(n.) A state of eternal friendship between two bros. Two bros entering into a bromarriage have probably shared many experiences such as hometowns, colleges, or sexual partners. Bromarriages usually originate through Greek brotherhood, childhood-to-adult friendships, or teammate relationships. There are polybromarriages but it is uncommon that all bros have equal bonds.
In honor of me being featured in this weeksSmosh Pit weekly, I dedicated this to the main dorks whose friendship has lasted for so long and is still blossoming <3 Alongside the Smosh Games crew who have been there through thick and thin!
Sorry about Wes and Flitz, they were eating the bro-wedding cake
Hunger TV:You set up the record label Bromance; what’s Bromance about?
Brodinski:It’s about looking at what’s going on today, and how we can change it a bit, where Bromance can make a difference. The whole fraternity aspect of it makes it more interesting. I always help a friend with his music, even if it’s not exactly the music I am going to play. All the music on Bromance, I love it. Everything is completely different. Everyone signed on Bromance is my friend and my family. I will do anything for them. And that matters ten times more than anything else in life. What matters at the end? All that matters, is helping other people. What matters is how many people you help in your life. And how many people you experience stuff with in your life. By yourself you will never do anything.
"So you want out, is that what I understand? Both of you?" their boss demanded, staring across his desk at the two men who sat there, one tall, blonde, and English, the other broad, muscular, and Irish. Both looked bored and were clearly not giving him the respect he felt he deserved. Who did they think they were? He MADE them!
"What if I don’t want to let you go?" their boss growled. "You’re the best I have, what if I refuse to ‘grant your request’?"
Tom smirked at this, while Matthew placed his gun on the desk, his hand relaxing on top of it, but the barrel facing towards their boss.
Their boss rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “One more job—”
"You said that about this last one," Tom chuckled, shaking his head in unbelief.
"ONE more job," their boss insisted. "And…this one will set you both of up for life; you can buy your own island, if you manage to pull this off.”
Matthew lifted an eyebrow at this and glanced back at Tom. A silent message was passed between the two friends before they looked back at their boss. “What is the job?”
Their boss grinned; he knew he had them. “You know ‘Robert Crawley’?”
Tom’s eyes widened at the name. “The Tories hope for the next Prime Minister? You want us to—”
"Not him," their boss interrupted. He then put two photographs down on the desk…each containing the image of a beautiful, dark-haired woman.
Matthew frowned. “No.”
"No," Tom added. "We don’t target women."
"This isn’t what you’re thinking," their boss was quick to clarify. "Just…kidnap them—"
"We don’t do that either," Matthew growled.
"Scare them! Get some ransom money from ‘dear old dad’, shake things up—"
"No," both men answered, cutting their boss off and rising from their chairs. They glanced at each other and nodded their heads, turning to leave.
"BRANSON!" their boss called. "HE KNOWS WHO MURDERED YOUR COUSIN!"
Tom practically stumbled. Matthew turned and stared back at their boss.
"You do this job, and not only will you be paid handsomely, but I’ll get you the name of the bastard who murdered your cousin in cold blood, AND…" he looked at Matthew now. "I can make sure your record with the army is cleanly erased. Come on, lads; this is something that money can’t buy…"
Tom and Matthew looked at each other, temptation eating away at them. Tom had gotten into this business because of his cousin’s murder, and Matthew desperately wanted his file with the British Army to be cleared…
"…Kidnapping, nothing more…?" Matthew asked.
Their boss bit the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling. “That’s right, just…take the girls away for a few weeks. I know I can trust you both to stay out of trouble.”
Tom looked at his friend before turning back to their boss. “Who wants this done?”
"You know I can’t reveal that information—"
"I think you can make an exception," Tom growled, removing his gun and making no qualms about aiming it at their boss.
Their boss held up his hands and let out a sigh. “Some…insider with the Tories, another politician, one who wants to take Crawley’s place…he thinks he can show that Robert Crawley isn’t fit for the job in the wake of a personal crisis, and then he’ll move in. And then the girls can be released and everyone will get what they want, right?”
Tom and Matthew looked at each other. Today was supposed to be their last day in this business—hired assassins, glorified hit-men; it was an ugly business, but they were good at it, and had yet to leave a client “unsatisfied”.
"Fine," they both answered at the same time.
Their boss grinned. “Wonderful!” he picked up the two photographs and put them in a file, before handing the file to them. “Ladies Mary and Sybil, Robert Crawley’s oldest and youngest, respectively.”
"She looks like your type," Tom teased Matthew, pointing at the picture of the elder Crawley girl.
Matthew rolled his eyes. “Please.”
"Alright gents, best be on your way; I’ll let the client know you’re on the job."
They muttered something to their boss before turning and finally walking out. “What did we get ourselves into?” Matthew groaned to Tom as the door shut behind them.
"Either a ticket out of this hell we call ‘a living’," he muttered back. "Or…a great deal of trouble."