to do something!“

“The shawl won’t be done,” Thomas insisted gently. “It doesn’t matter how soon you get to it - it still took them years in our place, didn’t it?”

Lo let out a noise that was some combination of growl and whine. A moment later, he shook Thomas off and turned to Roman.

“Take me to the clearing, please.”

“What clearing? Why should I take you anywhere? Why should I believe either of you?”

Lo stared at him for several moments. Then his eyes fell to that half-tame cat. 

“…Perhaps let Desdemona make the decision?”

“How do you know that?” Roman demanded. Leith almost agreed, except that he was beginning to believe them. 

“Would you trust us at the Spider Prince’s casket, Dizzy?”

“I’m sorry, what?!”

“You heard me, Leith.” He twitched and frowned.

“Lo,” Thomas said warningly. Lo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I understand the Serpent King has his own version of the story. It does not include the enchanted sleep that he cast. We cannot break it without an item that currently doesn’t exist, so - you’re safe, regardless of any implications the Serpent King may have laid.”

“You people are insane.”

“But I guess I am too,” Thomas jumped in, sing-song. 

“Peridot continues: Anyone would be if they were stuck on Earth with you,” Lo said fondly. 

Well. At least Leith knew now it was a reference, but he was about ready to run the changeling and his imprint through with the hunter’s blade himself. They were strange, confusing, and reckless. And yet, Leith found he was beginning to trust them, despite the fact that they had suddenly grown careless with names.

“What?” Roman suddenly blurted. “No, that is not how it works!”

“What did she say?” Thomas asked, grinning. 

“It doesn’t matter, because it’s not a good reason.”

“Was it the reference?” Thomas asked relentlessly, grinning wider. “You like Steven Universe, too, Dizzy? You’ve got great taste.”

The cat’s purr was audible after that, and Roman was fuming but no longer arguing. 

“Fine. Fine!” He turned on his heel and stomped off. Lo and Thomas followed. Leith wasn’t sure he could’ve gone home if he wanted to, not with his name in a stranger’s mouth and a whole alternate timeline apparently hinging on his mother. So off he trailed, the caboose of their strange train. They had been walking for some time when Roman stopped. He offered a hand to Thomas. Thomas took Lo’s hand despite Roman’s scowl, and Leith stared at the free hand Lo offered. He took it. Roman stepped off, and the forest shifted around them, and Leith was suddenly almost angry. How could any part of the forest be hidden from the Fae? Especially a Green Man?

“It’s made to keep Gentry out.” Leith jumped at Lo’s voice. He pulled his hand away quickly, his skin tingling after even such a brief sort of lingering touch. He stepped away from the others, looking around the clearing. It was - well, exactly as one would expect a Spider Prince’s clearing to look. 

“So he’s a Prince?” Roman drawled, crossing his arms, his eyes narrowed at Lo still.

“Don’t pretend you hadn’t imagined he was,” Lo shot back. He walked forward with careful steps, smiling at the iridescent spiders that filled the clearing. 

“Hello, girls. If I could have a look at your brother?” Leith was a bit startled to see them scurry away from the section of the casket where the Spider Prince’s face must be. “Thank you,” he murmured. There was a beat, and then he kept talking. Leith was probably the only one who could hear his undertones.

“Hello, Virgil. You don’t…know me, here. But I know you. You’ll have to be introduced to sci-fi when you wake up to understand. …I don’t know how to get the shawl from May, but I’ll see what I can do. You, and Pat, and Ro, and…” he trailed off and sighed. “You all need to meet.”

After that, Lo didn’t say anything else despite the fact that he kept staring for a while. Eventually, he pulled back.

“Ro? If Pat is not your friend, then do you know where he hangs out?”

“Why would I?”

Lo sighed deeply. “Right. Of course. The park? No, because Chad probably ran him out of it ages ago…”

“The farmer’s market?” Thomas suggested.

“Unlikely, even if it is set up today.” Lo grimaced.

“The farm?”

“I suppose we ought to start there. Although I doubt the Wallers will trust me if they see me.” He grimaced again. 

“Why are you going looking for him? What do you want with all of us?”

“To get you in the general proximity of each other and hope you’re not all too old to change.” Leith was struck by the depth of his seriousness - his words had enough gravity that even Roman didn’t argue.

“So. We’re off to the Waller farm.”

Once more, Lo took the lead. Thomas followed without question; Roman, begrudgingly. Leith exited the clearing and kept walking until they reached the edge of the woods. At the edge of the woods, a shiver came over him. If the Serpent King found out, he would be gravely displeased, especially since he’d be going to the Wallers. But - there was something wrong with him having been raised by Eirwen, and they had still not said outright what had happened to him in their timeline yet. Plus, White was one of the only Fae that would speak to him without animosity, and news of her godson would be the best gift Leith could give her. With a deep, fortifying breath, Leith left the forest for the first time in his life.

“If we check the house, Ro or Bug will have to knock. L or I will just panic them.”

Leith was not particularly paying attention - he was more invested in seeing cars and farm tools in person. Seeing iron in abundance was, frankly, bizarre.

“Ro’s not friends with him, though, right? And neither am I.” Thomas grimaced.

“Well, I look like you, so I’m out even if they don’t notice the ears. And L…”

He tensed as three faces turned to him. Automatically, he broke eye contact to stare dead-ahead, neck ramrod straight - a ducked head led to laughter or cruel trickery. Leith wondered distantly what they saw. An unfortunately powerful Spring? A child with the options of “be quiet or be elsewhere”? Or just another person - bansee-black hair tied back with a vine he’d made, silver eyes, his skin paler than a fresh shoot but undeniably green, sitting a little taller and a little older than them despite how unusual that was for a teenage Fae?

“Well, they’d never hear L out,” Lo finished. Finally, the eyes left him.

“Well, somebody’s gotta look in the house,” Thomas pressed.

“I’ll do it.” Roman crossed his arms. “I’m the only one actually from around here, apparently.” Leith opened his mouth, but Roman cut him off before he could even really draw breath to speak.

“You don’t count, Green Bean.” Before Leith could argue, he was walking off to the door. They watched Roman as he knocked and smiled charmingly and made up some story - Leith felt a spike of jealousy at the ease he did it with - and read the Wallers’ answer in their body language before Roman had to return to relay it to them.

“I don’t think they were lying, either - he’s out and he didn’t tell them where he was going.”

“Hang on,” Lo said, then darted to the barn. Leith could hear him looking around inside, but after several moments, he returned, shaking his head.

“Not there, either.”

“Well, if you’re sure about the park, and he’s not here…” Thomas trailed off. They threw ideas at each other, and Leith zoned out quickly - he only had the barest ideas of the geography of the human part of Wick Hills. He entertained himself by encouraging the grass at their feet to grow higher - to the soles of their shoes, above their shoes, to their ankles, approaching their calves…  He smiled as a rabbit approached to nibble at the longer grass. He called up some clover as a treat, and his smile widened when the rabbit went for it.

“Oh!” Leith startled at Lo’s exclamation, and the rabbit scampered away. Leith scowled. “The cemetery.”

“The cemetery?” Roman echoed skeptically.

“Yes. I’m certain. Let’s get your truck,” Lo said. He and Thomas took off, followed by squawking protests from both Leith (“Isn’t that made of iron?”) and Roman (“Excuse me, I didn’t say yes, yet!”).

~

V: The plot it THICKENS *rubbing my little gremlin hands together*

[senboago]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO

Were they relevant to the main story?  YES / NO

Were they relevant to the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. ( more like mixed but eh )

How strictly do you follow canon?  — I may not roleplay him as much as I like, but I do try to stick to as canon as possible. However, Mizuiro is a very side character, with very little screen time, so much of it is also left to my own interpretation of his whole character. We’re at least lucky Kubo included a chapter about him, Keigo, Chad, and Ichigo when they first became friends, and the little snippet of his personal life in that chapter. So that’s at least something to give more depth into him rather just one of Ichigo’s school pals.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  Look I’m not gonna try to oversell my boy. But understand that he is absolutely precious and must be protected at all cost. In what is known, he’s had a rough childhood and be hooking up with older ladies like a gigolo, and that’s at least been since he was in middle school. He’s also a tactical person, very smart even if isn’t academically but street-wise, and so fucking brave. He was literally the calmest of the group when Aizen came to the real Karakura Town. The guy literally threw a fucking bottle at one of the biggest baddies in the Bleach universe and deadpans at the results-- like bitch what? And let’s not even mention how he chucked a homemade bomb at him too. Like, I wouldn’t be shocked if Aizen saw Mizuiro again and got petty af at this lowly human that gave zero shits in that little scuff. My boy was probably scared af, but took charge like it was no one’s business in order to save his friends.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  He’s such a side character. Him and Keigo are introduced at the beginning of the series, and then left to have nothing to do with the main story. Sure there were some scenes in which they interacted with Kisuke or Shunsui, or that little fight between them and Aizen. But there wasn’t anything major. Nor did Mizuiro get his own moments, like Keigo did with his sister and Ikkaku. The most he got was one single chapter that took a single glimpse into his home life. And it’s really sad and tragic, even if most of it was implied.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  Well... I have thing for unpopular side characters. Mizuiro happened to be one of them, especially since the scene between him and Aizen. He appears as such an interesting character, yet is left on the sidelines so much. There’s so much unknowns with him, things left to be implied and speculated outside of Ichigo’s and the other main character’s pov. Like when did he start seeing ghost? Why were he, Keigo, and Tatsuki in Kisuke’s basement when Ichigo and the gang left for Soul Society the first time? When did Kisuke even approach them? What exactly prompted Shunsui to approach them, offering them a ticket to the Soul Society if things went south in the war? There’s a lot more that runs through my head with Mizuiro, and this includes Keigo and sometimes Tatsuki, since they’re together so much. I want know, understand him, get an idea of what’s been going on while Ichigo and the gang are playing hero in the Soul Society.

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  Honestly... I’m not entirely sure. I don’t play him often, and part of that is the lack of Keigo and Tatsuki. But I love him too much to abandon him again. His character is so underrated, and I just wanna do him justice. Bring a light to an untold story.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO. ( at least I hope)

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO. ( i want to, but i never know how )

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO. ( again i want to, but... )

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO. ( maybe if i gave him more spotlight )

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO. ( i’m always concerned about my descriptions and grammar )

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  Constructive criticism, of course. Sometimes I may get defensive, but that’s just a human instinct. I do take it to heart, making note of it for later.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  Yes! Always! Even if it means making me think on the spot or just actually putting into thought on the subject. Development is always great in a character, because it brings more depth into them, and I’m always into that!

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  It would depend. I would love to discuss it. However, if it’s something that completely diverts him from canon, goes against the universe, etc. then I’m not so sure I’m interested. And with my shinigami au, I’m much more hesitant. But I am open to their take of the au, such as his possible rank and division from where I have him at now.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  I mean... There’ll always be different opinions about a character. And again, it would depend on what it is they disagree with. I’m a hesitant person on this, as I try to keep my muses as canon as possible. And while Mizuiro doesn’t get a lot of backstory or scenes, there are some canon things I prefer to keep in my portrayal and I will defend it no matter what.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  Honestly I don’t understand why they would. He’s never really been shown with a negative lens in the series, except when dealing with his home life in one chapter. But, if someone really does hate Mizuiro, then that’s on them. I won’t waste the energy to change their mind, nor be stressed about. I’ll still be confused, but that’s about it.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  Please! Do this!! You’d think since I’m a native English speaker, I’d know how to properly write in my own damn language. But truth is, I’m really bad at it! Most my writing I feel turns more poetic because of this-- or some details are often missed because I didn’t write it properly.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  I try to be, and for the most part am. I’m one of those writers willing to dive into more sensitive topics, if for the sake of character development and exploration. Not to mention, I have a very thick line drawn between the writer/mun and their characters/muses. At least in the case of myself. Also, good reminder that I’m extremely shy, so more than likely I’m being anxious about whether I should pm you or if sending this or that ask from one of my muses is okay or not, even if you say otherwise.

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by:  no one. i stoleth off of @ryusxnka​ Tagging: you wanna steal it? do it. i dare you.

[monkey-network]

Good Stuff ~ Stray Thoughts: Steven Universe’s Movie

It’s high time I finally looked at this film. 100%, Monkey Style. Let’s roll...

Ah, a curtain raise. Fancy Schmancy.

Chance the Rapper! Good seeing him have a hand in the music, cause I doubt it’ll sound any different.

I wish the tale was more than just about Steven

Lucky she got planet earth, I guess.

*Holds onto the laugh* She latched onto Greg’s seed. HEHEEE KEK! 

That’s one way of putting it

You know, I would’ve preferred he was 18 instead of 16. It makes sense that he’s still a teen, but that is me

I guess this film wouldn’t have gone the way it did if Steven didn’t dox himself like that.

“Saving.“ That reminds me. What of the Cluster? “They’ll never mention it.“ I know. *sigh*

I’m so glad this time skip makes me ask more than accept, trying to make me compelled for season 6 to know what happened in between that time. You’re not slick here, movie.

“The White Power Hour will be right back“

Am I the only one finding this scene with the Diamonds creepy?

“Come on, Steven. You’re all that stands between me and doing the racism.“

Connie! Glad you look spry and well in your 65% of screen time.

Cheek peck! Lovely!!!

Shoot, they could make a whole episode about him being a guest at the space camp. I mean I’m saying this cuz I doubt they are.

Ah, the “What Could Possibly Go Wrong?” song.

Zach is quite the singer when he can sing more naturally

Come on Pearl, don’t make me believe Rose was a character

Oh the chest is open. Neat. Wish I cared.

Unconsenting head warp

1st Born Amethyst is adorable.

*sigh* Wonderful. It’s a shame I’m gonna forget this song.

Ah, the best character in the series has arrived

Real Talk tho: How did our antagonist get to Earth with that craft so quickly? Like, let’s say it took 10 real minutes at best between Steven giving his Homeworld speech to resting on that hill. She just had that injector, roaring to go, and knew exactly where Steven might’ve been all in that short amount of time? “You know logic is not this show’s strong suit.” Let me dream, damn it!

Again, none of this would’ve happened if Steven didn’t out himself

Ruining other people’s happiness. I love her already.

Why did Steven getting his face kicked feel satisfying?

“Pink Diamond“ Ah, the secret word.

While “Other Friends” is such a bop, one of the only good songs so far, I knew this movie would have it’s musicals take place every.... less than five minutes.

Wait. The villain has stretchy powers, so there's an in-Universe reason to be off-model all the time? Oooooh, they’re fucked.

It was at that moment the villain knew, he fucked up.

Again, Steven getting kicked feels so satisfying.

Reaper? Awwwww ye!

I’m telling you. She let him slice her. 

What? How can he not control his powers while he’s aware of- ugh.

Surprised he didn’t revert back to no neck Steven

Ok, that quick censor joke got a laugh outta me.

Two for two laughs, Greg is on a roll

How would gems know what seashells are?

Three minutes apart. Not bad.

Whaaat was that zoom?

Ah, the “For the Newbies/clueless” song

We’re doing the amnesia plot, Pearl, keep up a bit.

I’m somehow giddy and uncomfortable at Spinel’s presence.

Beautiful song. Sad I won’t remember this one.

Wonderful lip sync there.

Oh no, chekov’s scythe.

Heheheheheheh, Spinel’s dead eye stare

Ah Lapis, if only the show treated you better

That’s some morbid logic. I can dig it.

Seriously, if you are aware of your powers, then why can’t yo- ugh.

Ye, get the Diamonds. They could punt the injector out, everything could go as planned. Only problem would be having to listen to them.

I doubt Garnet would know what to do, honestly.

Spinel’s VA must’ve had a blast with the role

About five minutes apart. Doing better.

Song is better too. Not memorable, but it’s a fist pump worthy tune.

Dang it, Spinel, you’re precious!

I’m with Steven, I’m getting Cupcakes vibes with that pizza slicer

Ye, just let her pick up that weapon. It’ll conveniently advance the plot.

Oh a lovely constitutional for those two.

Rise of the Shield Hero!

Four minutes apart. Slightly better.

Weakest song by far, but the visuals were amazing.

Subtle moment here. I’ll express later.

Is Onion teleporting?

So sad Ronaldo.

Okay, that was a wholesome moment. “That’s why Amethyst and Steven ARE the best.“ You know it. *fist bump*

Ye, I think it’s best to get out of there?!

I doubt it’s gonna kill everything on Earth

Oh wait, what about the Clu- “It’s not gonna be mentioned.” The Cluster deserves better, man.

I honestly would’ve loved to see Steven lift that entire thing

Great, you made it worse.

But forget the end of the world. We got music to make.

A little over five minutes. Pretty good.

Why am I getting Pat Benatar vibes from this tune?

'Disobedient’ is bad btw

The look Steven and Greg gave before rocking out? I felt that. Now....

There comes a time in all forms of media consumption where you are so utterly bewildered by an event taking place that there are so many things wrong with it that you don’t have words and you simply laugh..... 

When I saw this sequence for the first time I wish I recorded it. I burst out laughing, struggling to compose myself, and I was fundamentally blown away at what in the world I was seeing. And the kicker? I wasn’t even entirely sure of why..... 

It’s like so many issues cascade on your brain at once, you are overwhelmed and you couldn’t possibly pass it out in the amount of time you have left before something utterly ridiculous happens on top of what you just saw.... 

So that is why posts like this exist, to collect and come up with a sensible way to exhibit one’s feelings about the sequence because.... what. the. fuck. Let’s roll back.

Chad Gem? Chad motherfucking gem.

Got a pompadour, super-sized mullet, potentially 8-pack, and a clean shave which surprised me the most. They just... *MWAH* pulled no punches with Multiverse’s design.

The powers however confuse me. Can he just fly now and make anyone fly? 

I get where people were coming from with their discomfort, but honestly this is the funniest thing in this entire movie. Nothing about this feels right and that just makes it hilarious.

I’m just gonna say it.... *DEEP BREATH IN* RULE 34 MUST HAD A FIE- *snap* Sorry, low hanging fruit.

Did Pearl just literally sploosh?

It’s Always Sunny honestly did this better.

Opal, you’re back for a minute! I forgot she could talk.

We All Float.

Damn Steven, you look like shit.

Steve-o, you’re not helping her situation. Comfort her, fool.

Oof, this is gonna be a painful number isn’t it?

Such a dear jester

A nice detail is that Spinel’s voice feels slowly exhausted and empty the more she shares of her memories. It makes that scene where she snapped at Steven make a lot more sense.

I also like that it isn’t clear if Steven sees what she’s envisioning but can understand what she might’ve remembered.

*taps the mic* Pink is a CUNT. That will be all.

'Drift Away’ was.. beautiful. Ugh, not gonna remember it though, which sucks.

That brings up a question. Was there never a message saying that Pink was “shattered”? Like you’d think news like that would’ve reached any and everywhere, Spinel especially. That certainly would’ve changed a few things.

Okay, ‘Found‘ was a great AND memorable song. That’s two out of.... ten. Not bad.

Greg is honestly the best in this movie.

Uh, Steven? You’re just leaving her there.

“Just Forget.“ How to make someone on edge feel worse in two words or less.

Welp, there’s Chekov’s scythe.

Pretty convenient he kept that around to further the plot.

I would say Spinel’s gone off the deep end, but.... uh, ugh I can’t help but side with her? I really just wanna give her a hug before the end of the world happens.

Garnet, are you gonna do anything? Were you this stagnant?

Ah, it’s the “Marketed like Let it Go” song.

I love that we got chill music in the midst of the apocalypse. It’s a good way to die.

Guess they saved the animation budget for the violence? Lovely.

Wait, that’s it? All that fluid and it doesn’t even look like it’ll destroy the world? Just Beach City? That kinda... kills the tension.

And why was everyone just standing there? Jesus, this feels messy.

It’s the final bout!

Tch, Get Dekt, Steven.

Shield hero’s back!

Spinel I love ya, and I don’t blame ya, but singing’s all they’ve done this entire movie.

Dead.

I got Mob Psycho vibes from that nuke. Don’t know why.

That reminds me. WHERE THE FUCK WAS THE MILITARY?! “Cause and Effect is not a stro-” Shut up!

Then stay with him, Spinel. Travel the world, be more than a single one’s friend and... oh, the Diamonds are here.

That’s a fate worse than death, dictators moving in with you.

It’s only been one night, White.... Seriously, this all happened in a day. It feels weird.

I’m with Yellow. That is sickeningly funny.

Seriously, their song is creepy. I don’t trust them like that.

I got a problem with Spinel’s ending deep down. Then again, if she can be happy... then I’m happy that she’s happy. That’s something, I guess.

Okay, I’m tired of the singing.

But when I think about it, I feel bad for Steven. All he just wanted was some time to himself where he didn’t have to deal with any bullshit. Had to teach whole dictators and remodel a whole empire. Yeah, he’s gonna change as he grows, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having “me time” so to speak. Can’t the kid have a chance to not have to worry about anything, actually live a life? No? Jerks?

Well that was a bit of fun. While the musicals and most of the characters felt like an afterthought, save for Greg, Spinel, and Steven, there were a few moments that honestly made the watch worth it, intentionally or not. I really have no interest in seeing this again, but I’m satisfied with the events that transpired and I’m glad the crew got to make this film. “What about the moral of the story?” 

Eh, it’s Steven Universe, morals are whatever.

[munchflix]

WATCHMEN - THE SUPER EXTENDED CUT

IMDB BLURB: In 1985 where former superheroes exist, the murder of a colleague sends active vigilante Rorschach into his own sprawling investigation, uncovering something that could completely change the course of history as we know it.

WARNINGS: Giant blue peen, large bepis. It's blue. Malin Ackerman can't act for shit. Attempted rape. Lots of murder. Some gore. Adult themes? Zack Snyder. Repulsive sex scene. It's not gross, it's just weird and uncomfortable. And unnecessarily long.

RATING: Who watches the Watchmen? Us...unfortunately.

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER: All reviews are done solely for humor and should not be taken seriously ever. If you cannot handle cursing, crude humor and probably some offensive things, pls do not read this. And please please don’t watch this fucking movie.

MUNCH: I want you to know, first thing, that I will never forgive you for making me watch this for a THIRD TIME. I first saw this in the theatre on my birthday and it was awful then. I spent three hours waiting for it to get better and it didn't and now you're making us watch the super extended version with 30 more minutes of shit I DON'T WANT TO SEE. I am old and I was a fan of the comic long before this detritus was filmed. I was actually excited for this shit. This movie, like a lot of the movies we review once a year, is bad. It's pretty, it's well filmed, it has a brilliant cast, and it sucks like a Dyson trying to fellate a rubber chicken.

BISCUITS: Okay...I'm gonna be upfront about this. We're gonna have to be here for each other during this review. We need to BELIEVE in ourselves, and to share our mental fortitude. That might be the only way we'll be strong enough to make it through. Even then, there's no guarantee we'll make it...but if we do, we'll emerge from the other side as changed women, now knowing the true power that the bond of friendship can hold. Or not. Actually, we'll probably just end up sad. But the point is, we need to be here for each other.

M: The Nixon makeup is so bad. All this budget and he looks like a half melted wax statue.

These are the Nixons, folks.

B: Jeffrey Dean Morgan in old age makeup? I'd still smash that. The DOOMSDAY CLOCK! That's a reference to the comic! Get it?! We're JUST like the comic!

M: That's part of what bugs me, there's so many moments just taken straight out of the comic and then the rest of it is just Zack Snyder mentally masturbating about how cool he is.

B: Let me tell you younguns - long before the days of Suicide Squad and Batman V. Superman, Zack Snyder created the first of many tragic mistakes in the saga of "DC and Warner Bros. Attempt to Movie". It was dark, overdramatic, and had little substance behind its superficially good visuals. But Warner Bros. were all like "OMG Zach, look at all this money. Can you fuck ALL our beloved properties like this???"

M: Nostaaaaaalgia.

B: Okay, Unforgettable - this song was in the comic, it was in the book. It was playing in a scene in the comic but it was when Dan and Laurie tried to have sex for the first time. I don't understand the rationale behind using a song from the comic but putting it in a completely different scene. Why did you make that change? I don't understand why you would do that.

M: Watchmen in a nutshell. JESUS CHRIST I forgot that the explosions come in about 30 times louder than everything else.

B: Why is the Comedian wearing a smiley face pin on his bathrobe? Because of the symbolism??? Nostalgia. This is from the coooooooooomic. This is the first instance of inappropriate soundtracking, which is alright the first time but gets annoying when you do it over and over.

M: I have no idea. Oh yeah..the movie. The Comedian is fighting a mysterious figure that we'll figure out who it is later. Unless you've read the comic. It's Veidt. Slow zoom on the pin with the blood spatter because it's SYMBOLISM. Also the Comedian got thrown out a window. There's also been half an hour of slow mo and we're only 5 minutes into the movie.

B: *burps loudly* Bob Dylan, because there was a reference to a Bob Dylan song in the comic. Slow shots of our great heroes, The Minutemen. Zacc Snyder, fuck you. These were the original super hero dudes who spawned the existence of all the other masked vigilantes in this universe.

M: Gerard Butler??? Who the fuck is Gerard Butler?? Hang on, I have to look this up. Oh...he's in the Tales of the Black Freighter, which is only in this super-long ultra-extended edition.

This gif makes it look like Gerard Butler is playing Sally Jupiter. This is not the case (unfortunately?).

B: Which we're watching because we hate ourselves. Historical landmarks to set up the time period. Also Silhouette was a lesbian. Dollar Bill got killed when his cape got stuck in a revolving door. NO CAPES! Mothman went nuts and got put in an asylum. The minutemen turned out fine. Also Silhouette is dead. And Gay.

M: Bury your gays. She was only alive for two minutes of credits.

B: To be fair, she didn’t really have a role in the book either. Also, Kennedy is killed. By the Comedian. Which I suppose was implied in the comic...very vaguely. This is way too much exposition. We can read about history, we don't need a recap of every single event since 1940. We aren't that dumb, Zakk. There's more politics in this intro than exposition but Watchmen was supposed to be political. I have big problems with Matthew Goode....goode? How is that pronounced? Look at all that BEEF tho. Arby’s, I got ya new commercial right here.

I’ll take the one on the far left with cheese, please.

M: Slow the fuck down, jesus. I can't type as fast as you thirst. I'm gonna make you type this if you don't slow down.

B: Glad I'm not wearing a retainer. You think Jeffrey Dean Morgan would pay for it? Also Night Owl's costume looks so shitty.

M: Seriously, slow down. I have issues with how contoured Manhattan is.

B: And then everything went bad for the vigilantes and they got banned. This is SO LOUD. Tell Zaque Snyder I get spooked easily. I don’t like loud noises, I’m like a wild animal.

M: Oh yeah so the Comedian is dead. Two detectives wonder how he died. So mysterious. It was Veidt. Don't blame me if you didn't read the comic, it's been out for 30 fucking years.

B: My other issue with this movie, it doesn't ADD anything to it's source material. If I wanted just Watchmen I'd just read the comic. I could read most or all of it in the time it takes to watch this movie. So...Rorschach is ranting.

M: That's all he really does in this movie tho is rant.

B: All the towns in the world and I had to end up in this one. The ballsack town. Comedian kept a picture of Sally by his bed but that's backwards...she kept a picture of HIM on her bedside.

M: Rorschach found Comedian's secret closet where he went to be gay. Or a superhero. Or both. So he knows he's the Comedian.

B: Well, one or two of them were gay...a bunch of guys who wear their underwear outside their pants and this is somehow surprising? More slow mo.

M: This movie could be an hour and half shorter without all the pointless slo mo. Hollis is being played by Stephen McHattie and I love him so much.

B: Patrick Wilson (you can tell it’s Patrick Wilson because he looks exactly like Patrick Wilson) is playing Night Owl and he is a very good boy. The best boy. Although he doesn't have much competition for goodest boy, most of the boys are pretty bad. Hollis Mason is played up to be more Drunk Grandpa than caring mentor figure. Raw footage of Rorschach looking like FUCKING BIGFOOT. Your local cryptid.

*X-Files theme plays*

M: That was 20 seconds of super important extra footage that we missed from the original 3 hour long movie. Okay so movie, right. Drieberg goes home to find his home has been broken into. It's Rorschach. Eating beans. HUMAN BEANS. With HUMAN BEAN JUICE. We saw you lumbering around like Bigfoot on the news. Rorschach's mask is cool tho. One point for you, Zackk Snyder.

B: Rorschach, because he's a tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist is like " I think someone's killing masks" even tho only one mask person has died so far. Patrick Wilson is a good actor but his performance in this movie is so blech. I dunno if that was the direction he was given or...

M: Part two of things wrong with Watchmen. Lots of good actors giving boring performances. I love many of these actors but they're so dull.

B: Except Malin Ackerman. It was an experimental time, Chad! All of our Bro Moments. Our BROMENTS.

M: WHY CAN'T I QUIT YOU, CHAD?!

B: Maybe Drieberg quit on account of the Keene act because it started being illegal to do the thing, but Rorschach didn't because he’s crazy. And he's doing more edgelord monologuing.

M: Holy crap the animation.

B: And now with NO CONTEXT we get launched into the Tales of the Black Freighter. It's an anime, apparently. (makes angry angry noises ) this makes me SO mad because the Black Freighter, though a story within a story, had an explanation for its presence. It's being read by someone within the bigger story. In the movie it almost looks like it was animated by Ralph Bakshi. Like the people who did Jojo's Bizarre Adventure and Ralph Bakshi had a bad trip together.

This is what I see, every night in my dreams.

M:  I guess this is being narrated by Gerard Butler?? This is so out of place. It takes you completely out of the immersion of the movie to show you this movie. That was super jarring though.

B: The comic had a lot more leeway when it came to blending the stories together. Oh and now we get a shot of someone reading the comic to bring us back. Rorschach in the comic was described as being fascinatingly ugly. I think Jackie Earl Haley is too good looking.

M: And Veidt. I hate everything they did with this entire fucking character. I hate the way he looks, the way he talks, the way he acts, the way he Veidts. I fucking hate him so much. I hate what they did with his story and the whole Manhattan cancer thing. It's DUMB.

B: Why is Dan here? It was Rorschach who warned Adrian. And they're talking about nuclear war, very important to the crux of everything. This lighting is ugly. It makes Veidt look like a greasy boy.

M: He IS a greasy boy.

B: Meeting with Dreiberg left bad taste in mouth. Like cold beans.

M: Rorschach is expositioning everything we've already seen, dialogue straight out of the comic.

B: Rorschach breaks in to see Manhattan. Rorschach asks the real questions: Does Adrian Veidt is gay??

M: That is a HUGE ASS. Btw Manhattan is naked. He is super naked. You will never be allowed to forget that he is naked.

B: Malin Ackerman shows up...to “act”.... The mention temporal interference already, so you won't be surprised at the end of the movie. They really overemphasize Manhattan's eye things. He looks like a sad panda. I have issues with his CGI, he is really over contoured and he looks really...weird....Laurie...stop talking. PLease. Don't act, don't try to act.

Pictured: Sad Panda

M: Now he's taking Laurie on some fucking weird time trip that was supposed to happen three hours from now in the story. Manhattan is just sad in this movie. All his rage and his indifference are gone. He's just sad. He tells her the future and he's sad about it. And now, 99 Luftballoons so we don't forget it's the 80's.

B: This wasn't how this happened in the comic EITHER. Zacque Snyder and his love of throwing random songs into movies with no regard for how they might impact the mood.

M: So Lori is having dinner with Dreiberg just like Jon told her too. I'm giving up on spelling any names right as of right now.

B: They reminisce about their young days when they fought crime and dressed up like lunatics and all that stuff. Ah those days are behind us. We're in our 40's but in the movie we're like 25. Jon thinks there's gonna be nuclear war and also he can't fix my bad acting. They turned Laurie into such a sexy lamp in this movie. They strip everything away from her that made her interesting. I am laurie, I am GIRL. Who needs oxygen when you have another man's money.

You so. Fuckin. Precious. When you. Smile.

M: The Sound of Silence begins playing. We both laugh and denounce Zaeck Snyder and the horse he rode in on.

B: Should have been Take me to Church. I didn't realize how awful the soundtracking was in this movie the first time. They just throw in recognizable songs.

M: Comedian is getting buried. Rorschach is here and Manhattan and Dreiberg. And Simon and Garfunkle. It's not making this scene better. It's making it so much worse. Lori has been randomly teleported to her mothers with zero context. Her mother is Carla Gugino who deserves better than being in this fucking movie. They quote dialogue right from the comic. Did Zaquery Snyder write ANY dialogue for this movie? Her old age makeup is fucking awful and she is overacting this so hard.

B: And then we have the flashback to old days where the Comedian tries to rape her. The entire purpose of this flashback in one sentence. That's the plot point. From the comic. That we need to get into the movie somehow. I suppose they're going for show don't tell. At the moment i'm just focused on how it extends this torturous experience.

M: I have a lot of issues with this part. He beats her far more severely in the movie. They start the scene almost making it look like she did ask for it with all the slow undressing. It's so fucking unnecessary.

B: And then Hooded Justice comes in and this doesn't make sense in the movie when Comedian asks him if he gets off on this. But since they don't get into this in the movie...I think they're just trying to get us to go OH THE COMEDIAN IS A BAD GUY, HE'S SUCH A BAD GUY. We can get that. Why does everything in this movie take so long?

M: Everyone is having flashbacks to their time with Eddie. Manhattan is blowing up the entirety of the viet cong while the Comedian shoots people and Ride of the Valkyries is playing for no reason.

In awe at the size of this lad.

B: NEXT TIME YOU INVITE JON.

M: And then we get the Comedian is a horrible person but AGAIN because he's gonna shoot this woman he knocked up and Jon doesn't stop him. Jon is so fucking ripped that even fuzzed out in the background you can see every muscle.

B: They tell the story of how Eddie got his scar even though he doesn't...have it in the movie? Yeah I killed that woman I knocked up but you didn't stop me because you don't care and well...you're not wrong.

M: And now Veidt gets to have HIS flashback so we can be sure that the Comedian really was an asshole. The Comedian informs everyone that their plan is garb while Jon and Laurel Ann make goo goo eyes at each other which will become relevant an hour ago because they're obviously a couple NOW. He sets Ozymandias’ (Veidt's) map on fire to emphasize his point.

B: Ozymandias will remember that. Watchmen would make a great Telltale game. And Dan has his American Dream flashback where the Comedian is helping with crowd control and we don't care what's going on because the Comedian looks DAMN HOT. In slow mo.

M: Biscuit's thirst meter has increased tenfold.

B: What happened to the American Dream? You're looking at it. Just as beefy and greasy as I imagined it. He had a really nice arm vein going on in that scene. I have a gif of that for uh...research purposes. Very swole.

Pictured: The American Dream

M: I just realized that I don't really thirst after anyone in this movie. The comedian is hot because Jeffrey Dean Morgan but my thirst level is so low comparatively. The only main chick is Malin Ackerman and uh...no.

B: You're getting gayer the older you get.

M: I can't even deny that.

B: Moloch! He's a former supervillian of sorts and Rorschach is chasing him down because uh...I don't know. He just shows up and is like Hey fuck you buddy.

M: I still want an explanation for why Moloch alone has pointed ears. Nobody else in the entire movie has that kind of deformity.

B: And he's like The Comedian just showed up in my house! He was drunk and crying! We've all been there. We've all broken into our former nemesis's house drunk and crying. Maybe that's just me...

M: Except that's what really happened....

B: And the Comedian is like - I did some fucked up shit but this is worse! The shit this unnamed bad guy is doing worse! And he says that Moloch and Manhattan’s old girlfriend are on some mysterious list!

M: It's Veidt. Rorschach tries to nail Moloch for taking a medication made from apricot pits. Which are POISONOUS BTW, DO NOT EAT THEM. Rorschach spends fucking ten more minutes slow mo fucking monologuing about shit we already know and JUST SAW. There's so much extra shit in this movie that does not need to be here. He sounds like fucking Wolverine. Is that Hollis?

B: I can't even tell because this movie is SO DARK. We get a feeble attempt to connect newspaper man and the animated comic.

M: At least it's less jarring. Comic man drools excessively for no reason. They're even leaving bits of THIS story out and making it even weirder and more disparate than it needs to be. Fucking why.

The nightmares, they never stop.

M: Okay Jesus they went from that straight to Loorie and Jon trying to have sexxors and this is so wrong and out of place. And then Jon is six people.

B: god. jon. stop. what are u doing? I took a theatre class in high school and all those kids were better actors than Malin Ackerman. Which is bad because Laurie is an integral character in Watchmen. This happened way earlier and this is why she ran away to Dan in the comic, but it's fine. It's fine. Whatever. I don't care. She gets mad but not really because acting.

M: Jon underacts but that's his entire thing. This is so disjointed. Jon is teleporting reactors to Karnak while they argue. This will be relevant later.

B: Three bepis, no FOUR! Too much bepis for my needs. Or not enough...

M: Jesus Christ.

B: And NOW laurie shows up at dan's place. We needed to drag this out because we were REALLY stretching to get this movie to feature length, y’know?? We were really scraping at the bottom of the Watchmen barrel for content. There's just not enough material to get a good long juicy film out of it.

M: Can we just skip this whole part? I'll summarize. Laurie and Dan spend half an hour whining at each other because Laurie and Jon had a fight and they kinda wanna bang but that will take three hours to get to as well for no good goddamn reason. Meanwhile Jon is putting on a suit to do a tv interview.

B: There's a lot of scenes of Dan and Laurie but there's no chemistry at all between them and there's no buildup to their actual relationship. Even Dan is so nothing in this movie and I liked him. And there's an article from the comic because this is JUST LIKE THE COMIC.

M: Why are they...oh they're going to Hollis...but this isn't how it happened. They literally make this longer for no reason.

B: I know it would be really hard to cut anything from Watchmen, because pretty much everything is significant - there's no material that can really be removed that wouldn’t be missed in the final product. BUUUT they just added a whole ton of meaningless shit to this damn movie! At the expense of scenes we actually wanted! Dr Manhattan has his tv interview. This is not gonna go well. Everyone is like wtf are you talking about Jon. Dan and Lori beat up a bunch of thugs because uh...they're living for thrills?

M: Some reporter dude stands up and starts shit with Manhattan. He accuses him of giving everyone cancer. I'm sorry I caused all that cancer. You'd think Jon would KNOW whether or not he caused cancer...he was a fucking physicist.

B: Jon doesn't know whether or not he's radioactive. Spoiler alert: he ain't. He's just had his intrinsic fields removed - really simple procedure, like taking out the appendix.

M: *cronches pizza rolls*

B: A lot less screen time for Janey Slater in the movie, too. She's like "PRETTY PATTIES TURNED MY FACE PURPLE!!!" and then Doc Manhattan teleports everyone out of the studio because he's very emotional rn. That makes...one person in this movie with intense emotions.

M: You're right there...nobody in this movie really shows much in the way of emotion. Everyone's just sorta like "well, the world's going to shit - huh." I REALLY don't like the way they incorporated Tales of the Black Freighter into this movie.

B: Idec what's happening in this stupid anime. Man wants to get home before the freighter. Builds raft out of bloated corpses. Freaky eyes. It's supposed to parallel various elements of the 'real world' storylines but it's so jarring that drawing those connections becomes nigh on impossible. In the comic, panels from TotBF were often right alongside panels from the main story, but you couldn't really do something like that in a movie. They also still don't really do anything with the newspaper corner bits.

M: Did they actually show Dr. Manhattan leaving Earth?

B: No. Not yet.

M: So they just throw us into this scenario?

B: Yep. Dr. Manhattan got ANGERY and was like "y'know what? I'm going to Mars to deliver some exposition!! Way later than this happened in the comic, but who gives a flying fuck??" And we sorta get the explanation of the way Jon perceives time - but again, much less effective than it was in the comic. Everything in this movie is so DARK. 'Dark and gritty' doesn't usually refer to the visuals of a story.

M: Jon got stuck in an experimental machine where they were doing SCIENCE. He got disintegrated.

B: Just look at the SYMBOLISM...I mean, uh, the time. Jon's narration sounds like ASMR. He eventually manages to reassemble himself, but now he's blue....and nAkEd.

M: This giant naked blue dude shows up and Janey is just like "Jon?? Is that you??"

B: Jon is super-powerful, so the govt lords him as a weapon and uses him to help end the Vietnam war, and a lot of references to nuclear power.

M: I know his symbol is supposed to be a hydrogen atom, but it kinda looks like the power button on an Xbox.

Particle man, particle man...

B: This movie feels significantly gorier than the comic...which is not necessary. Janey is worried about how powerful Jon is - or she just wants him to put some fuckin' pants on.

M: Speaking of things that take you out of the movie - Jon's ENTIRE backstory in one flashback. Worked in the comic, not in the movie.

B: Jon macks on a 16 year old girl and is like - why is this a problem? My girlfriend is getting old, I gotta get a new one. Also I'm tired of earth. Going to mars.

M: We literally zoom out from Jon's ass crack.

B: There is no reason to put a physical or cgi camera that close to anyone's ass crack.

M: Jon has fucked off and now they're interrogating Laurie about where he went. She randomly assaults one of them because she can? Why are we having this slo mo smoking moment? And now another flashback to the Comedian... oh right, we have to have Laurie's version of why this guy was a douchebag.

B: Eddie's like, you think I'd fuck my daughter? And Sally is like - yah you might.

M: The gubmint is freaking out because their giant blue naked nuclear weapon has gone to Mars. I hate the Nixon makeup so much. He looks so fake. They wasted their budget on Manhattan's cock. I can't believe we still have 2 hours of this shit left.

B: (separate tangent about her cat) I'd rather focus on my cat than this movie. Why is this scene happening? Why is it significant? Is it supposed to increase the tension with the whole nuclear war thing??

M: I don't know. Why is it going on for so long? They figured out he's on mars because there's a blue spot? Uh...Laurie is beating up a guy and chaining him to a radiator? What....What did that have to do with ANYTHING? The gubmint is now attacking Veidt for trying to create free energy...?

B: This scene is just for Ozymandias to explain his backstory...I guess??

M: I honestly have no idea what's going on.

B: It's supposed to parallel the scene in the comic where he talks about Alexander the Great and stuff...

M: This happened at the END of the comic tho.

B: But here it's just...confusing. The choices they made just generally leave you feeling confused. Not like the comic did. It's ‘Vight’. I'm right.

Adrian Veidt is gay is the most discussed in the media in the few years ago.

M: Oh and now the scene where a hitman shows up disguised as a pizza guy so we can slow mo more totally excessive gore.

B: There was plenty of violence in the comic but...you can be dark and edgy without being this damn gory. Dan and Laurie have yet another meaningless conversation at a table and now Dan is suddenly on board with Rorshach's paranoia??

M: And Dan invites her to come over but in the comic she literally ran to him immediately after Jon left. Jesus now Rorshach is fucking monologuing again. They're fucking with the order of events again and it's pissing me off.

B: They don't seem to do it with any rhyme or reason. You have to make changes to adapt to a medium but there's zero apparent reason for the changes in chronology...

M: Rorschach breaks into Moloch's house so he can get caught again. Why the fuck would Moloch know about any of this??

B: But Moloch is dead. It was a SET UP.

M: I'm losing all plot cohesiveness because of all this nonsense. I can't remember what actually happened. Ten minutes of Rorshach slow mo fighting his way out but he's gonna get caught because Veidt organized all this but they don't tell you that in the movie because of reasons.

B: We're not explaining a lot of the plot because it's happening so slowly. They caught Rorschach. They takin' im to prison.

M: Rorschach don't care. He got shit to do. And now maybe back to the animation...? Yes.

B: They do like 1/16th of this shit with the newstand corner. They should have just not at all done it. They just seem like framing to put the Black Freighter in there.

M: Except they don't do it every time, and that makes it worse. And they made weird ass changes to this story too. It's supposed to parallel what's happening in the main story but it's making NO SENSE.

B: This also adds nothing to the story and it breaks the immersion.

M: It mostly seems like an excuse to be gross. And now for Rorschach's mental health evaluation.

B: He's psycho bonkers crazy. Part of the concept of Watchmen is that everyone has issues. The complex psychology.

Look inside your local garbage and you may find a friend and boy.

M: Aw who cares about that. Let's shoot off some more fingers! We get his entire backstory in very very short flashbacks. He's still nuts.

B: This was over the course of quite a while in the comic.

M: Yeah but suddenly we're pressed for time in the seven hour long movie so we gotta condense his entire story into a ten minute scene. Which makes this feel rushed, which is fucking weird considering how drawn out every fucking thing in this movie is.

B: The comic felt like a bunch of stories being told at once but all tying in together at a certain point. Convergent stories The movie feels like a bunch of different stories that happen and then they're over. They're not tying anything together. (Biscuits starts singing Linkin Park because this part is so fucking dark)

M: So he's telling this story about how he killed a guy for kidnapping a girl and Biscuits is looking up the name of that song because she can't remember what it's called and still singing.

B: It's called Shadow of the Day...it’s like the one Linkin Park song I know

M: Okay. And Rorschach is gonna....kill this guy with a hatchet???

B: That is NOT how that happened. He tied him up and set that house on fire. But now he's gonna hit that guy in the head 20 times. And now he's Rorschach. There is no Laura, only Zuul.

M: ...Dana!!

B: Oh...Dana....is that from...

M: Ghostbusters!

B: I didn't wanna say it and have you be like - No it's from the Exorcist!

M: That would have been pretty funny in the exorcist. There is no Pazuzu, only Zuul.

B: Rorschach delivers the iconic line - I'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with me. The angrier he gets the more gravelly his voice gets. Meanwhile back at the ranch...Lori looks at Dan's shit.

M: You gotta be more specific. In this movie it might be actual shit. She's looking at this ship.

B: He's got some cool etchings, and a stamp collection. She sets things on fire. In the comic she thought it was the cigarette lighter. That's not how you put out a fire.

Laurie is an expert firefighter.

M: She doesn't have any brains.

B: She's an animatronic being controlled offscreen. Everything is so bland in this movie. We really aren't given any reasons to connect with Dan and Laurie.

M: This scene isn't helping either. It's boring and we don't care what's happening because we don't fucking care about Dan and Looooooorie. I can't think of a couple with less chemistry than these two.

B: Do you know what this means??

M: Yes.

B: We're getting close to the sex scene. It's like a case study in how not to do a sex scene in a movie. It's like the most awkward horrible thing that can be done. These scenes were in the comic, but not like this.

M: They're not gonna bang right now anyway because Dan can't get it up because uh...Adrian isn't doing gymnastics in the background and Unforgettable isn't playing.

B: Patrick Wilson's titty.

M: Did we really need to...

B: It's okay. Patrick Wilson is reasonably attractive. I would give those titties a six. Maybe a seven. Compared to having to see Malin Ackerman's tits, I would give them an 11. They're better than Manhattan's tits, which are cgen and disgustingly hyperdetailed.

M: BACK TO RORSCHACH. Who is being threatened by a little person named Big Figure because that's fucking funny. I guess. But it's also canon. And now Dan's dreaming but there's no actual meaning here because they do it wrong.

B: It really would have been better to put that in there after Dan and Laurie stop trying to bang instead of going to Rorschach?

M: And then IMMEDIATELY back to the animated parts with NO warning.

B: That was the worst editing I've ever seen. Sharks are eating the corpse boat.

M: I'm so confused. How did that shark get back up into the boat thing....

B: Who the fuck cares anymore.

M: Back to reality?? Snoop Dogg threatens the comic reading man because uh...

B: Snap back to reality...OH there goes gravity...something about spaghetti. And now back to Dan who is staring naked at his suit. There's too many behinds in this movie.

M: Are you gonna rate it?

B: I like plenty of naked behinds in other contexts.

M: I'm not even gonna ask.

B: Dreiberg is pretty ripped for being supposedly flabby and old. Laurrrrrie decides they should go fight crime.

Unfortunately, Malin Akerman.

M: Night Owl's costume is so bad. Like Ozymandias’ costume and...most of the costumes.

B: Laurie's costume is mostly see through because she can't fight crime if she's not sexy. We don't get any explanation of Dan's bird love in the movie. He's a good bird boy. That's a tongue twister.

M: They're saving people from a fire. I kinda want to go take a nap.

B: Why is he shooting into the burning building???

M: I don't know! Oh it's a water tower.

B: I thought he was just shooting up a burning building.

M: I'm sorry but she would be DEAD from that backdraft. There is no way. So now they gotta drop people off so they can bang in the owlship. Which I don't wanna see. SKIP.

B: This isn't how this happened in the comic at all.

M: Back to Rorschach again. They don't do the whole language pun thing which was so fucking cool in the comic. Big Figure. Small world. Why is all Rorschach's shit cut out??? Don't tell me they didn't have time. They see one dead guy and they know Rorschach is alive?

B: Professional dead guy appraiser.

M: Oh yeah there's a whole prison riot going on but we don't know why in the movie because they don't explain it.

B: Now Dan and Lari are gonna beat up some guys but it's so fucking dark it's like I'm watching Fan4stic. More slow mo.

M: They had to cut Rorschach's story to make time for all the slow mo.

B: I hate Night Owl's outfit. Leri's doesn't look anything like the comic either. I punched that guy! I'm a strong independent woman!

M: Rorschach goes to kill Big Figure in the bathroom which also fucks up what happened in the comic. Luri calls Rorschach an idiot and they start bitch fighting but Dan is like come on we gotta go. We have an hour left. We have to start building each other up.

B: (sings Livin' on a prayer )

M: NOT HOW THIS HAPPENED EITHER. Jon shows up after they get back and kidnaps Liri to mars where there's no air because he's a dick like that.

B: Diet bepis.

M: Laurie somehow knows she's on Mars because there's a giant glass sculpture there. Like on Mars. You know. Back to Snoop and his gang who randomly decide to take out Night Owl but pick the wrong one and beat up Hollis. Poor Hollis.

Yep, definitely Mars.

B: Obviously the editors don't care about the timeline either. Liri's mother is on the phone with Hollis talking about what happened the night before but I thought this was the same night? Who genuinely cares?

M: This movie is rated almost 5 stars on Amazon. You go Hollis, punch at least one of em!

B: The gang beats up Hollis and kills him because it's JUST LIKE THE COMIC. Hollis has flashbacks while he's getting killed. And killed by his own award. But we don't get the scene where he GOT the award. It's fine. I'm not mad.

M: Back to fucking Rorschach and Dan and Laurie and I'm tired of typing that sentence. Rorschach suddenly is sure it's the pyramid people doing all the bad but he has no fucking evidence? Dan lays the smack down and the bromance can continue.

Just like back in college...

B: We're just two dudes in a rad bromance....They're going to an underworld bar because they're looking for seedy dudes.

M: How would these dudes even know about the pyramid thing?

B: That's just how Rorschach do. Follow the money. Rorschach writes a lot of youtube conspiracy videos.

M: Dan finds out some dude helped kill Hollis.

B: Also back on Mars...ugh..his dick is moving back and forth and I know that’s realistic but ugh...It’s different when it’s just a still panel in a comic and not...this...you're made of molecular nothingness, can't you just suck it up into your body or something?

M: Back on Mars Jon goes on his seven hour long predestination trip while his dick wiggles.

B: Jon I have feelings, pls believe me.

M: You can't fucking...you can't...you can't fucking take all this dialogue and re-arrange it and make it work. It doesn't work, now it just seems empty and nobody cares. Lauree was having a total breakdown because Jon wanted HER to make him save the entire earth and now just stand there looking bored.

B: Dan and Ror have broken into Veidt's office searching for answers. Dan is an expert hacker. Creator's name was Jeff Jeff, born on the eighth of Jeff, 19-Jeffity-Jeff. So I put in 'Jeff'.

M: Do they even mention in the movie that Adrian Veidt is supposed to be like, the 'smartest man in the world'? Actually, we don't really learn anything about Veidt in this movie...What do we really know about him? He's rich? He makes plans? Possibly homosexual?

B: *Hacker voice* I'm in. Boys Folder, iconic. Veidt doesn't really keep his most secret government and corporate secrets very...well-hidden. Next to his boys, yanno.

M: Adrian had a team of like three people in the comic. His suit...

B: It has nip- It has NIPPLES!!!

M: *chokes to death laughing* I've never heard anyone so angry about nipples in my whole life.

A toast, to my suit’s nipples.

B: Did Batman and Robin teach the human race nothing???!!? Nipples on superhero costumes = a bad idea. Veidt has killed all his scientists. AND NOW - My Bubastis rant. Whhyyyyy is Bubastis in this fucking movie??????? She just shows up in this scence with NO EXPLANATION. Just, "oh hey...Ozymandias has a giant mutant lynx." and why would she even EXIST in this continuity - he doesn't need the eugenics program in this version of the story. Was he just like "I want a mutant cat, please make me one."

M: How do we still have 50 minutes of movie left??? Oh, I guess...Tales of the Black Freighter. This is still going on. Crazy guy has reached land and kills some people, believing his hometown has been taken over....who really cares. Was there really anyone clamoring for them to put this into the movie?

B: *basically says nothing for this entire bit*

M: *basically says nothing for this entire bit*

B: NO TRANSITIONS, YEAH!

M: Now we're back to have the least impassioned discussion about saving the world ever. "Jon, no, everyone will die...." That's not how this happened - that's not how ANY of this happened. Y'know what, Jon, ya big naked blue freak...

B: Laurie sounds like a teenager who's mad that her parents won't buy her a car.

M: "Do that thing you do..." This is making me irrationally angry, and I've seen this TWICE.

B: This part makes me SO mad. Irrationally mad. They fuck this up so much. We do not get any context to explain how much Laurie hated the Comedian, and why him being her father is such a big deal.

M: Also, in the comic, it was a big deal that Laurie had this realization of her own volition. It came naturally as she tried to fight back her past memories (which were not at all like this), instead of just being magically brought out by Jon.

B: They completely squander Laurie's biggest moment of emotional development, in turn squandering Jon's turning point in deciding to save the world

M: I liked the whole snowglobe bit in the comic...I thought that was like really powerful, but in this she just...throws a temper tantrum.

B: Ugly cry face. At least...I think she's crying. Might just have smelled some expired doppelganger. Jon's speech about life is also...rushed. And they leave out my favorite line. “Come, dry your eyes, for you are life - rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg.”

Acting, I think...

M: Laurie looks like she doesn't understand a single thing Jon's saying to her right now. "Jon...you're talking science again, and I don't understand it."

B: I've already complained about the inappropriate scoring. It hasn't gotten any better.

M: So Dan and Ror are heading to Antartica at record fucking speed. Rorschach tries to tell Dan how to drive the fucking ship Dan designed and built. All Along the Watchtower is playing at record loudness for no reason. Somehow they made it to Antartica in five minutes.

B: They're heeeeeere.

M: If Veidt knew they were coming why wouldn't he just open the door instead of letting them fry it with lasers? Veidt is sitting there pretending that he doesn't notice them creeping in to kill him. Suddenly we are shown that Veidt is somehow some superhuman fighter and gymnast which wasn't included in the movie at all.

B: Come on and SLAM. Hello there, sailors.

M: And now for some exposition while a vigorous swordfight is going on. Not really. Veidt is still going on and on about how smart he is and how he organized all this shit.

B: As with any mystery, it ends with the villian explaining how he did everything.

M: In the comic he literally says he's not a comic villian and wouldn't do that, but you know.

B: I could have sworn there was an alien in here....like there was something vaguely about an alien?? This is alien invader erasure and I will not tolerate it. That would break the suspension of disbelief, I guess. If Veidt wanted to make an alien and use that to unite the world.

M: Yeah that would be bonkers, especially in a world where giant naked blue men with god powers exist.

B: He is smart enough not to monologue BEFORE he pulled off his evil plan.

M: And now we see earth exploding or whatever because of Veidt and uh...suddenly we're back at the fucking animated comic.

B: The whole idea of him uniting the world against Manhattan just doesn't click for me. The alien was supposed to be neutral, to be anomalous. It also doesn't make sense that he would drive Jon to leave earth.

M: Way to pull us the fuck out of the super important ending. Slow zoom back out to the kid reading the comic who complains that it makes no sense. I feel you kid.

B: They're trying to pull everything together here with the clock and the therapist guy and everything but it was all crushed by the alien invader but now it's just Dr Manhattan's..energy force?? But they'll be able to recognize that it was Manhattans? Didn't they know that Veidt was trying to use his energy too??

M: Yes.

B: Oh it's bad. Oh no.

Bubastis’ one moment in the movie...

M: Jon and Lurie return to earth post uh..time bomb or whatever. Jon realizes the energy signature is here. He is not muddled or confused or anything though like he is in the book, so he just immediately goes to Antartica to kick Veidt's ass but then immediately goes through the intrinsic field subtractor like a fucking moron. Why would this even effect Jon? Why would the smartest man alive not figure out that it wouldn't work?

B: Laurie says things....she shoots Veidt but he catches the bullet because he's uh..just that radical. Stuff is happening.

M: For not being a comic book villian Veidt is super fucking acting like a goddamn comic book villian. Jon shows up all super huge now and he's kinda mad at Veidt. But not that mad. Veidt uses his magical remote control to show melty face Nixon demanding peace.

B: And this works because...why not?

M: Because the fucking movie has to end SOMETIME. In the comic there were hundreds of screens showing everything but you know...America. Veidt is like - this is our victory Jon and Jon SHOULD be like - you used me to blow people up dude. Fuck you.

B: Uh uh, can't do that, you'll screw up the peace! Rorschach is like fuck no, I ain't keeping this a secret.

M: I'd side with Rorschach with this tbh, Veidt is a fucking madman. He's like the fucking Governor from the Walking Dead. Ror goes out to try and tell the world but Jon kills him.

B: But of course he wouldn't do that, he told the world 35 minutes ago!

M: He literally did. Rorschach explodes and Dan gets all sad. That was my favorite Rorschach! Now Patrick Wilson's ugly cry face.

I loved that Rorschach like a Rorschach...

B: Jon decides to leave and Laurie is like but why and he's like - well I can't go back to earth NOW.

M: I don't understand why Dan is trying to kick Veidt's ass now. He already agreed to let the mass murder slide. Veidt seems unconcerned.

B: We don't get the whole nothing ever ends quote either, which was a big deal in the comic.

M: They fucked the ending hard though. Like with a chainsaw.

B: They fucked the whole movie hard. With like 17 giant dicks. This shit is way fucked.

M: So I guess Dan and Lbrbbrie go back home? And visit her mom cos you know.

B: And all the reconciliation Lrry had to do in the comic is reduced to one pathetic encounter with her mother. And it means NOTHING because we only get one little scene where Loree is SAD. The whole movie is this way. It's just a bunch of stuff that HAPPENS.

M: I don't give a shit about any of these characters. There's a lot of Lyrie and Dan kissy facing and talking about stuff that doesn't matter now.

B: Nothing ever ends but that's not..at all the way it was supposed to be done...at all.

M: WHY ISN'T THIS OVER, GOD. Straight outta the fucking comic we get the last bit where the greasy kid pulls Rorschach's fucking notebook out of the crank file to publish it so 30 years later they could write the mess that is Doomsday Clock.

B: Not EVEN gonna get into that. That's a whole other screaming fit. But that’s a comic, not a movie.

M: *AGGRESSIVE HEADBANGING TO DESOLATION ROW*

B: *AGGRESSIVE HEADBANGING TO DESOLATION ROW*

M: I don't have any closing thoughts. I'm tired of typing. I hate this movie. I hate what they do to every fucking Alan Moore venture. He deserves better. Write less deep shit Alan and they might actually do you right one day.

B: I find the existence of this movie to be a highly overrated phenomenon. I do, however, fucking love the My Chemical Romance cover of Desolation Row.

Munch and Biscuits out, yo.

[vivikawidow]

“PLEDGE TIME MOTHER FUCKERS!”

Whoops, cheers and spilled drinks. A KAPPA SO party was well underway. The KSO chapter house was located just a short walk from the campus of FILTON UNIVERSITY. Like most nights at the CHAPTER HOUSE things were heating up. 

Chapter leader, BUDDY OWEN was pledging some new recruits. Most of them were sons of bankers, property developers, and politicians. The all had that in common – powerful parents. Famous names in the city like the financial giants BECKINGRIDGE and the WEIRS of WEIR HOTEL were just some of the elite who had pledged KAPPA SO. There were of course the OWEN family who had set up the fraternity in the first place as a means of connection between the Shady City and the GREAT STATES where they came from. A former pledge described the gruelling and sometimes ridiculous rituals. The brothers were anarchic, using their powerful names to get away with all kinds of debauchery. It was a system of too much power and too little responsibility that suited men like BUDDY well. If you were a brother you would never fail an exam at the university. The principal was also a brother. Job interviews, money and satisfying every whim. None of it would be a problem for the boys of KSO because they protected one another. The former member I spoke to wouldn’t give any details and he was visibly nervous when he mentioned it but pledging KSO was never easy. When it fell into the hands of BUDDY it became downright horrific. The fifth generation of OWEN to be Chapter Leader from its original founder no one could argue Buddy’s place in the chain of command. It was this kind of establishment that TABITHA sought to challenge. She wasn’t exactly the person to advocate for what was right but it did shed light on a bigger problem. Those in power had become so comfortable in their place over the generations it left little room for the average person. 

KSO brothers didn’t care. They had always gotten along without consequences. Why should they worry then? 

In some kind of sadistic homage to that principle Buddy had some of his pledges at heel. A group of boys, probably encouraged by their parents to endure the torture of pledging, now found themselves under the control of one of the most horrific people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. 

What began as games we all had played as students – drinking games, quizzes – quickly became sinister. Suddenly violence was introduced. The boys were forced to beat on one another, cut one another. They were humiliated. There was never anything fatal. They were all potential brothers after all. It they managed to endure the torture an easy life with every possible advantage was theirs to have and they would have the eternal support of their new brothers. 

“Listen up bitches! Useless pieces of shit that ya’ll are, do you still think you got what it takes to pledge Kappa So?” 

“Yes master,” the pledges replied in synchrony. 

Buddy was dressed in a summer dress. Holding two black sex toys in his hands. 

“Turn around. Ya’ll faces are making me sick,” he instructed.

On his right stood COOPER. He was Buddy’s right hand man in Chapter House. He too was from the Great States. On his left, wearing a crash helmet from an earlier drunken game and a bra was Chad.

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Chad leapt forward. “Yeah!” he cried out. “We’re gonna tickle your balls!” He waved his arms at his genitals. “Then you’re going to suck our balls!” 

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Buddy’s cocaine fuelled gaze narrowed on his brother. “What the fuck?” He turned to Cooper. “What is it with him and the faggy shit?” 

Cooper shrugged. 

Buddy turned back to his pledges. “We are going under cover at a feminist rally. Some hippy skank dyke is trying to get us shut down. So y’all are going put on your mamma’s best Sunday Dress and beat the ever loving shit out her with these,” he waved the dildos. “Cock smack the shit out the lotta them. Do you hear me?!” His voice becoming like that of a boxing announcer. 

The pledges cheered. 

“Bud?” cried a female voice over the top of them. A cheerleader named Cheryl waved a phone at him. “Phone call.

Buddy rolled his eyes and sniffed. “I’m busy. Tell them to fuck off.” 

“It’s The Cappy,” she said. The title of respect given to Buddy’s father caused a wave of hush to wash over the room.

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“Take care of those bitches,” he instructed his brothers who closed in on the pledges. 

“Yeah?” He answered, tucking one of the sex toys under his arm. 

“Please hold for MR OWEN,” his father’s secretary announced. 

Buddy pursed his lips. “Yeah, whatever,” he replied. 

The soft voice was replaced quickly by the harsher tones of his father. CHARLES ‘CHICK’ OWEN was head of the OWEN family. He was better known as the Captain or Cappy to his friends. 

“I need you at the Court House early tomorrow,” said Chick without waiting for introductions. 

“Yeah?” was Buddy’s challenging reply. Chick ignored it. There wouldn’t be too many allowances. “Be here at nine,” he ordered. 

Buddy looked at the time on his wrist but he hadn’t worn a watch for years. Old habits died hard he supposed. 

“Judge Doyle wishes to discuss the future of your internship.” 

“Cool,” Buddy replied. The bell of the Chapter House rang. 

“Bernard?” This time the Cappy addressed him sternly. “I’m not going to be disappointed, am I?”

‘Probably,’ thought Buddy. ‘Nothing pleases you anyway, you old fucker.’ But he thought better of voicing that opinion. He just needed to take another line of powder. 

“No, sir,” he replied in his most innocent-sounding voice. 

One of the brothers looked over and laughed as one of the pledges were being carried away. It seemed they were not good enough for KSO. The doorbell rang. It was opened to a group of prostitutes, or maybe they were girls from the university. It was difficult to tell. They all dressed like whores as far as Buddy was concerned. Either way, it would provide the nights entertainment and an extra incentive for the pledges still standing. 

“Dad, dad, oh father dearest. Can I say something?” Buddy tried to break through the torrential lecture he was receiving on the other end of the phone. 

Chick Owen growled, “What?” 

“It’s gonna be a busy one. An all-nighter, in fact. Paperwork for the office and all that.I really should go.”

Chick didn’t rule as head of the Owen family through being naïve though. He had been KSO himself. Sure, he was the eldest and afforded authority on that account but compared to his brothers JERRY and RONNIE, he commanded respect. He knew his son well enough to be able to cipher through his nonsense.

“Be here at nine tomorrow and not a minute later. You and I are going to talk. If you are not here on time, I will send someone to fetch you proper.” 

“Looking forward to it. Just all this damn paperwork first,” Buddy continued his pretence. 

“Cuss me again, boy, and work will become the least of your concerns.” 

“Yessir.” This time Buddy wondered how satisfying it would be to cock bash the old man.

The Cappy rang off. Buddy turned to his party. The girls were already being fed alcohol at an alarming rate. 

Buddy waved the dildos. “Party time baby! Who wants cock smashed?” 

  ***

  A private estate in the north, adjacent to HARVESTER FARM, was where the OWEN Ranch in Coldford lay. It had been their first purchase when the family came over from the Great States. Since then they had built golf courses all over the area as well as snatching up other land for use later. DR WINSLOW, who owned Harvester Farm since the old Harvester himself fell ill, was still standing strong against the Owens’ buy-out of the area. He was one of few to do so. It was used as a personal retreat for Chick when he was in the city, which was becoming more and more often. His driver had brought him to the office of the LAW MAKERS. 

Charles ‘Chick’ Owen was fair haired and long faced. His once blonde hair was lighter in tone than his dark eyebrows. The warm weather was continuing so he wore a cotton shirt underneath his well-tailored, Luen-made, pin stripe suit. As expected it was not ten past the hour of nine and Buddy was late. 

Judge Doyle closed the door on a rabble of voices outside.

“Good morning Chick,” Karyn greeted first.

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“I hear there is good news on the KNOCK KNOCK front,” he said. “It’s been a pain in my ass for too long.” 

“Tabitha’s trial will be pushed through as quickly as the LAW MAKERS can. We want it done cleanly and we want it done now,” said Karyn to the Cappy. 

“It gives my heart some mighty fine relief to hear that,” he grinned. “The sooner the little bitch is put out of her misery the better.” 

“We’ve also managed to bring in the PENN TRIPLETS,” added the judge with pride. 

“I don’t care about those hammer-slamming weirdos. The little bitch is the only one I’m concerned with. Just make sure you have her on heavy lock down,” he added, his Great States accent pronouncing it as shoo-ah. 

Karyn informed him, “We’ve already taken steps to put the KNOCK KNOCK CLUBinto administration.” 

The Cappy grinned. “Music to ma ears,” he said. 

“There’s just one more thing,” Karyn put to him. “I took Bernard into my service in good grace. A little girl has died at his hand, which I did not sanction. I want your assurances that that will never happen again.”

The Cappy leaned forward. “I heard. Some drug dealing scumbag named Kev and his daughter were shot. They were under Ron’s office.”

“We discovered that he was passing vital information to the HEADLINERS but the girl was not a target.” 

Chick growled. “I’ll have a word with Bud. I already have Ronnie breathing down ma neck about it.” He looked over the judge’s shoulder. “Speaking of the do-gooding son’a’bitch.” 

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Ronald ‘Ronnie’ Owen – the Cappy’s younger brother joined them, accompanied by Karyn’s cousin Micky Doyle and her son Cameron. Cameron was a strong, hulk of a young man just a few years Buddy’s junior. Shy, retiring. Chick surmised that couldn’t be helped, having such a dragon of a mother to contend with. Cameron was an intimidating size but it would be hard to find anyone of a gentler spirit. 

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“Good afternoon, Mr Owen,” Cameron nodded respectfully. Ronnie was taller than Chick but a few years younger. He had the same jutting Owen chin but seemed more pleasant of face. Micky was wearing a large button that read: 

MICKY DOYLE FOR MAYOR

“No time-wasting with the campaigning then Mick?” teased the Cappy. 

“The HOT SEAT is open and it waits for no one,” Micky replied cheerily enough.

The previous mayor, FELTZ, was still missing. The LAW MAKERS were all but certain that Tabitha’s hand was in it but she was refusing to cooperate. Until such times as he could be retrieved from wherever he was, the HOT SEAT, which referred to the mayor’s office, had to be taken control of. It was located in a building in the north called CITY FACE, because of the large clock face at the front. If anyone had the bite to hold the hot seat it was Micky Doyle. No stranger to politics, he was as merciless as his cousin when it came to his pursuits but unlike the cold hand of justice, he was more personable. In a lot of ways that was more dangerous in taking control of a city. 

“You okay there, Cam?” Micky clapped his cousin’s son on his shoulder. Cameron looked up from his game with a smile. 

“You are being ignorant Cameron,” his mother barked. 

Cameron’s eyes dropped to his feet, rather than back onto his game. “Sorry mum,” he said simply. 

“We were just talking about the hard work you are doing keeping our city clean,” Chick was saying to his brother. Ronnie Owen was a lawyer and had taken over the Child Services Committee when Karyn Doyle became a high court judge. 

“I do my best,” Ronnie agreed modestly. 

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“All heart and no brains this one,” Chick laughed, putting his arm around Ronnie’s broad shoulder. He turned towards the clock, “Speaking of no brains.” He addressed one of the staff. “I’ll call Buddy and tell him to get his ass out here on the double. Pardon ma cussing ma’am,” the Cappy apologised to Karyn.

“We should have a drink to celebrate a job well done,” he said.

Karyn politely declined, “I’d rather not.” Chick looked to Cameron. “He won’t either.” 

Cameron’s pocket began to bleep. He smiled as he began to content himself with an online game he had become engrossed in. He and user name REG3 had started to become quite a team but REG3 hadn’t been online lately. Still he played on alone. 

Ronnie Owen observed Cameron. He had seen the look of abuse many times before. 

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***

  The house was cold. CAMERON hadn’t wanted to adjust the thermostat after what happened the last time. Things needed shaken up at COLDFORD GENERAL. The doctors there didn’t seem to know what they were doing. 

“There’s going to be a pretty heavy scar,” the young attending physician had said. “I could look into skin grafting.” 

He was at least ten years Karyn Doyle’s junior. He was barely a day out of FILTON Medical School. A real doctor wouldn’t have had to ask. A real doctor would have known she was going to wear her scars with pride. She would show the world what they tried to do to her and they would quiver because still she stands. 

She rubbed the scar across her neck. It was like a noose that her skin had burned through. They told her that she could wear a patch over her eye, but she refused. She would never hide, and cowering behind an eye patch was hiding as far as she was concerned. When they looked her in the eyes they would see the damage that had been inflicted. They would see how much they had tried to hurt her and a shiver would crack down their spine because still she stands. 

She looked deeper into the mirror. She lifted her chin. They would appear in her courtroom one by one and they would answer for their crimes. She would deal them her judgement. They would plea to her mercy. They would cry guilty and as her hammer fell they would beg forgiveness because, even after they tried to kill her,STILL SHE STANDS! 

The front door slammed. An angry breath escaped her nostrils. The noise of Cameron’s return home was like pots being clattered in her ears. 

“Mum?” Cameron called. When he saw her car in the driveway of their large KINGSGATE home he deduced she was home from the hospital. How clever he was. 

He sought her out. He kept calling out to her. Why wouldn’t he shut up? She didn’t answer him but still he cried out. “Mum? Mum?” 

It was a stupid title. There were so many in the world that went by that same title. It was a stupid title and ridiculously common. 

He found her in the bathroom, observing herself. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” he said. 

She could see him smiling over her shoulder in the reflection. She could smell sweat on him. The icy tone was not new to his mother but given the attacks she had been subjected to he thought she would have been pleased to have her son by her side.

“Are you alright?” He was hesitant to ask. She hadn’t said anything about the hospital or what the doctors had said. Was it his fault? Should he have asked sooner? He had been playing football that afternoon, part of training for KINGSGATE ALBION. Why hadn’t he showered when he came off the pitch? Why did he think it was okay to come home bloodied and muddy, leaving footprints over a clean floor? 

Karyn could feel her temples start to ache. She reached up and started to massage them with her forefingers. Cameron saw the warning signs. He should have known better. 

“Cameron?” She said, her voice as cold as ice but calm.

Cameron’s head dropped. He averted his gaze to the floor immediately. That’s when he saw it. Flakes of mud had dislodged from his sneakers. 

“Sorry mum,” he said softly. “Sorry mum!” He screamed as her temper unleashed. She grabbed him by the ear causing him to double over. She hit him with an astonishing force across his head. As large as he was, he would never hit her back. What kind of person would that make him if he could hit his own mother? He should have been paying more attention. WHACK! WHACK! She hit him again. The pain stung against his cheek.

“Please mum!” He sobbed. 

WHACK! WHACK! His shrieks of pain just made her angrier. Her stockings laddered as he dug his nails into her legs. 

He was beaten heavily. His nose burst and his face crashed against the tiled floor, the muddy prints marking his cheek. He started to feel a little dizzy. Something was not right but he dared not complain. She threw him back. Her full lips were puckered slightly. She kept hitting him until Cameron’s body fell limp. The blood trickling from his skull mixed with the mud and sweat. His shirt stained. 

“Are you alright?” She barked the question, still angry. She hovered over him with her hands behind her back. “Get up.”

He didn’t want her to have to ask him twice. He stood as steady as his legs could hold him. Pain was firing through his skull as the shock of the assault wore off and he could feel the full brunt. 

She wiped the tear from his eye. She clutched his face with cold, dry hands and pulled it closer to her. She kissed his forehead.

By the time they had gotten to Coldford General, this time with Cameron as the patient, fluid had gathered around the brain causing swelling. The doctors reduced the swelling as quickly as possible but Cameron would never be the same.  

Cameron had been so worried about her. When the driver who collected him from training told her that his mother had been caught in an explosion, he ran to the door to see her without even saying please or thank you. It had been the third attack on her. They tried cutting her throat but still she stands. They cut the brakes of her car and watched it plunge into the lake. She did not drown. Still she stands. They tried to catch her in an explosion and yet still she stands. She was the unkillable JUDGE DOYLE. Justice is immortal.

Free to read HERE on Vivika Widow Online or you can download for kindle by clicking HERE.

KNOCK, KNOCK: Episode 1: Welcome to the Club

Knock, Knock: Episode 2: Don’t Come Knockin’

Knock, Knock: Episode 3: Sleep Tight Sam

Knock, Knock: Episode 4: Take A Bow

Knock, Knock: Episode 5: A Room With A View

Knock, Knock: Episode 6: Picking Up Strange Women

Knock, Knock: Episode 7: No Kids Allowed

Knock, Knock: Episode 8: Kids These Days

Knock, Knock: Episode 9: Shootin’ The Breeze

Knock, Knock: Episode 10: Calling Last Orders

Knock Knock: Episode 11: Shady City Blues

Knock Knock: Episode 12: Going Down

            They tried to hurt her and yet still she stands. “PLEDGE TIME MOTHER FUCKERS!” Whoops, cheers and spilled drinks. A KAPPA SO party was well underway. The KSO chapter house was located just a short walk from the campus of FILTON UNIVERSITY.

[artificialqueens]

Just The Game We're In- Chapter 5, Part 2- Ortega

A/N: Take note, this is the smallest gap between updates of this fic you will ever experience. Hello again, and thank you so much for the lovely response 5.1 has recieved! We’re now moving onto part 2 of chapter 5, where we pick up from where we left off at Alyssa Edwards’ charity ball. Things are about to get messy, so grab whatever alcohol and snacks you can and settle in for the ride. As always, I love everyone who reads this mad, mad amounts. 

Plot Summary: Willam is a senior political advisor to the government’s minister for social affairs and citizenship, Sharon Needles. Throw in a crush on co-worker Courtney, Sharon acting weird around Willam’s colleague Alaska, an incompetent press department headed by Actual Living Zombie Jinkx Monsoon, and Willam’s job couldn’t get much more stressful. No wonder spin doctor Bianca Del Rio is permanently at the end of her tether…

They had only been at the Dorchester for two hours, and the night was already an absolute shambles.

As Willam stood at the bar with Jinkx and swayed slightly in her heels, she replayed the evening’s events in her head. Everything had started off well enough- they had found Bianca and she had greeted them all heartily, Sharon’s transgression from earlier in the day seemingly forgotten. They’d stood and chatted for a while, every so often a new waiter or waitress offering them champagne and Willam, Sharon and Courtney gladly accepting. Bianca even introduced Sharon to an ITV intern who had seemingly managed to blag herself an invite through sheer charm alone; Valerie or Valancia or Val-something.

“She might not seem much now,” Bianca had muttered after she’d been swept away by someone senior at ITV. “But in a couple of years she is going to be big, mark my words. You’ll be glad I introduced you.”

After chatting and drinking with Bianca for a while, Sharon bumped into Chad Michaels, who led her away to a small booth in the bar for a chat. It was nice- Chad really did seem to like Sharon, and so Willam was comfortable at that moment leaving them alone with Jinkx and Alaska as Courtney kept begging Willam to come pee with her.

She supposed that was the turning point of the evening; having a drunk Courtney clinging to Willam’s waist in the middle of the bathroom and telling her how much she loved her and how beautiful she was only made Willam’s heart swell and break at the same time. Having no way of knowing if Courtney was sincere or not hurt her more than she’d care to admit. So Willam did what any other drunk girl would do in that situation and hugged her back, and told her the exact same things except she meant every word, the alcohol only making the truth flow more freely.

They hadn’t kissed, although Willam had wanted to. She’d never admit that out loud, though.

When they’d got back from the toilet, they’d found Alaska on her own at the booth with no Jinkx, no Chad, and no Sharon.

“Chad took Sharon to the roulette tables- I thought I shouldn’t say anything because it was Chad!” Alaska explained, as Willam politely asked her how the fuck she’d managed to lose everyone. Jinkx had apparently gone to the bar to get a glass of water for Sharon.

“How many drinks has she had altogether?!” Willam had exclaimed. Alaska muttered a number with a “teen” on the end.  Willam almost threw up.

“Fuck me gently. Right, follow me,” she exhaled noisily, storming through the crowd in the direction of the roulette tables with Courtney and Alaska following after her. In the midst of the madness, Willam whipped her head round and turned to Alaska. “How the fuck was this allowed to happen?!”

“I didn’t want to say anything! Not with Chad there,” Alaska hissed, as Courtney grabbed a champagne flute from a waiter on her way past. Willam had to admire her method of coping. As she scanned the room, her eyes suddenly came to rest on one corner- Sharon laughing and clinging to the arm of a young-looking Asian girl with flowing dark hair, high cheekbones and dressed in a red and black gown that clung to her curves. Willam stopped dead.

“Shit,” Courtney whispered. “That’s Kimora Blac.”  

Willam instantly broke out into a cold sweat. Kimora’s face was amused, in the same way someone would watch with amusement as a monkey flung its own faeces around in its zoo enclosure. Swallowing her fear, Willam crossed the room and approached the two.

“Miss Blac, it’s lovely to meet you,” she cut into the conversation, Sharon turning around and beaming a smile at her.

“Willam!” Sharon cried, flinging her arms around her and filling Willam’s nose with the scent of alcohol. “Kimora, this is Willam, one of my lovely advisors. Me and Willam used to go to university together, we were the best of friends!”

Willam cringed and attempted to peel her boss off of her shoulders. Watching Kimora’s amused smirk, she was filled with horror at the thought of what else Sharon had told her in the short time.

“Sorry if Sharon’s said anything to offend you, Miss Blac,” Alaska cut in, her voice apologetic. Kimora simply laughed, waving her hands dismissively.

“Are you kidding? She’s great. I love her. Sharon’s said I can write an article about her,” she smiled sweetly, Willam honestly unable to tell if Kimora had sinister or good intentions. Fuck being drunk.

“It’s going to be GREAT. I’m going to be a STAR,” Sharon smiled, turning to cling to the young journalist once again. Instead, Alaska diverted her into her own arms, Sharon flopping over slightly as if she was a human slinky.

“Well, it’s been lovely meeting you Miss Blac but you know what it’s like at these events. Lots of people to see!” Willam smiled through gritted teeth, wanting to grab one of the silver drinks trays from a passing waiter and just knock Sharon unconscious with it. Then again, if Willam thought about it, the state Sharon was in really wasn’t that far off unconsciousness. Kimora nodded, understanding. Or fake understanding. Willam couldn’t tell which. Fuck, it was so inconvenient being drunk at this point in time.

“Of course! I get it. I’ll maybe head to the auction, see if I can get someone cute to win me something cuter,” Kimora smiled, Willam suddenly genuinely worried for whichever man she decided to latch herself onto. “Bye, Sharon! It was so lovely to meet you!”

The three didn’t even wait to see which direction Kimora walked away in before they whisked Sharon off back to the booths. The entire way back Sharon was rambling on about roulette, and Buzzfeed, and some vase she wanted to win at the auction.

“You’re not going anywhere near that auction, so you can shut that idea down right now,” Willam scolded her, suddenly feeling more like a mother than ever. Finally reaching the booths and practically fainting into her seat, Willam allowed herself a deep sigh of relief at the fact that they had Sharon back under control, even if she was currently behaving like a toddler stuck in the body of a grown woman.

“I need a drink after that,” Courtney said, completely deadpan. Alaska and Sharon looked at each other, then burst out laughing. Willam rolled her eyes, but secretly found Courtney’s quip just a little bit funny.

“I’m going to find Jinkx. Think she’ll probably still be at the bar judging by the queue,” Willam sighed, thinking that if she could just glug down a couple of glasses of water then perhaps she’d be able to sober up a little.

Elbowing her way to the front of the huge crowd in front of the bar, Willam was soon able to find Jinkx standing right at the front of the bar, the bored look on her face indicating that she still hadn’t been served.

“This is like a fucking zombie apocalypse,” Willam said by way of a greeting as she finally reached her colleague. Jinkx rolled her eyes and gestured in front of her.

“Fifteen bloody minutes I’ve been standing here, and nobody’s even acknowledged me. This is exactly why I never go to bars,” she sighed bitterly, ending her sentence with a pointed look at one of only two bartenders who rushed past her.

Willam indulged Jinkx in a small laugh. Thinking about it, she’d never really gelled much with the senior press officer, and she supposed that this was the first time they’d ever had a conversation just the two of them. She supposed there must have been a reason why she and Alaska got on so well. No sooner could she think any more about it than a bartender approached her.

“What’ll it be, ma’am?”

Willam looked at Jinkx in disbelief, who started laughing incredulously. “Excuse me, dickhead?! My friend has been standing here for over fifteen minutes and not even got a second glance, but as soon as a cute blonde strolls up she instantly gets attention?”

The bartender looked suitably shamed as Jinkx’s laughter continued. Willam bristled as she asked him for a jug of tap water and five glasses.

“Sorry about that idiot, Jinkx,” Willam rolled her eyes, receiving a shrug from the latter.

“Willam, it’s okay. I am perfectly at peace with this MILF aesthetic I’ve managed to cultivate. I’m just glad you showed up when you did or I’d probably have returned to you all having aged about 50 years.”

Laughing, Willam looked fondly at her co-worker. “You know, we’ve never really spent time together before but you’re a really cool person, Jinkx.”

Jinkx raised a single eyebrow.

“Don’t even start with the emotional drunk chat, you big…” she seemed to struggle for an insult for a while until she looked across at some man’s martini glass. “…olive.”

As Willam laughed, she became aware of a commotion behind her. Turning around, she saw Bianca elbowing through the crowds, stopping when she saw Jinkx and Willam.

“Christ, what does a lady have to do to get a drink around here, shag a bottle of wine?!” she greeted them, causing Jinkx to wince a little in distaste. As the bartender thudded a jug and five glasses down in front of the distracted Willam, Bianca gave her a concerned look. “What’s with all the water? Are you a fucking fish?”

“No, it’s just for…um. Well, Sharon could use some, put it that way,” Willam shrugged, turning to leave. Bianca stopped her in her tracks.

“Is Sharon fucked? Don’t tell me she’s fucked or I’ll kill you.”

Willam pulled a pained expression. “You’re not really selling it to me, Bianca.”

Bianca’s face darkened. “This isn’t the time for jokes, this is fucking serious! How many people has she spoken to in her state?!”

Willam looked to the floor. “Kimora Blac, Chad Michaels-”

“CHAD FUCKING-” Bianca yelled in disbelief, then realised she’d drawn them some attention and lowered her voice. “Chad Michaels?! She might as well have just vomited on the PM’s shoes! What the fuck must Chad have thought?!”

“In Sharon’s defence, Bianca, Chad was pretty merry herself and seemed quite happy to chat away to her,” Jinkx spoke up, calmly pouring herself a glass of water. Bianca snorted derisively.

“Christmas is merry, Jinkx. Merry and fucked are at two opposite ends of the fucking scale,” Bianca hissed at her. Just then, Bianca’s elbow was suddenly jolted by a young Asian woman stepping in front of her. Willam recognised her as Gia Gunn, one of the journalists from the Daily Mail.

“Um, Gia? There’s a queue here. I’m fucking parched,” Bianca snapped at her. It was no secret that the two had bad blood from way before the days of Darienne, but Willam had never known or indeed asked where it had stemmed from. Gia turned and gave Bianca a placid smile.

“Oh, hello Bianca. Wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you,” she raised her eyebrows and flipped some of her long, straight dark hair over her shoulder.

“Well it’d be a pleasure to see you fucking dead, but here we are,” Bianca snapped, Willam a little taken aback at just how little time she had for the journalist. Gia simply shrugged at her in response.

“I’d have thought you would have had a lot of running about to do instead of just standing there hurling insults at me, Bianca.”

Bianca screwed her face up. “Running about, what, what the fuck does that mean? I work for the government, not the fucking Olympics.”

Gia blinked once at her as if she was talking to a toddler. “Well, I just thought that since Phi Phi is announcing this new policy that she’ll be trying to get enforced tomorrow, you’d be a little worried.”

Bianca stopped, looking once at Willam and Jinkx. Willam felt as if she was frozen solid. So Phi Phi hadn’t been bluffing- and there was something they clearly didn’t know about. Bianca’s face was grave. Gia gave a little laugh.

“Gosh, Bianca, don’t tell me you’re out of the loop? The privatisation of immigration? I feel like you’d want to brief at least some of your MPs about it.”

Willam felt as if she could crash through the floor at any moment. Her mind was racing, and so many thoughts were colliding with each other that she wasn’t really sure what to think first. She looked to Jinkx in a panic, but she was just standing looking at Bianca, who was looking at Gia blankly. Gia looked slightly freaked out by the reaction.

“No, no…she’s not announcing that. She can’t be announcing that. Who told you this?” Bianca finally said, shaking her head. Willam could see her pulse throbbing at her neck, and with a sinking heart she could already tell that the night was about to take another turn for the worst.

Gia sighed and inspected her nails. “We got told by Roberta from the opposition press office that Phi Phi was calling a press conference tomorrow, and this is what it would be about.”

Bianca stood still for a few seconds then suddenly grabbed hold of Willam and Jinkx’s arms and wrenched them through the crowd at the bar, Bianca’s movements being fuelled by what seemed to be pure rage. Once free from the crowd, she stood Jinkx and Willam in front of them and leaned in close.

“How the fuck did I not know about this. One of you start talking.”

“We had no idea that the opposition even knew about this, Bianca. We’re as shocked as you are,” Jinkx said quickly, her face somewhat blanched.

“I’m shocked?! The opposition have got hold of the Prime Minister’s fucking legacy and are announcing it tomorrow, and I’m shocked?! I’m not shocked, I’m fucking livid!” Bianca said, in a voice that only just fell below speaking volume. It was the sort of pitch that made your blood run cold, the tone of voice that Willam imagined a killer would speak in.   

“Bianca none of us have any idea about how it got out! None of us have said a thing to anyone!” Willam insisted, determined for Bianca’s flamethrower of anger to be directed away from her. Bianca stood still, her brow completely furrowed. Then suddenly she seemed to have a moment of realisation.

“Sharon.”

Willam’s eyes grew wide. “No. No, no, no, no, no.”

“Well who the fuck else could it be?! You both heard her this morning, she said herself she’d do anything for it not to go ahead!” Bianca yelled, this time not caring about the glances she drew. “Where is she?”

Willam sighed and pointed to the corner booth. “She’s in that booth, but Bianca-”

Bianca stood for a second, seemingly to gather her thoughts. She looked at Willam, then at Jinkx, then at Willam again, attempting to try and make some sense of the situation. Turning her attention back to Jinkx, she finally spoke.

“You are fucking useless to me,” she told her, before grabbing Willam once more and storming over to Sharon’s table. Willam could hear Courtney drunkenly babbling before they even arrived. As they approached her table, Bianca cut Courtney off.

“Hey. Human halogen lightbulb. Was it you?” Bianca asked Sharon, her gaze like a knife through Sharon’s unsuspecting, drunk gaze.

“Bianca…what? Was what me?”

Bianca swallowed very deliberately, her anger appearing to simmer under her skin. “I know that you gave the opposition the PM’s legacy. Now…tell me you did it.”

Sharon’s jaw dropped open, clearly completely confused. Willam couldn’t think of a worse time to confront her.

“Bianca, I really don’t-”

“Answer the damn question! Was it you?!” Bianca kept her voice low but sinister, leaving Sharon just as confused as before.

“I never…I never told the opposition anything, I don’t understand what’s going-”

Bianca leant on the table with her hands, leaning into the three girls at the table whose faces were all as frightened and shocked as Willam’s must have been. “What’s going on is that the opposition have the Prime Minister’s legacy. They’ve stolen it, somehow, and Phi Phi is announcing it as a policy for her party tomorrow at a press conference.”

Sharon’s face went whiter than it usually was. “That’s impossible, they can’t know about that.”

“Don’t play this card with me, Sharon, you’ve leaked this to them and that’s the whole reason we’re in this mess!”

“How dare you? How dare you accuse me of something I’ve not done?” Sharon half-slurred, half-shouted, rising from her seat a little until Alaska put a hand on her thigh and pushed her back down. “I fight things I oppose with words, Bianca, you of all people should know that!”

“Oh yeah, in this case the words used were clearly, ‘Here Phi Phi, take this policy that I fucking hate and don’t want to have to support’!”

Willam tuned out of the argument, her mind too full to focus on anything. She didn’t believe Sharon had anything to do with the leak at all, but she really struggled to think of who else it could have been. The only people who would know where it came from would be members of the opposition, and the only currency their party could use with them was really either bribery or blackmail. Willam found herself glazing over as she scanned the bar. All of a sudden, her eyes snapped back into focus as she caught a glimpse of a blue and green patterned gown and a flash of pink gripping each other’s hands tightly and disappearing through a door just off to the side of the bar. Willam’s mind raced until suddenly all thoughts collided at once. It seemed pretty clear to her what was happening, and she hoped to God she was right and that it wasn’t just the alcohol that was clouding her mind.

“Guys,” Willam cut in, making sure her voice was able to soar over Bianca and Sharon’s argument without being overly loud. “I think I’ve got an idea. Just…wait. And try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”

Without waiting to hear or see any of their reactions, Willam sped off in the direction she’d seen the two girls head towards. The alcohol was making her feel funny, as if she was able to walk a lot faster than she would be able to normally. Crowds seemed to part for her as she headed to the small door to one side of the bar, her heels clicking erratically against the marble floor. She stopped when she reached the heavy wooden door the girls had gone through. A small, brass sign read “Employees Only”. Well, that was clearly bullshit.

Pressing her ear against the door, Willam waited, reaching into her clutch bag and pulling out her phone as she did so, swiping onto her camera and making sure it was set up perfectly. Behind the door she could hear muffled sounds, then a sort of raised moan. Willam took that as her starting pistol and barged through the door, keeping her finger held on the shutter to take a burst shot.

She couldn’t have failed to get the photos she’d wanted. Standing just at the side of a small pantry were just the two people she’d expected. Detox was pressed against the wall, now completely flat against it in shock, whilst Roxxxy, who had previously been pressing against Detox and kissing her neck, had suddenly jumped away. The only evidence that they’d done anything was Roxxxy’s smeared lipstick, a flush of pink against Detox’s neck, and their crumpled gowns. It was, admittedly, pretty damning evidence, but not as damning as the photos Willam currently had on her phone.

“Willam, what…what the fuck?” Roxxxy spoke first, backing away from Detox that little bit more. Her tone was intended to be threatening, Willam could tell that, but instead all that came out was pure fear. Detox was completely paralysed and had turned white as a sheet.

Willam had frightened them both.

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble. Well, not a massive amount,” Willam began coolly, trying to disconnect herself from the whole situation. “I don’t know the whole story, clearly, but it’s obvious that you two are trying to keep whatever this whole thing is on the down low. Bringing a fake date, sneaking off here…I get it. So I’m not going to tell Phi Phi, or Bianca, or the media, about whatever you two are trying to cover up.”

Willam left a deliberate pause. She’d expected some sort of reply from one of the two girls in front of her, but neither one of them spoke. As Willam saw Roxxxy’s hand shaking, she tried to ignore the feeling of guilt that twisted her stomach.

“As long as you tell me everything you know about the new policy your party is dropping tomorrow,” she finished. Detox finally moved, bringing both hands to her cheeks and dragging them down.

“Willam, I swear, we had nothing to do with it,” Roxxxy said, her voice shaking.

“You’re Phi Phi’s damn advisors, how the fuck could you have no involvement in it?” Willam scoffed, suddenly resentful of Roxxxy’s ignorance.

“It’s true, Willam,” Detox stammered, staring straight at a spot on the floor, now back to standing like a statue. “Phi Phi floated the idea of the policy this afternoon and told us Bob had been contacted with it from someone senior within the party. It had come from a party think tank that had taken place earlier in the day. I swear, Willam, that’s all we know.”

Willam stood for a second and tried to gather her thoughts. None of this seemed to make sense.

“You’re lying,” Willam said bluntly. She didn’t actually think they were, but she hoped it would maybe get a little bit more information from them. What she didn’t expect was Roxxxy’s breathing becoming shallower. She took two quick steps forward as if she was about to take Willam’s hand, but she didn’t. Instead, she stopped.

“Willam, pl…please,” Roxxxy began. Willam could swear she saw tears in her eyes. “We’re telling the truth. We’ll even help you find out anything else. Just, please…don’t. Don’t tell anyone.”

Willam felt a little at a loss. Blackmail and intimidation was a lot less fun as Bianca made it seem. Roxxxy was still standing in front of her, her face pleading, whereas Detox was still against the wall, looking broken. She felt the shame rip at her stomach a little.

“Detox’s Dad, he’d-” Roxxxy began, before she was cut off suddenly by a choked sort of cry from Detox, indicating that she’d perhaps said too much. Looking at the two desperate girls in front of her, Willam heaved a sigh.

“I won’t send the pictures to anyone,” Willam said, Roxxxy letting out a huge breath she’d clearly been holding. “But you guys need to make sure this announcement doesn’t happen. Or if it does, that it’s not concerning this policy. Your whole party needs to forget this policy, right?”

“That’s impos-”

“We’ll make it happen, Willam. Don’t worry. Just don’t…don’t do anything with those pictures. Please,” Detox interrupted Roxxxy, her face still ashen but her body language not as bereft of hope as it had been.

Willam awkwardly shuffled on the spot and replaced her phone in her clutch bag. “Well then. Yeah. Make it happen.”

With that, she turned and left the small pantry, walking back to the booth much slower than she had been earlier, with a lot less adrenalin powering her on. The last few minutes had left a sour taste in her mouth. She couldn’t shake the image of Roxxxy’s shaking hands and voice, and Detox’s ashen face as if she’d been informed of a death. Willam, after all, knew all too well the crippling fear of not yet being out, the fear of judgement or rejection. Absent-mindedly getting her phone back out and unlocking it, the first picture that came up was the picture of Detox and Roxxxy kissing, Willam having not exited out of it before. Looking at it again, she noticed how Roxxxy had an arm around Detox’s waist, almost protectively, and where she had Detox pinned against the wall she hadn’t been grabbing her wrist but holding her hand. Willam began to feel she’d made a mistake.

But looking over at the booth as she approached it, she saw Bianca sitting with a face like thunder, glaring at Sharon who was now visibly upset. If she squinted she could see Alaska holding her hand under the table. Courtney looked sheepish and was drinking from another flute of champagne, and Jinkx had managed to find them all and was texting somebody, presumably trying to get intel on the whole mess. Suddenly remembering how horrible Detox and Roxxxy had been to Alaska, what they’d said about her and the rumours they’d made up, Willam felt a flame under her heart. It wasn’t her damn fault that Detox and Roxxxy couldn’t be more careful with their relationship, or whatever the fuck it was that they were doing. They both knew how this worked, and Willam was certain that if one of them had caught Sharon and Alaska together they would have undoubtedly used it for their own personal gain. They belonged to Phi Phi O’Hara’s party and that party was sly, underhand and played dirty. Why the fuck should Willam be the one to show mercy all of a sudden?

Confidence reinstated that she was doing the right thing, Willam walked briskly over to the booth. All five heads shot up to look at her. Willam felt suddenly tired.

“They won’t announce tomorrow. Their press conference might still go ahead but I’ve been told that it won’t be about the legacy. Just…don’t ask me how I did it.”

Courtney beamed up at her, the rest of the faces at the table simply relieved. Bianca decided to ignore her last sentence.

“Who the fuck told you this? What did they say?”

Willam went to rub her eyes, then remembered the heavy eyeliner she’d applied hours earlier. “Phi Phi’s advisors. They said that they didn’t have a clue about how Phi got hold of the policy, only that it had come from a party think tank and had been gifted to them. Something weird is going on, but I don’t think it involves Detox and Roxxxy. I think it’s deeper than that, and it could get nasty.”

Bianca sighed, rubbing at her face as she stood and left the booth.

“Well, that’s my night over. I need to get home and try to get to the bottom of this fucking mess. Sharon,” she snapped, the wearied Minister lifting her head to face her. “I want to speak to you on Monday about this. The opposition found out somehow, and until I find someone to blame otherwise, I’m holding you entirely responsible.”

As Sharon gave a single weary nod of resignation, Bianca left the five with a heavy sigh. Willam could’ve sighed too. All clearly wasn’t well, and there was something sinister going on, but at least whatever disaster that could have occurred within the next 24 hours had been prevented. Flopping down onto the seat beside Courtney, she felt a little shocked as Courtney’s arm slid around her waist.

“You’re honestly so fucking good at everything, Will,” she slurred, giving her an unexpected kiss on the cheek.

After everything that had happened in the past hour, Willam felt as if this was the thing that would kill her.

“Yeah, thanks Willam,” Sharon said without much enthusiasm. “Okay guys, I think I’ll maybe just head home.”

Willam made a face. She didn’t want Sharon’s night to be ruined by what had happened. “Come on, Sharon, you’ve got to stay. Just…have fun. I don’t care anymore, see, I’ve not got my bossy political advisor hat on anymore. In all honesty I’ve been fucked for a good couple of hours now. Go bid on the bollocking vase, go on.”

Sharon seemed as if she wasn’t able to hold back a small smile. She looked at Alaska, seemingly seeking approval.

“Do you want to stay?” she asked her, Willam hoping that Jinkx wouldn’t catch on to the implication and knowing that Courtney was too drunk to care. Alaska smiled and nodded at her girlfriend, and this seemed to be all the affirmation Sharon needed.

“Okay, fuck yes. Let’s get me another champagne and win me a fucking vase,” she slapped the table, making to leave the booth. As Willam turned to get up, Courtney threw another arm over her, stopping her from leaving.

“I want to get cheesy chips,” she whined, Willam laughing at the obvious drunk munchies that were taking hold. “Can we go get cheesy chips?”

Willam blinked at Courtney, her face hopeful and expectant.  She could have made some sarcastic comment about the vegan properties of chips and cheese, but something about Courtney’s expression made her decide against it. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Opening her mouth, Willam made to ask the others if they wanted to come. “Guys, do you-”

“Nooooo,” Courtney immediately placed a single finger over Willam’s lips, messily shushing her. “Just us. On our own.”

Willam thought her heart was about to break her ribcage with the intensity with which it was thudding. She turned to look at Courtney again. Had her pupils always been blown like that?

“Okay,” Willam said, grabbing her clutch bag from the table. As Alaska and Sharon drifted away, Jinkx got up decisively.

“Well, that’s me for the evening. I’m going home to shove on Midsomer Murders and eat that last chocolate éclair I’ve got in my fridge,” she smiled wryly at Willam, then lowered her voice as she looked pointedly at Courtney. “For God’s sake, make sure she gets home okay.”

As Jinkx wandered off, Courtney threaded her arm through Willam’s and took her hand, squeezing it a couple of times.

All she had to do was find a chippy near Park Lane and get Courtney home to bed. Willam concluded that the evening couldn’t get much more chaotic if it had been a series of tasks set by God.

***

Willam trudged over the doorway of Courtney’s flat as Courtney herself crashed through the door. She was completely exhausted. After quickly establishing that they wouldn’t find a chippy anywhere near Park Lane, Willam had hailed them a cab, then hailed two more after the first wouldn’t take Courtney anywhere in case she vomited all over the taxi floor. But as the old saying goes, it was third time lucky, and after a solid 15 minutes of Willam trying desperately to flag down a taxi and Courtney whining about how hungry she was and how sore her feet were, they managed to get a taxi back to Brixton. There, they’d stopped off on Coldharbour Lane and finally managed to track down a place where they could buy cheesy chips, Courtney discarding her heels underneath her arm and eating them on the short walk back to her flat. Willam did have to listen to her moan about the fact that these weren’t proper cheesy chips, and that proper cheesy chips were made with fat chips swimming in grease, with layered cheese.

Willam had looked at Courtney affectionately for the millionth time on the walk home, her heart feeling like it was about to burst. “Court, how the fuck are they expected to layer the cheese?”

Courtney had spoken through a mouthful of masticated chips and cheese as she spoke, putting huge emphasis on certain words every so often in the way that drunk people often do. “No! It’s actually very easy. They put one layer of chips on one side of the carton and chips on the other side of the carton, then put cheese on the top of one of the sides, close the carton over, open it up again, put the cheese on top…boom. Layered cheese. Giuliano’s does it.”

Willam had been spending the entire journey back to Courtney’s flat feeling like she was on the verge of a heart attack, if she was totally honest. That sort of electric, magical feeling was back in the air as snow clouds hung heavy in the dark sky and gave the streetlamp-orange glowing streets a sort of buzz. She felt happy just being together with Courtney, being silly and drunk and spending time with her without really doing anything at all. For a moment, Willam felt that maybe this was all she needed- just to be around Courtney. She was still happy with her, and not admitting her feelings to her only saved from any potential heartbreak, rejection and embarrassment. Maybe Willam could live with just being friends.

And then Courtney had threaded her arm through Willam’s again, her body warm beside her, and Willam had thought maybe not.

Now that they were back at Courtney’s flat, Willam felt that all too nervous feeling creep over her again, like a tidal wave waiting to crash against the shore. As Courtney dumped her heels on the ground and the empty styrofoam carton on her hall table, Willam lingered at the doorway.

“Okay, well. I should probably get home.”

Courtney turned and pouted, looking like a lost puppy. “No, Will! You need to stay and make sure I don’t choke on my own tongue in my sleep.”

Willam snorted a laugh. “That’s not a thing, Court.”

“It is so! Well…it might be choking on vomit. Vomit or tongue. Can’t remember.”

“Two really attractive words.”

“You’re an attractive word,” Courtney said, leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom and threatening to flop over. “Please? Just…look after me a bit more?”

Willam sighed, her hand still on the handle of Courtney’s front door.

If God doesn’t hate gay people then he’s certainly got a personal fucking vendetta against me.

“Fine,” Willam threw her hands up, kicking her heels off and making her way down the hall to where Courtney stood. Her face lighting up in delight, Courtney took Willam’s hand, shuffling into her bedroom and not bothering to turn the lights on. Willam attempted to scan her surroundings in the darkness. A double bed sat taking up most of the space in the room, while a set of wardrobes (possibly mirrored) and a chest of drawers sat opposite it. There was a big bookcase to one side of the bed, and a bedside table and a window on the other. Clothes lay carpeting the floor.

Courtney still didn’t let go of Willam’s hand when she fell down onto the bed, pulling Willam down with her. She landed with the breath knocked out of her slightly, laying half on top of her, half at her side. Courtney naturally thought this was the funniest thing in the world. Willam tried to clamber off her but wasn’t completely successful, as Courtney threw both her arms round her waist. The action stopped Willam dead for a second. Looking down at Courtney, she could see that her eyes were slightly glazed and she still had a big, goofy smile on her face. Time seemed to stand still, the only thing moving being Willam’s pulse racing under her skin.

“You’re so great, Willam,” Courtney sighed, looking up at her and smiling. Willam didn’t really know what to reply.

“You’re great,” she ended up saying, trying once again to roll onto her side but Courtney’s arms wouldn’t let her, and dear Christ, how had she found herself in this position?

Courtney seemed to pause for a second, the smile still on her face as she somehow pulled Willam closer to her. “No, honestly. You’re so great.”

And then Willam completely froze as Courtney pushed up a little bit and kissed her once, her lips a little messy against Willam’s own. Pulling away, the smile was back on Courtney’s face, giggling as she looked at Willam’s clearly shocked face. Willam’s mind was just blank. She had no idea what the fuck was going on, and her nerves were now in overdrive as she realised she didn’t know what to say or do. Still smiling like an idiot, Courtney solved the problem by pulling Willam down on top of her and meeting her lips again, this time lingering a little bit more, and with all of the air being knocked out of Willam’s lungs she realised that they were actually, properly kissing. Still completely confused as to whatever this was, Willam pulled away.

“Court,” she whispered, although she wasn’t really sure why. “Don’t do this because you’re drunk.”

“No, I’m doing this because I want to. The fact I’m drunk is just a happy coincidence,” she slurred, her arms still firmly around Willam’s waist. Then, her eyes suddenly became wide. “How come, do you want to stop?”

Willam took one look at Courtney’s beautiful, shocked face and finally registered that what was happening was actually happening, and she wasn’t dreaming it, and it wasn’t a mistake. “Fuck no.”

With that, Courtney crashed their lips together again and they were kissing again, slow and deep and everything that Willam had wanted for the longest time. Courtney tasted almost entirely of champagne, and Willam could still smell her perfume from earlier, and it only made her kiss her deeper, moving a hand up to tangle in Courtney’s blonde curls. Her heart was beating so fast and their bodies were pressed so close together that Willam was sure Courtney would feel how fast her heart was racing. Hearing Courtney sigh a little against her lips, Willam felt as if she was stuck in an alternate reality.

This couldn’t be happening. And yet, it was.  

They could have been kissing for hours or minutes, or perhaps seconds. Time had become an alien concept to Willam. But the first sign of change was Courtney pushing her hips up an inch from the bed, moaning a little and trailing a hand up Willam’s thigh. With every iota of willpower that she possessed, Willam pulled away from Courtney and sat up, straddling her.

“Court, you’re drunk, girl.”

Courtney pouted, bringing one hand up to cup Willam’s jaw. “Yeah, but so are you.”

Now that Courtney pointed it out, Willam noticed that the amount of adrenaline that was currently running through her veins had rendered her almost completely sober. “I think it’s kind of wearing off a bit. Come on, I’m not doing anything with you when you’re in this state.”

“But I want to,” Courtney sighed, stroking Willam’s cheek. Willam smiled lazily at her.

“Not tonight, girl,” she said, not without a hint of regret.

“Well, next time then,” Courtney said contentedly, smiling up at her. Willam’s heart almost flipped over. She hadn’t really thought to think past this moment, but now she was wondering what the future held in regards to whatever this was. Trying to push the future out of her mind, she just smiled back at Courtney, touching her cheek before rolling off of her and on to the other side of the bed.

“Well, I’ll be going, then-”

Courtney shot her a glare. “Willam! Come on, you have to stay. I want to kiss you again when I wake up and I’m sober.”

Willam felt faint at the sheer amount of events that had happened over the course of the evening. She hesitated for a second as she thought her options over, then decided that she’d been responsible enough for one evening and that perhaps she was entitled to one poor decision.

“Okay. I’ll stay,” she paused. “Have you got pyjamas?”

Courtney leaned over to her bedside table, reaching into a drawer and pulling out two colossal t-shirts. Willam grabbed one gratefully and began to pull the zip down at the back of her dress. She tried not to look as Courtney got changed. The night had given her enough heart murmurs for one evening.

Leaving herself in just her underwear, she pulled the huge shirt over her head and climbed into bed with the other blonde. Turning on her side, she was surprised that Courtney shuffled back into her arms, reaching behind and wrapping them around her so that Willam held her in a cuddle.

Sighing and still trying to comprehend the way the night had progressed, Willam suddenly heard a little gasp from Courtney.

“Willam,” she pointed to the window. “Snow.”

Willam gave Courtney a little squeeze and watched as the gentle white flakes drifted from the sky, making to envelop the city in white and make it seem as if it was new.

They watched the snow fall until they fell asleep.

[killershot]

On the Verge of a Panic Attack

I don’t know why I took so long to get home I guess it was un mal precentimiento a bad feeling. I was wandering on Western and Wilshire hadn’t made up my mind if I wanted to go home or roam. Then I got the call my Tia said the cops were home.

They were looking for me.

I hit up a friend right away. Chad if you’re reading this you’re the real MVP (that and tarte cosmetics). He told me everything I needed to know the questions they would ask me how they would go about doing things.

He said be patient.

Be cooperative.

Stay calm. Composed.

He’d seen it all before. Been there done that. He was a master a pro at what cops called a 5150.

“They’re gonna try to intimidate you. To twist your words.  To keep you there. If you don’t feel safe just say ‘I feel like you’re putting words in my mouth.’”

That became a catch phrase.

Didn’t think I’d use it with such frequency.

I was also mad. Mad at the fact that I wasn’t gonna get my Buffulo Wild Wings as I had planned and mad that all of this which I had already decided to bury with a hatchet, was only the beginning.

I did send an angry text but that was it. Felt somewhat betrayed I mean how could you? I told you I was scared of being inside of a mental asylum.

Look I know the story by heart my aunt was locked up years ago for saying she wanted to kill my cousins her husband and then herself just to end the nightmare.

They put her in the looney bin for 3 days.

No one knew about her for those days my youngest cousin doesn’t even recall the incident. She was very little. As for my two other cousins they were new immigrants with little to no knowledge of the English language.

That 72 hour hold loomed on me like a dark cloud.

I never thought my own people where the ones to deceive me.

I arrived; there they were looking like Frank Poncherello and Jon from the movie Chips. Just your everyday comic relief cop character I could hear the song playing in the background bad boys bad boys whatcha gonna do whatcha gonna do when they come for you I tweaked the lyrics a little in my head until I arrived at the front of the house.

I felt at ease for a brief second. I thought wrongfully that I could trust officer Encino such a brown last name I’d be let go in a few. How wrong was I.

He wasn’t very tall or very fit just you’re every day stereotypical Mexican American 5 generations retired so really a Californian. Family had been in this land for generations unlike my parents.

Officer Carpenter was a tall lanky guy, freckly looking with redish hair. You could tell he didn’t want to be there he had other more important things to do like catch thieves stop killers and lock up rapists but no he was here dealing with a girl who just had a mini ataque de panico. Reminiscent of a film I watched in Spanish class Mujeres al Borde de un Ataque de Panico it was an old film from 1988 but for some reason we watched it. Our teacher was weird I guess.  

We chatted talked about the incident I reassured them I was ok and looking forward to having diner with my family and when I say family I meant my 7 cats. It was almost feeding time. I could see Canseco my newly beloved son and prized possession lurking under the car. His tummy rumbling.

Officer Encino just wouldn’t let me go tried to twist my words interrogated me made me feel stupid. I kept on repeating “I feel like you’re putting words in my mouth” he was offended, defensive every time I said that but I’m used to it by now. I know someone like him. He gets defensive too. At least he didn’t hit me with the; you’re slandering me words. It echos in my head sometimes. After I heard it I had to Google it to see what that word really means. Slandering.

I forget.

It was a 5150 and even after Officer Carpenter said “She’s fine just let her go” Officer Encino decided to arrest me.

Options I had none but I had a few.

After he said he would “have to arrest me” I played some scenarios in my head after all I am a quick thinker.

Scenario 1: I would punch him. Kick that smirk right off his face. They would be forced to shoot. I would probably die. I could see it now “Hispanic female in late 20’s shot right outside of her South Central LA home after resisting arrest.” I’d die a martyr. I think I smiled a little. People would hold vigilances for me I’d be another colored getting killed by the LAPD it sounded like a weird twisted fantasy until I heard my mom wailing. I snapped.

Scenario 2: I’d run. I don’t even like running but I could try to escape via running until I realized A. I’m terrible at running B. They would probably catch up to me and C. I’d get tazed half a block away from my house in front of all my neighbors to see. How humiliating. I couldn’t.

Scenario 3: Turn myself in which I did.

I was handcuffed in front of my family and a few chismoso neighbors. It was exactly how you see it in Cops. I don’t know if it’s protocol or what but I felt like a criminal. I was nervous I’m not gonna lie I wanted my phone my sense of security.

We drove down to the police station 3rd district South Central LA. I’ve been here before countless of times. Sometimes angry sometimes crying. I’ve been here to pick up my cousin Herberth who has a mental disability and Kevin his friend who is also mentally unstable. I’ve come here with my auntie when she got jumped and beaten in the corner of Western and 42nd right in front of the Snooty Fox hotel to file a police report. I’ve been here so often that for a second I thought a cop would recognize me.

Nothing I was just “The Nike Girl”.

I walked past those cells horrible things were in them. Can’t really go into detail I didn’t want to look to further traumatize myself.

I got my own little cell.

4 white walls. A female officer came to “pat me down” Officer Beadle she was…a bitch.

Even after Officer Carpenter told her I was “friendly” and “nice” she still treated me like complete garbage like a criminal and humiliated me in front of all to see. Dignity? I don’t know her. She stuffed her hand in my hair and ruffled it around violently I was steaming inside. I didn’t care much for the awkward crotch grab you just don’t grab my hair like that. If Larry taught me anything was “respect a black girls hair” or in my case my 4c hair type inherited to me from my David Ortiz looking father.

And there I was in my little cell surrounded by four white walls there was no clock to tell the time nothing to entertain me. I was slowly loosing it. My patience that is.

But everyone came to visit my cute face. Unlike my fellow inmates I was well dressed small young looking and cute.

Their visits entertained me. I was utterly bored and I thrived in that attention.

I liked being referred as a “pretty girl” although I don’t believe it I still liked that.

We talk about running. Look I’ve never sold a god dam shoe in my life but I can sure act like I do.

We talked about Free’s, Pegasus and Lunarglides each and every officer that came through and asked about their foot I gave them my recommendation. From a guy with wide feet Vromeros or Pegasus Wide to a guy with flat feet in need of more support to getting technical with work out shoes like Metcons? Metcons I didn’t know much.

Discounts?

I get 40 you? You my friend get...none. Unless you get me the fuck out of here I’ll send you a gift card or something.

I guess time went by quicker than I thought. They had dinner someone got shot and they left me alone for an hour. Many things happen among the worst was my need to use the restroom. Nature was calling I needed to pee and I swear I held it for as long as I could cause I thought they’ll release me soon they have to look at how well behaved I am opposed to the other inmates they caused a havoc. Could hear their screaming and cussing.

A female officer came to take me the bathroom, it was just as bad as a bathroom in a bar in the Tenderloin San Francisco. I am the worst squatter in the universe like my squatting abilities are atrocious. There was some toilet paper I lined the toilet was about to pull my pants down when I noticed the officer looking at me.

“Can you please close the door?” I asked sheepishly.

“No we can’t I gotta keep it open” and supervise me peeing she didn’t say that but actions speak louder than words she saw me pee and it was humiliating.

I could feel the pee trickling to my thigh like fuck now I got pee in my thighs I rolled my eyes a couple of times pulled up my pants in disgrace and attempted to flush the toilet. She’s lucky I shaved that day. It wouldn’t flush my urine and the urine of countless of other individuals laid there together.

I attempted to wash my hands. No soap. I was irritated. You know how you can tell if someone is sane is if they wash their hands after using the bathroom at least that’s what I thought. She sighed and smiled at me if I read her mind correctly she said something along the words of I wish all inmates were as easy as you.

So I sat in my cell for what felt like an eternity.

Officer Encino wanted the worst for me he wanted me to be on hold for 72 hours. The funny thing about my people is they don’t want to see you shine. They don’t want you to succeed I guess they envy that. They gotta put you down and demoralize you somehow. It’s funny all this time I thought we were suppose to stick together support one another be there for one another but I think that was just some brainwashing I had at San Francisco State University the only University with a building dedicated to the Ethnic Studies. There I learned how to embrace every single aspect of my Latinx heritage claiming my Indio as well as my African side. I thought we were all Raza but I guess my professors lied.

“Your job is to give back to the community” I could hear Professor Cordova’s words echo around the cell. Giving back to the community was priority number one and as a young college student that’s exactly what I wanted to do I wanted to help mi gente but not everyone wants to help us. I learned that the hard way.

They bickered back and forth let her go to no 72 hour hold they had to wait on someone much more qualified to make that decision I don’t remember her name or her partners name. She reminded me of my high school teacher awkward hippy looking white lady with her short black sidekick.

I answered all the questions correctly as I was told by Chad even if I lied on some. I cracked a joke and made them laugh brought them at ease.

I could see the frustration on Officer Encino’s face he was disappointed everyone had agreed I really didn’t need to be taken to the psychiatric ward.

He should be happy I thought why would he want me to go through so much unnecessary pain. But then I remembered that he wasn’t there to help me he was there to destroy me and to make this all the much unbearable.  That friendly Latino face I thought I could trust gone can’t trust my own people. They say they do it with the pretext that they care I didn’t believe it I could never believe it Cucarachas I muttered.

I got home roughly at around 9:20pm I’d been there for hours no BDubs for me.

I wasn’t even mad or irritated I was relieved. I sent you a text out of courtesy not because I thought you’d care. I could care less of me too. I responded to her text cause I felt like she cared or at least acts like it I mean I can act too. I’m not the best actress but I did play Iago in high school and very well at least that’s what Ms. Pilaf would have said.

I tucked myself in bed and was visited by my first born, Mjolnir. Cat’s are such mysterious creatures its as if they know; they show affection in a way people and dogs can’t. He cuddled right next to me grooming the bits of hair I had frizzled everywhere. I had forgotten what it felt like just this ball of fluff purring right next to me rubbing his head on mine. It had been a long day all I can say is I’m glad that shit’s over.

  PS:

I don’t want to brag but I got some badass skills to be a magnificent author I guess Ms. Vazquez was right I am a writer and I feel like I am a much more honest person with my feeling when I write. To those of you who have read this little piece thank you.

[blockheadbrands]

Former Phylos Bioscience Employee Sheds Light on Breeding Controversy

Dick Fitts of High Times Reports:

An ex-employee of Phylos Bioscience comes forward after convincing breeders and growers to trust in the impartiality of the company.

There were perhaps twenty people gathered to hear me speak. For a noon slot, not too bad. All the same, it was my first time giving The Pitch for Phylos Bioscience, and I psyched myself up through a buzzing chest as best I could. Fairbanks Alaska in July is a land without night; having spent the previous evening watching the sun through my hotel window as it barely dipped below the horizon only to creep back up from its catnap an hour later, I was a bit edgier than perhaps I should have been. I stiffened, walked up to the podium, clumsily fiddled with the microphone, had a deep breath and jumped right in. This was my moment, after all. I smiled.

The Script

“Hello, folks! Hope everybody’s had a pleasant morning. My name is Ricky, and I’m here today from Phylos Bioscience.”

Many of you in the grower and breeder communities who are reading this met me under exactly these circumstances. I smiled at you, shook your hand. I answered your questions with austerity and confidence, gained your trust, followed up on the phone, shared laughs and grow stories, tragedies and drug war nightmares. And I even fulfilled your orders for the Phylos Genotype kit, compiling a vast blueprint of your genetics and charting them in the Galaxy, the largest genomic map of cannabis worldwide.

I reassured you time and again, hundreds of times daily: “We are not out to steal your work. We are here to help you protect it, to prove prior art. We’re a different type of cannabis company. We fucking hate Monsanto. We fucking hate Monsanto. We fucking hate…” and on and on.

The Flip

Within the last three weeks, a side of the company has come to public light that calls all of this into question. What I helped build was merely a pawn for a horribly different endgame. I helped build an unparalleled data set of the cannabis genome, paid for by an eager public, to help the company build barriers to entry for anyone else who breeds. I helped establish my employers in a dominant and unfair competitive position for this new venture with an eye towards becoming the industry’s number one acquisition target for Big Ag.

And in the end: I am so, so sorry to you all. I genuinely believed I was doing the right thing. I’ve never believed more deeply in what I was doing, nor been bamboozled so fully. I’d like to speak to this, and if I can’t right my wrongs here at least give some thoughts on how the community can move forward independent and strong.

Phylos Bioscience Starts as Testing Facility for Breeders

In case you’re new to this story and its many twists and turns, here’s the nuts and bolts: Phylos built their name as a testing facility, creating a super-cool 3D map of the Cannabis genome called the Galaxy. For depth of information, ease of use and simple visual appeal: it’s unrivaled in the world, truly an accomplishment to be cherished proudly and applauded by any bioinformatician anywhere. Phylos set themselves up as a guardian of people’s genetic work, helping growers and breeders establish a prior timetable of when they had their genetics before the inevitable wave of patents and big ag attorneys looming on the horizon start to rewrite the rules of what belongs to whom.

For years they had a page on their website titled “Tools for Breeders”. This dealt with developing marker-assisted selection, a technology where the specific mutation points on an organism’s DNA code are tracked and understood, then that data used to inform and accelerate traditional breeding. This isn’t GMO, where a CRISPR machine is used to rewrite sections of the plant’s basic DNA. This is simply kicking traditional breeding into overdrive: with a pre-grow genetic roadmap, a breeder could use this tech to decide which seedlings out of a crop will carry the traits they’re looking for; all of a sudden you’re looking at bringing ten plants full term instead of potentially hundreds of thousands, saving time and labor and resources and farmland.

All in all, this promised better, more refined traditional agriculture for the community and a safeguard against private labs under the direction of a multibillion-dollar ag company steamrolling us all out of existence. A level playing field, an honest and even shot for so many small and underground growers who suffered for so long in our drug war: truly a paradigm shift in agriculture with the potential to ripple outwards into the wider web of what we grow, how we grow it and in essence who we are as a culture and species.

This was one of the things that really attracted me to the company, and one of the reasons I’m so sad to see them go the way they have: a breeding program could have been introduced to the public as a series of tools to develop and further their own work. As it goes, this was simply not to be.

Phylos Bioscience Announces In-House Breeding Program

They made their fateful announcement on Instagram on April 9th: an in-house breeding program, one that by definition would not only be stiff competition for any other breeders of industrial hemp or craft flower but most likely bury with the tech they’ve gathered and perfected. Imagine if all the umpires in baseball got together and said they were starting their own team, putting the full weight of their support behind it. Should the other teams, or the general public for that matter, trust them when they tell us they’re not competing, that they just want to contribute to the love of the game?

This was the quandary Phylos presented with their public statement. True, they’d be paying royalties to the original breeders of the building blocks they started with. But they kept repeating it, over and over in the comments section: we’re not going to compete with you. At best it was patronizing and to this day it remains unfounded. And people got…really, really mad.

Community Responds with Outrage

Between the low-level emoji trolls, loud-mouthed blowhards, cannabis influencers and well-meaning, erudite responders who clearly had a much more solid grasp of genetics and science than the company was giving them credit for: it was an unmitigated shitshow. There were the most horrible names, from “Corporate fucking chads” to the worst you can imagine. There were ignorant pitchfork-wielding yokels spouting pseudoscientific nonsense, there were numerous physical threats.

On the occasion that somebody would ask for clarification or a more complete picture of what might be happening with the data they submitted, the slightest optimism in their sentiment was met with some of the heaviest ridicule I’ve witnessed anywhere, anytime. Everybody took their piece of the big bad scientists and their reputation. It was awful for me to watch; like a dream home you spent a year building reduced to cinders quicker than you could comprehend.

They tried to salvage the situation with form responses to comments, a public statement from their PR person (turns out “You know what? I AM a suit. But I think I’m a pretty good one.” …is not a delicate statement when your intent and role in the industry is being called into question), but the community was relentless. They made a second IG post and a post on their website’s blog, attempting to clarify the first but eerily avoiding some of the deeper questions being asked of them. They did what they could to speak to “how scary this must be” for Everyone involved. Some were pacified by this. Most remained skeptical at best.

Phylos Founder Vows to Replace Modern Varieties of Cannabis

Almost immediately afterward, a video of one of their founders giving a presentation was unearthed, speaking at the Benzinga Cannabis Capital Conference in Miami in February. The term “smoking gun” almost doesn’t do it justice: like many of us who had worked with Phylos in the field, and myself more poignantly than most having worked directly for them, put my name behind them, gone to bat for them with my honor and my word… it was really, really hard to watch. I had to go through it several times over several days just to believe what I was hearing. I cried through a lot of it, puked at one point. It couldn’t possibly be real.

“All the cannabis that’s around now will be replaced by varieties that will be optimized and specialized, and we’re going to be the company that makes those.”

“We have huge barriers to entry protecting us.”

“It would be impossible for anybody else to collect this data set.”

“Cultivators can’t do real breeding on their own.”

“Our core business is plant breeding, we had to build two other businesses to support that…so we built an entire testing business to create all that data.”

“We have a really unusual advisory board. They are not there for show… Ron started and ran a couple of seed companies that he sold to Syngenta, he worked for Syngenta for years and is now the CEO of a spin-out company from there. And Barbara until recently was the VP of technology acquisition for all of Dow / DuPont. So, having these guys around is just critical for us, because we’re building a company that is ultimately going to be acquired by that universe.”

It was suddenly, starkly clear that the brass at the top of the company didn’t give a shit about the community they had built themselves up on the hopes and aspirations of. Actually, truly the case that they looked down on that community and the breeder’s art they’ve carried, for decades, risking everything as “a quaint, rural hobby that maybe farmers get into.”

Supporting Big Ag over Craft Cannabis

Since then, their reputation is on fire and the trolls of the internet have decidedly unleashed themselves. Almost as painful to me as watching their credibility disintegrate has been tracking the body of grotesque, virulent, often badly-uninformed and occasionally decidedly ignorant vitriol being espoused in their direction and that of anybody who supports them, or wants to, for any reason, no matter how rational the rationale.

Things seem uncertain at best for their standing in our community. For being the most dedicated, passionate and capable team of people I’ve ever worked with, in any industry: they’ve chosen to support Big Ag over craft botanists, money over the community. They had a real, solid chance with one of the most valuable crops on Earth as it emerges into full marketplace acceptance to stand with the right people, change the way the game of agronomics is played. Instead, they took the money. They fucking blew it.

Worst of all: they set back the trust of the cannabis community in science, possibly by years, until a stable and reliable alternative can present itself. We need to advance and evolve if we’re to survive the coming onslaught of Corporate Weed. It is not guaranteed that we’ll retain control of our culture or our plant, and with this development things just got darker for us all.

A Word of Advice to Phylos

That all being said, I’d like to give a couple of points of unsolicited advice to the folks at Phylos. Maybe they’ll listen, maybe not: all the same I hope that one way or another they take some time to address their tone-deafness on many key points and publicly raised concerns surrounding their announcement. Who knows? Maybe they’ll surprise me in a way that works for everybody. I can’t help but hold out hope.

First of all, stop talking about “How ‘scary’ this must be” for the community. The term that more accurately describes your recent behavior is “insulting”. Here’s why: the language you’re using indicates a complete lack of understanding and empathy for a group of humans who have endured generations of legal persecution, social stigmata and violent crime. I personally have had friends lose their freedom, their possessions, their families, been lined up against a wall and executed – all for the love of this plant.

This is far from an isolated experience. If you think you’re “scaring” the devoted, hardworking community who had the guts and integrity to build this culture during prohibition that you’re now attempting to appropriate and sell off to big ag, you’ve got another goddamned thing coming. You clearly have no idea who you’re talking to, nor what they’ve endured to get here: we’re in this because we ARE this, past present and future. Check yourselves.

Secondly, you need to state, clearly, what side of the business you’re on. You can’t simultaneously use the lab experience the breeder community has paid you to build, sell yourself off to the biggest fish that waltzes into your bank account and expect to continue enjoying support from the community.

You want to sell out? Fine. But quit acting like you’re not competing with the rest of the industry. Referring back to suggestion #1: it’s insulting. This isn’t a question of a small group of bad actors being really mean and hateful on Instagram, nor is it a question of nuance and context in your communications. Stop bullshitting the people who got you here.

Moving Forward as a Community

To the community at large: we need to take a moment right now. We need to assess, to reflect, to adapt and overcome. There are clearly some mammoth changes coming our way and everything our predecessors have fought and died for is being coveted and actively taken from us by greedy businesspeople who did nothing to help our plight when it really mattered.

As a community, we need a common legal language and framework that breeders can use to protect their work.

We need a scientific community that’s open source, fully transparent and works for everybody equally. We need to support this with personal research, communication and our dollars.

As consumers, we need to support crop diversity and the ability of small farmers to innovate and drive our industry by making our purchasing choices reflect those ethics. 

When we get burned, we pick ourselves the fuck back up and keep moving. Given what we’ve survived so far: this is just another bump in the long, strange trip. Not to worry, we’re gonna WIN this thing. Better goddamned well believe it, Y’all.

With peace, love and respect for everyone involved,

-Dick Fitts

TO READ MORE OF THIS ARTICLE ON HIGH TIMES, CLICK HERE.

https://hightimes.com/news/chronically-il-man-fired-using-marijuana/

[weedconsortium2]

There were perhaps twenty people gathered to hear me speak. For a noon slot, not too bad. All the same, it was my first time giving The Pitch for Phylos Bioscience, and I psyched myself up through a buzzing chest as best I could. Fairbanks Alaska in July is a land without night; having spent the previous evening watching the sun through my hotel window as it barely dipped below the horizon only to creep back up from its catnap an hour later, I was a bit edgier than perhaps I should have been. I stiffened, walked up to the podium, clumsily fiddled with the microphone, had a deep breath and jumped right in. This was my moment, after all. I smiled.

The Script

“Hello, folks! Hope everybody’s had a pleasant morning. My name is Ricky, and I’m here today from Phylos Bioscience.”

Many of you in the grower and breeder communities who are reading this met me under exactly these circumstances. I smiled at you, shook your hand. I answered your questions with austerity and confidence, gained your trust, followed up on the phone, shared laughs and grow stories, tragedies and drug war nightmares. And I even fulfilled your orders for the Phylos Genotype kit, compiling a vast blueprint of your genetics and charting them in the Galaxy, the largest genomic map of cannabis worldwide.

I reassured you time and again, hundreds of times daily: “We are not out to steal your work. We are here to help you protect it, to prove prior art. We’re a different type of cannabis company. We fucking hate Monsanto. We fucking hate Monsanto. We fucking hate…” and on and on.

The Flip

Within the last three weeks, a side of the company has come to public light that calls all of this into question. What I helped build was merely a pawn for a horribly different endgame. I helped build an unparalleled data set of the cannabis genome, paid for by an eager public, to help the company build barriers to entry for anyone else who breeds. I helped establish my employers in a dominant and unfair competitive position for this new venture with an eye towards becoming the industry’s number one acquisition target for Big Ag.

And in the end: I am so, so sorry to you all. I genuinely believed I was doing the right thing. I’ve never believed more deeply in what I was doing, nor been bamboozled so fully. I’d like to speak to this, and if I can’t right my wrongs here at least give some thoughts on how the community can move forward independent and strong.

Phylos Bioscience Starts as Testing Facility for Breeders

In case you’re new to this story and its many twists and turns, here’s the nuts and bolts: Phylos built their name as a testing facility, creating a super-cool 3D map of the Cannabis genome called the Galaxy. For depth of information, ease of use and simple visual appeal: it’s unrivaled in the world, truly an accomplishment to be cherished proudly and applauded by any bioinformatician anywhere. Phylos set themselves up as a guardian of people’s genetic work, helping growers and breeders establish a prior timetable of when they had their genetics before the inevitable wave of patents and big ag attorneys looming on the horizon start to rewrite the rules of what belongs to whom.

For years they had a page on their website titled “Tools for Breeders”. This dealt with developing marker-assisted selection, a technology where the specific mutation points on an organism’s DNA code are tracked and understood, then that data used to inform and accelerate traditional breeding. This isn’t GMO, where a CRISPR machine is used to rewrite sections of the plant’s basic DNA. This is simply kicking traditional breeding into overdrive: with a pre-grow genetic roadmap, a breeder could use this tech to decide which seedlings out of a crop will carry the traits they’re looking for; all of a sudden you’re looking at bringing ten plants full term instead of potentially hundreds of thousands, saving time and labor and resources and farmland.

All in all, this promised better, more refined traditional agriculture for the community and a safeguard against private labs under the direction of a multibillion-dollar ag company steamrolling us all out of existence. A level playing field, an honest and even shot for so many small and underground growers who suffered for so long in our drug war: truly a paradigm shift in agriculture with the potential to ripple outwards into the wider web of what we grow, how we grow it and in essence who we are as a culture and species.

This was one of the things that really attracted me to the company, and one of the reasons I’m so sad to see them go the way they have: a breeding program could have been introduced to the public as a series of tools to develop and further their own work. As it goes, this was simply not to be.

Phylos Bioscience Announces In-House Breeding Program

They made their fateful announcement on Instagram on April 9th: an in-house breeding program, one that by definition would not only be stiff competition for any other breeders of industrial hemp or craft flower but most likely bury with the tech they’ve gathered and perfected. Imagine if all the umpires in baseball got together and said they were starting their own team, putting the full weight of their support behind it. Should the other teams, or the general public for that matter, trust them when they tell us they’re not competing, that they just want to contribute to the love of the game?

This was the quandary Phylos presented with their public statement. True, they’d be paying royalties to the original breeders of the building blocks they started with. But they kept repeating it, over and over in the comments section: we’re not going to compete with you. At best it was patronizing and to this day it remains unfounded. And people got…really, really mad.

Community Responds with Outrage

Between the low-level emoji trolls, loud-mouthed blowhards, cannabis influencers and well-meaning, erudite responders who clearly had a much more solid grasp of genetics and science than the company was giving them credit for: it was an unmitigated shitshow. There were the most horrible names, from “Corporate fucking chads” to the worst you can imagine. There were ignorant pitchfork-wielding yokels spouting pseudoscientific nonsense, there were numerous physical threats.

On the occasion that somebody would ask for clarification or a more complete picture of what might be happening with the data they submitted, the slightest optimism in their sentiment was met with some of the heaviest ridicule I’ve witnessed anywhere, anytime. Everybody took their piece of the big bad scientists and their reputation. It was awful for me to watch; like a dream home you spent a year building reduced to cinders quicker than you could comprehend.

They tried to salvage the situation with form responses to comments, a public statement from their PR person (turns out “You know what? I AM a suit. But I think I’m a pretty good one.” …is not a delicate statement when your intent and role in the industry is being called into question), but the community was relentless. They made a second IG post and a post on their website’s blog, attempting to clarify the first but eerily avoiding some of the deeper questions being asked of them. They did what they could to speak to “how scary this must be” for Everyone involved. Some were pacified by this. Most remained skeptical at best.

Phylos Founder Vows to Replace Modern Varieties of Cannabis

Almost immediately afterward, a video of one of their founders giving a presentation was unearthed, speaking at the Benzinga Cannabis Capital Conference in Miami in February. The term “smoking gun” almost doesn’t do it justice: like many of us who had worked with Phylos in the field, and myself more poignantly than most having worked directly for them, put my name behind them, gone to bat for them with my honor and my word… it was really, really hard to watch. I had to go through it several times over several days just to believe what I was hearing. I cried through a lot of it, puked at one point. It couldn’t possibly be real.

“All the cannabis that’s around now will be replaced by varieties that will be optimized and specialized, and we’re going to be the company that makes those.”

“We have huge barriers to entry protecting us.”

“It would be impossible for anybody else to collect this data set.”

“Cultivators can’t do real breeding on their own.”

“Our core business is plant breeding, we had to build two other businesses to support that…so we built an entire testing business to create all that data.”

“We have a really unusual advisory board. They are not there for show… Ron started and ran a couple of seed companies that he sold to Syngenta, he worked for Syngenta for years and is now the CEO of a spin-out company from there. And Barbara until recently was the VP of technology acquisition for all of Dow / DuPont. So, having these guys around is just critical for us, because we’re building a company that is ultimately going to be acquired by that universe.”

It was suddenly, starkly clear that the brass at the top of the company didn’t give a shit about the community they had built themselves up on the hopes and aspirations of. Actually, truly the case that they looked down on that community and the breeder’s art they’ve carried, for decades, risking everything as “a quaint, rural hobby that maybe farmers get into.”

Supporting Big Ag over Craft Cannabis

Since then, their reputation is on fire and the trolls of the internet have decidedly unleashed themselves. Almost as painful to me as watching their credibility disintegrate has been tracking the body of grotesque, virulent, often badly-uninformed and occasionally decidedly ignorant vitriol being espoused in their direction and that of anybody who supports them, or wants to, for any reason, no matter how rational the rationale.

Things seem uncertain at best for their standing in our community. For being the most dedicated, passionate and capable team of people I’ve ever worked with, in any industry: they’ve chosen to support Big Ag over craft botanists, money over the community. They had a real, solid chance with one of the most valuable crops on Earth as it emerges into full marketplace acceptance to stand with the right people, change the way the game of agronomics is played. Instead, they took the money. They fucking blew it.

Worst of all: they set back the trust of the cannabis community in science, possibly by years, until a stable and reliable alternative can present itself. We need to advance and evolve if we’re to survive the coming onslaught of Corporate Weed. It is not guaranteed that we’ll retain control of our culture or our plant, and with this development things just got darker for us all.

A Word of Advice to Phylos

That all being said, I’d like to give a couple of points of unsolicited advice to the folks at Phylos. Maybe they’ll listen, maybe not: all the same I hope that one way or another they take some time to address their tone-deafness on many key points and publicly raised concerns surrounding their announcement. Who knows? Maybe they’ll surprise me in a way that works for everybody. I can’t help but hold out hope.

First of all, stop talking about “How ‘scary’ this must be” for the community. The term that more accurately describes your recent behavior is “insulting”. Here’s why: the language you’re using indicates a complete lack of understanding and empathy for a group of humans who have endured generations of legal persecution, social stigmata and violent crime. I personally have had friends lose their freedom, their possessions, their families, been lined up against a wall and executed – all for the love of this plant.

This is far from an isolated experience. If you think you’re “scaring” the devoted, hardworking community who had the guts and integrity to build this culture during prohibition that you’re now attempting to appropriate and sell off to big ag, you’ve got another goddamned thing coming. You clearly have no idea who you’re talking to, nor what they’ve endured to get here: we’re in this because we ARE this, past present and future. Check yourselves.

Secondly, you need to state, clearly, what side of the business you’re on. You can’t simultaneously use the lab experience the breeder community has paid you to build, sell yourself off to the biggest fish that waltzes into your bank account and expect to continue enjoying support from the community.

You want to sell out? Fine. But quit acting like you’re not competing with the rest of the industry. Referring back to suggestion #1: it’s insulting. This isn’t a question of a small group of bad actors being really mean and hateful on Instagram, nor is it a question of nuance and context in your communications. Stop bullshitting the people who got you here.

Moving Forward as a Community

To the community at large: we need to take a moment right now. We need to assess, to reflect, to adapt and overcome. There are clearly some mammoth changes coming our way and everything our predecessors have fought and died for is being coveted and actively taken from us by greedy businesspeople who did nothing to help our plight when it really mattered.

As a community, we need a common legal language and framework that breeders can use to protect their work.

We need a scientific community that’s open source, fully transparent and works for everybody equally. We need to support this with personal research, communication and our dollars.

As consumers, we need to support crop diversity and the ability of small farmers to innovate and drive our industry by making our purchasing choices reflect those ethics.

When we get burned, we pick ourselves the fuck back up and keep moving. Given what we’ve survived so far: this is just another bump in the long, strange trip. Not to worry, we’re gonna WIN this thing. Better goddamned well believe it, Y’all.

With peace, love and respect for everyone involved,

-Dick Fitts

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[frankbelloriley]

Here’s a giant WrestleMania 35 preview. I’m going to break down the 17 match card into three categories of “What’s the story?” “Will it rip?” “What result should I hope for?”, and, Jesus, this thing is going to be seven hours long, and woof, no one has time for all that, you’re gonna want time to get up and make something to eat/grab a beer.

Some edits have been made since I wrote this a couple of weeks ago because *Jeff Goldblum Jurassic Park laugh* wrasslin’ writing. Most have been left out. Some are still in.

now a bunch of these haven’t been officially booked yet, but this seems to be the way they’re going so if they have a ** next to them, that means they’re not official yet

Smackdown Tag Titles: The Usos (c) vs Aleister Black & Ricochet vs Rusev/Nakamura vs The Bar

What’s the story?: Late addition, there was an 8-man tag team between the heels and the faces of this match, but the Usos have to defend in a Fatal Four Way as consequences for forfeiting against Big E and Xavier Woods in the Gauntlet that would put Kofi in the main title match.

Will it rip?: It’ll be fun. Everyone here is good at their job. If you’ve never watched tag wrestling, this should be fun, and if you have watched tag wrestling, this will be fine, probably a really exciting finish. Edit: All of that was written when I thought this would be Usos vs The Bar and...it still works. Rusev/Nakamura are still good and they have incredible chemistry with Aleister Black and Ricochet. This should be a “everyone gets a moment” 15 minute match with a bonus “Ricochet flips off the top rope onto all the heels.”

What result should I hope for?: No injuries.

RAW Tag Titles: The Revival (c) vs probably Bobby Roode and Chad Gable**

What’s the story?: Roode and Gable and The Revival won it from them, Roode and Gable want their rematch, but the rematch clause was eliminated, but WWE hasn’t built up tag team wrestling in their promotion so there isn’t anyone to challenge The Revival other than Roode and Gable so. Here we are.

Will it rip?: 3/4 of the people invovled are very good in-ring performers, and the 4th is Bobby Roode. It’ll be fine.

What result should I hope for?: This goes 10 minutes and then Roode finally turns on Gable after they lose. #FreeChadGable

EDIT: Currently not on the card as of this writing and may not be. Hmmm.

Women’s Tag Team Titles: Banks/Bayley (c) vs Beth Phoenix/Natalya vs Nia Jax/Tamina vs The IIconics

What’s The Story?: At Fastlane, Sasha Banks and Bayley successfully defended the titles against Nia Jax and Tamina, they got mad and beat them down, to the chagrin of on-commentary Beth Phoenix, who called them out then and there, so Nia Jax and Tamina beat her down, so Natalya came out for the save. Then a couple days later The IIconics pinned the tag champions on Smackdown.

Will it rip?: Uhhhhh, probably not. If they really wanted to build up the Women’s Tag Team Titles, this should be against Mandy Rose and Sonya Deville, and that would 100% rip, but it’s not. Sasha Banks and Bayley will look good, The IIconics will do some funny character work, and the rest will be okay. There’s no non-injury (*knocks on wood*) way Banks and Bayley are dropping the titles after going on NXT and saying they’ll defend them there without having defended them once.

What result should I hope for?: That this goes 10 minutes and Nia Jax doesn’t injure anyone. (I’m hoping for 10 minute matches because even if everything went 10 minutes, THIS’D STILL BE A 3 AND A HALF HOUR SHOW)

Shane McMahon vs The Miz- Falls Count Anywhere

What’s the story? A few months back during the Oil And Blood Money Pay Per View, The Miz got “injured” before the World Cup Tournament final, Shane inserted himself, somehow won (lol), and Shane proceeded to proclaim himself the Best In The World (LOL). They tagged up, they won the Tag Team Championships from The Bar, they then immediately lost the Tag Team Championships to The Usos, they asked for and got a rematch despite the rematch clause being no more was the whole plan for the tag team division “sign The Young Bucks through money or magic??”  lost the rematch in The Miz’s hometown of Cleveland with his dad watching (Miz wanted to win the Tag Team Titles to get the pride of his dad, no really), so Shane, leaning into the company’s Eric Trump figure, beat up The Miz and also his dad sitting in the front row. It’s the most well paced and thought out plotline on the card and the only one that’s gone longer is the Becky-Ronda feud. LOL

Will it rip? Despite all the sarcasm I used in that last paragraph, this should absolutely be fun. The Miz is a good character, having done a good face turn in this pretty good on mic segment, and Shane, for all his limitations as a wrassler, is guaranteed to do something that will make you go, “buddy, you’re a dude in his mid 40s and the son of the owner of a billion dollar company, you ain’t got to kill yourself like this” during this match. This was last month’s such moment. Edit: Falls Count Anywhere so if MetLife Stadium has a platform that can be jumped off of, Snae McMahon, that wild sonovagun, is gonna jump off it into the crowd.

What result should I hope for? 10 minutes, Shane does something that makes you hope he didn’t die, The Miz wins via interference by a return of Sami Zayn????? (that last bit was me being hopeful, I miss Sami who, it should be noted, saw the rise of Becky Lynch happen a year out like an abuela with the sight)

AJ Styles vs Randy Orton

What’s the story?: Pretty interesting for WWE standards. Randy Orton is a third generation WWE guy while AJ Styles is a self-made wrestler who made a name on the Indies before going to the big leagues. They really leaned into this angle which resulted in one of the best on-mic promos either have done in recent memory, and regardless of the match itself, it is incredible that they were able to pull it off.

Will it rip?: Yeah. Randy Orton’s a poor man’s Brock Lesnar in that his move set is limited but when he gives a shit, he does alright, and AJ Styles is a guy who can make a guy with a limited move set look good (see: Jinder Mahal, Shane MacMahon)

What result should I hope for?: A clean as hell finish that shows that this is a one match kinda deal and it doesn’t extend out into SummerSlam

Drew McIntyre vs Roman Reigns

What’s the story?: Roman Reigns has famously beat leukemia and is returning for the ring in singles action for the first time. He was supposed to have a singles match a couple weeks ago against Baron Corbin, but Drew McIntyre came out and concussed him (sidebar: not a fan of WWE doing concussion storylines especially when Alexa Bliss has missed 6-8 months due to real life concussions). His SHIELD pal Dean Ambrose immediately sought retribution in a no-DQ match, Falls Count Anywhere against McIntyre, and McIntyre beat him by kicking him in the head after trapping him in some stair hand rails. Then the next week, McIntyre beat Roman’s other SHIELD pal Seth Rollins. McIntyre wants to destroy the SHIELD one-by-one and Reigns wants to avenge his friends.

Will it rip?: if it’s Roman Reigns and Drew McIntyre left on their own to cook for 20-25 minutes, oh yeah. Drew McIntyre has looked like a monster the past few weeks, Roman is ready to face someone his own size, and the crowd is ready to cheer the hell out of Roman Reigns. However, I have no reason to not suspect WWE will overbook the hell out of this, have a goofy as fuck finish, and that is a goddamn shame. This should absolutely rip, but if it doesn’t, that’s why.

What result should I hope for?: Honestly, that Drew McIntyre wins cleanly. The money’s in the chase, and it’s better going forward for the story if Roman loses here. Drew McIntyre has gone through the SHIELD in singles action, looking like a monster heel, especially if Brock Lesnar is leaving WWE after WrestleMania and they need a new one. Then there’s the “will Roman ever be the same??” storyline. So Drew can take the Universal Championship from Seth Rollins at Money in the Bank in June, so Roman can win it back from him in SummerSlam exactly a year after winning it from Brock Lesnar the first time. This story books itself, but Vince hates stories that book themselves (see: Becky-Ronda next).

Kurt Angle vs Baron Corbin except, hold on, wait, is that? It’s JOOOOOOOOHN CEEEEENAAAAAA (BAH BADA BAAAAAAAH BAH BADA BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH)

What’s the story? Kurt Angle is retiring and wants his final match to be against Baron Corbin, someone he’s never beat and the guy who took his GM job away from him and ran RAW into the ground as a way to handwave away months of just fucking awful episodes of RAW and tanking ratings. If WWE is being honest with themselves and everyone else when they say “the only bad reaction is no reaction” then there is no way this match is happening because when Kurt announced Baron Corbin as his opponent in Chicago you could hear a fucking pin drop. Hopefully this gets changed at last minute to John Cena to bring everything full circle where Cena debuted to a Kurt Angle open challenge.

Will it rip? If Vince decides to double down and say “am I out of touch? no, it’s the children who are wrong” (and with him you can never be sure that he won’t) and keeps Baron Corbin, fuck no. It’s not fun and it only reminds everyone of a time that everyone is trying to forget, even WWE creative. If it’s John Cena, yeah, this will be fun and goofy, which is an underrated aspect of both performers. Edit: boy they ‘bout to do it. They’re really trying to push Baron Corbin as an actual threat in this match. Dude made a Rey Mysterio match boring. And either Rey tweaked his ankle as a work (another obstacle for Rey to overcome against Joe later on! *j/o jesture*) or Baron Corbin for real tweaked Rey Mysterio’s ankle to push a match that’ll be boring as hell. Boo.

What result should I expect? There’s no way Angle is winning this, so let’s just hope it doesn’t go too long and doesn’t end with him having another freakin’ break in his broken neck.

Drax The Destroyer Batista vs Triple H

What’s the story? Batista and Triple H were faction buddies back in the day with Ric Flair, and on Ric’s 70th birthday, Batista beat Ric up to get Trips’ attention. Batista then yelled at Triple H a bunch which gave us not only this match but some hilarious memes on Twitter.

Will it rip? Buddy, it’s two 50 year old dudes, one of whom just came back from a torn pectoral injury, getting 30 minutes to wrestle and getting gassed in 10 if we’re being optimistic. No, it won’t, and them having a bad match doesn’t take away that 1) Triple H is currently running a fantastic promotion on NXT and him hanging up his boots to be a wrestling booker is best for everyone, 2) Dave has grown and continues to grow as a fantastic character actor. 

What’s the result I should hope for? Either they shorten it to 15-20 minutes and they figure out clever ways to hide that 50 year olds should not be wrestling that aren’t rest holds.

United States Championship: Samoa Joe (c) vs Rey Mysterio (and possibly vs Andrade Cien Almas)**

What’s the story? Samoa Joe won it from national treasure R-Truth in a Fatal Four Way against him, Rey Mysterio and Andrade Cien Almas on an episode of Smackdown about a month ago, then retained it in a rematch with all four dudes on Fastlane (both matches fucking riiiiiiiiiipped), then a couple of weeks ago, Rey pinned Joe during a tag match, so we got this. Also, Rey and Andrade have been feuding for quite some time as to who will be the future because I guess there can only be one Latino guy on the program (me: ¿porqué no los dos?) so there’s an 80% chance he’ll get added to this match, but despite the racist logic, Rey and Andrade have incredible chemistry and another page in the Rey-Andrade feud that adds a large Samoan who can powerslam both at the same time is far from the worst thing.

Will it rip? What kinda dumbass question is this. Yes. Hell yes.

What result should I hope for? No injuries and, if Andrade is added, he doesn’t take the pin. Sit back and have a good time.

Intercontinental Championship: Bobby Lashley w/ Lio Rush (c) vs Finn Balor

What’s the story? Typical WWE stuff, they’ve been trading the belt since shortly after the Royal Rumble, there’s been some intrigue in the Bobby-Lio dynamic with the manager getting on the big man’s bad side, but since he helped Bobby win the belt from Finn, they seem to be good. If only Finn Balor had an alterego that basically operates in kayfabe as going Super Saiyan...

Will it rip? Eh. I like Finn, and Lio Rush has helped Bobby Lashley as a character a whole bunch, but they have no wrestling chemistry whatsoever.

What result should I hope for? Finn brings out the Demon, and squashes both Lashley and Lio in five minutes flat. Edit: Finn’s bringing out the Demon. But since it’s not coming as a surprise, it won’t be a squash match. Smh.

Cruiserweight Championship: Buddy Murphy (c) vs Tony Nese

What’s the story? To keep it 100, I legit forgot this/205 Live was happening, so I had to Google it, but Tony Nese won a tournament to challenge Buddy Murphy.

Will it rip? Oh hell yeah. 205 Live is the wrestling equivalent of that show you keep hearing everyone else talk about and you sit down to watch an episode and think “wow this is really good, I should really start watching it” but then you don’t because there’s so much tv, you know?

What result should I hope for? The literal only reason Buddy Murphy should drop the belt is if he’s making his way to RAW or Smackdown.

Smackdown Women’s Championship: Asuka (c) vs either Mandy Rose or Sonya Deville or Naomi or Carmella**

What’s the story?: So, if Many or Sonya, this story is in service of breaking up Mandy Rose and Sonya Deville’s friendship with Asuka as an afterthought. This is probably a squash match with Asuka retaining. If Naomi, this is an interesting callback to when they were a tag team. If this is Carmella (my personal choice), this is a squash to make up/rid us forever of the James Ellsworth saga. All of this is to say that Asuka feels like an afterthought in this match, and whoever wins the contenders match to face her is getting fed to Asuka. Anything else makes her look like a goober (not that WWE is above making Asuka look like a goober). (Oh god, Lacey Evans is going to walk up the ramp and make Asuka look like a goober, this is Ellsworth all over again.)

Will it rip?: Sadly no. Asuka and Sonya Deville, if given 10-15 minutes on the biggest stage for some stiff strikes, would absolutely rip, but as of this writing that doesn’t seem to be the story so far.

What result should I hope for?: Something that builds up Asuka and doesn’t throw away the plot point that she made Becky goddamn Lynch tap out three months ago. Man, this match is really disappointing especially after she had arguably the best match at last year’s WrestleMania.

The entire previous section was replaced by a Sarcastic Laugh and a “We Want Asuka” Chant

RAW Women’s Championship: Ronda Rousey (Raw Women’s Champion ) vs Becky Lynch vs Charlotte Flair (Smackdown Women’s Champion)

What’s the story?: Christ. Where to begin. This should be very simple. “Smackdown Women’s Champion Becky Lynch was set to fight RAW Women’s Champion Ronda Rousey at Survivor Series but, due to Nia Jax for real punching Becky Lynch’s face, breaking her skull and concussing her, that match had to be put on hold, and the image of Bloodied Becky Lynch made everyone want that match at some point. So Becky Lynch entered the Royal Rumble and won it and the opportunity to face a champion of her choosing and chose Ronda Rousey the next night.” That should be it, and even inserting Heel Charlotte Flair into the match can make sense because WWE doesn’t like face vs. face matches and can garner boos from the crowd even if it had to be in the service of Becky Lynch’s Overcoming The Odds™. (The worst thing about WWE’s storytelling is that if someone gets over with the crowd on their own or not the way WWE wanted them to, WWE/Vince feels like they have to get them over on his terms only.) But then Ronda Rousey on social media couldn’t take a kayfabe joke and was turned heel, and it’s all very confusing. I could talk about how this will inevitably lead to a NXT Four Horsewomen vs MMA Four Horsewomen angle, but how we got here is convoluted as hell even for wrestling standards, and Eddie Guerrero and Rey Mysterio once had a match for the custody of Rey Mysterio’s son. Just follow Becky Lynch on Twitter/Instagram and watch her dunk on Ronda Rousey honestly. EDIT: [through still angry, sarcastic laughter] SO Charlotte got Asuka to tap out two weeks before WrestleMania and this is now a winner takes all. [yells “I want justice!” then calms down] Okay. So. The outside reason for this is that Ronda Rousey has not given WWE a definitive answer for if she’s leaving after WrestleMania to focus on having a family, and they need an out. The rumor is (spoiler, kinda, in a “so Spider-man saves the day at the end of the movie” way) Becky is winning but who she pins depends on whether Ronda is leaving or not. If Ronda stays, Charlotte gets pinned so Ronda can demand a one-on-one match for the title she lost but didn’t get pinned for, but if Ronda leaves, she gets pinned, and the Charlotte-Becky feud continues. That...actually makes sense for a longtime storytelling reason.

Will it rip?: Oh god yes, don’t get it twisted. The thing about WWE writing is that we’ll forget how we got here the second Becky Lynch does a leg drop off a ladder onto Ronda Rousey and Charlotte Flair on the German announce table.

What result should I hope for?: a good clean match with little-to-no overbooking, a run in from a called-up-from-NXT Shayna Baszler is not out of the question here nor would it be unwelcome

Universal Championship: Brock Lesnar (c) vs Seth Rollins

What’s the story?: Brock Lesnar won the leukemia-vacated Universal Championship in a country WWE is not allowed to say but still takes absurd amounts of money from, and Seth Rollins won the Men’s Royal Rumble match and won the right to challenge him for the title.

Will it rip?: Brock Lesnar is engraved on “Keep Getting Them Checks” Mt. Rushmore, but that being said, he has good matches when he gives a shit with the right opponent that brings it out of him (see: AJ Styles, Daniel Bryan, or even Finn Balor a couple months ago), and Seth Rollins hasn’t had a bad match in a good while. Yes.

What result should I hope for?: no overbooking, this story is simple, let Seth win this cleanly, let Brock leave, and allow Drew McIntyre to be the monster heel of the company.

WWE Championship: Daniel Bryan (c) vs Kofi Kingston

What’s the story? Kofi was a last minute replacement for Mustafa Ali in the Elimination Chamber and a gauntlet match the week before, and the guy put on two career best performances within a week, basically forcing WWE’s hand into putting Kofi Kingston into the championship picture. So now WWE’s going through the process of them getting him over, but at least it’s less convoluted than Becky’s story. (Kofi had a match for the Championship at Fastlane, but at the signing, Vince replaced him with Kevin Owens, then at Fastlane, Kofi pled his case to be added to the match, getting Vince to agree that the match would be a triple threat, making him think he would be added, instead adding Mustafa Ali, while Kofi got a match that resulted in him getting beat by The Bar, so Kofi and Xavier Woods and Big E pled their case for Kofi getting Vince to agree that if Kofi beats The Bar, Rowan, Samoa Joe, and Randy Orton in another gauntlet match, he’ll be added to the match, but when Kofi Overcomes The Odds™ and beats all five, he suddenly he has to face a sixth competitor, the current champion Daniel Bryan, and beats them, and, as of this writing, The New Day is thinking about quitting). What ended up happening is that The New Day pled their case to Vince, so Vince told the other two members of the New Day to run a gauntlet against five tag teams (four, because The Usos forfeited because of competitive honor), which they did. So, through the power of friendship, Kofi Kingston is on his way to WrestleMania. Wrestling is good.

Will it rip? Oh hell yeah. Kofi is one of the best workers and in-ring performers in the company, and he’s facing Daniel Bryan, the current best heel in WWE now that Tommaso Ciampa is unfortunately injured.

What result should I hope for? KO-FI KO-FI KO-FI KO-FI KO-FI KO-FI

OTHER POSSIBILITIES

Now that is 15 matches on the card which, already, good grief, but AEW has Vince shook, so there’s reportedly going to be 16-17 matches on the card just to make sure wrestlers don’t get disgruntled and want to ask for their release. Some wrestlers not currently on the card who are hopefully not relegated to the pre-show Battle Royale are Mustafa Ali, Kevin Owens, The Bar, Heavy Machinery, Andrade. The Bar vs Heavy Machinery could be a very fun pre-show match, but if we’re talking about a match on the actual card, I’m gonna fantasy book this because this is my preview and god bless you if you’ve read this far.

#1 Contender Fatal Four Way Match For the United States Title: Andrade Cien Almas vs Mustafa Ali vs Kevin Owens vs MYSTERY OPPONENT

What’s the story? That’s the brilliance of it, it doesn’t need that much of a build. Whoever wins this match is added to the US match. R-Truth is supposed to be here, but, like what happened in the Rumble, he and Carmella get taken out before it happens by Andrade and Zelina Vega. So instead, someone on a luchador mask comes out. We don’t know who he is, but he seems to have it in for Kevin Owens. During the four way, Mustafa and Andrade do their thing, the luchador hits a Helluva Kick on Kevin Owens and stands over him, removes his mask and....OH MY GOD, IT’S SAMI ZAYN!!! who then gets rolled up by Andrade and goes into the United States title match.

Will this rip? Would I make this up if it wouldn’t?

What result should I hope for? I just told you!