#especially Bill and Hudson's

[thatonecrookedsmile]

Through 2023, I've been sketching and conceptualizing my designs for the human cast of BATDR. Giving shape to some ideas, testing new ones, you know the deal.

And December of last year, I wanted to make some slightly more elaborate drawings ("elaborate" in comparison to the previous sketches in this case), with some of these designs. To sort of solidify these ideas better.

The result turned out quite nice, despite a few things. (why are noses so complicated from a head-on perspective) Last month I decided to bring these drawings + 3 small doodles to color. To also solidify how they look in color.

Obviously, this isn't the entire DR cast. There are only 8 designs here, it's a little less than half of the entire cast, I still have to show a lot lol. These above are what I chose to draw in recent times. For the rest of the characters, it's a matter of 1. fleshing out the designs (e.g. Angus Newman, Kitty Thompson) or 2. I still have to think of a design for them (e.g. Muncie Dunn, Telly Wester). When I have a better vision for them, I'll do something similar to what I did here. Make some more elaborate drawings for them, color them digitally and post them here eventually.

I don't know if the text I put is too big or too small, so here are the characters in each image, left to right: -Jane Todd, Kay Lee. -Grace Conway -Bill Danton, Lance Derby -Sally Newt, Hudson Doyle and Carl (one could argue that Carl might not be a real in-universe person, but I still wanted to do a design for him) There are still some details that have yet to be really set in stone, but even so, what we have above is practically the main vision for these designs solidified, so to speak,which I'm happy with.

At first I was only going to color the first three images, but I liked the other 3 mini drawings that I made at the time so I decided to put them here too. Eventually I'll make some better drawings with them, so the next time I show other BATDR designs, I'll post them together. Maybe in the future, when all the designs are finalized, I will make a digital drawing with all the designs, in one place. I tried to do something similar in the past with my BATIM designs, so it would be interesting to do something like this again with the Dark Revival cast.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #batdr #bendy and the dark revival #jane todd #kay lee #grace conway #bill danton #lance derby #sally newt #hudson doyle #carl batdr #crookedsmileart #happy with these designs #especially Bill and Hudson's #It's been interesting to work on my DR human designs #I know that the new guys introduced into the game aren't talked about that much by the community #(looking at this site specifically; saying this is an understatement) #and I understand and I think I even know why of this #but;idk;I want to give them some appreciation;yk #draw some things with them; make them interact with other characters from the franchise #you know; I want to do something for them #give them some attention; #plus;knowing me; #I would still make myself learn to remember the names of all the characters introduced via audio logs; #regardless of whether or not these new guys have the same impact as the IM cast #so it was inevitable lol #(can I offer you some fan-designs in these strange times)

[egonspenglershusband]

This is honestly probably one of my favorite pictures of the boys

Just look at them they all so happy :)

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters 1984 #ghostbusters fandom #peter venkman #ray stantz #egon spengler #winston zeddemore #this picture makes me happy #especially looking at Egon in the back I love my man lol- #80s movie #harold ramis #dan aykroyd #ernie hudson #bill murray

[horseshoe-bay-ledger]

NANCY DREW || 4x07: The Reaping of Hollow Oak

"Well, if the game must be played."

#Bill and Ted does Jumanji? yes thank you #also nicks mvp in every episode but this one especially #this doesn’t quite capture the vibe but you know #nancy drew #4x07 #the reaping of hollow oak #nd #RR #ned nickerson #nick #george fan #george #bess marvin #bess turani #bess turani marvin #bess #ryan hudson #ryan #HS #TC #ace [redacted] #IH #nancy drew cw #cw nancy drew #ndcw #cwnd #nancy

[courtneysmovieblog]

"Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire" or Why Critics Need to Shut Up and Just Let Us Have Fun

At one point in Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire, Winston (Ernie Hudson) asks Ray (Dan Aykroyd) why he's still bothering with Ghostbusters instead of enjoying his golden years. Ray replies that this is exactly how he wants to be spending his golden years: by doing the thing he loves.

I really think that this was Aykroyd's response to all the critics that trash him for being too old to do Ghostbusters or The Blues Brothers. Blues and the supernatural are the things he's passionate about...and what better way to spend what time you have left by doing what you love?

Yeah, maybe the studios are milking the Ghostbusters series for all its worth by coasting on nostalgia. Did we need a Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire? Probably not, just like he didn't need a Ghostbusters: Afterlife. But I loved Ghostbusters: Afterlife, and I loved Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire too!

The Spengler family (Carrie Coon, Finn Wolfhard, and Mckenna Grace) and former teacher/sort-of-stepfather Gary (Paul Rudd) are now living in New York as full-time Ghostbusters, who have now expanded their operations, thanks to Ray, Winston, and Janine (Annie Potts). Unfortunately, former foe Walter Peck (William Atherton) is now the mayor, and is ready for any excuse to end them, including child labor laws. So Phoebe and the kids are forced to the sidelines while the adults take over...

Until when Ray's newest customer (Kumail Nanjiani) pawns a mysterious family relic to the store, setting off a chain of supernatural events. Once again, the Ghostbusters must rally to save the world.

The writers deserve some credit for doing something a little more original with the plot this time. This one gets a little dark: people literally freeze to death, and even Phoebe toys with the idea of the afterlife when she connects with spirit of a teenage girl (Emily Alyn Lind) . But don't worry, we still have plenty of laughs with the return of Slimer and Peter Venkman (Bill Murray).

Critics have not been kind to this movie. But maybe it's time to remind ourselves one crucial thing about the original Ghostbusters: it was a fun movie. That's all it was ever supposed to be, nothing more or less. And yet everyone from the critics to the fans critics and turned it into some kind of Holy Grail, setting up impossibly high standards that none of the sequels or reboots could ever hope to meet.

Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire might not be perfect, but like all the other films, it's fun. And even if it's getting old, there's nothing wrong with enjoying something that still gives you joy. So screw the critics and just go have a good time. Especially if it might be the last one.

8 out of 10

#ghostbusters frozen empire #review #dan aykroyd

[proton-wobbler]

Semifinals, Poll 3

Purple Honeycreeper vs Bluethroat

sources under the cut

Purple Honeycreeper (Cyanerpes caeruleus)

Cyanerpes, from the Ancient Greek 'kuanos' meaning "dark-blue" and 'herpes' meaning "creeper"; caeruleus meaning "dark blue" in Latin

eBird sightings: 29,552; IUCN Redlist Rating: Least Concern

Feeding on nectar is how this honeycreeper developed its bill shape- the bromeliad flowers it prefers are also shaped in this way. These small birds forage together in groups and are described as bold and inquisitive. They will often respond to the sight and sound of predators by mobbing, a behavior where multiple 'prey' animals surround a predator and try to annoy it away from the location.

Bluethroat (Luscinia svecica)

Luscinia could be translated as "little-seen songster"; svecica meaning "Swedish", in reference to the more orange-hued Swedish flag of the 17th and 18th century.

eBird sightings: 109,758; IUCN Redlist Rating: Least Concern

Frequently discussed is this species sexual behaviors. While not unique in any way, they do show a high tendency for extra-pair copulations- when one or both members of a 'monogamous' mated pair breed with a different bird on the side. They've also been documented to be influenced by the effects of color bands on mate choice, especially blue and orange bands, likely because of their blue and orange breeding plumage.

Images: Honeycreeper (male & female - Mike Hudson); Bluethroat (male - Seth Beaudreault; female - Volker Hesse)

#aka: pretty boys throw down #hipster bird main bracket #polls #purple honeycreeper #bluethroat #passeriformes #I've been wanting to do pics of the males and females for all the birds #but some aren't dimporphic #and also that would have been sooo many birds lol

[karahalloway]

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 7 - Take My Breath

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: Harper and Drake arrive back at Harper's apartment... where more than one surprise awaits Drake.

Word Count: 5,800

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, angst, Drake massively overthinking, lemons(?))

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Sorry this took so long to get out! Real life has been unexpected busy (even though I'd been hoping it would calm down lol) and this chapter ended up being quite a beast to wrangle into shape (I think I rewrote most parts of it like 6 times... 😅). But hopefully the contents will make up for the wait!

A/N2: I am participating in @fictober-event's Fictober 2022 event, and I (belatedly) used the Day 21 prompt: "I never said that" (which appears in bold within the text).

A/N3: I tagged this installment on the basis of my updated Tag List (which I will be posting tomorrow). If you were not tagged, and would like to be, let me know!

Chapter 7 - Take My Breath

"My... my jacket?" I blabber stupidly, hand frozen half-way to my ear like a moron... which, at this moment, I completely am.

Because my mind’s spinning from the bombshell invitation that she just dropped on me...

...and the potential implications.

"Yeah," she confirms with infinite patience. "The one you lent me last night."

"I wasn't expecting it back," I mutter while desperately searching her face, her eyes, her body language for any kind of clue as to what her true motivations actually are.

Because if she means what I think she means then—

"I know," she shrugs. "But it's yours. So, it's not right for me to keep it. Especially since you're leaving tomorrow."

I kick myself as she turns away to pad back towards the main road.

I'm such an idiot...

Her words confirm that which I should've known all along — that the invitation is completely platonic. And that it’s my own dumbass fault for trying to read something into the situation that isn’t even on the table.

At least not anymore.

Because whatever mood we managed to spark tonight got left in that damn elevator when I high-tailed us outta there.

And now it’s too late to get it back.

Because I ended up hurting her.

And despite the fact that she forgave me for the incident, there’s no way she'll want to take things further.

Not tonight, anyway...

...even though tonight’s all we have left.

I raise my gaze beseechingly to the heavens.

Why didn't I just go for Korean BBQ last night...? Then I never would've met her, she never would've gotten fired, and I wouldn't be feeling like—

"NYC Yellow Cab Company. Where are you going this evening?"

The sound of the operator's voice jars me from my thoughts. "Yeah. Um... I'd like to order a cab to..."

I trail off, realising that I actually have no idea where we are.

I cast my eyes around, trying to find a street sign, or an obvious landmark. But apart from the inky waters of the Hudson behind me and the yellow glow of the streetlamps along the sidewalk, I see nothing.

"Err... hold on a sec, will—"

The sharp sound of a whistle rends the air.

Throwing my head around, I spot Gale leaning out into the road with her arm in the air.

"...actually, never mind," I say, hanging up as a cab pulls up obediently next to us.

"One New York taxi," declares Gale triumphantly as she steps in front of me to yank the passenger door open.

Dropping my phone back in my pocket, I throw her a sidelong glance. "Thought you said cabs are a waste of time and money."

She shrugs back at me. "They are. But you were going to call one anyway, so I thought I'd save you the trouble... and the overpriced roaming bill."

I shake my head wryly. "And here I thought I was doin' you a favour."

"Who says the favour can't go both ways, cowboy?" she counters with a wink before climbing into the cab.

I stare at her ass painedly.

Now, why did she have to go and say something like that...?

Because despite the fact that she made it clear literally a minute ago that I shouldn't expect anything when we get back to hers, that one comment has kicked my dirty, sex-deprived imagination into overdrive again...

...and now all I can think about is eating her out while she goes down on me, 69-style.

"You coming, or what, pal?"

The driver's voice snaps me from my thoughts.

Swallowing a groan, I slide into the backseat — careful not to touch her, even accidentally, because then all bets are gonna get blown off — and pull the cab door closed with an agitated bang.

Sweet Jesus, I’m a horny mess...

I can’t seem to get through one conversation with this girl without my mind — and my dick — going wild with everything I want to do to her.

And that isn’t like me.

Sure. I've been turned on by girls before. Even been handcuffed, made to wait for gratification until I was literally sweating with need.

But never like this — outside of the bedroom, where the proverbial screw just kept getting pulled tighter and tighter without any assurance of release.

No. This is completely uncharted territory for me.

Because any other girl, any other situation, I'd've closed the deal by now. And moved on.

So, maybe that’s the problem — the fact that every time I seem to be getting somewhere, I end up getting cock-blocked with a meticulous precision that seems nothing short of premeditated.

By her asshole boss. By her infatuated coworker. By the cabbie. By Leo. By the pricks at the club.

Not to mention by myself. Because I keep saying and doing the wrong things. So, that fact that she’s still talking to me is basically a miracle.

And even though I somehow managed to salvage each and every fuck up — just — it hasn’t been enough.

Because I’m still sitting on square one.

But I've run outta time.

And that grates me no end.

Especially considering how narrowly I missed the end zone.

My head drops back against the head rest.

Christ, I need to fuck...

The adrenaline, the cortisol — not to mention the testosterone spliced with all the pent-up thirst — is still roiling through my veins, setting my teeth on edge, begging for release.

And while I completely respect Gale's decision to not want to take things further after everything she's been through tonight, I know I'll never be able to catch anything even remotely resembling sleep until I've blown off some steam.

And if it isn’t gonna happen with Gale — even though I want it to, desperately — I need to cut my losses and come up with a Plan B...

...though the idea of going back out again, to a noisy bar or club to scour the crowd for a potential hook-up is not appetising in the slightest. Especially since there’s no guarantee of a decent score.

Might just need to bite the bullet and steal a page out of Tariq's pathetic playbook by calling up a damned hooker.

I clench my eyes shut.

Sweet Jesus, I really must be desperate.

But as tantalising as the idea may seem at first blush, the thought of actually having sex with someone who is only in it for the money turns me off faster than flipping a kill switch.

I heave a resigned sigh.

Jacking off under a cold shower it is... Christ, this night can’t get any worse...

I feel the taxi slow.

Glancing out the window, I see that we've arrived on a residential street comprised of tightly packed multistorey brownstones.

"That'll be $24.56," declares the driver, putting the car into park.

"Thanks," acknowledges Gale, reaching for her clutch.

But I've already pulled my wallet out. "Keep the change," I tell him, handing over a ten and a twenty.

Gale's head snaps up. "Hey!"

"You want a receipt?" asks the cabbie, palming the money.

"Nope," I tell him, already halfway out the car.

The sooner we get this done, and the sooner I get gone, the better.

Flicking the door closed behind me, I walk quickly 'round to the other side of the cab to help Gale out.

Because even though I may not be getting laid tonight, I’m not gonna be an asshole about it. My parents had raised me better than that.

Gale greets me with a terse glare from the backseat. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I raise a brow. "Opening the door for you?"

"We agreed to share the fare!"

I heave a breath. Christ, not again... "No. We didn't."

"Yes. We did," she insists sternly, gathering her things. "Because I said—"

"I know what you said," I reply calmly, pulling the door wider. "But we never agreed."

Her mouth drops open in surprise. "But—"

"In fact," I continue, holding out a hand to help her out of the cab, "I specifically disagreed with your proposition. Because it's not right for you to fork out cash you don't have on a cab that you only need because of me."

"I have $12!" she hits back, ignoring my offer of assistance even as she struggles to climb out of the backseat with shoes, bag, and jacket in hand.

"No. You don't."

She freezes, half-in, half-out of the cab, staring at me in disbelief.

I meet her eye pointedly. "You lost your job, remember?"

"Yeah, but—"

"So, my point stands," I conclude, reaching out to steady her as she pushes herself up to stand. "You don't have $12 to spend on a cab. And since that's my fault, it's only right that I foot the fare."

She lets out a low breath. "Drake, you don't need t—"

"I do," I insist, shutting the cab door behind her. "Especially since I never finished apologising back at the club."

She flicks her gaze up with a coy smile. "We did get very rudely interrupted, didn't we?"

"Very," I agree, reaching up to brush her hair out of her face as the car pulls away. "So, it's only right that I make it up to you some other way."

Dammit, why can’t I keep my hands off her...?

Something flutters in her expression. "And that's very sweet of you. But I can't keep taking your money."

"Pretty sure it’s the cabbie who took my money..." I murmur softly.

She swings her Jimmy Choos at me. "You know what I mean!"

"Harper," I say firmly, letting the shoes ping harmlessly off my arm. "It's fine. Honestly. I'm not gonna begrudge twenty bucks — or even ten times that — if it helps you get home safe. After the way I gatecrashed your life, it's the least I can do."

She opens her mouth to protest.

I meet her gaze calmly, but steadfastly.

Her shoulders drop. "Okay, fine. But just so we're clear, this is the last time I'm letting you do this."

"Spend my own money?" I ask, quirking a brow.

"Blame yourself for what happened."

Her words pull me up short. "But—"

"You didn't gatecrash my life. If anything, you kinda did me a favour because I actually hated working at that bar," she admits. "The place was a dive, the hours were erratic, and Jovan was—"

"—a right piece of shit," I offer.

"I was going to say 'moody bastard', but sure," she grins. "The only reason I stuck it out for as long as I did was because the tips were relatively good and I was able to hit my monthly savings goal after I'd paid—"

"Savings goal?" I cut in. "What were you—?"

A blush colours her face. "It... It doesn't matter. Point is, I can get another job. And until I do, I have enough to cover the rent. So, it's not like you've ruined my life, or plunged me into debt, or homelessness..."

"Yeah, but—"

She lays a finger against my lips, silencing me. "I said it's fine... Really. You don't owe me anything, Drake. You never did."

I struggle for breath. "Har—"

"But I do owe you your jacket back," she reminds me, giving my nose a tap with her finger. "And you probably want to get back to your bachelor party. So, up and at 'em, cowboy."

The breath I didn't realise I’m holding explodes out of me as she turns away.

Fuck.

This girl really is try'na kill me.

Every time she gets up in my space like that, touches me like that, calls me cowboy like that, she pushes my self-control — and my sanity — right to the limit.

And at this rate, what little rein I have left on my composure is going to snap, and she’s gonna find herself on the receiving end of a very different kind of 'up and at 'em'... the kind where she’s up against the wall and I’m up and inside her.

I force myself to take a steadying breath as I follow after her.

Keep it together, Walker. As she made it clear — again — that's not the reason you're here. And unless she changes her mind, you can't overstep the mark.

She leads me to the squatter of two buildings on the block. Stopping in front of a narrow door that’s tucked next to the shuttered store front of a second-hand bookshop that occupies the ground floor, she reaches for the numerical access panel and taps the six digit code in.

The lock clicks back and I reach forward to push the door open.

"Thanks," she says with a smile, stepping through the opening.

"Anytime," I murmur, trying — and failing — to not breathe in her honey-camomile scent as she slides past me.

Dammit, why does she have to smell so good...?

"Hope you like cardio..."

I snap my head up just in time to catch the wry glance she throws me over her shoulder.

"...'cause it's a bit of a trek up to the fifth floor."

I let the door bang shut behind me with a sigh.

Yup. She’s definitely try'na kill me.

Because apparently it isn’t enough that I've already had to suffer through a burlesque routine and a sexually charged turn on the dancefloor that had basically been foreplay.

She’s now going to make me stare at her ass while we climb five flights for stairs.

Fuck my fuckin' life...

But, short of walking out on her like a high-strung douchebag, I don’t really have a choice.

Unless...

"Up and at 'em, Gale!" I prompt as I dart past her.

Her mouth drops. "Wha—?"

"Thought you want to be quick about this," I say, pausing on the landing to look back down at her.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want to race you up the stairs!"

I raise a brow. "Who said anything 'bout a race?"

"You did. Just now."

I lean over the banister. "I just offered to up the pace. But if you aren't up for it—"

Her eyes narrow. "I never said that..."

"Then I'll see you at the top," I shrug, resuming my jog up the stairs.

Even if she ends up trailing behind, at least I’ll have had a chance to blow off some much needed steam before we get to her apartment.

"Bet your ass you will, Walker!" she shouts, blowing past me as she takes the steps three at a time.

I snort despite myself, throwing myself into a sprint to catch up to her.

This girl...

She keeps managing to surprise me.

I hadn't intended for this to turn into a head-to-head. But apparently she has a mean competitive streak and can’t resist another chance to try and show me up. Even when she’s barefoot.

I catch up to her on the next level.

"Nice try, Gale," I chuckle, using the handrail to pull myself past her on the corner of the landing. "But you ain't winning this."

"Speak for yourself, Walker!" she cries, grabbing the back of my shirt to use me as a counterweight to propel herself into the lead again.

"You wanna play dirty, huh?" I huff, reaching out to grab her around the waist.

My fingers brush against her bare skin...

...but before I can close the hold, she's twisted away.

"Close, but no cigar!" she taunts with a smug look.

"Closer than you think," I grin, pulling past her through the opening she's unintentionally afforded me.

A shocked gasp rises up from behind me. "You bastard!"

"Don't dish it if you can't take it, girl!" I call as I round the final corner.

Pushing through the burn in my thighs, I bound up the steps, pausing at the top to catch my breath.

Doing that every day'll sure keep you fit! No wonder she has such great legs...

The sound of bare feet slapping against concrete echoes up the stairwell.

Glancing behind me, I spot Gale stomping up the steps with a murderous expression, her arms crossed over her chest.

"The fuck was that, Walker?" she demands angrily as she draws level with me.

"A fair win?"

"How the hell was that fair!"

"Hey," I say, holding my hands up. "I was just playin' by your rules, Gale... So, don't tell me you've got double standards."

"I didn't rip your shirt off!" she protests vehemently, aiming a kick at my shin.

I dodge out of the way...

...and suddenly realise why she’s so pissed when I see that her arms are still wrapped around her chest.

When I'd tried to grab her, my fingers must've accidentally pulled the tie of her shimmery crop top loose at the back. And now she’s desperately trying to keep the flimsy covering from falling off her body completely while holding onto everything else she’s carrying.

An inadvertent snort escapes me at the absurdity of the situation.

"Oh, yeah. Hilarious!" she snips sarcastically, shoving past me. "Jackass..."

Her comment hits me like a kick to the gut. Goddammit...

Of all the ways I've imagined undressing her — and there have been a lot of ways! — this was definitely not been one of them. By mistake... In the most asinine and juvenile way possible.

Because now she’s pissed at me. 

Again.

"Gale, hold up," I plead, stepping after her. "I swear I didn't—"

"Save it, Walker," she snaps, arriving at a nondescript door marked with the number 502 and reaching for her bag without looking at me.

Shit. She really is fit to be tied.

"Look. You're right," I sigh. "It isn't funny. I shouldn't've laughed. It wasn't cool and— You okay?"

"I'm fine," she grits, struggling to open her clutch while keeping her top in some semblance of decency and juggling her shoes and jacket as well.

"You sure...?" I ask, unconvinced. "'Cause you look like y—"

Her hazel-green gaze snaps irately up to mine. "I said I'm—!"

As if on cue, the tenuous hold she has on her bag slips, taking the rest of her precariously balanced stuff with it to the floor in a heap.

She grabs after the lot instinctively...

...only to realise she's let go of her top.

"Shit!" she gasps, grasping the sparkly fabric after a moment of stunned indecision.

I slant her a deadpan look. "You were sayin'?"

"Just... shut up," she groans exasperatedly, managing to save her decency...

...but not quite quick enough.

My eyes widen. "Yes, ma'am," I affirm, quickly bending down to start picking everything up.

She heaves an aggravated breath. "Drake, I don't need—"

"I got it," I assure her, scooping her jacket and shoes before she can get to them. "You... you got more top-level problems to deal with."

I hear her suck in a shocked gasp, followed by the rustling of fabric on skin as she hastens to adjust the wayward scrap of material.

I keep my attention focused on rounding up the various items that have escaped her bag, and not on the dozen different ways I suddenly want to tease the nipple she accidentally flashed me before I remembered to look away.

I clench my eyes shut. Sweet Jesus, how am I gonna—?

I feel her fingers brush against mine. "Thanks..."

My eyes snap open to find her crouched in front of me with a wry, slightly embarrassed look.

"...for the save," she adds, not quite meeting my eye.

"An-anytime," I reply hoarsely, handing the now refilled clutch back to her. "And I'm sorry. About earlier. I hadn't planned on—"

The colour rises up her cheeks as she drops her gaze and takes the bag. "I know. And I'm sorry for flipping out on you. It's just... my brother Tyler used to pull stunts like that when we were younger and—"

"You still have a bad taste in your mouth about it," I finish for her. "I know."

She lifts her gaze to mine. "Sounds like you speak from experience..."

I nod tightly. "There are things my sister's probably not forgiven me for either."

"The joys of sibling-hood," she observes dryly, straightening back up to return her attention to the door.

"Yeah..." I mumble, feeling that all-too familiar emptiness settle in my gut as the ghost of Savs' face rises through the spectre of my memories.

The rattle of keys jars me from my thoughts.

Looking up, I see that Gale had located her keyring — adorned with a made-in-China, plastic Statue of Liberty — and is in the process of slotting a brass-coloured key into the lock. The tumbler clicks back and the door swings open.

I hang back on the threshold as she steps into the narrow entranceway to flick on the hallway light. The golden glow reveals the outlines of a small, open-plan kitchen-living area within.

"Do you want to—?" she asks, pausing on the threshold to look back at me.

I shake my head. "I'll wait here."

I don’t know that I can trust myself to behave if I follow her inside. And I don’t want to burn what little goodwill I probably have left with her.

She nods quickly. "Okay. Let me just grab your jacket and—"

"Don't forget these," I remind her, holding her own jacket and shoes out to her.

"Oh. Right. Thanks," she blushes again as she takes them. "I...I'll be back in a minute."

"Take your time," I murmur as she disappears into the flat.

On one hand, I’m desperate to get outta here while I still have some semblance of sanity left. But, on the other hand, I know that as soon as I turn away, and she shuts the door, that’s it. She’s out of my life.

For good.

And I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

But short of bringing her back to Cordonia with me, or ditching the return flight — neither of which is an option — I don’t really have a choice.

Because let's face it. I've known the girl less than a day. It’s irrational to want to—

"Sorry, it's a bit rumpled," she apologises as she reappears, blazer in hand, errant crop-top exchanged for a white, 'I ❤️ NY' t-shirt. "It fell off the hanger."

"Don't worry about it."

She holds the jacket out over the threshold. "Thanks again for lending it to me..."

I reach out to take it. "You don't need to thank me, girl..."

Her chest rises. "I do. Because—"

My fingers brush against hers. "I just did what anyone would've done."

Her hazel-green eyes meet mine. "No."

The intensity of her declaration knocks the air from my chest.

"You did the exact opposite of what anyone else would've done," she continues decidedly. "You went out of your way to help a total stranger. Not once, but several times. Without expecting anything in return. So, it's me who owes you, Drake; not the other way around..."

I shake my head. "Harper, you know you don't—"

"...and I've yet to properly thank you."

My head snaps up.

Our eyes lock.

Her mouth parts.

And the world falls away.

I have no idea who moves first. Me or her. Maybe it's mutual...

But the next thing I know, the damned blazer is tossed to the floor and we're at each other's throats, devouring each other like a pair of rabid animals.

Because we both suddenly realise that we've been fuckin' fools for letting ourselves get jackknifed by the very circumstances that keep propelling us together. For keeping our cards close to our chests when we should've been throwing them — and each other — down on the table.

Because we've been too distracted by all the auxiliary bullshit to realise that we've wanted the same thing from the very start.

Each other.

"Fuck, baby," I groan against her mouth. "You don't owe me anything..."

"But I—" She gasps as I grab her by the ass to yank her against me.

"How 'bout we call us even?" I growl, hoisting her up into the air.

A surprised squeak escapes her.

But I don't give her a chance to protest the matter because my mouth is already back on hers, wanting more, taking more, giving her no quarter as I march her back into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind me.

Because now that we've finally stumbled onto the same page, I’m taking control of the narrative. No more pussyfooting around... No more second guessing.

Because we've wasted too much goddamn time already and to say that I need her is an understatement. I yearn for her... Fuckin' burn for her with an intensity that’s borderline obsessive.

So, in what few hours I have left with her, I want one thing, and one thing only. To set her world on fire the same way she torched mine just by stepping into it.

My teeth scrape against hers as I shove my tongue down her throat, giving her a promise of what’s to come.

She moans into my mouth, and I nearly lose it right then and there.

Christ, she tastes good...!

She’s a heady mix of sweet and zest that’s straight up intoxicating. Like summer raspberries and honey wine. And I curse myself for not letting myself kiss her sooner.

The sound of ripping thread rends the air.

My eyes fly open.

"Now we're even," she declares with a smirk, sending the dislocated buttons flying as she throws the top of my shirt open.

I scoff at the irony as I carry her into the small kitchenette. "Thought you wanted to save this shirt."

"That was before you ripped my top," she counters saucily, raking her nails down my chest.

A low groan escapes me as I deposit her onto the countertop. "You're lucky I waited this long, girl. I've been wanting to tear that damn thing off you since the start of the night."

"Got something against my clothes, Walker?" she asks, tugging the shirttails out from the waistband of my pants.

"Yeah," I confirm, reaching for the hem of her t-shirt. "You're still wearing them."

She lifts her arms with a wry look. "That's kind of the point of clothes..."

"Trust me," I counter, pulling the top over her head and tossing it to the side. "You ain't gonna need them. Not for what I've got planned..."

"Oh, yeah?" she purrs, grabbing my belt. "And what's that, cowboy?"

"Knockin' your fuckin' boots off."

She cries out as I dive down to catch her now fully exposed nipple in my mouth, not able to wait a second longer to have her under my tongue.

I've of course gotten a sense of her thanks to that barely there crop top and skin-tight jeans she'd been wearing. So, I know that she’s slim yet toned, tending towards athletic instead of shapely, though still possessing some curvature to her bust and waist.

But clothes — no matter how revealing — are never gonna tell the full story. Which is why I've been dying to see — and feel — her as nature intended. Without any superfluities or accruements in the way.

And sweet Jesus, has it been worth the wait!

Because Gale naked — or as good as — exceeds even my wildest dreams. Her hips curve into the palms of my hands, her skin has that same enthralling scent as her hair, and while her breasts are on the smaller side, they are still perfectly soft and natural, with pert nipples that I already know I can get addicted to after just one taste.

And the way she’s responding to me? Christ, she’s gonna drive me straight to the edge just with the sounds she’s making as my hands coast over her body.

"Drake..." she moans, fingers tangling into my hair, pulling me closer as she wraps her legs around my waist.

I hear myself groan in abandon as she arches up towards me, tits thrusting up into my face, begging for more.

I heed her unspoken plea and switch my attentions to her other breast, sucking hard.

She gasps out loud, thrusting herself against me uninhibitedly. And if my giant hard-on isn’t already ready to bust a motherfuckin' hole through my pants, it sure as hell is about to now.

Because nothing’s hotter than a girl who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.

And damn right I’m gonna give it to her.

My hands drop to the front of her jeans.

"Someone's... impatient," she gasps as I slide my tongue up her neck.

"Girl, you have no idea," I breathe, making quick work of the top button and fly. "You've been driving me to the edge of reason the whole night."

"Really?" she purrs. "I wouldn't have guessed..."

I lift my gaze sardonically as I secure a hold on the waistband of the denim. "Why d'you think I was downing shots like those things had an expiration date?"

"Performance anxiety?" she asks with a sly grin, raising her hips off the counter in anticipation.

"Never," I assure her, wrenching her jeans down.

"Drake!" she cries out in surprise.

I look up from between her legs. "You okay?"

She nods shakily. "Yeah. I... I just didn't expect you to do that..."

I quirk a brow as I manoeuvre the denim off her ankles, careful to avoid the blisters. "Undress you?"

She scoffs breathlessly. "Rip my jeans off."

I slant her a glance as I trail my hands back up the inside of her thighs. "You and I have very different definitions of 'rip', girl."

"Oh, yeah?" she pants, struggling with the remaining buttons of my shirt as my fingers skirt upwards, brushing over the lace of her thong to round her hips. "What's your definition?"

I hook my fingers into the elastic of her underwear. "The literal one."

I tear the flimsy scrap of lace off her in one forceful motion.

She jolts as she finds herself suddenly exposed before me. "I should've guessed..."

I meet her eye. "Tell me it didn't turn you on..."

She sucks in a shuddering breath as I drop to my knees in front of her. "Guess you're about to find out..."

"Damn fuckin' right," I confirm, wrenching her knees apart.

An impassioned cry is torn from her lips as my mouth collides with the slickness of her arousal. Her earthy sweetness engulfs my senses and I inhale deeply, losing myself in her sultry heat as I rake my tongue hungrily over her already throbbing clit.

Her body tips back in ecstasy, but I throw a hand out over her ass, keeping her lower half pinned in place so I can chart every inch of her.

She moans loudly, spreading her legs wider, pulling at my hair to try and guide me where she needs me most as she arcs up into my face.

My eyes shudder closed. Oh, sweet Jesus...!

If this isn’t the gateway to Heaven, I have no idea what is. Because very few things in life can top the addictive interplay between trust, submission, and eroticism that comes from pleasuring someone with your mouth until they fall apart in front of you.

And the feeling of finally being able to experience it with Gale...? Shit, it’s better than gettin' higher than a fucking kite.

Opening my eyes, I glance up at her.

She is panting above me, eyes closed, lips parted and head thrown back, raw bliss written all over her face as my mouth and tongue tug her inexorably towards complete implosion, her fingers fisted almost painfully into my hair.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

And I can see she’s close. So, I double down on my efforts with a low growl, tracing my tongue around her heated clit in ever-tightening circles as she starts to crest, moaning my name like a benediction.

"Oh, my God! Drake...!"

I feel the vibrations start before the inevitable noise...

...and my heart drops to the floor.

"Fuck..." I groan as the opening rift of Kenny Loggin's Danger Zone shatters the mood of the room.

Of all the million and one moments tonight, this is the one that gets fuckin' interrupted?

The sweet baby Jesus sure has a fucked up sense of humour...

Because this ringtone means one thing and one thing only — my night’s about to go to complete and utter shit.

But as much as I want to ignore the incoming call, I know I can’t.

I drop my head in defeat. "I'm sorry, baby... I... I gotta take this."

She whines in protest, reaching desperately for me as I pull away, as nettled by the sudden halt to the proceedings as I am... If not more so, considering that I’m leaving her in the lurch at the worst possible moment.

Like a fuckin' ass...

But unfortunately for both of us, the situation can’t be helped. Because there are some things in life that are more important than getting off.

Like the safety of a high-status foreign national...

...who also happens to be my best friend.

Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I reach resignedly for my phone, knowing that I’m not gonna like what I’m about to hear.

"Wh-who is it...?" stammers Gale hoarsely, face still flushed from the intensity of our disrupted foreplay.

"Bad news..." I mutter, answering the call without looking at the caller ID.

Because I already know who’s calling.

"Oui?" I ask, switching to French on autopilot.

Gale's eyes widen.

But I don't have time to mitigate her surprise, or provide an explanation, because Schweitzer is already barking down the phone at me.

"Vous voyez l'appât?" he demands without preamble.

I steel myself. "Non. Je—"

A low growl of frustration. "Putain de merde..."

"Attendez," I interject, forcing myself to stay calm, even though my gut’s already twisted itself tighter than barbed wire. "Que s'est-il passé?"

"Nous ne savons pas," he grits. "Une minute, nous avions une ligne de visée sur lui, mais la suivante, il a plus simplament disparu."

I frown. "Comment ça, 'disparu'?"

"Comme une fantôme!" Schweitzer — now bereft of all semblance of calm — shouts down the line.

"Non, non," I interject with a shake of my head, the rapidly building stress causing me to start pacing around the small flat. "C'est impossible. Même si nous ne pouvons pas le voir, nous pouvons toujours—"

"Nous avons perdu son signal!"

His words — and the blood-curdling implications — slam into me with all the force of a .50 cal round.

"FUCK!"

The story continues in Chapter 8 — Minutes to Midnight

A/N1: So, in the context of researching certain details for this chapter, I discovered that — in contrast to e.g. the whole of Europe — it is pretty much impossible to call a cab in New York using your phone, because there is no official NYC cab company phone number (or if there is, it's guarded with a CIA-level of secrecy 😅). Instead, if you need a cab, you go out onto the street and hail one (like Harper does). However, by the time I found this out, I'd already written the corresponding scene of Drake calling a cab on his phone both on this chapter (and in Chapter 2), so I decided to leave it in, because it helps with pacing, etc. Consequently, I instead offer my belated apologies to any New Yorkers reading this! 

A/N2: As always, translations for the French:

Drake: Yes?

Schweitzer: Do you have eyes on the asset?

Drake: No, I—

Schweitzer: Fucking hell... (lit. trans. of 'putain de merde' is 'shitty whore' but connotatively it's used the same way as the way I've translated above)

Drake: Wait. What happened?

Schweitzer: We don't know. One minute, we had eyes on him, and the next, he just fucking* disappeared.

Drake: What do you mean, 'disappeared'?

Schweitzer: [I mean] like a fucking* ghost!

Drake: No... That's impossible. Even if we don't have a line of sight on him we can still— (I know I wrote 'no' twice in the French; it's a common form of emphasis)

Schweitzer: We lost his fucking* signal!

* So, as far as I've been able to determine, French doesn't have a term that can be inserted into a sentence to emphasise frustration/disbelief/anger the same way that English speakers use 'fuck' — this is achieved more through tone and volume. So the intent of Schweitzer's expression is as I have translated.

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Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits: Stairs - Hell's Kitchen - Kiss - Harper - Taxi - Tease - Drake - Shirt

#drake walker #drake x mc #harper gale #sleepless in new york #fictober22 #the royal romance #trr fanfic #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #new york #Spotify

[bearded-shepherd]

The Missouri House Committee Passed HB419 Banning Trans Healthcare

Another day, another ban, and a continuous decline

HB419 was passed with an 8 to 5 vote (sponsored by Brad Hudson).

An "interesting" substration (page 3 line 66 to 70) in the revised bill that was once in first introduced bill, the following saids this:

This excerpt is a within the list of terms that does not follow "gender transition procedure", meaning that certified doctors may provide services under these circumstances. [1]

However, in the revised bill, this was scrapped. [2]

--

Another "interesting" section of this bill is the following:

From what I can interpret is that parent's and other 3rd parties can sue a Trans person's doctor on their behalf (similar to some abortion laws in some states). Not great, especially if said person who is trans is estranged from their parent.

Though it's "minors" in this case, but don't become complacent when there's a high plausibility of the age of this ban to increase in the future; like the new Senate bill [TX SB1029] which prohibits insurance coverage for any gender affirming care for everyone.

Keep an eye out folks

#trans rights #trans healthcare #gende affirming care #transphobia #news #healthcare #us politics #missouri #texas #lgbt

[musicprincess1990]

Sherlolly trope duos: 2&15 please ☺️?

2: Bad day turned good; 15: Flatmates.  Taken from this list, prompts are closed for the time being.

Technically, this is a pairing I’ve done before, but since you’re one of my most devoted readers, I’m just gonna do it again. 😁 Read the first one here, and hope you like this second one too!

For some context, the setting is just after The Empty Hearse, and Tom is not in the picture. Nobody misses him. 😉

~*~

Quiet Strength

The door slammed with greater than usual force, the sound of which dragged Sherlock out of his mind palace, where he’d been sorting through and deleting files on his latest case.  Thunderous footsteps on the stairs soon followed, and he braced himself for a prospective client, or perhaps a former client who had been dissatisfied with the results of Sherlock’s efforts.  It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time.  But as the figure trudged into view, he was surprised to see…

“Molly?”

She ignored him, continuing up the next flight of stairs to her room.  Sherlock might have rolled his eyes at her theatrics and gone back into his mind palace, had he not caught a glimpse of her face just before she turned away from him.

She’d been crying.

For some reason, that bothered him.  He couldn’t account for it, which bothered him even more.  It wasn’t difficult to deduce that she’d had a rubbish day, perhaps an unpleasant interaction with one of her colleagues, or a challenging post-mortem with an uncertain cause of death.  There was also the possibility that it was related to her love life, or lack thereof.  As far as he could see, she hadn’t had any romantic paramours since the infamous “Jim from IT.”

Sherlock was relieved, to be honest.  Molly was more clear-headed, and more accommodating, when she had no dates or boyfriends.  Nevertheless, it always upset Molly, who wanted very much not to be alone.  He could understand that, and though he had no place for romance in his life, he admittedly did prefer to have people around him, especially at home.  It was why he’d offered her John’s old room in the first place.  221B was entirely too quiet with only himself and Mrs. Hudson, who was often gadding about with Mrs. Turner, or with this week’s lover, or simply insensible due to her “herbal soothers.”  He needed a companion, a friend, someone to fill the silence, and Molly was the only person besides John who fit the bill.  With John soon to be married, he was no longer an option.  So, he offered a key and a ridiculously low rent price, and she moved in a week later.

Three months had gone by since then, and his friendship with Molly had deepened. He had always trusted her, as he’d told her himself, but now he felt more confident in calling her his friend—a fact which he did not take for granted, as he had so few.

However, that did not explain why seeing her cry made him feel as though someone had kicked him in the ribs.

He didn’t like this feeling, and in spite of his attempts to relieve or ignore it, it persisted.  Well, there was only one thing to do: find out why Molly was upset, and help her to be not upset.  Not really his area, but the alternative was distraction and discomfort, and he was not about to give in to either of those.

Sherlock stood and made his way to the kitchen and put the kettle on, washing out a pair of cups while he waited for it to boil.  He smiled to himself as he imagined the look of complete shock that John would be wearing if he could see him.  Knowing Molly’s preferences, he prepared a simple herbal peppermint with sugar, and an earl grey for himself, then made his way upstairs with both cups.

Using his elbow, he knocked on the door.  “Molly?”  Silence.  Not entirely unexpected.  “I have tea,” he told her, and then he heard her soft footfalls inside the room.  He stepped back a bit, and she opened the door.  The rib-kick sensation doubled upon seeing she’d been crying even more.  Sherlock held out the peppermint, and she took it with a frown.

“Why are you giving me tea?” she asked, her voice timid and broken.

“Because you’re upset,” he answered.

Molly blinked slowly.  “Oh… well… thank you, that’s nice of you.”  She gave him the least convincing smile Sherlock had ever seen, then moved to close the door.

Thinking quickly, he placed his hand flat against it.  Her eyes flashed with confusion and anxiety, and he felt another imaginary kick to his ribs.  “I…” he hesitated, wondering why in God’s name his pulse was elevated.  Swallowing hard, he forced himself to continue, “I don’t like that you’re upset.”

Her expression softened, and she stared openly at him.  “You… don’t?”

Sherlock bristled.  “Of course not, Molly, did you honestly think I would?”

“NO!” she blurted out, then winced at her volume.  “Sorry, no, I just… I didn’t think you’d care one way or the other.”

That, he had to admit, stung quite a lot.  “I do care, Molly.  You’re my friend.”

Molly smiled again, this time sincerely.  “That’s good to hear.”

For a moment, they stood in awkward silence, neither of them quite sure how to proceed.  Finally, Sherlock asked tentatively, “Would you like to… talk?  About why you’re upset?”

After a few seconds’ hesitation, Molly nodded, and the two of them shuffled downstairs into the sitting room, he in his usual chair, she occupying the chair he’d always thought of as John’s.  It didn’t… bother him, precisely, seeing her sit there, but for some reason, it didn’t seem right to him.  Something to think about at a later date, he decided.

Molly took a sip of her tea before she spoke.  “I was called into a disciplinary meeting today.  Mike and his superiors finally cottoned onto the fact that I helped you face your death.  I don’t blame you,” she hurriedly went on, “and I don’t regret helping you, not in the least.  But it’s… it’s not good.  I’m on a forced leave of absence for the next two weeks while they determine the best course of action… and being sacked is not completely off the table.”

Sherlock went perfectly still, even held his breath.  Of all the possibilities he’d considered, that had not been among them.  The idea that Molly might face consequences for her actions hadn’t even crossed his mind, much to his shame and regret.  Worse still, she might lose her job, which she loved, and he would lose the only pathologist willing to work with him, the only one with any degree of competence.

No.

Without a word, Sherlock slid his phone out of his pocket and began typing out a text.

“What are you doing?” Molly asked, sounding both curious and wary.

“Texting Mycroft.  I’m sure he can use his influence to ensure your position is—”

“No, Sherlock, please don’t,” she shook her head, and he paused, staring at her in disbelief.  “I’m not afraid of facing the consequences.”

“Molly, it’s as good as done,” he insisted, then quickly finished his message and pressed send.  “There, it’s done.  You’ll probably still face some form of disciplinary action, but nothing drastic.”

“Sherlock—”

“You’re not losing your job, Molly,” he cut her off firmly.  “Not on my watch.  And it’s my fault you’re in this situation in the first place, so ensuring you keep your position is the very least I can do.”

Again, she shook her head.  “I told you, I don’t blame you.”

“I do,” he blurted out, surprising both of them.

They were stunned into silence, gaping at one another as the air around them seemed to hum with electricity.  Sherlock noted the subtle dilation of her pupils, and at the same time realized his own pulse had become elevated.  The electric current intensified, and Sherlock was on the verge of… something… taking some form of action, God only knew what… when his phone let out a chime, effectively shattering the strange and rather worrying moment.  He happily turned his attention to his phone, reading the response from Mycroft:

IT’S ALREADY DONE.  YOU’LL BE TAKING MUMMY TO THE THEATRE IN THREE WEEKS.

“There,” he gave a satisfied nod, rising to his feet as he pocketed his phone.  “I expect you’ll receive nothing more serious than a few months’ probation and observation, during which you will no doubt prove both your capabilities and professionalism.”  When his eyes finally landed on her face again, his chest constricted.  “You’re crying again, why are you crying?”

With a watery laugh, Molly wiped away her tears, then she stood and walked toward him. Time seemed to grind to a halt as she leaned in, placing a hand on his chest to steady herself, then reached up to press a feather-light kiss to his cheek.  A warm, tingling energy spread from the point of contact down each of his extremities, while his heart danced a samba beneath his ribs.  He was surrounded by the scent of vanilla and lemon soap and a trace of formaldehyde, and something else just underneath the more obvious aromas, something sweet and lovely and entirely Molly.

As he lingered within that moment, memorized her scent and the touch of her lips, he finally understood the feelings that had been plaguing him since he first saw her tears.  The pain of knowing she was upset, the buzzing energy surrounding them only minutes ago, and now the racing of his heart and the warmth of his skin as she touched him… they all pointed to one obvious conclusion.

He was attracted to Molly Hooper.

Shit.

Molly stepped away, perfectly oblivious to the turmoil raging inside his head.  She smiled bashfully, her eyes lowered, and Sherlock had to suppress a shiver at the loss of contact.  “Thank you, Sherlock.  I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

He shook his head.  “This is me repaying you, Molly,” he insisted.  “And it is nowhere close to enough.”

“I’d do it again,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, but still resonant with the quiet strength he knew she possessed.  “Without question.”

The electric charge returned in full force as their eyes connected, and Sherlock began to question his resolve where sentiment was concerned.  Caring is not an advantage, his brother’s voice taunted from within his mind, and he immediately disregarded it.  What further proof could there be to refute that claim?  Here before him stood a woman who loved completely, unconditionally, and without restraint, and beneath her soft, slight, sometimes child-like exterior, she was a pillar of strength.

Sod it.

In an instance, Sherlock’s arms were at her waist and dragging her towards him. Molly scarcely had time to gasp and put her hands on his shoulders before his lips claimed hers.  Every sensation he’d felt thus far was amplified tenfold, and his hands curled into fists around the fabric of her jumper.  After the initial shock wore off, she relaxed in his arms, though her grip on him never loosened, as if he were the only thing that kept her standing.  Sherlock, acting purely on instinct, responded by hoisting her up, crushing her against him as he took advantage of the new angle and deepened the kiss.  Then Molly—his strong, brave, beautiful Molly—surprised him by wrapping her legs around his waist and raking her fingers through his hair.  He groaned against her lips, hungry and aching for more… but well aware that this wasn’t the time.

Slowly, with great reluctance, he ended the kiss, but unable to bear releasing her just yet, kept hold of her and touched his forehead to hers.  For a time, neither of them spoke, their laboured breaths the only sound.

Eventually, Molly broke the silence.  “Well… that was unexpected.”

“Quite,” he agreed.  She tensed, and his eyes shot to hers in concern.  “Molly?”

“Why did you kiss me?” she asked plainly.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why?” she persisted.  “You’ve never… not once… and I just… why now?”

Sherlock shoved aside the flash of irritation at so many unfinished sentences, and answered her with a single word: “Sentiment.”  When her brow puckered with confusion, he went on, “I’ve dismissed it as a weakness for years… but thanks to you, I’ve realized that it’s anything but.  It’s strength.  And I am tired of fighting it.”

Her lips curved into a radiant smile, which soon turned mischievous.  “So… you fancy me?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he rolled his eyes, then silenced her giggles with his lips.

~*~

I live for Sherlock realizing he’s caught feelings for Molly and just going, SHIT. 🤣 Thanks so much for the prompt!

#my writing #sherlolly trope duos #sherlolly fanfiction #sherlolly #flatmates #bad day turned good #these two kids #can't get over how adorable they are #i ain't even mad #thanks for the prompt

[vandcrlylecrybaby]

i want to start over...

name: marlon everett mathis

nickname: m

pronouns/gender: he/him, cis man

sexuality: fluid

birthday: november 25

zodiac sign: sagittarius ☉ | libra ☽ | capricorn ➶  

residence: queens

employment: employee at freshly churned

mbti: ESFP

enneagram: type 7w6

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

... i want to be winning

TL;DR:

new york born and raised

used to be a rich kid who is currently in the throes of receiving Tough Love from his parents who have financially cut him off ‘for his own good.’ (it is for his own good, but he would swim across the hudson before he admits it)

used to be a dude who threw big house parties every time his parents were away in high school, was very generous with money that was not his 

as a result he is now in the middle of learning the very hard lesson that having money is not the same thing as having friends, and when one goes, the other follows

on that note he still kind of has no concept of money, especially now that he makes minimum wage and has bills

on fairly good terms with his parents, though – mostly because he’s trying to get back into their good graces and back on the mathis credit card

still a pretty generous dude, even as he’s learning the concept of finite resources

generous doesn’t always mean he’s kind – he thinks he is, but the boy is learning.

way out of sync...

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

roommates!! (ideally like... four of them in the parkdale apartments)

coworkers

high school friends he’s still on good terms with

high school friends he’s no longer friends with

exes/flirtationships/etc. etc.

want an unrequited crush for this man so bad

... from the beginning

ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS:

tbd

VIBES:

pinterest | playlist

#boroughs.intro

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

Rank all Fazbear Frights story's from least to greatest. Explaining why they ranked the way they did is optional. But you get bonus points if you do.

35. In the Flesh: I think you understand why. Matt was not a likeable character.

34. Sea Bonnies: Another body take over story, I rate it so low because the concept of sea monkey like creatures taking over someone's identity is too bizarre for my taste.

33. Sergio's Lucky Day: Another kind of unlikeable character

32. The Prankster: the ending was a cliff hanger and it's not clear who the villain was which is why it's low on my list.

31. Friendly Face: I only remember how many memes people made of the book cover.

30. Gumdrop Angel: similar to Lonely Freddy, it could be argued this is a lot worse of a fate for the victim which I agree with. Also I hate the step father, whatever his name was.

29. Jump for Tickets: I don"t really remember this story much honestly.

28. Kids at Play: I didn’t understand this story very much to be honest.

27. Pizza Kit: I really hated Marley, who tf pretends to be dead like that just as a prank? It's not funny.

26. Together Forever: the ending is a bit grizzly. But in these stories, it seems to be, if you mess around with something, you'll find out why you shouldn’t have mess with it in the first place.

25. Find Player Two: The concept could be interesting, but the story felt a bit flat.

24. He Told Me Everything: Faz goo is not scary.

23. Dance with Me: I like Ballora as a character considering her mechanic in Sister Location, however, in this story she never felt like a real threat, but rather a reminder to the main character of what she did.

22. 1:35 AM: This wasn’t strongly written, Ella was an okay antagonist, Delilah didn’t really grab my attention as a protagonist.

21. Bunny Call: How is Ralpho connected to Fazbear Entertainment? That's my real question. I like the idea of him being alike to King from the Owl House or Bill Ciper. Bob himself was an okay character, especially when he decided he had to protect his family from Ralpho at all costs.

20. Room for One More: Stanley's reason for not going to the hospital felt a bit like an excuse to justify why he never went to the hospital. It would have made the story more interesting if he did.

19. Coming Home: It was a nice story, and it had a nice concept of a child trying to say goodbye to their sibling, but it wasn’t scary.

18. The Cliffs: The idea of a missing kid is just terrifying to anyone, one thing about the story I didn’t like was how quickly the bad thoughts left Robert's mind, it doesn’t happen that way, those feelings don’t just disappear immediately.

17. The Scoop: Reading this story was interesting, I could see a character like Mandy in the FNAF universe.

16. Blackbird: Blackbird is a good concept by itself, but it doesn’t really feel like a FNAF story.

15. The Breaking Wheel: The suspension was built quite well, however Reed did make some questionable decisions about ignoring the loud sounds from outside.

14. Hide and Seek: Shadow Bonnie as a villain was interesting to me, and how they were portrayed as a shadow that always follows the main character.

13. To Be Beautiful: This story shows a twisted idea of being beautiful at a cost. One of my biggest questions was why didn’t Sarah feel any pain? Did the illusion disc also block pain?

12. The Real Jake: It did explain the story of the StitchWraith, however it wasn’t really scary.

11. What we Found: I like how it was explained how the FNAF 3 hallucinations do happen, I don’t like the ending, it felt extremely undeserved to Hudson. He clearly needed some form of mental help.

10. Felix the Shark: a story about Submechanophobia? Yes. Felix is a interesting idea for a story, considering how we never had any animatronics that could work underwater in the FNAF series.

9. Step Closer: Foxy being a villain that curses a kid, while good, can be improved upon, he could have actually been stalking Pete which would have made him seem like more of a threat to Pete and his brother.

8. The Man in Room 1280: I did like the character of Arthur Blythe, he seems to what to believe the best in everybody.

7. You are the Band: I'm upset this story isn’t consider as part of the main series, it was very good and it included Michael, seeing as we know so little about him, having a story with him as a character is great.

6. The New Kid: Devon was a change from the other teenaged protagonists, someone who is jealous of someone else getting attention. Kelsey was a good character and clearly wanted to be friends with Devon and Mick.

5. Count the Ways: Funtime Freddy was a fun villain, showing a version of him that knows a lot about history and has a straight forward purpose, Millie meanwhile, I can understand why she developed a crush on Dylan, however her being rude about Brooke after finding out she was dating Dylan felt a bit jarring.

4. Fetch: A unique concept, I heard that Fetch could be based on the old Sparky hoax, while I'm not sure about it, having a dog animatronic that can “fetch” whatever you desire makes for both a interesting and dark story.

3. Into the Pit: A great story for the first one! The concept of seeing a child actually escape from a murderous rabbit is welcomed especially after we hear that many kids in the history haven’t been so lucky, so I like SpringBonnie acting like the dad and vacuuming the carpet.

2. Lonely Freddy: it's obvious it's a favorite of mine. Alec and Hazel's sibling dynamic feels realistic, especially with the concept of Alec realizing that he had hated his sister for no reason and it was his parents fault, the reason why isn’t number one is because of the big bad himself, Lonely Freddy, the concept of being body swapped is scary, and the ending is truly heart breaking when you realize that Alec likely never made it back home, but then again, REJECT CANON, EMBRACE FANON.

1. Out of Stock: The best story, full stop. Oscar is a realistic take on a boy who lost his father and feels like the world has been unfair to him, Plushtrap is also the best antagonist and well written, he is a real threat, he is smart and he knows how to mimic voices, making him much more dangerous.

#I feel like I missed a story but I can’t remember which one #This is my opinion btw #Ask #Fazbear Frights #Anonymous #EDIT: I realize I forgot the Puppet Carver #Which I do rate that low because of fazgoo

[jake-hudson]

Welcome to Aurora Bay, [ WYATT JAKE HUDSON]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [Garrett Hedlund]. You must be the [36] year-old [ROCKSTAR]. Word is you’re [CHARMING ] but can also be a bit [MANIPULATIVE] and your favorite song is [Michael Jackson - Billie Jean]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [AURORA BAY DRIVE]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

tw: divorce, fights, drugs, addictions, and a lot of cheating.

He grew up in a small family that struggle for money, his father was a carpenter, always finding jobs, even doing smaller things so he was able to pay the bills, his mother also did any job she could find, normally that involved cleaning houses.

Wyatt always tried to help, he got good grades in school, tried to do every chore in the house and even cooked so that when his parents got home they could rest instead of having more work to do, he thought everything was good, so when his mother left them for another random guy, it threw their lives completely upside down, he refuses to admit the effect it had but it changed him completely, he no longer trusted people, why someone would want to be friends with him if he had nothing to offer?

Since Wyatt was the name his mother picked for him he didn't want to use that, he asked people in school to call him Jake and most people respected his decision, especially after one older boy that kept calling him Wyatt got a broken nose, Jake got detention, but he didn't care, being a good student and a good son got him nothing besides making him feel like trash, so he was just going to do whatever he wanted it.

His father understood where his anger was coming from and gave him a guitar hoping it would give him some form of escape, Jake started a garage band, he had a lot of things he wanted to say to the world so the songs came easy for him, they made a video clip and send it to MTV just for a laugh, but it ended up actually playing on television and overnight they became a hit. It seemed like he was built for this rockstar life, parties, drugs, every week in a new city with new girls, when people came to talk with him he knew exactly what they wanted, and he was happy to give them a good story to tell.

He wasn't exactly sure when he started to pay attention to his second lead singer, but there it was, regardless of the warning he started to date her, she was his muse and she inspired him in all the right ways, he wrote new songs and before he realized he was engaged to her.

Jake wasn't exactly a relationship person, he saw what marriage did to his father and he didn't want to fall in love with someone to just have them leave in the morning, he never wanted to experience that again, so while he was engaged and on tour, he kept cheating on his fiance. telling people what they wanted to hear was always a skill he had and being a rockstar he didn't even need to do much talking.

On the day of his wedding, you can call self-sabotage, as she finally caught him cheating with her best friend, sure it was a jerk move, but it was better than her finding out after they were married. They got a new singer and kept the tour going. He knew what he did was wrong, but he kept telling himself that eventually, she would do the same to him.

For someone that was afraid of commitment, he liked being in a relationship, and after a while, he started to pay more attention to Bobbi, she was refreshing, a good and a bad girl in the same package, and they had fun together when he was in town, so he started to stop by more often and stay a few months when he wasn't on tour. When she offered to be in an open relationship he refused, he didn't want to see her with another guy, that would lead to her leaving, he tried to be faithful this time, he really did, until he propose and something on his mind click and he started to freak out, eventually leading Bobbi to the same scenario as Lexie, finding him in bed with someone else.

After that happened he left and decided to try to find some help, as he started to not exactly like who he was seeing in the mirror

#aurorabay.intro #bio

[gdcphoto]

The Value of Professional Photojournalism - Short Doc from Three Story Media on Vimeo.

A short documentary that we conceived and executive produced for the National Press Photographers Association, with the Emmy-Award winning team of videographer Mark Anderson and producer Gail Brown Hudson. The documentary shows the value of professional photojournalism and the indisputable power of visuals produced by professional photojournalists. The video was released in conjunction with recent eye-tracking research by distinguished Poynter researcher Sara Quinn. We were especially honored to work with television celebrity Bill Kurtis, who gave his voice to support the project.

[grayson1996]

The Only Touch I know is Hurt https://archiveofourown.org/works/40108581/chapters/108226785 Grayson1996! Chapter: 2 Hurt Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd

Hell was not other people.

Dick didn’t care what the philosophers said in their high backed leather bound armchairs. Puffs of smoke seeping out of the expensive cigars hanging from the corners of their mouths. Bellies full, bills paid, clutching a glass of whiskey and spending the luxury of time on musing on the unspoken questions of the universe. Of the end of one's existence.

Dick hated philosophy, had taken one class during his brief stint at Hudson and had dropped out soon after. (The course hadn’t been his only reason for leaving the university but it certainly helped his decision.

His professor, a short portly man in his late 50’s who had a sleepy disposition about him and who talked in a melodic and droning voice, had assigned a play to them the first day. Some mid century French existentialist piece set in purgatory. Something that reeked of classism and pretension but that had surprisingly kept Dicks attention, if only because he vehemently disagreed with the premise of it.

‘Hell is other people.’

Of course it wasn’t.

Dick had seen hell, Dick had known it intimately even then at the age of 19. Especially at the age of 19.

The writer proposed that Hell was only being seen by those who hated you, by those who would dissect your faults and loathe you for them. Hell was being surrounded by company you never wanted, by the mere notion of their presence. Dick disagreed.

Hell was in fact, not being seen at all.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40108581/chapters/108226785

#nightwing #batman #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfamily #koriander #roy harper #mirage #hurt dick grayson

[noisulivone]

La película “Cazafantasmas: Apocalipsis Fantasma” es una secuela (dirigida por Gil Kenan) nos lleva de vuelta al icónico mundo de los cazafantasmas, pero con un giro inesperado.

La historia se enfoca en la familia Spengler que se muda a la vibrante ciudad de Nueva York para unirse al equipo original de cazafantasmas. Cuando el descubrimiento de un antiguo artefacto desencadena una fuerza maligna, tanto los nuevos como los viejos cazafantasmas deben unir fuerzas para salvar al mundo.

La película reúne a los queridos personajes originales, interpretados por Bill Murray, Ernie Hudson y Dan Aykroyd, junto con una nueva generación de cazafantasmas encabezada por Paul Rudd y Finn Wolfhard. Aunque la nostalgia está presente, no logra tener el mismo éxito que la última entrega.

A pesar de la premisa sencilla, la película introduce demasiados elementos. Las subtramas se entrelazan de manera confusa, dificultando el seguimiento de la historia y en ocasiones deja algunos agujeros argumentales. Maneja varios temas que no aborda por completo y otros los deja sin interpretación o explicación de porque suceden. Y al enfocarse tanto en los personajes clásicos, la película pierde parte de la originalidad que hizo especial a la primera entrega.

En resumen, “Cazafantasmas: Apocalipsis Fantasma” es una película que ofrece una experiencia entretenida para los fanáticos de la franquicia. Aunque no revoluciona el género, su combinación de nostalgia, humor y acción mantiene vivo el legado de los cazafantasmas, algo similar a lo sucedido con la primera secuela de la franquicia.

*Reseña diseñada con ayuda de Copilot.

#ghostbusters #cazafantasmas

[theloniousbach]

COUCH TOUR: SHAKTI (ZAKIR HUSSAIN and JOHN McLAUGHLIN with Ganesh Rajagopalan, Shankar Mahadevan, Selvaganesh Vinayakram) with JOHN SCOFIELD, RYMAN AUDITORIUM, 31 AUGUST 2023

Let’s hear it for streaming and in this case Peter Shapiro’s Capitol Theater operation for putting this one up. Much as I appreciated John McLaughlin’s acoustic turn after the Mahavishnu Orchestra and, even then, being intrigued by Indian music, I did not get into Shakti. They are a big deal but I doubt I would have gone to see them.

But a stream and the chance for a music meditation on a momentous day with lots to process seemed like a good way to spend the evening of the last day of my day job.

It was.

The unexpected bonus was JOHN SCOFIELD doing a 45 minute solo set with loops and such. He was on the bill and somehow I imagined, jazz like, he’d sit in for guitar fireworks with JOHN McLAUGHLIN. Instead, Scofield sat down and played used a pick and fingerpicked things that were generally song and, at the Ryman, evoked a little bit his album of country tunes and his Hudson work with Jack DeJohnette. Not any of the Hudson songs but he did The Times They Are A-Changing and Julia off The Beatles’ White Album. Blue in Green was in there with lots of effects deployed, well, effectively. The final medley started with The Derry Air/Danny Boy and included a pop song and then some twang. I have heard Scofield on his own projects but also in jam bands situations with Warren Haynes and Phil Lesh. Then he surprised me with an effective set with Bill Charlap as part of 92NY’s Jazz in July. Then this.

Then SHAKTI. McLaughlin played electric, not acoustic, sometimes with midi effects. He was sitting down so it wasn’t pedals but he did have a laptop. He is a remarkable player to be sure and I’m thrilled to have seen Mahavishnu blow the roof off Hoch Auditorium in Lawrence, Kansas, in 1973 or 4. But, overall, I appreciated him more than liked him. Miles on Jack Johnson probably got him to play more directly. Even here it’s too cerebral. Indian music is wonderfully complex and he can hang with these masters, especially ZAKIR HUSSAIN. But they have it organically, witness an extended solo by the other percussionist Selvahaganesh Vinayakram on a small frame drum with some of the wonderful Konnokol vocals that are superficially like scat singing. Everyone else confidently found the one in the complex rhythms, something like 17 or 25, with two pulses working with and against one another. McLaughlin found it most of the time, but he was tentative.

So actually Hussain—who is part of Mickey Hart’s Planet Drum though I haven’t seen him with that, more with Dave Holland and Chris Potter—who is the magnetic force. Clearly he has big ears and drives the fusion. Those rhythms and watching them happen live was well worth it. The Konnokol is certainly part of that. Ganesh Rajagopalan is the primary vocalist and he has range, power (there was one very sustained note), and amazing rhythmic deftness, but they all can add this form of scat/mouth music that adds layers. Shankar Mehadavan’s violin, held more vertically and not tucked under his chin, matched McLaughlin in the unison sections while being its own evocative solo voice.

I am not heading back to the McLaughlin recordings nor the Shakti nor Zakir Hussain discography. But let’s do hear it for the streams that made it reasonable to see this music at a particularly apt and opportune time.

#concert review #couch tour #2023

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 12/08/2023 (Doja Cat, Travis Scott/SZA/Future)

For a 10th week, and maybe the last, “Sprinter” by Dave and Central Cee tops the UK Singles Chart. And for once, nothing else is happening. Welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

Yeah, it’s one of those weeks. Well, I guess some things are happening, those being our notable dropouts, songs exiting the UK Top 75 - which is what I cover - after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40. This week isn’t exactly the busiest in the world, so we have only a few farewells to give out, those being to “HYAENA” by Travis Scott being three-song-ruled out by another song from UTOPIA as well as “Mourning” by Post Malone not even making it to three weeks, then “Trojan Horse” and “UK Rap” by Dave and Central Cee, “Sittin’ on Top of the World” by Burna Boy and “Side Effects” by Becky Hill and Lewis Thompson. Now that song has been on the chart for 12 weeks, and all of the songs that also dropped out range below that. I say this because we have tons of returns and gains this week, and they’re primarily for songs past their prime, and there are a ton of them so bear with me as half this episode - given our measly two new arrivals - will consist of me listing songs that have been out for months. How delightful.

“Mr. Brightside” is at #55. Christ. Outside of that, we see the returns for “Don’t Say Love” by Leigh-Anne, “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac, “Toxic Trait” by Stormzy and Fredo - all from #75 to #73 - as well as another steak from #71 to #68: “I Ain’t Worried” by OneRepublic, “I’m Good (Blue)” by David Guetta and Bebe Rexha, “Tattoo” by Loreen and “Escapism.” by RAYE featuring 070 Shake, followed by “Bad Habits” by Ed Sheeran at #66 - seriously? - and “Boy’s a liar” by PinkPantheress at #65. These are all bottom-feeders, but a particularly big week will need to shovel it all out, especially since in our gains, we have boosts for “Die for You” by The Weeknd at #64, “Kill Bill” by SZA at #62, “Wish You the Best” and “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi at #61 and #57, “Baby Don’t Hurt Me” by David Guetta, Anne-Marie and Coi Leray at #59, “Anti-Hero” by Taylor Swift at #38, “Flowers” by Miley Cyrus at #34 and “Miracle” by Calvin Harris featuring Ellie Goulding at #27, though to be completely fair, there were plenty of other gains for songs that are more contemporary, like “What it Is” by Doechii at #67, “Rave Out” by Skepsis, Turno and Charlotte Plank at #52, “Highs & Lows” by Prinz featuring Gabriela Bee at #51 probably thanks to that remix with A1 x J1 which is, of course, not credited, “Bittersweet Goodbye” by Issey Cross at #47, “Asking” by Sonny Fodera and MK featuring Clementine Douglas at #41, “Closer” by Bou featuring Slay at #26 (must be a USB stick discount), “Baddadan” by Chase & Status and… everyone else at #21, “So Much in Love” by D.O.D at #16, “Desire” by Calvin Harris and Sam Smith at #12 and finally, Chase & Status get their first top 10 hit since 2013 with “Disconnect” with Becky Hill up to #9. I’m not complaining, it’s a great song.

As for our top five, there’s very little movement - we see “Barbie World” by Nicki Minaj, Ice Spice and Aqua down to #5, “vampire” by Olivia Rodrigo up to #4 and the top three completely unchanged: “Dance the Night” by Dua Lipa at #3, “What Was I Made For?” by Billie Eilish at #2 and of course, “Sprinter” at the top. Now to talk about two songs.

NEW ARRIVALS

#31 - “TELEKINESIS” - Travis Scott featuring SZA and Future

Produced by Travis Scott, BoogzDaBeast, Wallis Lane, Kanye West, Jahaan Sweet, Nabeyin and Hudson Mohawke

As I predicted, “HYAENA” was swapped out for a better-performing track from the album, with this being the third song for this week and it was a net loss in my opinion. I know this is one of the most highly-acclaimed on the record, partly because of the features and the fact that it was originally a Kanye song from the Donda sessions. I’ll admit - I was excited initially when I heard the woozy synths open the track as they clip in the mix and you can hear the drums in Future’s recording despite them being taken out… okay, it doesn’t sound exciting but Future is fittingly hypnotic here - it’s the typical flexing and toxicity delivered richly but he handles most of this song’s first part and he’s more of a personality than Travis about droning that he can “see the future”. Very funny. Future may not be saying much of interest, but at least it’s coherent, as Travis announces trumpets only for them… not to arrive, being completely obscured by the cloudy yet still mediocre mix, instead dropping into this stagnant beeping with military-esque drums trying desperately to rattle out and never fully skittering to an actually substantial intensity. I did get a decent laugh after this snooze of a track when Travis asks “Do you like the way it sounds?” and the worst, cheapest FL Studio-sounding trumpets come in. He brags about something you haven’t heard yet, and when you hear it, it’s an off-beat ass-blaring that even SZA is close to giving up on savouring. The worst thing about this song, though, it’s just that it’s way too long. Future has two verses and book-ends one with a repetitive refrain, Travis has some malformed verse or bridge for no reason, SZA’s verse drags on, and all of it’s for a decidedly non-immersive track that seems to go for the hypnotising, drumless experience whilst also forgetting that it has to be 1.) seamless and 2.) interesting. But hey, keep bringing out fascists at your shows, Jacques. What do I know?

#20 - “Paint the Town Red” - Doja Cat

Produced by Earl on the Beat, Karl Rubin, Jean Baptiste and DJ Replay

There’s a lot of buzz regarding some behaviour by Doja Cat on social media that I have no clear understanding of so I don’t completely comprehend the turn to a more vindictive aesthetic and persona, but it’s not exactly never been in her wheelhouse and she has that kind of playfulness that could make it work for a full album. We didn’t get much of a good first impression with “Attention”, but this one is pretty great, and honestly, we can probably thank the producers. Earl on the Beat in particular is a producer I really like, thanks to his sense for twinkling yet basic melodic leads that give an off-kilter vibe when his more static trap bounces, and he’s worked in the past with people like Drake, the City Girls, and extensively, Lil Yachty, who he’s made some great beats for. This twinkling melodic lead in particular is a sample of Dionne Warwick’s “Walk on By”, an old Bacharach-penned classic from 1964 that peaked at #9 in the UK, and was later out-charted by covers from Sybil and Gabrielle. The original is an excellent song, but also a remorseful and kind of embarrassed one, not wanting to communicate with their ex after a breakup, pleading with him to just walk on by her if he ever sees her. That’s not a Doja Cat thing to do, so she flips it for a track about she does not care, she’d rather be famous, she couldn’t be less bothered about what you have to say. Sure, the sample is kind of monotonous and the time-stretching and looping is a bit more awkward than it should be, but once the slick snap and bass groove comes in, it’s very hard to care, and Doja as always is full of charisma as she… refers to herself in third-person in the post-chorus, of course, and otherwise making pretty blatant references to her recent actions that collate as some kind of villain origin story, in a more compelling way than “Attention” because things are kept just that bit vaguer and more psychological than just celebrity gossip BS. Oh, and there’s actually some decent wordplay, fun flows, it’s not the most brilliant song she’s ever put out but it does have me somewhat interested in how this new album is going to shape.

Conclusion

You read the reviews. Well, I hope you did. Travis Scott gets Worst of the Week for “TELEKINESIS” featuring SZA and Future, whilst “Paint the Town Red” by Doja Cat gets Best of the Week, though honestly these songs both suffer from not cutting some of the fat. As for what’s on the horizon… I don’t know, hopefully more weeks that require me to do as little work as possible? Thank you for reading and I’ll see you next week, if there are even new songs to discuss, that is. We could just have no new songs. If that happens, I genuinely would have no idea what to do. For a week, I would have no purpose in life. Then Drake would drop an album and I’d be fine again.