#oh and docs was just needing to be refreshed i guess

[chromatic-crow]

first chapter is Prepared I believe.....now I gotta decide when to release it before the draft expires next month lol

but other news. the main part is now connected to another big chunk so that's cool! only took...a lot of words to connect them and lots more to connect to the next part that's waiting yay

[marvelouslytrekking]

Unbelievable

Pairing: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Reader Summary: Written from the prompt: "I would believe that you're fine, but you have a goddamn knife sticking out of your leg, so." Word Count: 1417 Warnings: Mention of death, yelling, knife, injury, brief mention of disaster A/N: I haven't written much in forever and today I opened Google Docs to maybe try and write and I found this untitled and just sitting there. I really don't remember writing this but I guess I did so here it is! Enjoy :)

You were on a planet that had just had a major natural disaster hit their capital city. There were many casualties and you had come in to offer assistance and to bring them much needed supplies.  You were at a medical facility helping to triage people coming in with various injuries.

You had been tasked with assessments before directing the injuries to the treatment they needed. You were also helping with some of the more minor injuries if there was a lull in people coming in. While you knew your work was less exhausting than that of some of the other doctors and nurses who were doing back to back surgeries or other more intense work, you were still exhausted. You were also sure you had skipped a few breaks and honestly weren’t sure how long you had been at this posting. 

As if he had read your mind, suddenly Dr. McCoy appeared beside you. “I swear I haven’t seen you take a break all day. When was your last break?” He questioned.

“I honestly don’t remember,” You told him truthfully. 

“Well then what are you doing standing here, shoo, go take a break and come back a little refreshed.” 

You went to argue but he gave you a look that told you not to even try. You sighed and dramatically handed off the padd to another nurse before you stepped out of the school that had been turned into a makeshift hospital.  You immediately took a deep breath and realized just how long you had been cooped up in that building. You would never admit it to Bones, but you had desperately needed the break.

You had started to go for a walk. You should have probably been more exhausted than you were but you found yourself being restless. You didn’t want to get yourself lost so you were just walking around the block because you would be able to keep the school in your vision and you knew this area was one of the least affected so you wouldn’t find yourself in rubble and impassable areas. 

You had rounded the corner of the back of the building happy to be away from the chaos and be able to enjoy some quiet when you notice a man approaching. “They killed my wife! How could they let her die!” You heard him yelling. You felt bad for him, he had just gone through a tragedy and it wasn’t something that could be helped. It had seemed that he was just yelling at the world and not anyone in particular, but suddenly he was directly in your face. “How could you let them kill her!!” 

“I’m so sorry for your loss sir, but I am sure they did everything that you could.” You tried to diffuse the situation. You were trying to remember if you had seen this man when you were triaging people, but you had seen hundreds of people and at a certain point, the faces began to blend together. 

“No! You said she’d be okay, that it was just a simple injury and then we waited hours and now she’s dead. You killed her!!” 

You were trying to process what he was saying but before you could say or do anything, he was lunging at you. You hadn’t been prepared for the attack so he managed to knock you down on the stairs behind you. You were trying to push him off you when you heard the back doors opening and someone yelling. You let out a breath of relief when the commotion scared the man off and he ran off within second of the person starting to yell at him. 

“Oh my god! y/n, are you okay?!” You suddenly released the voice was that of Dr. McCoy. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” You responded. You were still a little stunned from the encounter and you began to slowly pull yourself up to a better seated position.

You watched as the doctor looked you over. You rolled your eyes, “You know, I am a nurse, when I say I am fine, I mean it,”

“ Well, I would believe that you're fine, but you have a goddamn knife sticking out of your leg, so." He responded with an annoyed look.

“What are you,” You started to respond before looking down to where his eyes were and realizing that he was right, there was a knife sticking out of your thigh. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, “So how ‘bout we get you back inside and get you taken care of.”

“I am pretty sure this is a yellow case at best, I can take care of this myself. I am sure you have much more important things to be dealing with.” You told him. However, you did allow him to help you get up from the stairs. You made sure not to put any weight onto your left leg. 

“Well I think having my favorite nurse out of commission puts you higher on the priority list” He told you.

“Oh, and here I thought you didn’t have favorites.” You chuckled.

“Don’t tell Christine, she’ll be very upset and no one wants that.” He joked.

“Your secret is safe with me.” You smiled. 

You still wanted to protest that you could take care of yourself, but you also had to admit, you didn’t mind being taken care of by the doctor so you allowed him to lead you to a table and to patch you up. 

“What happened?” He asked gently as he began to cut the fabric of your uniform pants away from the knife blade. 

“I really don’t know. It happened so fast. He was yelling about how his wife died and then next thing I knew he was in my face saying I killed his wife and then before I could even try to respond, he had jumped me.” You explained. “I was trying to remember who his wife was. He said I told him it was a minor injury. I don’t know if I diagnosed her wrong. I mean maybe I am to blame.”

“Hey,” Bones stopped what he was doing, putting his hands on your shoulders and forcing you to look at him, “You did not kill her. You have been doing your job to the upmost degree, there is a lot that can go wrong when we are trying to take care of this many people. We can’t control everything, he was just misplacing his anger. You are not to blame.” 

“I mean, what if I am though?” You were trying to listen to what he was saying but all you could think about was how you couldn’t even remember who the women who died was. “I mean I can’t even remember looking the women over, what if I over extended myself and was too tired and missed something.”

“Listen, I know what you're going through right now, but honestly if you don’t remember her you might not have even been the one to look her over. And I promise, as your direct superior, I would not have let you stay here if I thought you were a danger to yourself or others. Nor would you let yourself get to that point.”

You knew he was right but it was so hard to believe it when you stopped to think about the life that was lost. 

“Thanks Len,” 

“Anytime. You know where to find me if you need to talk about this type of stuff.” He told you. From there he worked in mostly silence. He made sure to warn you of incoming pain and apologized when you winced anyway. 

“Alright you’re all good. Now get yourself back to the ship and rest for a while.” He instructed once you were patched up. 

“Wait, I thought this was about making sure I could get back to work?!” You protested. 

“You have already been here well over the maximum allowed for hours, and you were just stabbed. You need to get some rest. Once you have had a good 10 hours off, you can come back and work if you’re feeling up for it.” 

“But-” You tried to interject. 

“No buts. Get some sleep. That’s an order.” He said, authority behind the statement. 

“Fine, but I am not going to be happy about it.” You gumbled. 

[definitelynotshouting]

hi tem!! 72, 77, 78!!

Ask me fanfic writer questions!

Omg hello!!! Eidnwjdjdj i shouldve guessed i'd get 77 immediately 😂😂😂😂

72.) what do you do if a scene gets too serious?

Generally im almost always aiming for serious on some level, tbh-- thats my favorite thing to write about!! Even while writing comedy, i tend to go for more serious undertones; in the case that im going intentionally for pure humor, though, and the scene comes out a little more serious than intended, i try to dial it back by focusing on banter, adding a bit of humor to the narration itself, and essentially laying the scene out in a way that's intentionally meant to draw your attention to whats supposed to be funny.

On the whole, though, serious scenes are my JAM and i adore writing them, so its not often i run into this problem!!

77.) how do you write kissing scenes?

OH BOY. OKAY. this is the point, i suppose, where i mention the Kissing Seminar.

The Kissing Seminar is a very informal discussion i held in one of my discord servers and later transcribed to a google doc when the topic of how to write kisses came up. Full disclosure: i kiss a lot. I love kissing. Ive kissed a ton of people in my life and i kiss my partner constantly. So when im writing kisses, i am pulling DIRECTLY from my own experiences on how it feels and how i do it (and sometimes i do need refreshers; last time i wrote a kiss i had to pause, kiss my partner for a minute, and then go back to writing. Partner reported being INCREDIBLY confused by the abruptness but was pleased to receive smooches until the next day when i informed them of why, and then they hit me with a pillow SJDNEJDJEJJS 😂😂😂😂)

Anyway, the Kissing Seminar is something ive been meaning to pretty up and post for public consumption time and time again, but havent yet because its just so currently low on the priority list. But it details HOW to kiss, and what to expect, and some options for how to write it if you want to go for something more detailed rather than just saying "they smooched". As a tl;dr, its generally all about body placement, rhythm, and emotions-- and the intermingling between them. If you want to write good kisses, focus on all three of these things, and it'll help you out a lot

78.) how do you choose where to end a chapter?

I go off of instinct, mostly!!! Usually i try to keep my chapters all to a similar length (so for hunger au, im aiming for 4-5k each time), and because i know how long most of my scenes take (about 1-2k depending) im able to round off where things should stop after a certain amount of scenes have been written. Sometimes its not precise, though-- last chapter of litd was meant to have the Pearl conversation fully in it, but Tango ended up being the primary focus, and i couldnt really edit that out without sacrificing a lot. So as soon as i found a good stopping place, i went ahead and finished the chapter.

Good stopping places for me are where a scene naturally ends and begins to transition into a new one-- think like movie clips, or scenes in a play. To continue using hunger au chap 4 as an example, the final "clip" so to speak started with Tango and Grian on the couch, and ended with Tango leaving the set while Pearl took his place. I found this to be a really good natural stopping point for the chapter, because Pearl and Grian's convo is very different from the way Tango and Grian's went, so it requires a different tone and new atmosphere to fully delve into that. I find that when the tone of a scene changes, or something new is happening, or time is shown to have passed in some way, these are naturally good places to stop a chapter.

I think this is often why people will choose to end their chapters with their characters falling asleep-- its a natural transition that people instinctively recognize as moving things forward, so it acts as a way to separate one scene from the next. The problem with relying on that alone though is that it can become very repetitive, so its important to be able to start pinpointing all your transition sentences or paragraphs so you can find other places and ways to end chapters and add in some variety

As with all things, though, this isnt a hard and fast rule; i can think of several ways one might want to lean on that for thematic purposes, or using it as a motif, or just a particular expression of style. Really what it comes down to is what you want from your story, and the best ways to achieve that; a good editor in particular will help you find a way to do that. Wkdnwke sorry this became sort of a very extended ramble, but as a professional editor and a longtime writer i find the subject fascinating and feel like mechanics like this arent really talked about often enough. Anyway thank you for listening to my little soapbox if you read all the way through, and thank you so much for the questions!!!!! :DD

[ask-the-cosmic-duo]

"Well... Twilight sent me an invitation to study runic magic with her because I wrote a research paper on the various types of runes, uses and magic! I should pass you a copy one day! That, and few understand old ponyish languages.. what's better than to ask an expert like me! I decided to lend my expertise! Lys was once an ancient fortess, but it was destroyed due to... well.. dark magic? Maybe not? It's a work in progress... We were trying to figure that part out.."

The doctor paused a while before continuing, "Oh yes, the coffins! There were many on the first layer, and Celestia knew what they were for. So we opened quite a few of them... granted we should had used precaution, but oh well... and guess what? Most were empty? Where all the dead go? There are also rumors of a soul crystal box lying somewhere."

"I'm sure one of these days, Aurora might commission some griffons she spoke the other day to go & find them. Birds? Sparrows? I don't remember their names, only their colors and both are twins. One is blue and one is yellow? Bear in mind, it's just a rumor, this soul crystal box, Dear Stella! And we all know how rumors go.."

The creature only shrugged, "Honestly he probably stumbled into one of the booty traps in that one random coffin, it was only designed to make him crazy.. but ah well. As they say.. shit happens!

"Princess Twilight is on her way here, to this very place to meet you, Good Doctor. Later we need to escort you to the lobby for light refreshments...Yes, we do have trouble...I'm sorry to drag you into such situations..." Aurora paused. "Doctor... are you from this world..?"

"........Well, no? I escaped from this world's sister universe and things have gotten real bad...Some parallel universes you just don't mess with. This world's original doctor is... either dead or gone missing." The doctor said plainly.

"But everyone calls me "Doctor Hooves" as usual.. and I intend to find out this Lys mystery soon! As soon I meet Twilight and reunite with family, of course.. "

Stella listened with more interest than she was expecting herself to have. Magic studies could be good. Also, two griffons? One blue, one yellow…

Wait a sec. “Gad and Zooks? They’re here? From what I’ve seen so far, this world is super dangerous.” She sighed, feeling concerned for the two’s wellbeing. “They might want backup. I suppose I could be that backup, and do some extra studying for you in the meantime, Doc.”

She smiled, despite Shade’s presence. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll even be fun! It’ll be my first adventure in a while, I think. Well, aside from those two things that happened…” She’s silent for a moment before clearing her throat, wanting to move on from that thought.

Continuing to listen to the Doctor, Stella hummed to herself in thought. “Strange… It’s possible he’s just gone elsewhere in his TARDIS, if he has one. But it’s hard to know.” With a shrug, she continued, “Family comes first, though. Go talk to your loved ones. I’ll take it from here.”

[scribbleseas]

Hi!! Hope ur having a nice day/night so far! <3

I honestly just wanted to say how I absolutely love ur work- I CANT EVEN FIND WORDS TO EXPRESS IMY LOVE FOR IT PROPERLY- BUT I'LL TRY MY BESTT-😭😭

At first I was just going thru the black butler fandom tags to find a good fanfic, when I stumbled upon ur work. At first glance it was intimidating to jump into a whole new famfic with multiple chapters, but honestly I'm *SOO* glad I did!

I haven't been caught up with any new chapters since I've last read it but, nonetheless all I can say is that ur work/writing is a whole *experience*🤌✨. And I mean it in every sense. Even tho it's been well over a month or so since I've read it I can still remember the scenes that play out; coupled with your beautiful writing that genuinely makes it seem like I'm transported into ur story ur telling. All the feels, the scenarios are still stuck in my mind when I think back to your work and honestly I don't think I'll ever find anything else which could even come close to replicating what I felt when I read ur work.

I cannot ever find the exact words or thank you enough for how you've been able to help me find an escapism in ur heavenly writing that should really be called an art form. (Srsly I'm not even joking-). And I definitelyy plan to re-read all ur chapters from start to finish during my holidays.

I honestly really reallyyy admire how ur able to articulate things so well with ur words. Once I started reading, I was sucked in and I couldn't stop reading, to the point that I think I just binge read ur chapters in one day. Honestly I might have gotten up the next day just to read what happens next.

So sorry for the long letter of sorts, I guess I just had a lot to say once I started writing and I hope you've been taking care of urself, mental and physical health as well! Sending u all the love and support in whatever u do and wherever u are <33

(P.S. it's my first time ever writing anything to the author and I honestly hope it didn't come off as weird or creepy or anything-)

- .⁺‧₊✧

Hi, .⁺‧₊✧ Anon!!

Let me just say, oh my god!!

I literally almost cried the first time I read this. I can’t believe you would take the time to sit down and write me such a kind message. I’m so touched that I’m struggling to convey how grateful I am, like I can’t believe you like it so much and I’m absolutely over the moon that you do. I really can’t thank you enough for this ask. All of it. Every syllable, letter, and emoji, lol.

I’m also going to be real: you sent this at the perfect time because I’ve been really struggling with motivation to work on the next chapter. I’ve felt both uninspired and overwhelmed as a first-year in college atm. (Especially because it’s midterm season, gross.) This kind of message was exactly what I needed to help me feel like my work is really there for people, and it’s the quality that I work so hard to make it. I feel much more inspired to pick up my fic outline and my chapter 17 Google Doc and actually get to work. I’ve been putting it off because I hate forcing myself to write— it never comes out good.

But this was exactly what I needed to feel refreshed and ready to start tackling the problems/roadblocks that I’ve run into while I (more intricately) plan out the last 2 chapters in this fic. Who knew, it’s actually pretty tough to wrap up a story!

It means so much that this storyline and its characters are resonating with you, too! I love that TIP is a story that youn can think about when you need a little bit of escapism. That’s literally me, like all the time— that’s where a lot of the ideas for this story came from!!

I’m really so choked up over your whole message, before I sat down to write this message, I came back to re-read it easily five times before I thought I could properly write about the happy tap-dance my heart does when I read it. You didn’t come off as weird or creepy at all, just extremely kind and just amazingly supportive. I’m really grateful that my writing has garnered such sweet and amazing people like you to read it and give me such lovely and well thought out feedback. It’s not something I expected, at all, being a novice fic writer with a brand-new Tumblr, and a slowburn Black Butler fic. And it’s certainly nothing I expected when I first thought of this plot like…six years ago! In middle school!

Anyways, I write for all of you, and feedback like this just warms my heart.

Thank you so much for your love, support, and faith in me. I’m so honored <3

- Dan

[lostandfoundvocaltrax2005]

October 3rd. Afternoon, at the time of writing this.

its been a good while since i've written in here (guess thats why i shouldn't make vent blogs..), but i haven't really felt like i've had anything to say i couldn't express in short bursts? even now i'm not entirely sure what to put down. so, i guess i'll start with this. my boyfriends came home from their mission recently, so my mood has been relatively stable and i don't feel like hurting myself anymore. which, i think, is both good and bad. i don't like feeling like i have to rely on them in order to stay sane, but i don't think it counts unless i tell them? its fine to feel things privately. on the topic of lovers, i have two things i'm not sure how to express concisely. i guess i'll start with the most recent, that being Viv. i guess almost everyone thinks we're a couple? i got the okay i didn't know i needed from her dad (he brought it up while cuddling me to keep from fucking me. which, hysterical timing for that, but whatever keeps it in your pants) and Vex asked me if she was a new partner of mine. i reckon it'd be the next logical course of action but she's kind of already taken and i do Not want to be the stepper on toes homewrecker. she said something that jabbed a really, really tender spot i didn't know i had. she that if i got old, she'd take care of me until we both vanished. (well, not that exactly, but thats basically the gist of it). i know that i am loved but goddamn is it good to hear stuff like that. it feels a little selfish to say im sick of people expressing their attraction to me, but i think its different when its just constant sexual remarks. it was both refreshing and nauseating hearing something like that. the second thought was that i've been thinking about my time in washington recently because i got an urge to look through old texts. i feel kind of bad for how i acted, but at the same time, i know that if i had been any softer i'd have gotten walked all over. my two exes from that school are dead and i don't really know how to process it? i guess? kylar killed himself to try and prove he wasn't a waste of time, and Kidd just straight up murdered crispin for the crime of stalking me. and that kind of reminded me that this other kid, hunter, fucking killed his mom over me! Nicole and i were joking when we brought it up, i never wanted anyone to die! i know its a matter of socialization difference and the fact i'm somewhere on the aroace spectrum (i looked into recently after Doc brought it up) but holy fuck chimera pussy can not be that worth it.

Dad said he'd jump off a building for me too. its all really disorienting to think about. i got "married" recently. its in quotation marks for multiple reasons (he put the ring on my right pointer finger, there were no witnesses, the groom is FUCKING FOURTEEN. FOUR. TEEN. in my defense it was NOT my idea i tried to talk him out of it but it didn't work). at the very least he's a sweet kid and has only really done things i'd expect of a boy his age. basically he hasn't tried to fuck or move in (low bar, i know). i've been thinking a little about how time travel works recently as well. i find it odd that things become "fixed points" once you know about them. i guess its a subconscious thing? i don't know, this is way outta my pay grade. ..speaking of marriage, actually. i know better than to put any stock into the words of people who don't give a fuck about me but, yknow, i'm paranoid. not my fault. i've been thinking recently about what that zydrate guy said, about how 17 is usually the cut off age for most pedophiles. i know Jackson said i had to be 20 for him to marry me, but i can't help being anxious. oh wait thats right halloweens coming up! Kidd's bday soon ^_^ and i gotta start working on my costume. i'm going as the guy who shot me a little while ago. yeah. hey, look, i never claimed to be smart. that was something everyone else decided i had to be. and also, its cunty. both the idea of going as the guy who tried to kill me and the outfit itself, its cunt. whatever. i don't have to explain myself.

i wonder what i should get for his birthday. i wanna go shopping this weekend, so i'll look around while i'm out. huh. i had more to say than i expected.

[avo-kat]

ok so ive started watching ultra q and its actually p fun?

theres no ultraman in here, but thats actually kinda cool, too?

cuz instead of super hero coming and saving the day its just normal people running into a monster and going "oh shit oh fuck oh no what are gonna die oh shit we are gonna die fuck what should we do" and they somehow make it through

the main characters are a woman working as a newspaper reporter/photographer. in the first ep she almost died to a monster induced cave in and monster attack and in the third ep when she heard about another monster sighting she immediately volunteered to go and take photos

and when they do find the monster - and two dead guys, nobody really reacts with a lot of shock or fear - and they start running, she just stops to take some pictures

the other characters are... employees at an airport? mituya air service it said on one poster.

its funny how theres barely any explanation. nobody says who anybody is. one guy picks up a ringing phone and just "yes hello this is the office"

one guy that seems to wear a cop uniform is being questioned by reporters about some object falling into the ocean and just says "ah yes we shot a rocket to mars 6 months ago, this is the capsule that came back"

like. who is this guy? no name used. he didnt introduce himself. is this the government? military? i have no idea.

i guess watchers back in 1966 would have known based on the uniform? maybe?

also reporter girl and airport guy are both wearing some eagle patch on their clothes. but they work at different places? are both places gov funded? how does a newspaper company keep on hiring airplanes and helicopters?

the real mystery is figuring out the setting lol.

and even though the show is super old, the production quality is obviously extremely high and it still looks absolutely amazing now. and whats more: the episodes themselves feel fresh. or maybe its because i dont watch stuff like that.

but in ep 3 they encounter a monster snail from mars and they run away from it. pilot guy shoots at it with a gun (so military after all? or does he just carry a gun? why did pilot guy go in with reporter girl to check out the monster? is that in his job description? what kinda job is that?) until he runs out of bullets. then he straight up throws the gun at the snail.

thats hilarious? like, i wouldnt be surprised seeing it nowadays. it would be a bit tiring in a comedy show, but played straight in a monster show its kinda refreshing.

and they kept running away from the snail on this steep cliffs until it... accidentally fell down into the ocean. where it dissolved. probably because of the salt? thats fucking hilarious.

like its not a deep show, the episodes are only 25min, the formula seems pretty basic, so dont expect a masterpiece or anything, but its kinda entertaining.

also look at this?

they took out the capsule and then we have... this scene of people gathered in a space themed room. and they have name plates. "doctor". "observer". "press". thats so stupid its funny?

also no explanation given who is who and what is even this.

at the end of this scene the doc just gives us the theory that the capsule and the stuff inside (modern fabric and two gold eggs) came from the future? he did not elaborate any further.

like. the future?

thats... your theory?

at least thats what the subs say.

and later...

???

ok so we just agree aliens are on mars and aliens send them snail eggs? and the world... moves on? i guess it will come up but. lol. they are just sitting there and chilling. thats so funny.

docs says the aliens could be annoyed that humans are sending out rockets. lol. what. lol. doctor where did u study alienology. "its just a hypothesis". ok thanks.

second pilot guy suggests to befriend the alien society.

yuri straight up tells him it prob wont be possible, cuz humans suck since theres still racial discrimination, they still have wars and human trafficking and earth prob needs to get more peaceful.

lmaoooo

second pilot guy, ippei, picked up a lil gold ball at the office and put a chain on it and gifted it to yuri. bro??? omfg. you find gold at the office and just... take it? lol.

the end is just... "as humans will continue their space exploration more monsters will come. alas."

amazing. 10/10.

[doc-hudson]

Not a racer!

Alternative title: Cruz Ramirez and Doc Hudson try and fail at acting normal

Dated: November 18, 2022

Doc Hudson

As much as Doc hated the occasion, he couldn’t deny that there was some nostalgic charm to some little details of it all, specially the closer one got to the refreshments tent, where competitors, trainers and apparently, sponsors (judging by Simba’s presence) moved around.

Shit, he should be getting away from this things, not getting closer to them, and yet…

Maybe he still had time to get away.

And so, he decided to take a step back -accidentally crashing into a kid.

“Shoot- sorry, champ” he said, making a mental note about not cursing during a family-oriented event “didn’t see you there”

-

Cruz Ramirez

Cruz had not slept in...!! Well the number of days didn't matter at this point, the hat man could jump out at her at any minute and she would probably smile, wave, and ask if he was having a great time. She knew she was! Even though the set up had been sort of brutal, mostly due to it being so freaking cold!!, and there had been various hitches along the way, seeing it all put together? Mind boggling. Seeing people were actually competing and here to have a good time? Amazing! Incredible! She couldn't quite believe it!! She was seriously going to have to owe her first born to Coach Triton for getting all of this to happen.

She had just stepped away from trying to hype Jae, one of the uni students in the program, up for the race, thinking about pouring some water over her face for a wake up call when someone bumped into her. "Oop! No, you're okay! Totally my bad," she apologized, then grinned at the guy. Who she...thought looked kinda familiar. He probably was related to one of the competitors or something. Uh, oh. And he had called her champ which meant they had probably met before. Well shit! "It's good to see you out here! Are you excited?"

-

Doc Hudson

‘It’s good to see you out here’ the kid said.

Shit, was he supposed to know her? Shit- maybe they’d met somewhere before? That was unlikely, him being new around and all.

Did she know-? No, she possibly couldn’t. She must be overly familiar with people. Was that a British thing he didn’t know about? God, he wanted for that to be a British thing he didn’t know about and to be able to stop worrying.

“No, no, I wasn’t lookin’ , ‘s totally my bad ” he insisted, with the tight-lipped smile of someone that would rather run away from the interaction, but couldn’t risk outting himself or hurting a kid’s feelings “I’m...I guess, yeah. My godson of sorts is thrilled by this all and I figured I'd give it a chance -how about you? You competin’?”

-

Cruz Ramirez

Godson! Okay! Cruz looked out over the racers.

...

AGH!!! That didn't help her at all! That could literally be any he/him out here since this guy didn't have to be related to them to have gotten that title. So she just smiled and nodded, like she totally knew what who he was talking about and like she'd TOTALLY looked over at them in acknowledgement instead of the cursory glance. "Me? Oh, pft, no. I mean, I know it's for charity and everything but I'd rather be on the sidelines in case someone needs me. You know. Just a trainer! Not a racer." Cruz swallowed, unable to tell whether it was getting easier to say that or harder these days. "But yeah! It should be fun! Swynlake's first Magick Grand Prix! I never thought I would see the day."

-

Doc Hudson

Oh, ok. Ok, judging by the kid’s expression she actually had no idea who he was talking about-

-and, well, he’d been telling somewhat of a lie, so it wasn’t her fault.

“About eh tall, dark hair, loud as all hell? His name’s King” he explained, posture a bit more relaxed now that they were getting over the confusion “We’re new around so…”

No need to feel guilty if she didn’t recognize them, that was for the best.

“Trainers are important too” he added, tilting his head slightly at the discreet change on the girl’s demeanor -she’d been so hyped just a second ago but now… “Without people like you there wouldn’t be much of anythin’ to see, you know?”

Without guidance folks might as well be running wildly in circles, just because. And that’s what he wanted to say before he was distracted by a pang of the nervousness from a moment ago.

“Yeah… who would have thought? It’s thrilling”

-

Cruz Ramirez

King. Yeah, okay, Cruz didn't know who the heck that was, and with a name like that she was pretty sure she would have remembered. So, phew! At least she hadn't totally forgotten someone. But then...hm! Why did this guy look kinda familiar? And that feeling didn't go away as soon as she realized that they had probably never met before. Especially if he and his godson (of sorts) were new to Swynlake. ...weird!

"Thanks," she said with a little smile, not wanting to dwell on that sort of thing. Both because she hated pity as much as the next guy and because this wasn't about her. It was about the race! The people competing, about getting the name out there and for more people to see how much fun it was! Then maybe more uni kids with magic would be persuaded to come join the team and PrideU would start seeing some traction with it.

Cruz brightened, whatever sarcasm or attitude being used going right over her head, "I know, right? It is thrilling! When I was a kid I never thought I would see something like this. Even in a town like Swynlake. It's super awesome! All the kids I coach have been so stoked about finally getting to see a race for themselves.

-

Doc Hudson

Shit.

Shit, the kid was seriously excited by the event and there was no way in hell Paul would actively try to ruin the moment for others (twitter incident aside).

He’d been just like her, once, and knew full well that he would have been over the moon if any kind of Grand Prix related competition had been able to happen back in his hometown -hell, she couldn’t possibly be older than he was back when he’d joined his first ragtag team and had to juggle two jobs in order to save up for the travel to Thomasville and-

-it was then his side started hurting, making him bite on his lower lip and try to nod along, as not to bother the kid.

“ ‘s nice to have a chance, yeah” he said, trying to power through the pain that was sure to fade away as soon as he relaxed “But, again, without folks like you they wouldn’t really know where to begin. Give yourself some credit-”

He paused, creating a beat on the conversation for the other to introduce herself.

-

Cruz Ramirez

It didn’t register that the guy was trying to get her name, just that he was trying to flatter her for??? Some reason. She was usually pretty good about taking compliments but for stuff like this it just never sat well with her because she didn’t feel like she deserved it yet. Not until someone she had trained was making their way to the big leagues! Until they were on the podium, lifting a trophy or flowers or their team had covered them in either a big cooler of gatorade or shot champagne on them. Either way, they would be sticky.

…whaaat had this train of thought turned into…. Uhh

She blinked, remembering she was talking to someone.

“And without fans like you, who support the people competing, it wouldn’t be half as much fun!” she quickly spit out, trying to make up for the weird silence that sat there as she pondered. “Have you ever seen a race before? Or is this your first one?”

-

Doc Hudson

Kid seemed to be a space case, which was...actually pretty good news to Paul, who relaxed little by little now that his paranoia seemed to be unjustified.

“Ah, yeah...I’m not...big into the whole thing” he lied, looking away as he did so “the godson ‘s the one that loves the thing and dragged me all the way here, you know how that goes. I’m not sure if he’ll be joinin’…”

Maybe that’d be a good way for King to burn some energies.

But the prospect didn’t feel quite right -the mere idea of it felt like becoming a stage-dad, like opening the cursed possibility of him, directly or indirectly, forcing the kid to live up to his own dreams.

It felt wrong. Sure, if King wanted to join he’d root for him, maybe try to teach him the ropes, but…

“Mnope, we don’t know the first thing ‘bout it” he continued lying, avoiding the kid’s gaze just in case she somehow managed to notice his bullshit “I’m just here for the snacks, the kid and I’m bettin’ some money on a kid named Milo winnin’, you know”

That last part was mostly a joke. Mostly.

“Care to educate this ol’ man?”

-

Cruz Ramirez

Yeah, that made sense. Even living in a place like Swynlake finding someone who knew what the Magick Grand Prix was wasn’t the easiest, and finding someone as knowledgeable (obsessed) with it as her was pretty impossible. So she didn’t think much of his answer, other than that it was consistent with just about everyone else’s.

“Uh, kind of! I’ve definitely never set one up before,” she said with a sort of exasperated laugh to punctuate it. She had been to a race and she had been to try outs, but she had never actually raced herself. Duh. How could she? She wasn’t good enough to. “Hopefully it’s fun! I tried to bring in what I could, but it’s not like we had the time and budget to build something professional. But I think it came together!

-

Doc Hudson

“Settin’ up somethin’ ‘s completely different from just watchin’, you know” he said, gaze returning to the kid now that he didn’t feel compelled to lie through his teeth “I think you guys did amazin’”

He knew Smokey would be proud of what they had achieved in such a short notice and with, apparently, an extremely limited budget.

But he wouldn’t further elaborate, not he was supposed to not know a thing about anything Grand Prix.

“ ‘s not about how it looks, I think. ’s about what you make of it and folks havin’ fun” Paul shrugged “not everyone starts with top-of-the-art stuff -sometimes starting with the most basic of basics ‘s the best option, it teaches you how to adapt, to improvise”

Oh, if he had a dime for every person that complained about common rocks during events…! He’d probably be as rich as old MacTunnag.

-

Cruz Ramirez

Oh, great. Here came along another….older….person about to tell her about how technology wasn’t all that. Just like Mr. McQueen! Didn’t they know that it totally was? Like, sure, this course was fine, but wasn’t great! If they had the technology, they could have had material that looked good, that made people feel like they were watching something at least semi-professional. Not that it looked terrible, but it wasn’t necessarily pristine.

She didn’t get why technology was so bad! It helped people a lot, made things accessible and pretty!

“Maybe, but hopefully we won’t have to stay this way. If people like what they see, especially the ones who actually have money to throw around, then we might make a name for ourselves!” she said. “It might not be about looks for having fun, but I’m trying to get sponsors for the kids I coach and you know how rich people are. They want the looks, too. It’s how they sell their image.”

-

Doc Hudson

“Hopefully” he nodded, even if the rational part of his mind wanted the exact opposite, for the whole thing to be forgotten and for Swynlake to return to the charming countryside experience he’d been searching for instead of...constant stress.

But the kid looked so happy about it all, even if it wasn’t the fanciest of courses or events that, hell, some of cheerfulness kind of rub off on him.

Kind of. There was no changing the past, but her apparent innocent interest on it all kind of...remembered him of simpler times, of when he’d been the one getting excited by the mere idea of the Grand Prix.

“Rich people don’t know a thing, don’t sweat it, kid”

Shit, no, no. Backtrack, backtrack-!

“I mean...they are too quick to judge, you know? They’re only interested on…” he moved his hands, as if holding something “the true and tried instead of the slightly unconventional or the new. They think with their wallets ‘nstead of their hearts...or heads”

Shit, he needed to relax, he wasn’t supposed to know a thing about it all.

But, damn, did he hate some sponsors and could not keep silent about it.

-

Cruz Ramirez

Excited to hear someone share her opinions of stuff it didn't even occur to her how he sounded so knowledgeable about it all! After this she might just chalk it up to him knowing about how other sports worked or, you know, he was olllldddd...er! Older. Mhmm. And had more life experience.

"Yeah! I mean, I know, but it's also like a game in itself, right? You gotta play by their rules in order to get their money so you can compete. They only like certain looks, they only like certain types of magic, blah blah blah, and the only time they're going to take a chance on anyone is if they know they'll win. So in order for my kids to get what they need, I want them to have every opportunity to be the best they can. Hence why I think we will still need to have a bit more than fun on our side!" Then giggled. "Because we do have fun! Hopefully your er- King, right? Hopefully he'll have fun. And you, too! Watching can be fun, not just nerve wrecking, I promise."

-

Doc Hudson

Paul rolled his eyes.

“The greats didn’t have sponsors from the get-go” he snorted, not bothered by the kid per-se but by the ideas that had been hammered into her, the...learned helplessness the younger generations had been forced into “Take Louise Barnstormer, for example”

Was he, as kids put it, simping for his ex?

You bet he was.

“She didn’t have any sponsors during her first whole year on the Prix and even had to steal a number to get into the main event” oh, he was getting fired up “sure, it wasn’t an easy road, nor was it pleasant, but she made do regardless of what the bigwigs at Lunaco or Golden Falcon believed and became an all-time star anyways”

No, no, he had to relax- he had to.

“Or, like...Junior Moon? Man’s first races where in bumfuck middle-of-nowhere, no fancy equipment or sponsorships from the get go- hell, people doubted him even after he’d won time after time just ‘cause he wasn’t the right type of Magick or some...stupid bull like that. And he became a legend still”

No thanks to any sponsors, but hard work.

“I just...where there’s a will, there’s a way, you know? And I know it sounds easier said than done, but…” he sighed “and...I’m glad you have such a positive outlook towards this sorta stuff, just...don’t let others tell you what you, or your trainees, are worth, ok? ‘cause it’s you who decides that, not some statistics, the things you can afford or what others say”

So much for not nothing shit about the Prix, eh?.

-

[sarahjswift]

Well....🤭🤭

Twin Wounds Chapter 9 is here!!

Guess you inspired me! I can't say I'll be able to finish the series, but I have another chapter already written after this. I read through my huge Google Doc with all of Twin Wounds and got pretty inspired :) thanks to whoever asked this <333

if you need a refresher on what was happening in this story(as I did lol) my masterlist is below! :D

Word Count: 1.2k

Tag List <33: @backtobl4ck, @aelinchocolatelover, @renxzs, @blue-bird17, @autumnbabylon, and @throneofshadows

Warnings: Language & Triggering Topics

Enjoy!

__

Rowan was surprised but not stunned that he was about to have a conversation about his patient’s - and crush’s - progress to her cousin. Weirder things have happened, he thought to himself. 

Now, he was awkwardly shuffling through Aelin’s file, now updated with her progress over the weeks. He cleared his throat. “So, what do you want to know?”

“Just, like…,” Aedion trailed off, looking out the small window. “How is she doing? Sorry, that’s probably stupid.”

“No, it’s alright. Aelin is doing very well, and I can already see her progress, physically and mentally.” Aedion loosed a breath of relief, grinning. 

“Oh, thank the Gods. I don’t know what I’d do if this didn’t work…rehab was kind of a last resort.”  

“I understand. That’s how it is with a lot of our clients - but I assure you, there are hundreds of options for people struggling. People respond to different things differently. I’m happy to say that Aelin is doing well. She isn’t thriving, but she’s definitely shown improvement.”

“I can tell,” Aedion interrupted. “She was just this…shell before. Now I can see hints of who she was before Sam. That anger, for example…you know, it’s encouraging to see her feeling emotions again.”

“I definitely agree. I think what Aelin needed was a change of scenery. Some fresh faces, things like that,” Rowan replied. “She’s been attending group therapy and one-on-one sessions with me. She’s been doing well, but she still won’t open up.”

Aedion’s jaw clenched. “Yep, that sounds about right. She would never talk to me. It made things so hard, and it had an effect on our closeness.”

“Ah, so you two were always close?”

“Oh, yeah. We’ve been inseparable since we were born. We’ve been at each other’s sides through so many things. When my mom died, she was there for me…and then later, when hers passed, I was there.”

“When did her parents die?”

“She was twenty-two. It was really hard on her - she was close to both.” Aedion’s voice was ragged, and he took a deep breath. “It was rough on all of us. Evalin was kind of my mother as well, since she took me in after my mom went.” He wiped away a tear running down his cheek.

Rowan nodded, his respect for the man in front of him growing. “I appreciate you sharing this with me. I know you may not feel…the best about giving me all of Aelin’s personal details. But I promise, all this just helps me, help her.”

__

I promise, I’ll come visit soon. Call me tomorrow, okay? Love you, Ae.

Aelin stared up at her popcorn ceiling, replaying her final moments with her cousin over and over. She lay curled up, wrapped in…His…old hoodie. There was still a lingering scent on it, and she let her tears drip onto the fabric as she inhaled deeply. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. She sat up and wiped away her tears, standing and walking over. One of the nurses she was less familiar with stood there, a friendly smile on his face. “Ready for dinner, Aelin?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, and followed him down the hallway. 

“Don’t look so glum! Tonight is special,” he said cheerfully. “As well as an ice cream sundae for dessert, there will be a movie playing in the cafeteria for everyone to enjoy!”

Aelin raised her eyebrows, interest sparking. Ice cream and a movie? That used to be her definition of a perfect night. Walking into the cafeteria, she quickly picked up a bowl of rice and beans, cheese melted on top of it. She found her seat at the usual table, sipping some of her lemonade as she sat. It was refreshing. She liked it. 

“Excited for the movie?” Elide asked, a smile on the female’s face. 

Aelin nodded. “Do you know what it’ll be?” Tiela asked. 

“Pretty sure it’s an old Disney!” Lucas grinned excitedly, rubbing his palms together. The table quickly dissolved into an animated conversation, the patients discussing their favorite of Walt’s classics. Lysandra turned to Aelin and leaned in, green eyes sparking. 

“Did Aedion leave?” she asked quietly. 

Aelin raised her eyebrows. “I don’t even want to know why you are asking that question.” 

Lysandra winked, and Aelin sighed. “Yep, he left. He’ll be back soon, though.” 

“Thanks!” She turned back around and leapt into the conversation. 

Aelin blew out a breath and allowed herself a small, brief smile. Oddly enough, she could picture her cousin and her therapy friend together. If Aedion was brave enough to ask, she knew he’d get a yes. 

After their plates had been cleared and the patients were happily eating their chocolate-sauce drizzled sundaes, the nurses wheeled in a projector. Bambi came onto the screen, and the cafeteria settled peacefully. There was something innately comforting in the old cartoon style, even as some wiped away tears at Bambi’s tragedy. Aelin felt a sense of peace for the first time in…a while. 

She felt somebody’s eyes on her, and she turned to find Rowan looking at her. At her gaze, he started and whipped away. Aelin kept her eyes on him, though, and so she caught him when he - almost immediately - peeked back. He sheepishly smiled, and when Aelin’s lips tilted up to mirror it, the smile stretched into a breathtaking..beam. He looked absolutely devastating. 

Aelin let herself admire him for a couple seconds before turning back to the screen. Still, for the rest of the film she felt butterflies in her stomach, a flush in her cheeks. 

__

After the film wrapped up, everybody began heading back to their dorms. With a satisfied appetite, a mouth filled with the sweet taste of ice cream, and an almost…happy feeling from a boy’s smile, Aelin felt like she was in middle school again, drawing hearts on her math worksheets whenever her first boyfriend, Dorian, looked her way. She walked with Lysandra and Elide, listening to their pleasant chatter. 

“Oh, I love that movie,” Elide sniffled. “Always makes me cry, though.” 

“I think we should watch Sleeping Beauty next,” Lysandra said, playing with a strand of her hair. “That was always my favorite.” 

“That does not surprise me in the slightest,” Aelin said. With her cat-like eyes and prowling gait, Lysandra looked like Maleficent herself. 

The women turned to her, smiles on their faces. No matter how much Aelin had softened toward them since she’d arrived, it was still rare that she actually added to the conversation. “What was your favorite Disney movie growing up, Aelin?” Elide asked her, dark eyes soft and sweet. 

For the first time in a long time, Aelin thought back to the happiness of her childhood, before darkness had overtaken it. She avoided the memory of her parents, and instead brought to her mind images of her younger self coming home from school to pop a DVD into their TV. 

“Probably The Lion King,” she replied, and Lysandra and Elide nodded instantly, grinning. 

“Ugh, so good,” Lysandra said. 

“I loved the Just Can’t Wait to Be King scene,” Aelin said, smiling slightly. She ignored the happy shock on the women’s faces as they saw her expression. She was smiling so much today. “I’d always wondered what it would be like to be royalty.”

Do you plan to continue twin wounds?

Hello! I think this is the first message I’ve ever answered, and it’s so cool! Thank you for asking!

Unfortunately, I have hit a bit of a creative rut in terms of Throne of Glass fanfic, and I do not plan to write more of this series :( that answer could change, of course, and I still adore that story! If you ever have a prompt, I could try to type up a fluffy lil one shot! 😊❤️

Hope this helped :)

(And thanks for reading!!)

[dmwrites]

Okay, okay, so maybe, just maybe, hypothetically even, Zedaph had spent just a little too many diamonds on golden carrots and stupid enchantment books for his wooden tools. Hypothetically. And maybe he was out of diamonds now. Maybe.

“You know what, it’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’m just a little down on my luck right now.” Zed said to a local chicken that had fallen into his giant hole. The chicken clucked. “How dare you say I should just mine for more! I am a man of science and extreme feats! Mine? Pshaw!” The chicken hadn’t actually said anything, so where Zed was getting this back and forth conversation from is a mystery to all. “I just need a way to make money is all. Everyone had shops… what can I do?” Zed paced back and forth. “Redstone shop? No no I need redstone. Oh, I could have people pay me to watch me do my achievements! No, bad, no one will pay for that.” Zedaph sighed. Then his eyes lit up. “I am a man of science! That’s it! I’ll have redstone science lessons! That people pay for! Perfect!”

Zedaph dusted off the old lab coat and set out a few chairs and desks by his rock. He’d told the hermits to come at noon. Perhaps a few builders would come by.

Noon came. One minute passed. Then two. Zedaph began sweating under his safety glasses.

“Hey dude!” Cub appeared over the hill.

“Oh, Cub! Hello my lovely man how are you! Are you here for redstone science?”

“Indeed I am.” Cub smiled. “Always good to have a refresher course.” He pushed a diamond across the table to Zed, who took it gratefully.

“Oh Cub, my favorite eboy scientist, what a guy you are! And I think you’re also my only student.” Zed pocketed the diamond. “Well, I guess we’ll get started then.” Cub took out a notebook, and Zed consulted his clipboard. “Firstly, there are two important rules to science. One: always write things down, or it isn’t considered science. And two, always keep your lab coat securely buttoned.”

Someone snorted. Zed looked up to see Doc leaning against a tree, watching them.

“Can I help you, DocM?” Zed asked.

“Just was passing by and couldn’t help but overhear your science rules.” Doc replied, smirking. “Do you have an issue with how i wear my lab coat?” He looked down at himself, then up at Zed, and winked.

Zed huffed. “Class, I-”

“You can call me Cub, I’m the only one here.” Cub said.

“Cub, I want you to take a good look at Doc over there. He is a poster child for bad lab coat wearing behavior and unsafe practices. His lab coat is unbuttoned, a tits-out approach, some may say, rendering it essentially useless in the name of science! And he isn’t even wearing a shirt! No protection to the chest and stomach! Redstone is an aggressive material when met with skin! Nothing to be laughing about!” Zed said loudly at Doc, who was laughing now.

Cub scribbled furiously.

“Now, Doc, I appreciate you being an anti-model for us. Now either you can trot along your merry way and go be shirtless somewhere else, or you can join my redstone science class for one diamond.” Zed said.

Doc chuckled. “Sure. Fuck it, I’ll take your class.” He sat down next to Cub. “I don’t have any paper though.”

“Here you go.” Cub gave him a piece.

“Or a pen.”

“Here you go.” Cub handed him a pen.

“Wait, this is my pen.”

“Is it? Oh yeah I think I took it from your house.”

“When were you in my house?”

“I think you were asleep.”

“Why were you in my house while I was as-”

“Students!” Zed interrupted, now holding two vials of redstone. “Now that we have the two basic rules of science, it’s time for our first experiment! With this redstone and these pistons, I’d like you both to make the pistons move.”

Cub nodded. Doc rolled his eyes. They both placed down the piston and the redstone.

“SURPRISE FIRE!” Zed shouted suddenly, pulling a flamethrower out of who knows where and blasting the desk with it. Cub ducked under the table, but Doc wasn’t so lucky. The now on-fire redstone dust hit him right in the chest. Doc screamed. Zed panicked, dropping the still-lit flamethrower, and pushed Doc into the river. Cub ran around the table and turned off the flamethrower.

“BRO what the FUCK?” Doc coughed, emerging from the river.

Zedaph’s land was on fire, Cub’s notebook was nothing more then ash, and Doc was already developing a nasty burn on his chest.

Zed picked up his clipboard with shaky hands. “So, students, you see, that’s why you should always wear your lab coats correctly.”

“Zed, I’m going to fucking kill you.” Doc said.

[maxismatchccworld]

Patch Notes

Update 9/7/2021

PC: 1.79.93.1030 / Mac: 1.79.93.1230

Console: Version 1.47

Hello Simmers!

We hope you are well wherever you are in the World.

Today, we have a special kind of update! As you now know, this is our first update that fully focuses on a previously released pack, giving it new life if you will. Today is the day for self-care for and with The Sims™ 4 Spa Day!

Spa Day is all about relaxation and getting some well-deserved personal Sim time and wellness. With this update, we are adding some features that will help enhance this wellness experience that we hope you enjoy.

Along with these enhancements, we were also able to fix a few issues that were live and needed some care.

Thanks again for your continued support and feedback!

Chaus!

-SimGuruRusskii

What’s New?

Spa Day Updates

Everyone deserves more time to refresh and more ways to renew! In this update, we added the following:

Three new Aspirations and a new Trait

The path to wellness is long but well worth it! Sims can now opt for three aspirational paths to achieve their own Zen:

Self-Care Specialists - For those Sims who would like to monetize their love of fitness and wellness.

Inner Peace - For the Sims that want to achieve ultimate harmony and learning tools to mitigate their negative emotions.

Zen Guru - For the Sims that want to share the power of wellness with the world…the whole world, for real. They also focus on seeking to train their successor to pass the knowledge along.

In addition to these new Aspirations, we added a new trait for those Sims that require a bit of extra work to keep their needs… properly aligned. High Maintenance will allow your Sims to experience mindful tasks that can help their sense of wellbeing. No trouble is trivial, no need is too much.

You can find these new Aspirations and the new Trait in Create A Sim. And don’t forget the Spa Membership included with these Aspirations - it’s a steal!

Manicures and Pedicures

Some people like having a massage to decompress - a valid option… pretty sure I need one -  but my favorite thing is manicures and pedicures! Hear me out! There is something so relaxing about choosing your design, color, shape, and having someone prettify (yes, it is a word… to me) your nails with the utmost care. Now your Sims can get these nail enhancements or graciously give them to other Sims. You can choose a design, a shape, and voilà! Your Sims’ nails will be as fabulous as they feel!

And if you don’t want to get your nails done by a professional- tight budget, totally get it - Sims will have access to the same options in Create A Sim that you can instantly apply to your Sims nails - it’s like insta nails!! You can pick from a variety of swatches with color combinations, designs, or just a solid color for each fingernail. You can also choose a variety of one solid color choices for your Toenails. You can find them in the Accessories category in Create A Sim, where you will see a Fingernails and Toenails sort with the options.

We want to highlight that in this upgrade to Spa Day we have a design from the wonderful  Ebonix that is featured in Create A Sim! Ebonix is a super talented Sims Creator, and we are happy we can feature one of her designs and share it with everyone.

About Yoga and Meditation

Yoga Classes can now take place outside of Spas and Gyms! You can hire a yoga instructor or teach your own class from the Instructor Yoga Mat. Speaking of teaching, Sims can also lead Guided Meditation sessions from Meditation Stools. Oh, and I don’t want to forget to mention that Children are able to practice and teach both Yoga and Meditation as well!

New Objects, Facial Masks… Oh my!

As part of this update, we also added a few new objects and swatches in Build Mode, these include a new luxurious massage table and a massage chair that can also be used for manicures and pedicures for a full relaxation experience. And as an added bonus, there is a new portable massage chair and table, so your Sims can give massages, manicures, and pedicures on the go to earn some Simoleons.

Besides these, we added as part of your Sims’ self-care routine the ability to purchase and apply Facial Masks. They come in a variety of benefits and designs; for ease of access, we recommend having in your preferred lot the Doc Sweet’s Luke-Warm Mini Dispenser. This mini version of the original refrigerator can hold your favorite beverages in a compact space, but as an added benefit, Sims can purchase Facial Masks from it. By the way, don’t forget to try the new Cucumber Power-Sip and cucumber slices for a tasty snack! Also available with this update.

Base Game Updates

For those who don’t own Spa Day, we wanted to give you a treat as well. For Base Game Simmers we added the nail options for fingernails and toenails in Create A Sim for you to enjoy. Same as mentioned previously, there will be choices under the Fingernails and Toenails sort in Create A Sim, there will be a variety of solid one-color nails and color combination nails available for the Base Game itself.

Bug FixesConsole

We fixed an issue in which some of the controls when players are in the Game Options menus were a little off, it should work correctly now.

The Sims 4

New games should no longer experience the automatic generation of empty households, and the ensuing save size increase and performance lag that this causes. The team is still investigating how to safely fix existing saves that have this issue.

We fixed an issue that affected Custom Content Chairs that when slotted with certain objects it created Sims routing issues.

Sometimes, in certain saves, Sims would lose their names when visiting some Lots - most notoriously the Goth’s Lot but it could happen anywhere. If a Sim has no name… does that Sim exist? I can assure you that the Goths were not involved, but this issue should no longer occur.

Ever had the need to order food or drinks but you just couldn’t be bothered? Been there, however the issue of Sims and NPCs not being able to order food and drinks autonomously has been fixed. Order away!

Have you noticed that your Sims had been doing Fitness things or Dancing if they Disliked those things? Strange no? It should no longer happen as long as they continue to Dislike them of course. As a note, unfortunately (for those affected), Sims are subject to choose music they Dislike still from any stereo so they can still torment other Sims (and Simmers) around them.

We fixed an issue in which the Mega Window (Double Budget Grand Deluxe DeLite) in build Mode was missing a few swatches and displayed them as empty.

Let’s talk about Unibrows! Are they in? Are they out? No matter, every brow is welcome! We have fixed an issue that didn’t make the thicker unibrow available for female frame Sims and that didn’t make the thinner unibrow available for male frame Sims. So all the unibrows for both frames!

Did you ever notice an invisible slot under the All of the Things table? We sure did, and while I think that if it is called “all of the things” it could have all the things, everywhere… I guess? This was not acceptable so we fixed that.

Get to Work

The hairstyle yfHair_EP01TwistLow has been tagged correctly in the Updo Hairstyle category. Is it still an Updo even if the bun is low and not up high? These are the questions I ponder sometimes.

Eco Lifestyle

If you noticed the Community Voting Board missing from venues across packs in Build Mode, never fear. It has been found and should be safely back in Build Mode.

Dream Home Decorator

Ever had such good-looking décor that you can’t just sleep because you have to look at it? As much as we want your Sims to love their décor and their style, we thought it was a bit too much that they would not sleep and just look at it, so this should no longer happen.

[jisungsplatforms]

[Chapter IV: You F*cking Minx!]

Pairing: Producer/Music Major! Han Jisung x Photographer! fem! reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut; non idol au, college au, strangers to lovers

Warnings: Mature Content! strong language, masterbation (m&f) (only implied this chapter), discussion of kinks, good old nudes & teasing Jisung ;)

Chapter Word Count: 2.8k (lol minus the emojis cause APPARENTLY, they count on docs)

Taglist: @hyunjeongins @seungstarss @es-kay-zee @hyunjinsplaything @formidxble @freckledquokka @lbxgsunshine @cartierbin @solistired @rainbowmagicpixecorn @http-hyxnjxn (want to be added? send an ask or a dm! <3)

You were starting to think that touching yourself every night was rather unhealthy...

It’s been over a week since you and Jisung met—a week since the both of you started your unspoken arrangement. Breathing heavily, you laid limply on your untidy bed, the only source of light available was the moon’s rays peeking through your curtains. The lower half of your body was completely rid of any clothing; the only thing covering your skin were splotches of your essence. Your phone then lit up with a notification from ‘Hannie Bear’.

1 new message(s) from Hannie Bear 🍯🧸

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: u okay baby? do u wanna sleep now?

Using your unsoiled hand, you grabbed your phone and typed as best as you could.

Me: Nah, I still have a little bit of energy left in me

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: really? cool lol

let’s chat for a bit

Me: Sure. Just hold on for a sec

You sat up and wiped your hand on the towel laid under you. Swinging one of your legs off the bed, you used your toes to pick up your garments from the floor, and quickly put them on. Two new notifications from Jisung appeared on your screen. You read his messages as you threw your dirted towel onto the floor.

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: aight.

actually you know what? just call me please!

You laid back down and tapped on his icon, which now consisted of a selfie of himself from when he ‘needed to use’ your phone a few days ago, at the top of your screen to switch to the call screen. Your phone rang several times before Jisung answered. Through the phone, you could hear the faint sound of rustling and a groan.

“Hey,” he greeted with a raspy voice. You instinctively smiled when you heard him.

“Hey.”

Jisung cleared his throat before speaking. “So I was wondering, since— ah wait. Sorry, my throat’s kinda...”

“No, go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled. “You should get some water too! You know, cause— yeah. After all that.”

You laughed, heart warming at his consideration. “Yeah. Thanks!” Bringing your phone with you, you walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. You set the call to speaker mode before putting your phone down to drink. Hearing the hilarious way Jisung took big gulps of water almost made you choke on your water.

He let out an over-exaggerated ‘ha!’ and said with a funny voice, “Refreshing!” Hearing your snort made Jisung smile. “Okay, so now that we’re both hydrated, I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking.” You hummed to acknowledge him. “So, you know how we’ve been doing this for almost two weeks now, right?”

“Yeah…?” You picked up your phone to go back to your room.

“Okay. Well, we never really talked about, you know, things that we like.”

“Things that we like?”

“Yeah! You know what I mean?”

‘Huh?’ You thought about it for a few seconds before realizing what he was talking about. “Ohh. Do you mean our kinks?”

“There! That.”

You scoffed playfully. “I knew this conversation was bound to happen.”

“Well, then spill, girl!” Jisung said flamboyantly. “Don’t keep me waiting!”

You giggled. “Weirdo,” you whispered, softly grunting when you plopped onto your bed. “Where do you want me to start?”

“I don’t know. I guess just tell me like, what role you like playing in bed, or if you don’t even use roles at all.”

“Well, we’ve masterbated together long enough for you to know that I don’t mind either; sex is sex and it should be enjoyable, whether or not there are sub/dom roles...but I do like being submissive.”

“Oh, right. Nice,” he snickered, “Okay, now what? Vanilla or Kinky?”

“Kinky, all that way.” Jisung wanted to laugh at how fast that answer came out. “Of course, there’s nothing wrong vanilla sex, in fact, it’s very much appreciated in this household.”

“Ahh. Someone of culture. I respect that.” The both of you chuckled. “So, what are some things you want to be done to you?”

“Like, receiving?” Jisung hummed in confirmation. “I guess I like being marked? And being praised and using pet names, but of course, who doesn’t?”

“I feel you, I feel you,” he nodded on the other side of the phone. “I like that too.”

“I also like being tied up.”

Jisung sat up, wide eyed. “Rope-bunny?!”

You guffawed, hearing him so shocked like that. “What? Surprising? Remember, no kink shaming!”

“No no! It’s not like that it’s just-” he sighed through puffed cheeks, “wow, that’s fucking hot.”

“Thanks,” you giggled. “But that’s only the beginning.”

“Shit, there’s more? Holy fuck— please tell me.”

“Overstimulation & edging, I think that’s fucking hot too.” You could hear Jisung’s breath hitch on the phone, making you smirk. “I also really like choking and being able to see myself getting fucked; I think there’s a name for it, but I forgot.”

Not hearing his reply, you snorted before continuing. “And I have the biggest breeding kink ever. You know what I say: the messier the sex, the better.” You stopped when you heard Jisung take a deep breath.

“Whoa, Y/n. I-” he signed. “Let me calm down before I pop another boner ‘cause of you.”

You felt a surge of pride run through you. “What? Too much?”

“Oh, fuck no. Just insanely hot.”

You laughed, adjusting yourself to lay on your stomach. “Too bad. There was still a lot more I wanted to say,” you grinned. “You should tell me what you like then, baby. I need to know how I could please you too.”

“Hmm,” he thought to himself for a while. “So you already know that I like filthy, kinky sex too and that I usually take up the dom role but if I have to be honest. I’ve always wanted to try subbing.”

“Really?” you smiled evilly. ‘How interesting’

“Yup. I mean, I like being babied, so I think I’d really like it.”

“Oh? Would you like to try it sometime, baby boy?”

The line went dead silent for a while, filling you with worry. All of a sudden, when you were about to ask Jisung if he was okay, he whimpered. “Please?” he muttered, and you swore you could already see him pouting. Now it was your turn to take a deep breath.

“Hold on, baby boy. We both just finished touching ourselves not too long ago. Let’s do this another time.”

“Aww...Boo. You’re no fun,” Jisung’s usual cheeky self returned.

You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, but I already came 3 times tonight. Let my vagina rest, Sung.”

“Fair,” he laughed. “Does that mean I get to sub next time?”

“Hm… If you’re nice to me, then yes.”

“Oh baby, you know i’ll be the best behavior if it means getting topped by you.”

Instead of feeling horny, you only felt playfulness behind his words. “Good. I’ll be sure to give my baby a treat tomorrow then.” Jisung cheered giddily, fueling your own amusement. “By the way, what’s with the kink talk? I mean, I knew it was gonna come eventually but still.”

You couldn’t see it, but Jisung shrugged at your question. “Well, if we’re gonna be together, then I need to know everything about you that you enjoy.” Your face dropped, your chest swelling in adoration and alarm. Not hearing a response from you made him panic. “Uh- unless you don’t wanna be a thing! That-that’s fine too...i guess, w-whatever! I just—!”

Jisung stopped when he heard you giggle. “You’re so cute, Sung.” You softly said in content. “It’s getting late, baby. I’ll see you in the morning, hm?”

“Y-yeah! See you in Jung’s class, baby!”

You ended the call then slid your phone under your pillow. Pulling your blanket all the way up to your chin, you squirmed around until you were comfortable enough to sleep. The only thing in your mind was Jisung and how much your relationship with him developed way too fast. It was a little...frightening for your fragile heart.

2nd Period; Mrs. Jung’s Renaissance Literature class. Probably the most boring class ever. Everyday, you regret ever signing up for it.

You begrudgingly walked to class, purposely taking small, slow steps so you don’t have to be there on time. However, as boring as the class is, the only reason why you find it tolerable is because it is the only class you share with Jisung. Looking up, you found yourself in front of your Literature class, much to your dismay. Grumbling, you stepped inside the room to find Jisung already at his (now) usual place at the back of the class, right beside you. ‘Weird,’ you thought, seeing how it’s usually you who comes to class before him. Jisung looked up, feeling eyes on him from the front of the class, and smiled when he saw it was just you. He gestured for you to come over to him; your heart racing as you stepped closer to him.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted happily, watching you take your seat beside him.

“Hi, Sungie,” you replied, setting your camera bag onto the floor under your legs and taking your laptop out of your bag. Feeling Jisung staring at you, you tched jokingly. “Am I that attractive that you can’t keep your eyes off of me?” you laughed. What you didn’t expect, however, was Jisung’s blunt response.

“Yes.”

“O-oh? Uh…”

“I thought I made it clear that I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said truthfully, giving you a bright smile. Your eyes were wide, face heating up at his straight-forwardness. He threw you a flirty wink and chuckled, going back to sit up straight at his own seat. Flustered, you hid your face with your hoodie, tightening the drawstrings to further conceal your blush. From beside you, you could hear Jisung snort, trying not to laugh at you. Before you could scold him, the bell rang and Mrs. Jung entered the class.

Jisung’s drowsy eyes wandered the whole room for the umpteenth time. His ears only shut out the mundane information his instructor was teaching. Something about a Scottish poet named George Lauder being responsible for the advancement of the steel industry or whatever? ‘Man, what does that have to do with the renaissance era?’ It’s only been 30 minutes since the class started and he already wanted to get out of here. No matter how hard he tried focusing on the lesson, the words only went through one ear and out the other. Needless to say, it way too uninteresting for him to retain anything.

His eyes then traveled to your hunched form. He had to resist the urge to pull out his phone and take a picture of your cute face all scrunched up in concentration, your figure engulfed by the oversized purple hoodie you were wearing. In the midst of his ogling, Jisung felt a gentle kick on his right leg. His eyes focused to finally notice you side eyeing him. It was as if you were telling him ‘pay attention or else’. All he did was grin and continued gawking at you.

You rolled your eyes, deciding to not mind him and try paying attention to Mrs. Jung; even if you yourself thought the class was boring as hell. You then feel a warm hand on your left thigh. Since it was just Jisung, you shrugged his hand off of you and typed in the shared doc you both created just to talk in this class. You typed:

‘What are you doing?’

Leaning over to his own screen, Jisung read the message on his laptop then replied.

‘babe i’m sorry but i’m so fucking bored’

‘Me too, but you gotta pay attention, baby boy’

‘hmm i love it when you call me baby boy ;)’

You side-glanced him with a ‘are you serious?’ look while he merely smirked, wiggling his eyebrows as if it would seduce you.

‘Funny. Don’t you dare get horny in the middle of class, Han Jisung!’

‘:)’

Jisung made a quiet sputtering noise as he put his head down onto the table. From the corner of your eyes, you could see him fiddling his platform sneakers with his feet. You restrained yourself from laughing at him. He looked exactly like an annoyed kid on the verge of throwing a tantrum. You shook your head. ‘The poor man is really trying’

Sneakily sliding your phone into your pocket, you stood up from your seat, the chair making a slight screech, catching Jisung’s—as well several other students’— brief attention, to head to the front of the class. Signing your name into the ‘restroom log’, you briefly pointed to the door when you made eye contact with Mrs. Jung, and went to the restroom. You grinned to yourself, thinking about how Jisung would react to his little gift.

The painfully bored boy watched as you left the room. He pouted, his boredom only increased tenfold without you. He went back to his laptop, clicking on another tab to do something, when he felt his phone vibrate from his back pocket. He jolted. ‘Who the hell would text me while I’m in the middle of class?’ Jisung slowly took out his phone to check his notifications. Seeing your name on the screen, he stared in confusion.

‘Y/n? What’re you doing?’ Glancing to see if Mrs. Jung could see him, he unlocked his phone to read your message.

My baby 💘: Remember what I said last night?

Many thoughts, none of which were pg, raced through his mind. ‘What exactly are you talking about?’ He adjusted his keyboard to properly type with one hand.

Me: depends

are we talking about me subbing or your “gift”?

My baby 💘: Hmm sure. You’ll see 😉

Jisung nearly let out an audible ‘huh?’ because of your rather cryptic message. Not wanting to get caught, he hid his phone between his legs and waited for your next text. After almost a minute, this phone vibrated again. Big Mistake…

Strike 1!

‘God, Han Jisung, you fucking idiot!’ The shock unintentionally sent waves of pleasure between his legs, almost coaxing out a whimper from his mouth. He cleared throat, trying to ignore the erection that was threatening to pop up, and inconspicuously took his phone.

Strike 2!

If Jisung died at that very moment, then he wouldn’t even be mad. No regrets or anger whatsoever for his eyes was blessed with the most salacious photo of yourself. There you were, sweater pulled up to show off the lacy red bra that adorned your breasts—your arms deliberately squeezing them together to make them even more tempting than they already are—and pants pulled down enough to show a cheeky glimpse of the matching set of panties hugging your hips. Jisung swore he could feel his blood rushing to his dick and nose; he even went as far as wiping it in case he really did get a nosebleed.

‘Y/n, you minx...’’

Me: baby…

what you’re doing is very dangerous for the both of us

My baby 💘: Oh? Are you sure you didn’t forget what we talked about, baby boy

Jisung anxiously looked back and forth from his phone to his teacher. He covered his mouth when you sent another shameless nude to him. Now it was a picture of your hands cupping your breasts, your bra unclasped, threatening to slide off your shoulders. How you managed to take the photo was beyond Jisung’s comprehension. Though, now that he’s as turned on as a horny 13 year old boy on a porn site for the very first time, it’s safe to say that there was nothing on his mind except you, and you only.

He set his keyboard back to its default mode and put his head down, fingers hastily tapping on his phone to reply.

Me: come on baby

please don’t do this to me

i’m hard. i really popped a boner in the middle of class…

this is fucking embarrassing

Jisung just knew that you were laughing at him, finding great joy in his predicament. He subtly adjusted himself to do something about his hard-on. ‘So fucking embarrassing’ He blushed, biting his lip. He silently prayed to whatever deity out there that his erection was unnoticeable through his sweatpants; he was so grateful that you two sat at the back of the class. His phone buzzed again, it was another message from you.

Strike 3!

He’s out…

My baby 💘: It’s mommy for you today, baby boy 😉😉

Above was a picture of you...Bra hanging from your mouth...Your pearly teeth biting down on one of the straps...Pants off...Panties moved to the side...Showing off your dripping core to the camera...Your fingers threatening to slide inside your core…

Somebody please help this poor man. He might get a heart attack because of you. And if he doesn’t die from that, then it might be because of the rage of sexual frustration he felt when you came back with a seemingly innocent smile on your face. Jisung was just lucky nobody noticed his hard cock throbbing the rest of the session. More importantly, thank god Mrs. Jung is an oblivious old woman.

‘Y/n L/n, you FUCKING MINX!’

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER] 📱 [NEXT CHAPTER]

[ohnopoe]

The Long Road Home | Frankie Morales

Ship: Frankie Morales x Reader Summary: After a one night stand with your best friend, it feels like everything’s going to hell... maybe you just need an escape Word Count: 5.6k+ Warnings: Angst. I looked at this doc and went ‘I haven’t hurt myself with pain for a while yet’, and just put a months worth of angst into one fic. I am sorry. Author’s Note: Oh look! It’s another super late entry to something! This time it’s for the FABULOUS @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and her writer Wednesday... as I post this at 3.30am on a Monday... yikes. I’m so sorry this is so late, thank you for being so kind about it! And yes, I did give up very quickly on making this gif look good. I’m too mentally done to try harder 🤣

The car was filled with a stilted silence, heavy and thick in the air-conditioned air. Never before had the awkwardness sat so oppressively, least of all with the one and only Frankie Morales at your side.

For years now, your life had been filled with laughter and smiles, of warm hugs and secret looks that hinted at inside jokes that no one had a chance of guessing. For years, your life had been plentiful with the simple fact that Frankie Morales, the kindest man you had ever known, was your best friend. Was it enough? Maybe not. But it was better than the alternative, and you knew that clearly now.

One night. It had only taken one night, to destroy the very foundations of your friendship, to send your comfortable little bubble crashing down into a cacophony of pain and agony.

Oh, the night itself was anything but agony. No, that was filled with euphoria and the sounds of absolute bliss. His taste scarred into your memory, his touch forever melted into your skin. Sleeping with your best friend might just have been the best damn thing you’d ever done, were it not for what came the morning after.

Perhaps you had been naive, waking up in his sheets, craving the warmth that had surrounded you as you both blissfully drifted off to sleep in one another’s arms. Perhaps you ought to have realised the moment you found his spot cold to the touch, but your mind was still too filled with the fuzzy drunkenness of the best damn fuck of your life.

Perhaps you should have come to realise when you slipped out into his living room, seeing him already fully dressed, sitting silently on the couch with his head in his hands, his emotions on display so clearly that it would have broken your heart right there and then, if only you’d been awake enough to see them.

But no, it wasn’t until you were forcing a reassuring smile onto your lips as you desperately begged your features not to give away the heartache you felt that your world truly came crashing down around you.

It was a mistake.

A mistake.

Of all the words he could have used, somehow that hurt the most. He didn’t claim he didn’t enjoy it, didn’t blame you for the way your lips had sought out his when he’d been looking so damn beautiful with the warmth of the fireplace dancing across his features. No, he regretted it, and that, that hurt deeper than you had expected it too.

But you had put on a brave face, reassuring him that nothing would change, that you were still his best friend, if that’s what he wanted, and you pushed the heartache away until you were safely secured in your apartment, where the tears could fall until they ran out, until there was nothing but your empty sobs to fill the echoing apartment, as the man you loved seemed further away than ever before.

A week passed, then another, but nothing got easier. Your interactions seemed awkward now, the overwhelming reminder of what you had done hanging over the two of you like a thick blanket, threatening to suffocate you both.

It was impossible to move forwards, to think of anything but him.

The anguish you felt only grew as your friends seemed to pick up on the fact that something was wrong between you. It was Will who came to you, a silent support when your world was still crashing down around you, but you never dared whisper so much as a word of what had happened.

How could you ever guess it would get worse?

How could the all consuming pain you felt ever grow to something more when you already found yourself mourning the ease of your friendship every night when you sat alone at home?

Your answer came in the form of a beautiful stranger.

She was kind, gentle, beautiful… everything Frankie deserved, and what’s worse, she seemed to truly like him.

You hadn’t meant to spy, hell, you hadn’t even known he was going to be there. You were just at the cafe to pick up some lunch when you saw them, laughing and smiling, hand in hand at a small booth in the corner.

He didn’t even notice you as you entered your favourite cafe, the same cafe that you had spent countless afternoons in with the man who was still your everything, even now, even as he sat there with another.

Strength was becoming a part of you. You could hold off the tears, hold off the wails of anguish until you were safely at home, until you were alone once more.

But your strength was waning. How long could you continue on like this, mourning your friendship with the man you had secretly loved for years? How long would it be until he introduced this beautiful stranger to the boys? How long would it be until you had to force a smile as he fell in love, as he found himself marrying her?

There was only so long you could be strong when the object of your pain sat so close, yet so far.

Perhaps it wasn’t your most thought out plan. Perhaps you ought to have put a little more care into your actions, but you needed to get away, needed to be free from the anguish that had plagued you for over a month now.

Working freelance was a wonderful thing when it meant you could quite literally pack up and work anywhere. However, it was not the best when it came to stopping you from making a rash decision.

Clothes and essentials packed up in your car, you didn’t give yourself a moment to think as you fled the town you had called home for so long.

Was it a permanent answer to your problems? Hell no. Did it, realistically, cause more issues than it would solve? Sure. But this wasn’t the time for critical thinking, this was the time for an escape.

It had all been going so well.

For hours, you drove.

The chaos of the city fell behind you, the long open road ahead. Your phone filled your car with music, allowing you to fill your mind with anything but thoughts of home, and the thought that you might just find freedom from your agony seemed tangible.

With the windows down, the fresh air licked at your skin, cool and refreshing, filled with promises of renewal.

With each passing hour the crowds thinned and the light fell low.

A quick pull into a gas station had you filled up with fuel, snacks, and the motivation to continue on, moving ever forwards, even though no destination was set in your mind.

Perhaps you should have found a hotel for the night, somewhere safe to stay until morning came, but you were determined; the need to get away spurring you ever onwards in your pursuit of something you could not name.

Night fell, and even the houses spilled away into nothing, your only companions the rich sand that surrounded you, and the road that continued on into the horizon.

Yes, this was what you needed.

It was all going so well, until it wasn’t.

The headlights began to flicker, that was your first clue that something was amiss. Then it was the clock, staggering between minutes.

You weren’t particularly mechanically minded, there wasn’t exactly a need for it when your best friend was always there to fix whatever hiccups your car decided to adopt, but even you knew it was time to pull over.

The air was cold, colder than you ever would have expected in the depths of the desert, but then, with the sun slipping past the horizon, you could hardly be surprised to find the temperature dipping too. Opening the bonnet gave no answers, only a steady slew of steam that drifted upwards at the sudden release, only furthering your fears.

Well, that certainly didn’t seem good.

Perhaps you could find a mechanic or a garage, surely there was another gas station somewhere along the long and dusty road. But the moment you hit the ignition, the car stalled. Another attempt, another stall. The engine refused to budge.

This was not how things were meant to be going.

Your hand hit the steering wheel with fervour, doing more to hurt you than to dissipate your growing anger.

This was meant to be your escape, your freedom from everything that was weighing you down, but now even your car seemed to be working against you.

The sun was now fully eclipsed by the horizon, and there you were, stuck on the side of an empty highway, alone and crying your frustrations into your steering wheel as, once more, your emotions got the better of you.

Someone would come, they had to. It wasn’t as if the stretch of road was forgotten and beyond repair, it was still a popular stretch… for some.

Locked in your car, with no engine to run your heater, you went for your phone, hoping you could call for help. Picking you up hours away from home wasn’t exactly the kind of favour you could put on anyone, but the boys were never ones to say no to a person in need, least of all one of their best friends. Perhaps you could call Will, see if he could pick you up or help you get a tow.

The black screen of death was the last thing you needed. Plugged into the car’s power, it seemed even it wasn’t immune to whatever had eaten away at your car’s battery.

So there you were, stuck on the side of the road, alone, desolate, and now without any means of communication.

Perfect.

Hours passed, or at least, you assumed they did, with nothing but silence as your companion, and suddenly, all those thoughts and memories you had been pushing away filled your mind with an aching determination.

Memories of nights curled up in Frankie’s side as you laughed at the stupidity of couples in films, as you hid your face in his neck as he laughed at yet another horror film he insisted wasn’t that bad.

Memories of nights when the world felt like it was crashing down around you as yet another relationship failed, and you found solace in the warm hugs of your best friend and the sweet taste of ice-cream with whatever alcohol was in the house.

So much of your life had revolved around your best friend, and here you were, weeks without so much as a word shared between you, desperately searching for something to fill the void within you.

In the dark of the night, you could admit this wasn’t your smartest plan. With the cold air struggling to make its way into the insulation of your car, even you knew you should have at least told someone you were going. Will wouldn’t have judged you, at least, not outwardly. Benny would have come with you, given the chance. Santi, well, Santi would have read far too much into it and probably figured out exactly what was breaking you down…

And then there was Frankie. Frankie who would have listened, who would have held you as you cried, who would have whispered sweet words of comfort and reassurance until you no longer felt the need to escape at all. At least, the old Frankie, your Frankie, would have.

Now, everything was so different. What would he have said if he knew you were leaving so suddenly? Would he have realised it was because of him? Would he even care?

The darkness of the night seemed to match your darkened mood, allowing the heartache to consume you, to plague your mind until a restless sleep fell over you.

Dreams and nightmares melded into one another, happy memories turning sour with rejection, those four words haunting you with every attempt at happiness.

This was a mistake.

How could a voice you loved so dearly bring words of such pain? How could he be everything good and everything horrible, all at once?

A bright light, and a deep, loud sound shook you from your slumbers. A truck was passing, a truck!

Perhaps they could help, perhaps they could- your sleep filled mind suddenly plagued you with images of your body chopped up into tiny pieces, lost to the desert and never seen again…

Ok, maybe wariness was the way to go.

But it was slowing down, past you by some hundred meters, but slowing to a stop nonetheless.

With the taser Santi had bought you years ago held tightly in your grip for protection, you watched as a smaller light came towards you, footsteps echoing behind it on the empty road.

You could do this, you said to yourself, unable to fool even yourself with your attempt at optimism.

The man seemed alright, from what you could tell. A sympathetic smile, and a safe distance away so as not to scare you, he seemed as non-threatening a stranger as you could hope for. But you couldn’t shake the warnings the boys had given you over the years.

“Never, and I mean never get in a car with a stranger,” Santi had invaded your space as he drunkenly forced his advice upon you.

“What if I don’t want them to be a stranger?” you had replied coyly, loving the way the group of men, who had taken it upon themselves to act rather like older brothers had squirmed uncomfortably in their seats at your response.

“If they’re a stranger, they’re not good enough for you,” Santi had replied, his gaze flittering around the group as if struggling to leave his sentence there. “If you don’t know them, keep it that way. You’re safety is more important than your- than your-”

“Than your sex life,” Will finished with a roll of his eyes, never ceasing to be amused by the way Pope struggled at the idea of you having sex.​

You didn’t dare open your door, and with the engine out of commission, opening the window was an impossibility, and so it was a conversation of yelling in the dark empty desert.

“You alright there?” his cheery tone put you at ease more than it ought, but the man was clearly aware you were alone, and equally aware that his large frame could easily be construed as intimidating.

Half of you was ready to nod in response, to claim you were just fine and not give anything away. But, well, even the threat of being murdered seemed a little less impactful when you knew, realistically, you needed help.

“Broken down,” you yelled from behind the safety of your locked door.

“You called someone to get ya yet?” he actually looked concerned at that, but then a thought seemed to flit through his mind, so loud that it was shown across his features as he second guessed his words. His southern twang resonated loudly as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, hand barely missing the full grey beard that looked oddly reminiscent of Santa Claus. “Or ya need a lift or somethin’?”

“Actually,” the trepidation was clear even as your voice echoed in the car. What you needed wasn’t exactly easy, and, while he certainly didn’t seem dangerous, Santi’s words still rung clear in your mind. “You wouldn’t have a phone I could use, would you?”

His smile was reassuring, easing your worries more than it ought to do. Broken with missing teeth and crows feet that showed the man clearly smiled just as often as he could, it was almost tempting to take him up on his offer. But he was nodding before you could second guess yourself.

“You wait just here, I’ll go get it.”

The moment he was gone, relief flooded you, easing your wound up shoulders, and giving you a final glimpse at hope. Now all you had to do was call someone you trusted, someone who wouldn’t mind a call at the ass-break of dawn.

Will still felt like the safest option, even if he did mind, he’d never say it, and you could always make it up to him with a carton of beer.

Your hand reached for your phone, ready to bring up his number, when realisation struck you. Dead. It was dead. That was the whole damn reason you needed another’s phone in the first place.

A groan escaped you as you realised, once again, just how badly your escape was going.

A knock on the door woke you from your pity party, an empathetic look mixing with bemusement as the truck driver watched you jump in shock.

“Here, I’ll pop this on your hood. I’ll just be over there,” he paused to point back towards his truck, “you just holler when you’re done, ok darlin’?”

And then he was gone, his phone large and clunky on the hood of your car as his flashlight bounced light off the road with every uneven step he took.

Getting out quickly, you grabbed the phone before returning to the safety of the locked car. Ok, so you needed someone who’s number was memorised, someone who would answer, someone… fuck.

“You can drop me off here,” your voice was soft and uncertain, barely breaking past a whisper, and yet echoing in the silence of the car. The first words spoken in an hour, hanging so heavily between you that you almost wished you could suffocate once more in the overwhelming silence from before.

His hand crashed against the top of the steering wheel; anger, raw and unrestrained, shining through as he clenched his jaw to swallow words he might regret.

“I’m not leaving you at some shitty garage,” the words were grit out, harsher than you had ever heard him before. His emotions, once bottled up and held deep within, were now clear for all to see, even as he refused to so much as glance in your direction. “I’m taking you home.”

“Frankie, I-” you cut your words off at the sudden glare that was thrown your way, gulping down the fight you had been willing to make in order to make your point. You had never seen him like this, even on his darkest days, he had never spewed forth an anger so heated and vile that it had you almost scared to speak.

And so you fell back into silence once more, letting the empty road fill your gaze with its monotonous landscape, desperately pleading with it to help clear your mind of the whirlwind of emotions that brewed within.

Perhaps you ought to have wished it upon Frankie instead.

Just as you thought the silence had begun to settle, some ten minutes later, he exploded once more, passionately angry in a way that had no right to pierce your heart as it did.

“The hell were you thinking, running off like that?” he practically spat the words out, wondering aloud rather than directing the question at you. But still, it had you fidgeting uncomfortably in the passenger seat. His anger was new, but somehow that didn’t hurt half as much as the disappointment you heard now as he rolled his fists over the steering wheel.

You could practically see the way his mind whirled with thoughts, his gaze flittering over the road as he did his best to stay in control.

“Pull over,” your words were barely a whisper louder than the last time you had spoken, but there was a determination in them now.

Frankie merely scoffed in response, shaking his head as if the thought was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“I’m not- I’m not going to rush off, just- please Frankie,” and if your tone sounded more desperate than it ever had before, well, so be it.

A glance was thrown in your direction, filled with suspicion, as if he were trying to see whether you were telling the truth, whether you were simply looking for another chance to flee from his life. But you met his gaze, soft determination filling your own as you silently pleaded for him to do as you say, before he ended up causing a crash.

With a sigh, and the most unnecessary use of a turn signal you had ever witnessed, Frankie eased the car to the side of the road, making a show of turning off the ignition before he turned to you, watching you so intently that his very gaze seemed to melt into your skin.

“I wasn’t.”

“What?”

“Thinking, you asked- I- I wasn’t thinking. I just-” you sighed. Unable to meet his searching gaze, your focus fell to your fingers, fiddling anxiously in your lap in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the pent up energy that was brewing within you. “I needed to get away from everything.”

I needed to get away from you.

“And you didn’t think to let someone know?” his anger was radiating throughout the car, hot and fevered, and it almost made you feel guilty, almost. “Do you have any idea how it felt to hear your voice on a stranger’s phone? To know you were trapped, alone, hours away- You should have told me.”

“Told you?” you couldn’t help the scoff that fell from your lips at that. Perhaps you should have told someone, but of all the people in the world you could have informed of your sudden trip, he was hardly an option. “Frankie, we don’t even talk anymore!”

“What are you-”

“Ever since that night, you’ve been distant,” you interrupted, refusing to accept his attempt at ignorance. After years of practically living in each other’s pockets, there was no way he could simply not notice the time that had passed since you last spoke. “Hell, it’s like I don’t even exist anymore! We haven’t spoken in weeks. Weeks, Frankie!”

“Well I-” he tried once more, but even he stumbled for a response to that. It was true, and there was no denying it, no matter how much he wished he could.

But the dam was broken now, emotions and words flooding out, filling the car where once silence lay.

“Do you have any idea what that’s like? To lose your best friend all because of a mistake,” the word was spat with more aggression than you had intended, but it stung to think about it. The very word was tainted now, filled with the memory of his forlorn face as he had uttered it into the morning light.

You didn’t notice the way he gulped at your words, as he desperately tried to alleviate the way his throat suddenly felt drier than the desert that surrounded you.

“I am trying my hardest to keep it together,” you continued, your voice steely now as you spoke resolutely, staring out at the long road ahead, refusing to acknowledge the steady stream of tears that made their way down your face.

“I am trying so fucking hard to not break every second of every day, and the moment I do something for myself, the moment I try and accept that I need to move on from my best friend, the world just screams ‘no’. I don’t get to just move on like nothing ever happened, I don’t get to go on dates with beautiful women who hold my hand and look at me like I’m the world. I get to suffocate under the knowledge that I’m in love with a man who thinks I’m a mistake. So, forgive me if I needed to get away from it all. Forgive me if I needed an escape from the never ending circle of pain that it is to simply survive.”

Each word seemed to burn your tongue as it escaped you, a fiery, fierce explosion filled with all the things you had kept secret for too long. It was so damn much, too much, perhaps, but then… it was a relief. After years of keeping your feelings to yourself, they were finally free, out in the atmosphere and untethered from the confines of your mind.

Was it the best way to let them out? Probably not. But after holding them down for so long, it was liberating to let go, even if you knew no good would come from it.

The silence that followed was, surprisingly, not the worst reaction you could have expected from your spiel. In fact, in respect to the alternatives that raced through your mind, it didn’t seem bad at all.

Perhaps you could continue like this. Perhaps you could make it home in silence, with your secret no longer a secret anymore.

Perhaps you could face tomorrow, even if it meant you could never face him again.

You couldn’t bear to look at him, not now that the words were out there, that he was aware of just how long you had harboured feelings for him. You couldn’t dare see the disappointment or disgust in his features as he struggled to find a way to let you down easy.

“You’re not a mistake,” the words were so soft that they took a moment to register in your mind.

But you knew that tone, it was the same tone you heard when Frankie’s world was crashing down around him. It was the same tone that crept out of him after hours of silence the night he came home from Columbia, turning up on your doorstep disheveled and broken and oh so silent that it had hurt to witness.

You wanted to scoff at the words, an easy attempt at placating you after you had practically offered your heart on a platter, baring your very soul to him, but for that tone.

There was no room for doubt or fear when he spoke like that, no room for anything but sheer acceptance. He believed what he was saying with his entire being, and you wished you didn’t know him well enough to tell.

It would be so easy to be angry, to ignore those words as he had ignored your admission, to doubt him and call him out on it, to ask the question your heart begged for the answer to… then why say it in the first place?

Wiping a tear from your cheek in a hurried movement, appalled at just how wet your skin felt, and the fact that your emotions had betrayed you so easily, you merely shook your head, still not daring to look his way.

“Doesn’t matter,” you mumbled, forcing your attention out the passenger window to the seemingly never ending sea of sand. “Next time I’ll tell someone, ok?” your voice was small, insecure, each word focused on entirely the wrong thing. “And I’ll get my stupid car fixed too.”

Was it a poor attempt at humour? Yes. But you were desperate. You needed to end this conversation, needed to get back to the comfort of your bed where you could allow the tears that seemed to haunt you to fall once more as you accepted the heartache that only grew with his silence.

“Next time,” the words seemed to die on his tongue, voice shaky as his hand reached out for your own, pulling your attention towards him as he grasped it tightly on your lap.

There was a desperation in his gaze now, a determination that you hear him, that you take each word he offered to heart.

“Next time, we both go.”

A scoff of laughter fell from your lips, your head shaking even as an incredulous smile dared to show itself in the corners of your lips.

“Frankie,” you sighed his name, gaze falling to your joint hands, to the way his thumb ran over your knuckles, even as he held your hand so tightly. “You’re missing the point of me getting away entirely.”

And then, for the first time since he had pulled up next to your broken down car, he smiled.

“I’m not,” the lilt of his voice almost tempted you to glance towards him, amusement dancing in the corners of his tone as he sought you out.

“Frankie,” you started once more, although you weren’t quite sure what you planned to say. How could you begin to explain your need for freedom from him?

“I was wrong,” he shook his head, more to himself than anything, as he spoke softly. “I made two mistakes that night-”

Would this man ever cease to shatter your heart? Surely it was already in pieces smaller than the grains of sand that sat outside your door.

“I should never have said it was a mistake, and I should have told you the truth.”

“The truth…” it came out more as a statement than a question, as if you were testing the very words on your tongue. Even with your focus flittering between his intense gaze, locked onto his very being you could still hear the suspicion in your tone. What truth would you learn if he continued? Would it hurt you further, or heal the shattered remains of your heart? Could you even risk considering the latter?

Your sights fell, focused on the warmth of his hand in yours, on the comfort he was trying to bring you, even if this was the moment your world came crashing down around you. Perhaps, with his hand in yours, you could bear it this time. After all the times your world felt as if it were imploding within you, perhaps you could face it if he just kept holding your hand.

“I have loved you since the moment I met you.”

“Frankie, please don’t-” you could see what he was doing, softening the blow, reminding you how much you meant to him. You were his best friend, and he loved you, just as he loved Santi or Will or Benny… minus the whole one night stand issue.

Your hand was stock still in his, unable to clench onto the one thing that could keep you together and break you apart all at once. It was still despite the way his thumb still ran over your knuckles, desperate to soothe and reassure as he had done time and time again. And it was the only thing you could focus on.

The sound of him shifting in his seat was both deafening and oddly muted as you trained your focus on your joined hands that sat in your lap.

His other hand reached over, his touch so light as it traced against your wet cheek that it had you closing your eyes without a thought.

“Hey,” his voice was broken now, rough and raw with emotion that you didn’t dare let yourself focus on. The touch of his hand felt stronger now as it dipped to your chin, silently begging at you to look his way. Silence sat between you as he waited, with a patience only Frankie knew, for you to give in to his plea.

Even here, stuck in the middle of the desert with tears flowing freely down your cheeks, you could never truly deny Frankie anything.

Your eyes opened slowly, painfully so, but the sight that greeted you was somehow worse than the unknowing blackness you had before.

He looked worse than he sounded, an echo of his worst days, his face haunted with a mirage of emotions that you never wished him to experience. And for a moment you wished you could take it all back. The relief you felt at finally telling him how you felt, the way your heart screamed at no longer having to suffer in silence… none of that was worth it if it was causing this pain to the man you adored.

His smile was small as it crept onto his lips. You could see the uncertainty in the way his eyes flickered over your features. But his hand that still sat in your lap held your hand with a determination that was meant to reassure, although you couldn’t quite tell if it was meant to reassure you or him.

“I have loved you since the moment we met,” he repeated, pausing as he took a deep breath. “And I have been in love with you for almost as long.”

Your eyes met his without a thought, needing to see whether there was truth in his words, needing to see whether he meant what he was saying, or if he was simply doing what he could to keep you safe and by his side.

But there was no lie in his eyes, no fear that you could see past his words into a hollow land of half truths. No, the only fear that sat there was trepidation, anxiety… timidity.

What if you didn’t believe him? What if, after all you had both said, after all that had happened you didn’t want him?

But how could you not?

Frankie, the man who had been at your side through thick and thin, the man who had driven for hours to pick you up when your car had decided it no longer wanted to work… he was still your everything, he was your Frankie.

Hours of exhaustion and desperation, filled with tears of heartbreak and frustration, slipped aside, replaced with the smallest of smiles.

“You love me, huh?” the teasing lilt to your tone surprised even you, but the way his entire being lit up at the words was addictive. Your features seemed to mirror his, smile growing until it was all you knew, until the happiness you felt seemed to chase away the anguish you had felt for so long.

His hand tightened in yours, and finally, you moved with it, squeezing reassuringly as you watched emotions dance over his features.

“Honey,” he stopped, pulling your joint hands to his lips as he pressed a tender kiss to the back of your palm, never letting his gaze drop from yours for so much as a moment. “I’m crazy about you.”

[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

[thesims4blogger]

The Sims 4: New Game Patch (September 7th, 2021)

There’s a new Sims 4 update available for PC/Mac and Consoles.

PC: 1.79.93.1030 / Mac: 1.79.93.1230 / Console: Version 1.47

Remove all MODS and Custom Content before updating your game

Hello Simmers!

We hope you are well wherever you are in the World.

Today, we have a special kind of update! As you now know, this is our first update that fully focuses on a previously released pack, giving it new life if you will. Today is the day for self-care for and with The Sims™ 4 Spa Day!

Spa Day is all about relaxation and getting some well-deserved personal Sim time and wellness. With this update, we are adding some features that will help enhance this wellness experience that we hope you enjoy.

Along with these enhancements, we were also able to fix a few issues that were live and needed some care.

Thanks again for your continued support and feedback!

Chaus!

-SimGuruRusskii

What’s New?

Spa Day Updates

Everyone deserves more time to refresh and more ways to renew! In this update, we added the following:

Three new Aspirations and a new Trait

The path to wellness is long but well worth it! Sims can now opt for three aspirational paths to achieve their own Zen:

Self-Care Specialists – For those Sims who would like to monetize their love of fitness and wellness.

Inner Peace – For the Sims that want to achieve ultimate harmony and learning tools to mitigate their negative emotions.

Zen Guru – For the Sims that want to share the power of wellness with the world…the whole world, for real. They also focus on seeking to train their successor to pass the knowledge along.

In addition to these new Aspirations, we added a new trait for those Sims that require a bit of extra work to keep their needs… properly aligned. High Maintenance will allow your Sims to experience mindful tasks that can help their sense of wellbeing. No trouble is trivial, no need is too much.

You can find these new Aspirations and the new Trait in Create A Sim. And don’t forget the Spa Membership included with these Aspirations – it’s a steal!

Manicures and Pedicures

Some people like having a massage to decompress – a valid option… pretty sure I need one – but my favorite thing is manicures and pedicures! Hear me out! There is something so relaxing about choosing your design, color, shape, and having someone prettify (yes, it is a word… to me) your nails with the utmost care. Now your Sims can get these nail enhancements or graciously give them to other Sims. You can choose a design, a shape, and voilà! Your Sims’ nails will be as fabulous as they feel!

And if you don’t want to get your nails done by a professional- tight budget, totally get it – Sims will have access to the same options in Create A Sim that you can instantly apply to your Sims nails – it’s like insta nails!! You can pick from a variety of swatches with color combinations, designs, or just a solid color for each fingernail. You can also choose a variety of one solid color choices for your Toenails. You can find them in the Accessories category in Create A Sim, where you will see a Fingernails and Toenails sort with the options.

We want to highlight that in this upgrade to Spa Day we have a design from the wonderful Ebonix that is featured in Create A Sim! Ebonix is a super talented Sims Creator, and we are happy we can feature one of her designs and share it with everyone.

About Yoga and Meditation

Yoga Classes can now take place outside of Spas and Gyms! You can hire a yoga instructor or teach your own class from the Instructor Yoga Mat. Speaking of teaching, Sims can also lead Guided Meditation sessions from Meditation Stools. Oh, and I don’t want to forget to mention that Children are able to practice and teach both Yoga and Meditation as well!

New Objects, Facial Masks… Oh my!

As part of this update, we also added a few new objects and swatches in Build Mode, these include a new luxurious massage table and a massage chair that can also be used for manicures and pedicures for a full relaxation experience. And as an added bonus, there is a new portable massage chair and table, so your Sims can give massages, manicures, and pedicures on the go to earn some Simoleons.

Besides these, we added as part of your Sims’ self-care routine the ability to purchase and apply Facial Masks. They come in a variety of benefits and designs; for ease of access, we recommend having in your preferred lot the Doc Sweet’s Luke-Warm Mini Dispenser. This mini version of the original refrigerator can hold your favorite beverages in a compact space, but as an added benefit, Sims can purchase Facial Masks from it. By the way, don’t forget to try the new Cucumber Power-Sip and cucumber slices for a tasty snack! Also available with this update.

Base Game Updates

For those who don’t own Spa Day, we wanted to give you a treat as well. For Base Game Simmers we added the nail options for fingernails and toenails in Create A Sim for you to enjoy. Same as mentioned previously, there will be choices under the Fingernails and Toenails sort in Create A Sim, there will be a variety of solid one-color nails and color combination nails available for the Base Game itself.

Bug Fixes

Consoles

We fixed an issue in which some of the controls when players are in the Game Options menus were a little off, it should work correctly now.

The Sims 4

New games should no longer experience the automatic generation of empty households, and the ensuing save size increase and performance lag that this causes. The team is still investigating how to safely fix existing saves that have this issue.

We fixed an issue that affected Custom Content Chairs that when slotted with certain objects it created Sims routing issues.

Sometimes, in certain saves, Sims would lose their names when visiting some Lots – most notoriously the Goth’s Lot but it could happen anywhere. If a Sim has no name… does that Sim exist? I can assure you that the Goths were not involved, but this issue should no longer occur.

Ever had the need to order food or drinks but you just couldn’t be bothered? Been there, however the issue of Sims and NPCs not being able to order food and drinks autonomously has been fixed. Order away!

Have you noticed that your Sims had been doing Fitness things or Dancing if they Disliked those things? Strange no? It should no longer happen as long as they continue to Dislike them of course. As a note, unfortunately (for those affected), Sims are subject to choose music they Dislike still from any stereo so they can still torment other Sims (and Simmers) around them.

We fixed an issue in which the Mega Window (Double Budget Grand Deluxe DeLite) in build Mode was missing a few swatches and displayed them as empty.

Let’s talk about Unibrows! Are they in? Are they out? No matter, every brow is welcome! We have fixed an issue that didn’t make the thicker unibrow available for female frame Sims and that didn’t make the thinner unibrow available for male frame Sims. So all the unibrows for both frames!

Did you ever notice an invisible slot under the All of the Things table? We sure did, and while I think that if it is called “all of the things” it could have all the things, everywhere… I guess This was not acceptable so we fixed that.

Get to Work

The hairstyle yfHair_EP01TwistLow has been tagged correctly in the Updo Hairstyle category. Is it still an Updo even if the bun is low and not up high? These are the questions I ponder sometimes.

Eco Lifestyle

If you noticed the Community Voting Board missing from venues across packs in Build Mode, never fear. It has been found and should be safely back in Build Mode.

Dream House Decorator

Ever had such good-looking décor that you can’t just sleep because you have to look at it? As much as we want your Sims to love their décor and their style, we thought it was a bit too much that they would not sleep and just look at it, so this should no longer happen.

[crispychrissy]

Connected - Part 4

Summary: Dr. Austin's theory is put to the test, and she shows Tony, Bucky, and Steve the woman behind the mystery. Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2976 Warnings: Angst, medical stuff, stretching the medical science behind the super soldier serum, discussion of Bucky's previous trauma & a mention of the horrible things the Nazi's did A/N: I apologize for the late posting, I fell asleep so hard last night I didn't have a chance to queue this, and then I was out all day (good 14 hours out and about) so I am just now able to post the new chapter since I'm home now. As I mentioned in a prior post, I no longer have a forever taglist, but I will still tag series specific people if they request. You can also follow this story & others on my Ao3 as well. The series was beta’d by the lovely @idjitmonkey and I hope you enjoy! Please send me an ask if you would like to be tagged in the series. :)

Series Masterlist – Marvel Masterlist

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Bucky made a quick call to Shuri who, after a thorough interrogation as to why he was asking, assured him his arm would not be affected by the magnets of an MRI machine. So now, Bucky was laying down on his back inside the machine and staring at the small glass covered camera embedded in the inside curve of the plastic above him.

“Stop staring at the camera, Barnes, you’re giving off some crazy resting murder face right now,” Tony’s staticky voice came through the pair of disposable earbuds he was wearing to protect his hearing from the noise of the scan. “Might sell these scans to Ripley’s Believe It or Not. You actually do have something going on in that head of yours.”

“As much as I know you want to answer, Sergeant Barnes, please do not speak or move,” Dr. Austin’s voice came through after what sounded like a small scuffle for the microphone.

Bucky blinked several times in an unnatural yet controlled fashion, and when he heard Steve’s laughter coming through the earbuds, he had to fight the urge to smile, knowing Steve got the message he blinked out in Morse code.

F-U-C-K Y-O-U T-O-N-Y

The scan was over almost a half an hour later, and Bucky couldn’t hide his exhale of relief once the table began to slide out of the massive scanner. Confined spaces still made his skin crawl and flash back to the cryo tube he was kept in, but the MRI was surprisingly open in design and not like the ones he usually remembered seeing in hospitals. When he brought it up to Dr. Austin on their way back to her office, she smiled at him and explained most of the soldiers they treat have PTSD and claustrophobia, so an open MRI design was necessary for the comfort of the patients she treats.

It made sense, and when they entered her office and Bucky’s stomach growled for the fourth time in the last fifteen minutes, she tossed him the orange he’d been eyeing earlier before taking a seat at her desk and flipping open her laptop.

“Normally we have to wait for the images to be reviewed by a radiologist, but I’m well versed in how to read brain scans,” Dr. Austin explained, clicking a few times before leaning forward to study the screen. “Oh, wow.”

“What?” Bucky asked, using his teeth to bite a chunk of the orange’s peel off since his right hand didn't have nails long enough, and his left didn’t have nails at all. Once he could see the flesh of the orange underneath, he slid his flesh finger under the remaining peel and began to remove it in large pieces, trying to avoid getting sticky juice on his metal hand.

Dr. Austin spun her laptop around to show Bucky the image on her screen. It was a scan of his head, he could tell that, but the mess of swirling bright colors on the inside where his brain was made his eyes hurt. There were bright greens and blues swirled with more vibrant reds and pinks dancing around inside the image. “This is your brain.”

“Looks more like those posters… the ‘this is your brain on drugs’ pictures if they were made in the sixties, Doc,” Tony said. “I’m guessing it’s not supposed to look like that?”

“No. There’s so much brain activity that it’s likely what’s been burning through your energy and why you’ve been hungry all the time,” Dr. Austin explained. “Any type of brain activity, including emotions and problem solving, requires energy, whether it’s planning a complex strategy of attack for a mission or a simple math problem or crying at a sad part in a movie. Overworking the mind usually leads to tiredness, which leads to sleep, naturally refreshing those energy reserves. Most humans don’t expend enough energy, even when the brain is very active, to require major replenishment. Take Mr. Stark for example.”

Tony looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes, you’re a very intelligent man, and I’m guessing that when you’re elbow deep in your inventions or developing something, you don’t sleep and will go days without rest… so you find you get somewhat hungry at random times, right?” Dr. Austin asked.

“Well, yeah, I usually keep snacks around the lab that I nibble on so I don’t have to leave to make an actual meal. It ruins the momentum,” Tony said, confusion in his voice. “Pep’s found me passed out over the kitchen counter halfway through making a sandwich.

“Your body shut down and went to sleep before you were even able to replenish that energy via food since sleep is more efficient. So, that is a normal human mind.” Tony opened his mouth to protest, when Dr. Austin rolled her eyes and switched analogies. “Fine, that’s a standard engine, if you will, that can easily be refueled by a small energy source for a limited amount of time before it needs to be shut down and rebooted,” Dr. Austin said, slowly twirling her right pointer finger in a circle.

“Alright, I’m following you so far.” Tony’s head was slightly moving along with the circular rotation of her finger.

“Now, in the case of our super soldiers here, imagine that engine, but amplified almost five hundred percent,” Dr. Austin began to rotate her finger faster and faster until it was a blur of movement. “The need for sleep is suppressed by the serum, since alertness is crucial in combat, so that reboot requirement is easier to put off. In order to keep this kind of engine going at the same speed and level of activity for prolonged periods, it would burn through a small snack, or a small source of energy, too quickly and would signal the driver of the car, if you will, that it needed more.”

“So you’re saying that something is making Bucky’s brain so active, and he’s burning through so much energy, that it’s manifesting as hunger to make sure he keeps up with what’s being expended?” Steve asked, his mouth slightly open in shock. “I mean, I always remember being hungry after mission strategy and planning meetings, but I just assumed it was because I was bored or had skipped a meal.”

Dr. Austin shook her head. “Nope. You were using your brain in overdrive, doing quick calculations and mission scenarios in your head to find the best possible plan of action, much faster than any normal human brain would be able to calculate. It makes you an excellent strategist, but that kind of brain power burns a lot of energy.”

Bucky snorted in disbelief and leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “It makes sense. I was a good sniper when I was first in the Army during the war, but after Zola… after he injected me with that bastardized version of the serum… I could calculate trajectory angles and wind velocities and distances in my head in seconds, didn’t have to write them out to do the calculations. Didn’t even need a spotter anymore.”

Dr. Austin nodded. “Exactly. The serum allowed you extra mental acuity at the expense of more energy consumption.”

“But that doesn’t explain why Bucky’s brain is lit up like a psychedelic Christmas tree,” Tony said, gesturing to the laptop image. “Barnes obviously isn’t doing any kind of advanced calculus in his head right now.” Tony looked at Bucky. “You’re not right?” Bucky shook his head and Tony continued, “so why is his brain so active?”

“And that leads me to my theory about Y/N,” Dr. Austin said, standing up from her chair. “Follow me, gentlemen. And Sergeant Barnes,” he looked over and raised a brow as he trailed after her into the hallway, “please let me know if you feel any increased feelings of hunger or exhaustion. The effects might come on quickly, so please let me know if, or when, you feel anything.”

Bucky nodded, and looked over to where Steve was walking to his right. Thanks to their childhood friendship, Steve could always see anxiety and nervousness in Bucky even when he tried to hide it, like when he saw Bucky off the morning he shipped off to Europe. Bucky kept his face stoic, but when Steve hugged him goodbye, Bucky was practically trembling under the Army-hardened mask he had worn then.

Steve reached over and clasped a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze of reassurance.

The doctor led them down several hallways, until they reached another wing of the military hospital which held secure patient rooms that could be locked down if necessary, whether due to outbursts of violence due to psychological issues from recovering soldiers or to hold prisoners who had been injured and needed medical intervention. Dr. Austin stopped in front of a room at the end of the hallway and gestured to the one-way mirror in front of her.

“Gentlemen, meet Y/N Y/L/N.”

The three men stepped closer and looked into the room, all eyes frozen on the figure sitting upright in the hospital bed. Y/N had shoved herself in the farthest possible corner of the bed, her knees tucked under her chin and arms wrapped around her legs. The photo in her file, and even the video of her they’d seen looked nothing like the woman before them. She looked almost emaciated, her skin a sickly pale that was almost translucent, and her stringy grease matted hair twitched slightly as her body trembled.

“Jesus,” Steve breathed. “She… she looks like those prisoners… the ones—”

Bucky swallowed and nodded. “From Natzweiler, yeah, I remember.” Bucky took a deep breath, fighting against the telltale tingle in his mind of a long since forgotten memory beginning to rise up like a wave. “Doc… is she eating?”

“She was when she first got here, but only if the food was left for her after she passed out from exhaustion,” Dr. Austin explained. “Now, ever since things have escalated, she rips out her IV’s, pulls out NG tubes, and refuses any food we bring her. I’m not going to sedate her just because it’ll make it easier to feed her, we haven’t reached that level of intervention yet, but we’re getting close. She told one of our staff yesterday, in Russian, that she was not going to eat any of our poisoned food, that she wasn’t some kind of lab experiment and that we were animals for not just shooting her in the head to get it over with.”

All of the air in Bucky’s lungs came out in one hard breath like he’d been punched in the chest, and he had to brace himself against the windowsill to keep his knees from buckling. “Fuck.”

“Bucky?” Steve gasped at Bucky’s sudden weakness, grabbing onto his friend’s arm and placing a gentle hand on his back. ”What? Are you feeling the stuff Dr. Austin mentioned?”

Bucky grit his teeth and closed his eyes at the onslaught of memory fragments bombarding him. “No, I’m… I don’t know, maybe? I just… she’s…” Bucky’s thoughts were so jumbled he could barely form a coherent sentence, even in his head. He made a choked off noise that sounded more like a sob before he lifted his head to look at Y/N. “She’s reliving my captivity with Hydra. This… this was after I was transferred from the facility the Russians held me in after they found me to the one where Zola did his experiments. They were, umm, they were testing the limits of the serum, trying to figure out what I could survive.”

Steve’s face dropped and he took a sharp breath in. Bucky’s captivity and torture was not something he talked about often outside his therapy sessions. Steve only knew a handful of stories, ones that had come directly from Bucky’s mouth, and even then they were very hard stories for him to tell—lots of starting and stopping, frequent breaks, and plenty of tears. But here, with two extra people with him, and one being a stranger?

“Buck, you don’t have to talk about it,” Steve whispered.

“No, I need… she said exactly what I said to the guards who brought me food one day.” Bucky swallowed hard, flexing his fingers against the painted metal of the windowsill, the cold against his flesh hand grounding him. “They were testing different poisons and how the serum would fight it off… arsenic, ricin, even different kinds of snake and spider venom. I had seizures, strokes, and my heart stopped so many times I lost count.”

“Fucking hell,” Tony murmured, leaning against the wall behind them, his face a few shades paler than it was ten minutes ago. “Y/N is reliving your memories, reliving your life.”

“We need to find a way to pull her out of this,” Bucky said, straightening up with determination even though his bones felt like liquid and his mind was full of numbing static. If Y/N was reliving his life, even if it didn’t seem like the moments were in order, he knew it was only a matter of time until she would experience how the Winter Soldier was born, how he was forged, and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Dr. Austin nodded and looked back at her patient through the glass. “If my theory is correct, which I believe it is based on your shared memories and brain scans, Y/N’s mind has somehow melded with yours. And your memories, powered by your mind’s energy, have somehow taken over hers, suppressing her personality completely. I don’t know if it was some kind of dormant mutant ability that was activated by the trauma of her captivity and torture, or something else… but there is obviously some kind of link between the two of you that we don’t have the technology to test for and verify. You’re essentially feeding her your memories, which is why your brain is lit up like that and why you’re expending so much energy.”

“It’s like she’s stuck inside one of Stark’s virtual reality headsets and can’t take it off, experiencing everything I went through while my brain keeps playing her different…” Bucky trailed off and his eyes widened before his head snapped to look at Y/N through the glass.

In a flash of movement, Bucky grabbed Dr. Austin’s ID badge from where it was clipped onto her white coat and darted for the door to Y/N’s room, scanning the badge so the door opened with a green light and soft click. Bucky, ignoring the shouts of his name and hands trying to grab at him to pull him back, opened the door and shut it firmly behind him, engaging the door’s auto-lock safety feature that he knows secure wings of hospitals have. The group outside would need to find another ID badge to get in, which would buy him some time.

Y/N’s wide and terrified eyes settled on him, and she tilted her head in an almost confused dog-like fashion, her eyes softening with an air of familiarity. Bucky could feel the hunger gnawing at his stomach turn into sharp cramps that almost made him double over, and there was a soft circle of darkness starting to creep in around his vision.

Bucky took three large steps forward, and even though she flinched away at his sudden movement, Y/N didn’t scramble away to try and avoid his hands as he lifted them. Her weary bloodshot eyes were full of unshed tears, and the closer Bucky’s hands got to her face, the more she began to tremble.

“You’re safe,” he whispered to her in Russian, before repeating the same sentiment in English.

The moment his fingers, both flesh and metal, touched the skin on either side of her face, it felt like he was on the wrong side of an attack from Thor’s hammer. Whatever weakness and hunger he’d been feeling was burned out of his body at the sheer shock cascading through his entire being. It didn’t hurt, but it was bordering on wildly uncomfortable, and Bucky was afraid he’d never be able to let go, his hands stuck to Y/N like a magnet.

There was something different passing between them, more than what touch alone could provide. Trying to understand everything that was happening was overwhelming, but when Bucky focused, he could almost feel Y/N inside his mind, like another whisper of a presence, a ghost in his consciousness. When he reached out in his head for her where he’d felt the ghost of her presence, he was assaulted with bursts of memories he knew were not his own, images of unfamiliar people, places, and things flashing in his mind like photographs. Bucky's curiosity was almost childlike, awestruck and trying to understand what his brain was comprehending, sorting through what Y/N was showing him.

The more information Bucky absorbed, the darker each memory became until it felt like he was wading through molasses, each image being harder and harder to move past. A hoarse whisper of “No” echoed in his mind, and Bucky couldn’t tell if it was his own voice or Y/N’s.

A solid arm wrapped around Bucky’s middle, one much more firm than human flesh would be, and pulled him backward until his hands dropped from Y/N’s face, breaking whatever connection had refused to release him when he’d touched her. Reality came rushing back, and the room and people around him flashed into existence, the change in environment and sound disorienting him and leaving him panting for breath, his knees wobbling.

“She…” Bucky looked over at Y/N, who was just as distressed, and watched her collapse onto the bed, unconscious, before his vision blacked out and darkness took him as well.

***

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