#firm biz

[erik-powery-for-america]

The Firm - Firm Biz  The Firm - "Firm Biz"  https://youtu.be/0F6LGmalibE?si=balH--zHoEwpYGoq via @YouTube  :  Contains interpolation of "Square Biz" by Teena Marie #RIP  :  Produced by TrackMasters for TM Productions.

[delphi-shield]

BEST IN THE BIZ — !!

— Lycaon x Reader x Rina

— ~3.6k

— mating press (briefly), overstimulation, dacryphilia, edging, dollification (if you squint), knotting, creampie, stone top Rina, service top Lycaon, fem!reader, reader is called 'mistress', pwp

ardently avoids eye contact. i was possessed idk. this started out as just porn and then i wrote plot but it got out of hand so i snipped most of the plot and this is what's left. i hope it's coherent idk. manifesting a lycaon pull by posting this tbh. dividers from @/adornedwithlight.

You knew you were fucked the moment you caught yourself typing ‘thiren dildo knot’ into your phone at four in the morning.

Your crime illuminates the dark of your room, search results reflected in your glassy eyes. The depravity is lost on you. You're so horny you can't sleep, much less feel guilty about drilling your (regular, average, lacking in girth and curve and length, not dripping for you the way he would) dildo into yourself, staring at sex toys and imagining him instead.

It only hits you after you cum. Right next to the usual disdain, the nagging realization that you have to clean yourself up, guilt nestles in. It does two neat little circles and sinks like a stone in your stomach. You find yourself with your phone in your hand, sketchy website leering at you. A countdown scrolling across the top advises you that your cart will be held for another four minutes and 12 seconds. Buy now, or your custom order (wolf thiren mold, large, medium firmness, cumtube included, custom colors) will be released for another horny idiot to pick up.

You delete the dildo from the cart, wonder briefly if you should ditch the email attached to the account, and pay for the eight pack of lube you'd added. Guilty, but not that guilty.

It's not supposed to be like this. You're not supposed to want his knot this badly. Lycaon had said so himself the first time you'd asked for it. It isn't a small thing – wipe that smirk off your face. It isn't something to be taken lightly, that's all he meant.

The entire situation had gotten out of hand; you'd hired Victoria Housekeeping a handful of times to assist with the clean up of your recently acquired property. It was a small place, and you had been in no rush to get the job done. They had divided the project over the span of a few weeks, assigning only Lycaon and Rina for the task.

Each visit had grown less and less professional. By the end of the project, you were scrambling to find something else for them to do, unwilling to let them walk out of your life just because the contract demanded so.

All three of you knew it wasn't professional to keep taking your calls. In fact, their conduct in your home violated several clauses within their contract – but by the time you had messaged Lycaon to ask if he could help you tote a new bed frame up the stairs, he had already stopped insisting on a contract. A friendship had grown, an ease that started between you and Rina and gradually thawed Lycaon's affections.

It wasn't uncommon to arrive at your home and find Rina already waiting. He'd been suspicious, had seen the starry look in your eyes, your swollen lips and the boneless, fumbling way you moved. He couldn't pinpoint when you and Rina had started becoming physical, but he could smell the stench of sex in the air the moment the door opened. He knew what he'd find if he let himself sink to his knees before you, sniffing and licking at your cunt like he wanted.

For months, though, he refused to act. He suppressed his baser urges, whittling them into compliments instead.

Your hair looks beautiful. Rina did it? Why isn't he surprised. And that dress? Yes, also Rina's choice. Of course.

It's not jealousy. It's something else that shares the same form, feels the same way. Lycaon agonizes over how to fit himself into your life, how to be needed, oblivious to the fact that you wanted him as things were.

Rina had been forced to meddle, casually stringing the both of you along until the conversation had occurred ‘naturally’. Even with your shared feelings out in the open, Lycaon remained restrained. His touches were subdued, moments together stolen and short.

The first time he’d fucked you had been a ‘matter of impropriety, ill-befitting an attendant’, as Lycaon had so stuffily put it.

In short, he’d gotten cold feet after he'd made you cum on his fingers, after Rina had gently nudged him aside to lap up the mess left on your thighs.

“We aren't here on business,” Rina reminded him, challenge in her tone all but calling him a pussy.

She twisted you up in her arms quickly, her hands pressed to the backs of your knees to spread you wide. You leaned back against her, almost entirely unaware of the moral crisis Lycaon put himself through. You're barely there after you cum, take time to get back into your own head - but the way you move so eagerly for Rina makes his cock jerk in his pants.

Rina’s hand had slid down the back of your thigh, her nipples hard for the way you tried to keep your leg where she had held you. Her fingers teased your dripping slit. She dragged them through your folds, prodding at your hole, showing Lycaon how eagerly you sucked them in. She made a show of spreading them, showing off the way you clung to her fingers, the way you dripped for them.

His resolve was iron-clad, but you'd melted through with your little whimpers, desperate voice whining "please, Lycaon.”

He was still a man, at the end of the day. You were bound up for him, snared like prey. He had wanted to treat you gently, to be slow and reverent - but he had pounded into your cunt instead, deep and slow. Any faster and he knows he would have popped his knot into you, had you locked together with your legs thrown over his shoulders, body bent nearly in half.

He'd pulled out, breathlessly asking where you wanted him to cum, stroking himself hard and fast, a hand wrapped tight around his knot. Rina had shuffled you up quickly, stretching your arms above your head, wrists gathered by one of her hands. She beckoned to your tits, the same wave he had seen her use countless times to invite clients to their tea.

Lycaon found the time to treat you gently later. He took his time, gentle and reverent as he wanted - still no knot.

You'd taken the rejection to heart, decided that if he said no once, then that was all there was to it. It was his dick and he could do what he wanted with it. You were too afraid of being pushy, or objectifying – or any number of things that might make him uncomfortable. Fantasies were fine.

Fantasies, and maybe a custom dildo. You were still thinking about it, the page still bookmarked on your phone. Next paycheck, you would tell yourself.

It came out the way all of your fantasies do – by Rina pulling it from you. Three fingers deep, pumping into you steadily, so torturously consistent, so committed to the slow build of your pleasure until the truth came gushing out.

She had this game she loved to play – making you narrate your fantasies. No detail spared or she'll stop stroking your needy little clit – and you would hate that, wouldn't you?

This time it had all come to light – how badly you wanted Lycaon's knot, how you were saving up just for a taste of a fake one.

Rina giggles in the aftermath. She dresses you quickly in your sleepwear, gesturing for you to raise your arms so she can roll your shirt down.

"Of course, you know that can be arranged,” Rina says, as casually as if you'd asked her for a cup of tea.

You feel like you've been shocked. Your arms are still sticking straight up in the air when you protest.

“No– it's just a stupid fantasy.”

Rina guides your arms back down, lets you rest and pose yourself without her guidance. She slips her hand into yours.

“I don't think it's stupid at all, Mistress.”

“Don't call me that,” you whine, swatting the air where she had been a moment ago. “It makes me feel gross.”

“Sir Lycaon likes it,” Rina teases.

Your face warms. You mumble a retort, lame and forgotten.

“I'll speak with him,” she assures you.

“No, don't. Don't tell him.”

“Leave everything to me.”

The subject of your objectification knocks on your door at 10 AM the next week. A standing appointment for coffee, Lycaon would call it – otherwise known as your weekly coffee date. Rina wiggles her fingers in greeting, drifting inside casually, the scent of vanilla trailing after her.

For a moment, you wonder if she had mentioned anything at all to Lycaon. He appears overwhelmingly normal about all of this. Clarity strikes you, lightning to your nerves when Rina doubles back to press her hand to the small of your back.

“You aren't just going to stand there, are you?” She asks.

Both of you jolt. You shuffle to the side, nearly tripping over your own feet to get out of the way. Lycaon shuts the door behind him. You speak over each other, both stammering apologies and excuses.

“Rina mentioned –”

“Was the trip here –”

You stall out, trying to give room for the other to speak.

“Sorry, I–”

“My apologies, I didn't mean to –”

Rina finally has mercy on the two of you, taking hold of the conversation before you can fizzle out a third time. She makes things clear upfront: your desire has been communicated to Lycaon. He has agreed. Don't look so serious, you two – this is a good thing.

The rest falls into place naturally. Or, as naturally as it can with Rina pulling the strings.

“We have the entire afternoon,” she informs you, turning to head to your bedroom. You're expected to follow, and you do - of course you do. Lycaon trails behind you, fingers ghosting against your wrist.

“You make it sound so formal,” you drone, plopping unceremoniously onto the edge of your bed.

“Oh, it's not formal,” Rina tuts. She drifts behind you, hands working at the tension in your shoulder. She leans forward, breasts pressing against your back, her cheek against yours, eyes locked on Lycaon. “It's just us.”

Time quickly became a suggestion. Minutes bled together, strung loosely between each touch, held secret in the clutch of Lycaon's pocket watch - the same watch that lays discarded in a heap with the rest of his clothes.

Your chest is pressed to the mattress, head cradled in Rina’s lap. Her hands rove across your hair, fixing it again and again as Lycaon drives into you. His arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping your hips up and pinned flush wish his. His breath is hot at the back of your neck, teeth aching to nip at your nape, to mark your delicate skin. He drags his broad tongue across the places he wants to bite.

You've lost count of the ways they've bent you, the positions Rina had asked of you.

First, it was missionary, your own choice - but the angle had been all wrong, too difficult to squeeze his knot in that way. Rina had taken over from there, posing you as she thought best. By the time she had stopped mid-mating press, you realized this wasn't about trying to find the best position to take Lycaon’s knot. Rina had been playing her own game.

Rina's hand lights on Lycaon's shoulder, a barely-there brush of her fingers. He growls as if she's stuck her hand in his dinner bowl, the noise rumbling from his chest and through your back. He buries his cock in deeper, resisting the idea of stopping *again*, and his tapered tip wedges against a spot so deep inside you that you spasm in his arms. You cum so hard you swear you blackout for a few moments, your body a throb of pleasure, hips squirming, pussy trying to suck him in all the way.

You feel it - the first slip of his knot, the first stretch. The burn sears into pleasure. Your breath catches in your throat, a strangled moan escaping, pressed into Rina’s thigh.

“Please, please, please,” you sob.

Rina pushes harder against Lycaon’s shoulder. His lip curls, but he pulls back. His cock drags all the way out of you, leaves you empty, clenching around nothing. Your hands fist the fabric of Rina's skirt.

She doesn’t give you more than a moment to recover. Your pussy is still clenching when Rina's hands ghost across your ribcage. Sparks shower across your skin, nipples peaking painfully. She urges you with insistent, well-placed touches, tutting softly at the way you whimper. Her hands smooth sweat-slick hair from your face, fixing the strands reverently. She tucks two fingers under your chin and you raise your sight to her. It takes a moment for your hazy eyes to focus.

A touch on the side of your leg. You swing obediently into her lap. Rina's cold fingers pressing gently against the side of your neck, coaxing you against her chest. Your cheek cushions on her breast

Her fingers smooth sweat slick hair from your face, touch chilled and just on the side of clammy.

“Another, Mistress?” Rina asks sweetly, petting your hair. She pointedly ignores Lycaon's huff.

You peer up at her, tears brimming your eyes, catching the light and sparkling so prettily. You don't have the words. Could you even cum again? You want to plead, to whine – it had been right there. You had been so close to what you'd wanted.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she coos. The backs of her fingers press to your heated cheeks. “Cry if you must. It's all right.”

Rina's smile grows as your tears spill. She makes no move to wipe them from your cheeks. This is how she likes you, how she finds you most beautiful - worn down, fucked out, a mess in her arms for her to clean up and toy with.

Lycaon can't stand to see you cry, though. The bed creaks as he sits up, fishing a handkerchief from his discarded waistcoat. He dabs at your cheeks, tucking a knuckle under your chin to hold you in place.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs against your hair. "It was too much. I should never -”

"No." Your voice wobbles. "No, I just– I want your knot so bad.”

His cock jerks. Pre-cum dribbles from his tip, pools in his fur. Lycaon bites the rumble in his chest into a whine, locked tight behind sharp teeth.

“All right,” he breathes, heart hammering in his chest. “All right. Yes, of course. You'll have it. No more tears, please.”

Rina urges you from her chest. She knows where she's needed, knows not to linger. She presses her hand to Lycaon's shoulder, directing him to lay back against the bed. He's not quite as pliable as you are, never has been - especially not when he's wiping tears from your cheeks, kissing your forehead. His touch lingers when he follows her directive, hand stroking down the back of your arm, across your elbow, along your forearm.

She lets you toddle over to Lycaon on your knees, lets his be the hands that steady you when you swing your leg over him. You're still crying, sweet thing, tears wetting the fur of his stomach.

You wiggle into place awkwardly. His drippy tip glides through you pussy, nudging at your puffy, sensitive clit. You suck a breath through your teeth, lifting off him. The sensation is sharp, teetering on the edge of pain. Your knees pinch in and nudge Lycaon's sides, thighs jiggling. His eye tracks the movement immediately, hand stroking from your ass to your thigh, back and forth.

Rina slots in behind you. She keeps her touch on your hips light, urging you back down. Lycaon’s chest stills, his breath caught as she works you into a simple, back and forth path, dragging his cock along your slit. Once you settle into her rhythm, she reaches below you, gripping the base of Lycaon's cock, holding him steady.

He slides home easily, your pussy still molded to the shape of him. You keen, still sensitive. This new angle has him pressing against spots that dot your vision with stars. You sink deep, trembling and relieved all at once.

You get a few breaths together. Lycaon's head rests atop yours. He swallows audibly. His warm hands flex at your hips, restraint evident, strength held at bay by resolve alone. He's strong, so much stronger than you – he could press you down onto his cock easily, force you to take him to the hilt. The thought makes you clench around him, pussy fluttering.

Lycaon's teeth click next to your ear. His claws prick your skin for the fraction of a second, and then he's keeping his fingers off you, holding you by the palms. His cock throbs, twitches, aching to plug you with his knot.

Before you can grow too comfortable sitting on his cock, milking him dry with the squeeze of your pussy in response to every shallow thrust, every aching press of his knot to your hole, Rina begins her adjustments. At your hips first, the little suggestion of movement in her fingertips. You don't respond immediately, pussy so full you can't think straight. She pinches the fat of your hips, spurring your obedience.

She gets your hips rocking first, guiding you until you settle into the movement on your own. It's gentler than before, but each press of your hips sucks him deeper. This is the one - it has to be.

Rina doesn't let you stay hunched over. Her hands touch to your back, adjusting your posturing until your sitting so pretty on his cock. She adjusts your arms, lets you wind them around Lycaon’s neck instead of curling up behind him to claw at him shoulders.

You're almost there, can feel him slipping in, the stretch making your eyes roll back. Rina makes one final adjustment to your posture. She pries your face from the safety of Lycaon’s shoulders. All your pretty little sounds, your focused expressions, are clear for both of them to see.

“I'm– I'm close–” Lycaon huffs, keeping his face pressed to your shoulder. His body is coiled tight, nearly shaking with the restraint it takes not to thrust into you, to lock your bodies together and flood your pussy with his cum.

You whine, a hand fisting in his fur. Your stomach burns with the idea that after all of this, after being the perfect little toy, you might not get your prize – that he might slip out of you, cum spilling on your stomachs instead of where it belongs.

Lycaon thrusts into you hard just as your hips cycle down. His knot locks in. You gasp, the sensation foreign. You don't have time to savor it. He pounds into you, locked in place by his knot, your walls squeezing him as you cum again.

“Like you're made for me,” he babbles. Lycaon stops himself just before he bites onto your shoulder, his maw held open, sharp teeth threatening to puncture your skin. His moans are loud, pitching into a whine. His cock kicks inside of you, cum flooding your pussy, trapped in place by his knot.

You slump against him, the last few ropes of his cum spurting, his hips still shifting to drive it deeper. Your body is heavy, weighed down with the flood of pleasure still tinging your blood. Gradually, Lycaon's grip on you softens. His jaw closes, tongue flicking out to lap at your shoulder - short, slow strokes, almost apologetic.

Rina sits back and smooths the wrinkles from her dress. She admires the scene before her with a gentle smile, tilting her head to capture it from every angle. You're fully seated on his cock no matter which way she looks at it, escaped cum dribbling to the sheets in rivulets.

“Is it everything you dreamed?” Hands clasped, head tipped to the side - she looks at the pair of you adoringly, as if the sight of you breathless and locked together is the cutest thing she's ever seen.

“Rina,” Lycaon says, muzzle pressed into the crook of your neck. “Some water for our mistress, please.”

There's something hidden in his tone. You're too tired to piece it together, but Rina hones it on it immediately. She strokes along your spine as she stands, bending at the waist to kiss the crown of your head. She drifts out of the room without argument.

The door latches shut. You sag against Lycaon, his arms tightening around your middle. His tongue laps at your shoulder, collecting the salt taste of your sweat. He edges closer to your neck, lapping at it in broad strokes.

"Are you comfortable?" He murmurs against your skin.

"Mmhm," you hum, eyes shut, trusting your weight to his hold. “Feels good.”

Lycaon's tail dusts against the sheets. He presses his nose to the joint of your shoulder and neck, breathing your scent deep. For a moment, he thinks you might fall asleep, your cheek pressed against the soft fur of his chest.

“Let's order takeout,” you mumble.

Lycaon huffs. The closest thing he can muster to a laugh in his exhaustion. His arm tightens around your waist. He shifts you carefully so that you're both lying down, trying his best to ignore the way you squeeze around him, the way his cock gives a tired, painful jerk. He drags a blanket over your bodies.

“Worked up an appetite, did you?”

You nuzzle closer to his chest, letting out a satisfied sigh. “I just don't want Rina to cook for us.”

Ah. There was that, too.

[willowsnook]

back to each other

request from @heavierthnheavenly

lewis hamilton x rosberg reader

please don’t leave

——————————————-

“Happy 30th my sweet sister,” Nico yelled at you as everyone cheered while you blew out the candles.

“Thanks, Nico,” you replied, catching your breath. 30 was here, and honestly, you felt like this was the beginning of the rest of your life. You remember thinking back when you were 23 that life was going by so fast and that you needed to accomplish x y, and z, but now that you hit this new milestone, you realized how young you really were.

“What’d you wish for?” Your best friend asked from next to you. Before you could answer, Nico jumped in.

“Hopefully a husband so she can stop mooching off of me.”

“Hey,” you said pouting. “I gave you back your credit card last year.”

Nico and your friends laughed and you felt filled with love from the people surrounding you. You posted a cute picture of the cake to your Insta story and grabbed a glass of wine to drink with your friends. They were going through all the standout guys you had dated in your 20s.

“Remember that one guy from the US who was the hockey player?”

“Biz?” You asked, thinking back to when you briefly lived in NYC. You’d met him at an event you had planned for the Rangers and were immediately charmed. He was the life of the party; dumber than a rock, though.

“I think he was definitely the funniest guy you’ve ever dated,” Nico said. Nico had met him once and was fascinated by the way he talked. The Canadian accent mixed with that hockey slang was like an alien language to your brother.

“Until he couldn’t keep it in his pants,” you reminded everyone. It was never serious between the two of you so you weren’t that heartbroken at the time, just mildly irritated.

“You need an older man,” your friend said and everyone nodded their heads in agreement. Your phone buzzed against your thigh and your eyebrows furrowed while looking at the notification.

“Speaking of older men, guess who just slid up on my story?”

“Who?” Your brother asked.

“Lewis,” you said, slightly confused. “He said ‘happy birthday sunshine, hope you had a day filled with those you love.’”

“I didn’t know you guys talked,” Nico said, trying to keep his voice casual.

“We don’t,” you said reassuring your brother. “Nothing more than pleasantries when I see him at races.”

While Lewis and Nico had mostly mended their relationship, it was still a sore subject in the family. It was a long time ago but you remember how he went from being someone that was like an older brother to you to someone whose name was forbidden to speak. Now when you saw him it was slightly awkward for you at least. You could tell he always wanted to speak more but you came up with any excuse to cut a conversation short.

“He’s just being friendly,” you said, pushing it to the back of your mind.

——————————————————

The last two weeks of your January were spent in Italy, and you really wished you could have been here in the summer instead, but duty calls. Working for an event marketing agency, you had garnered quite the reputation in your 8 years working for them and were now in charge of a lot of VIP events.

Ferrari had hired your firm to plan their season kickoff party and you had been ran ragged the past couple of months putting things together. You flew out 2 weeks in advance to be on the ground for finishing touches and you were proud of what your team accomplished. It was lavish.

Donning a floor length, black dress, you grabbed a champagne flute off a passing waiter, eyes scanning the room. Because of your seniority, you weren’t necessarily in charge of anything day of, but you couldn’t help but keep an eye out on how things were going.

The main ceremony went on without a hitch, people enjoyed their dinners, and now a DJ started a set for those who wanted to stay late and party. You made one last round, checking on your staff that was here before heading to the coat check. While waiting for the woman to retrieve your coat, you felt someone come up very close next to you.

“Leaving already?” Lewis asked, and you turned to take him in. He was wearing a fitted suit, the color of his new team, and a small smile.

“Yeah, my team has it under control,” you responded politely before turning to grab the coat.

“Please don’t leave,” he said, surprising you. “You always leave when I try to talk to you.”

“You know why,” you responded quietly and his eyes softened.

“That was a long time ago,” he murmured. “One drink.”

“Okay,” you said giving in. He still had the same effect on you that he did when you were 13 and hopelessly in love with your brother’s best friend. The need to please him still existed deep in your soul, even though you had tried to push it down. Nico wasn’t the only heart that Lewis had broken, intentional or not.

His hand rested on your lower back as you let yourself be guided back into the event with him and to the bar. You ordered a glass of wine and could feel the weight of his stare on the side of your face. Turning to look at him, he still didn’t say anything, it was like he was memorizing every inch of your face.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said and you blushed, looking away.

“Thank you, Lewis,” you said back, voice wavering. You cursed yourself internally for still letting him have this effect on you.

“How long are you in Italy?” He asked.

“Just a couple more days, then back to London,” you told him and he tilted his head, thinking.

“Can I take you out?”

You stared at him dumbfounded, a small smirk working it’s way onto his face.

“Like on a date?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” You asked and he chuckled.

“I want to spend time with you,” he said, simply.

“I think the last time we hung out one on one, I had just turned 21,” you said, reminiscing.

Something had shifted back then when you had reached your 20s. Lewis had started to look at you in a different way. Suddenly you weren’t his friend’s little sister anymore, you were a grown, beautiful woman. You had danced the line with him between being friends and something more that season, but as his and your brother’s relationship quickly deteriorated you stepped back.

“Those were good times,” Lewis said. “Sometimes I think about what would have happened between us if things had gone differently at Mercedes.”

His admission made your body heat up and the way he was looking at you didn’t help.

“Too late now,” you whispered and he shook his head.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I’ll pick you up from your hotel tomorrow afternoon.”

—————————————————————————

Lewis had texted you in the morning to wear something warm but casual so you picked out a soft white sweater to pair with jeans. After getting ready, you called the person that you needed to tell about this so that you could feel at ease.

“Hey y/n, what’s up? How was the event last night?” Nico said over the phone.

“It was good, everything went accordingly,” you replied nervous. “I talked with Lewis for a bit.”

The phone was silent and you sighed.

“That’s nice.” Your brother said tightly.

“He asked me to hang out while we’re both here,” you said quietly.

“Are you going to go?” He asked.

“If you don’t want me to Nico just say the word and I will cancel and we don’t have to ever discuss it again.”

The phone was quiet for a bit before he spoke again, “do you want to go out with him?”

“I don’t know,” you said sighing. “It’s complicated. I still remember what it felt like back then, and I haven’t had that feeling with any guy since. But then everything happened and it’s been almost ten years so I don’t know.”

“I don’t want you to put my feelings above your own happiness,” Nico said and you felt your eyes well up with tears. “Me and him are good okay? If you want to see where it goes, I’ll support you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, I’ll talk to you later.”

By the time you collected yourself, Lewis had texted that he was waiting outside so you headed down to meet him. He was standing outside his car, in a Tommy sweater, shades covering his eyes. His lips turned upwards as he saw you and he greeted you with a tight hug, kissing your cheek softly.

“Beautiful, as always,” he complimented and you smiled softly at him, blush filling your cheeks. He helped you into the car and you waited for him to get in.

“I thought maybe we could walk around the city and check out one of the art museums,” he suggested and you nodded. The car ride to downtown was quiet, soft music playing in the background as you stared out the window.

Cold air stung your face as you got out of the car but you didn’t mind, you loved the cold. You and Lewis started walking and small chatter took over the silence between the two of you. You told him about everywhere your job had taken you and what London was like now. He told you about some of the brand partnerships he was working on and how hard the last two seasons at Mercedes had been.

As you walked through the streets of Milan, you felt yourself relaxing more in Lewis' presence. His warm smile and easy conversation reminded you of the close friendship you used to have years ago, before everything got complicated.

"I've missed this," Lewis said softly as you strolled side by side. "Just talking with you, being around you."

You glanced at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. "I've missed it too," you admitted.

Reaching the art museum, you spent the next couple hours wandering through the exhibits together. Lewis was surprisingly knowledgeable about art history, and you found yourself engrossed in discussions about various paintings and sculptures.

As you exited the museum, the sky had darkened and a light snow was falling. Lewis gently took your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. The gesture felt so natural, so right, that you didn't pull away.

“Why now, after all this time?" You blurted out.

Lewis was quiet for a moment before responding. "I've done a lot of reflecting lately. On my career, my relationships, the things that truly matter. And I realized that one of my biggest regrets was letting you slip away without ever exploring what could have been between us."

His words made your heart skip a beat. You'd tried so hard over the years to push down your feelings for Lewis, convincing yourself it was just a convenient crush.

“Lewis…,” you started but he cut you off.

“I want to try, y/n,” he said. “We can take things slow but I need to try.”

“Okay,” you whispered and he grinned.

————————————————————-

The next couple of weeks were spent texting each other back and forth; Lewis showered you with gifts sent to your London apartment: flowers, chocolate, food, and a paddock pass for the beginning of the season testing.

You ended up flying to Bahrain with Nico who had to be there for work and you could tell that he was still uneasy about what was growing between you and Lewis so you really didn’t bring it up.

Lewis was already at the track when you arrived, so you didn’t get to see him until the following day, which was fine by you. You needed a moment to calm your nerves and take in the environment. Anytime you had been at a race, it had been with a Mercedes pass around your neck, so Ferrari's red was a weird change. You ended up arriving at the same time as Charles Leclerc, whom you had met a handful of times over the years.

“Y/n, good to see you!” He exclaimed, eyes lighting up. “Here with Nico?”

“Lewis invited me actually,” you said and his eyes widened with surprise. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he said smirking. “How does your brother feel about that?”

You shrugged, “He’s trying.”

Charles nodded and fell in step beside you, insisting you find him to meet his girlfriend, Alex, later on. When you reached the garage, you saw Lewis already in his element, arms crossed, talking to an engineer while looking over the car. Hearing Charles talking, he turned his head and a smile broke out when he saw you.

“Hi love,” he said as he got closer to you.

“Hi Lewis,” you replied, reaching your arms around his shoulders. His own arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “Ready for today?”

“Of course,” he said pulling back and smiling at you. “I’ve done this a couple of times now.

“Mmhmm, only a couple right?” You teased and he chuckled.

He led you over to near his car, finding a spot for you against the wall.

“I want you right here,” he instructed. “This way you are the first thing I see when I get back out.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “such a charmer you are.”

“Only for you,” he teased back and you flushed. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

Testing was testing, and Lewis looked good to you; the team seemed happy in the garage, so you took that as a good sign. Sure enough, you were the first thing Lewis saw as he got out of the car.

“I have a bunch of meetings for the rest of the day, but I’d love if you’d join me for dinner with the team,” he said and you nodded, agreeing to meet him later. You left the garage to find your brother who was on a break from being on air.

“He looked good,” Nico said. “Weird seeing him in that car though.”

“I know, I really thought he’d never leave,” you said.

You and Nico chatted for a while longer about the day's testing before he had to get back to work. As you wandered through the paddock, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness about dinner with Lewis and the Ferrari team later.

When evening came, you made your way to the restaurant where the team dinner was being held. As you approached, you saw Lewis waiting outside for you, looking handsome in a typical stylish Lewis Hamilton fit.

"There you are," he said warmly, pulling you into a hug. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," you replied, smoothing down your dress. "I hope I'm not overdressed."

"Not at all," Lewis assured you. "Come on, let's head inside."

As you entered the restaurant, you were greeted by the lively chatter of the Ferrari team. Lewis kept his hand on the small of your back, making sure you stayed close to his side. He let you pick where to sit and you sat across from Charles and his girlfriend.

The two of you hit it off, chatting throughout dinner with Charles chiming in or talking to someone else. Lewis was always quieter in big groups, so you were used to him silently observing. His hand rested on your thigh as he relaxed, gently tracing your skin.

Eventually, you got up to use the restroom, Alex following you.

“So how long have you guys been together?” She asked as you were touching up your lipgloss in the mirror.

“Oh we aren’t,” you replied to her surprise. “We are seeing where things go.”

She bit her lip, looking at you with a smile on her face.

“The way he looks at you,” she started and you met her eyes in the mirror. “It’s like no one else is there. Only you.”

You smiled to yourself thinking of that look you had caught on his face a couple of times tonight.

“I guess so,” you muttered lightly and she squeezed your hand.

Something shifted in you as you walked back to the table and you really looked at him as he lit back up at your arrival.

As you sat back down next to Lewis, you felt a warmth spread through your chest. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at you, the gentle pressure of his hand as it found its way back to your thigh - it all felt so right. You found yourself leaning into him slightly, drawn to his presence.

The rest of the dinner flew by in a blur of laughter and conversation. As people started to filter out, Lewis turned to you.

"Want to take a walk?" he asked softly. You nodded, standing up and saying your goodbyes to the remaining team members.

The night air was cool as you stepped outside, and Lewis immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You walked in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company.

"I'm really glad you came," Lewis said eventually, breaking the quiet. "It means a lot to have you with me.”

You smiled up at him, feeling a flutter in your chest. "I'm glad I came too. It's been nice spending time with you again."

Lewis stopped walking and turned to face you, his eyes intense. "Y/n, I know we said we'd take things slow, but I can't help how I feel. Being with you these past few weeks, it's like no time has passed at all. All those old feelings are right there on the surface."

Your breath caught in your throat as he gently cupped your face with his hands. "I'm falling for you all over again," he murmured. "And this time, I don't want to let you go."

Your heart was pounding as you gazed into his eyes. All the reasons you had pushed him away before seemed to fade away. This felt right. It felt like coming home.

"Lewis," you whispered, "I think I'm falling back in love with you.”

Instead of responding with words, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You melted into the kiss, moving your lips slowly against his as he held you close to his body.

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he murmured and you smiled softly at him. Holding his hand in yours as you walked back to the hotel. Love finds a way.

[ki-kink]

So, this dude dives into Japanese, right? Originally, he was all about landing a gig as a consultant or auditor at one of those Big Four accounting firms. But now, the Big Four just make his biz look way more legit than it actually is, ya feel?

[deathstaaar]

Foxy Brown Firm Biz Music Video (1997)

[amayaonly1]

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 18

About: The tabloids ignite chaos in Eminem's world after a viral confrontation with Benzino at Dre's Christmas party stirs rumours and teases unresolved feelings. Faced with teasing from his D12 crew and his own swirling emotions, he makes a bold decision to confront his truth, leading to a heartfelt late-night call with Genji that leaves them both on the brink of something deeper.

"Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey" Chapter List: Verse 1 | Verse 2 | Verse 3 | Verse 4 | Verse 5 | Verse 6 | Verse 7 | Verse 8 | Verse 9 | Verse 10 | Verse 11 | Verse 12 | Verse 13 | Verse 14 | Verse 15 | Verse 16 | Verse 17 | Verse 18

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

TMZ Exclusive: Slim Shady Sees Red at Dre’s Christmas Bash

December 28, 2010 – What's a holiday party without a little drama? This year, Dr. Dre's lavish Christmas bash wasn't just about eggnog and A-list mingling. It also served as the stage for one of the most talked-about moments in recent hip-hop history.

Rap mogul Marshall Mathers, better known as Eminem, turned heads when he confronted longtime rival Benzino in front of the star-studded crowd. Eyewitnesses claim Slim Shady grabbed the ex-Source Magazine honcho by the front of his blazer, reportedly hissing, "You don't get to touch what's mine."

The altercation allegedly started after Benzino was seen chatting with Genji, the reclusive rap icon and close friend of Eminem. The moment quickly went viral on Twitter, with hashtags like #SlimSnaps and #BenzinoVsShady lighting up the platform. While neither party has issued a public statement, insiders say the tension between the two rappers is far from resolved. Stay tuned for updates, and maybe round two at New Year's?

Eminem groaned as the article scrolled across the screen, the TMZ narrator's obnoxiously cheery voice doing nothing to soothe his frayed nerves. He rubbed his temples, already regretting showing up to Dre's Christmas party in the first place. Across the room, Kuniva and Bizarre howled with laughter, slapping their knees like this was the funniest thing they’d ever seen.

"Yo, Em," Kuniva said, grinning as he pointed at the screen. "Ya really said, 'You don't get to touch what's mine'? You sound like a jealous boyfriend in a rom-com!"

"I didn't say shit," he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

"You did!" Bizarre shot back, practically choking on his laughter. "Man, you looked like you were about to star in Love & Hip-Hop. Benzino didn't even know what hit 'im!"

Denaun leaned back on the couch with his arms crossed, shaking his head with a small smirk. "Nah, Biz's right. You don't pop off like that. Not unless there's some feelings involved."

"Shut up," Eminem snapped, though his tone was more defensive than angry.

"Y'know he's got a point," Kuniva chimed in, wagging a finger at him. "You've dealt with Benzino's bullshit for years, and you never let it get to you like that. What's the deal, man?"

"It wasn't about him," Swifty said thoughtfully, giving Eminem a knowing look. "It was about her."

His jaw clenched. "It's not," he muttered, though even he didn't sound convinced.

"Bullshit," Bizarre said, shaking his head. "You about broke your damn hand on his jacket. That wasn't just you sticking up for Genji, that was personal."

"Exactly," Swifty added, his voice calm but firm. "We've all been disrespected before, but you didn't snap like that. Not in public, or even over some petty shit. Be real with us."

The said rapper pressed his hands against his temples, trying to block out the barrage of accusations. "I wasn't gonna just stand there and let him be a fuckin' dick, okay? She didn't deserve that."

"Of course she didn't," Kuniva said, nodding. "But that ain't why you did it, and you know it."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of their words settling in. Denaun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he fixed Eminem with a steady gaze. "You care about her, don't you?"

He froze, his breath catching in his throat. He looked away, his mind racing. "I don't even know what the fuck that means," he muttered after a long pause.

Bizarre snorted. "It means you're a dumbass who's too scared to admit he's into her."

Eminem glared at him, but there wasn't much heat behind it. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Maybe not," Swifty said with a shrug. "But you do. You been actin' weird since she came back around. All we're sayin' is... maybe it's time to stop fighting it."

"Yeah, man," Kuniva added with a grin. "Tell her how you feel. What's the worst that could happen? She says no, and you go back to being miserable and writing angry songs? That's kinda your thing, anyway."

Eminem let out a bitter laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You guys are real fucking helpful, y'know that?"

"We try," Bizarre said with a wide grin, clearly unbothered.

The room went quiet again, and for once, no one cracked a joke. Eminem stared at the floor, his thoughts a chaotic mess. Finally, he stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

"Where you goin'?" Swifty asked.

"Gotta make a call," he replied without looking back.

Genji answered on the second ring, her voice warm but a little curious. "Marshall? Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he said quickly, though his heart was pounding like he'd just run a marathon. "I uh… I just needed to talk to you."

There was a pause on the other end. "About what?"

He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. He ran a hand over his face as if that would somehow clear the chaos in his head. "About the party. Y'know, where I snapped at Benzino."

"What about it?" Her voice softened slightly, though there was still a note of curiosity there.

Eminem hesitated, pacing the length of his kitchen. Words felt heavy in his throat, like they were daring him to speak them aloud. Finally, he stopped, gripping the edge of the counter. "It wasn't just about him being a dick," he said, his voice quieter now. "I mean, yeah, he was, but… it was more than that."

"Marshall..." Her voice had that steady calm that always managed to disarm him. She wasn't pushing, but she wasn't letting it slide either.

He forced himself to keep going, the words tumbling out like a confession he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. "I care about you," he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "More than I probably should. More than just as a friend or... whatever. And seeing him sitting there, talking to you like that, all smug and shit… I just- I just lost it."

There was a long silence on the other end, and Eminem's chest tightened with every second that passed. He pressed his thumb against the edge of the counter, the small sting grounding him. "Fu?" he called out, his voice almost a whisper.

"I'm here," she said softly, and he could hear her exhale. "I just... wasn't expecting that."

"Yeah, well, neither was I," he muttered, letting out a weak, shaky laugh. "But it's the truth. I didn't know how else to say it, and… I just thought you should hear it from me instead of reading some dumbass headline about it."

That got a small laugh out of her, soft and breathy, but enough to ease some of the weight crushing his chest. "Marshall," she began, her voice gentler now. "Thank you for telling me. I know that wasn't easy."

"It wasn't," he said honestly. "But I needed to say it. Even if it fucks everything up."

"It doesn't," she reassured. "At least, not for me. I care about you too... more than I've probably let on. But this is a lot to process, you know? And after everything that's happened…" She trailed off, and he could hear her choosing her words carefully. "Maybe we can talk more when it's not all so fresh. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice steadier now. "That's okay."

"Good," she replied softly. "We'll figure it out. Together."

"Yeah, together," he echoed, the weight in his chest easing just a little more. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to hope.

As they said their goodbyes and the call ended, Eminem leaned against the counter, staring at the blank screen of his phone. The knot in his stomach wasn't gone entirely, but it had loosened enough to let him breathe. Whatever came next, he'd face it; and for once, he wasn't afraid of the outcome.

[sirfrogsworth]

Some of you may remember me mentioning my quest to get black cherry soda and several shipments ending in tragic bottle breakage. I have been seriously craving this soda for nearly a month now.

I contacted Boylan and accused them of shoddy shipping.

They very politely informed me it was not their shoddy shipping store on Amazon.

After some additional Amazon analysis, I felt foolish about my inaccurate accusations.

They informed me there were no local distributors of Boylan brand bottled black cherry beverages. They said they had no control over Amazon shipments and recommended I order directly from them. That would make this already pretty pricey pop about $15 more expensive after shipping and tax.

I had nearly given up.

After the $220 pizza and the $250 battery replacement and an almost assured account overdraw in my future, I'd have to wait at least until next month to satisfy my soda craving.

But when I went to my local Schnucks grocery store last night I decided to check the soda aisle to see if there were any alternatives.

My first find was Schnucks' own generic brand black cherry soda.

I have to say, that is a cute label for a generic store brand product.

After some research, I discovered this is a rebrand of a classic Vess soda. I like Vess soda! They make a wonderful cream soda concoction that my grandma used to buy whenever I would visit on the weekends. And I specifically told my mom never to buy cream soda for home because then it wouldn't be special when I had it at my grandma's house.

Sadly, I was unaware it was Vess-in-disguise and I was not trusting of a generic store-branded soda. Sometimes these low-cost rebranded items can be good, but it is always a crapshoot. I mean, their generic peas are 70 cents cheaper than Green Giant, but they are also mushy as heck. So based on my previous peas experience, there was a good chance it would taste more like black cherry cough syrup than soda.

I didn't know it was Vess, okay?

REMEMBER THE PEAS, PLEASE!

I fell into a soda research rabbit hole. Vess was acquired by a company called Cott Beverages in 1994. And Cott was then acquired by a company called Refresco in 2018. And Refresco partnered with Coca-Cola and is now their main manufacturer in the United States.

So I guess it is actually a Refresco Cott Vess Schnucks brand black cherry soda in partnership with Coca-Cola.

Capitalism is fucking weird, dude.

So the possible cough syrup RefresCoVesScnhucks was in my cart. I was considering taking the risk.

But then I noticed... the Fitz's section.

A locally owned and operated boutique soda bottler.

*heavenly music*

And do you know who owns Fitz's?

Mr. Alfred J. Fitz! (I don't actually know his first name or middle initial.)

Who founded Fitz's in 1947 as a drive-in restaurant based around his popular secret root beer recipe.

That's right. Fitz's was not enveloped by an incestuous line of conglomerates successively eating each other.

And because of that, they went out of business in 1976. The soda biz is rough if you don't have a multinational manufacturing and distribution network.

But then Fitz's was revived in 1993 by two plucky entrepreneurs who were determined to rebuild the brand using the original secret root beer recipe from Mr. Alfred J. Fitz.

Small business wins the day!

And then they sold out to The Westgate Group in late 1999.

Which then sold it again to Clayton Capital Partners in 2003.

Will capitalism please stop fucking with soda?

But then one of those plucky entrepreneurs thought the brand was being damaged by soulless investment firms and bought back Fitz's. He restored it to glory and I'm sure he will never sell it again*. He is intent on maintaining the Fitz's tradition and image as a beloved St. Louis small business that culturally enriches our famed Delmar Loop with vintage soda bottling techniques customers can watch when they visit the Fitz's restaurant. Neat!

*Unless RefresCoVesScnhucks offers him a bunch of money.

I can't believe I forgot about Fitz's. I used their root beer as a subject for one of my favorite product photos.

To make a long story as long as humanly possible my god why are you even still reading this...

...wouldn't you know it, Fitz's makes black cherry soda!

It is delicious.

Craving accomplished.

[alazarrr]

Firm Biz.

[theskeletonprior]

Update: January 2nd

Well, here we are. A brand new year fresh out of the package. I remain in the Void for another week or so, and then with luck, some work will begin. If not, I'll have to start looking for something in arguably the worst time of the year. Hopefully it won't come to that, but it does bring a little tension to this idle time. This is a difficult part of the year for me, but I'm trying to make the best of it. I have set some goals for 2025. Please behold:

Complete a first RAVENOT novella, publish that thing (independently).

Get that website set up for The Bishop of Black. I'd also like to have a personal website for RAVENOT.

Read more! Last year was not my best year for reading, but now I have access to the raw power of a very good library in an urban centre near me. Specifically though, I'd like to get caught up with Vampire Hunter D. I have the first 6 omnibus editions, but I haven't read them all yet.

Stick to a daily routine that lets me be both productive and happy.

Work on shorter pieces for submission to literary magazines. But also read more literary magazines so I have more industry knowledge re: who I'd like to submit work to, the annual rhythm of submissions, et cetera.

I also have some things to accomplish with regard to my professional DMing biz. Improvements to the way I DM, final setup on Start Playing Games, this sort of thing. I need to have a firm handle on DMing digitally if I want to be successful, and this means I've still got a lot to learn. And that's really all. I'd like to start up another Write Time for this month, but I find myself a little short of energy. More to follow nevertheless. May all your word counts be met!

Taglist: @alexanderflowerbird @void-botanist @ceph-the-ghost-writer @vacantgodling If I’ve tagged you in error, do let me know, and I’ll act accordingly. To join my taglist, let me know in the replies or in the tags of your reblog. Divider by @/strangergraphics, from this set: here. Thank you!

[cinamun]

*throat clearing noises*

rory oaklow, well known stunt actress best known for her role in the moonwood series as a werewolf pack member, has come to carruthers & associates - her agent has suggested that she get some pr rep in order after rumors of her "aggressive nature" on set of the last movie have been floating around (plot twist, it's actually just that the director is a raging misogynist who constantly disrespected rory for being more "masculine" than he felt like a woman should be and now that the series is over, he's spread this false rumor that gains traction because of her looks because he "knows" that he'll be louder than any mention she makes of his sexism).

aaliyah takes the prospective meeting, but finds herself very confused when...rory's agent tells her that rory is refusing to sign a contract with c&a? that's never happened, they're the best in the biz, aaliyah doesn't know what she did wrong.

turns out what she did wrong is that SKIRT boo bc the next day, there's flowers in her office...from rory. turns out someone doesn't wanna mix business with pleasure, and rory is MUCH more interested in fraternizing with aaliyah that worrying about a sexist pig.

this could also work with hani instead of aaliyah if c&a did pro bono work for hani after elliot's death and rory DID sign a contract and that's where they crossed paths. cue hope & aaliyah playing matchmaker at rory's request.

*end scene*

*clears throat*

It is now known as The Associates™ and *still* known as the only firm that can restore an image or skyrocket a career. Now leading this prestigious firm, as you know, is Aaliyah Davis. She's been adapting to the role of Chief Operating Officer since Hope has taken on the role of Consultant, and the power is intoxicating. She wields it accordingly. She's struck fear in the hearts of most all of the men in this male-dominated field and, romantically, they've started to bore her. She's become a workaholic and is stuck in the single-and-not-loving-it lifestyle. Her days consist of putting out constant PR fires, working out and ordering insanely expensive take out.

That is, until a tough-as-nails new client shakes her to her core. Aaliyah swore to Hope that she would no longer sleep with the clients. But after beautiful flowers and vibes..

Aaliyah wonders if Rory is still a client after business hours....

[generation-dope]

Firm biz

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

Time for some Grant (Freak) and Jeff headcanons!

I’ve been neglecting these sweet boys lately so here’s a few random tidbits I came up with for them…

Full name: Grant Raymond Alexander

Has four little sisters…

Lisa— same age as the Party. Doesn’t run in the same circles as them, because she’s a cheerleader and plays softball, but Grant asked her to kind of watch over El in school so Lisa made a point to befriend her.

Ida— same age as Erica Sinclair and they are sassy besties. Erica is constantly trying to get her to join Hellfire, but Ida doesn’t want to admit to Grant that she thinks something he likes is actually cool.

Annie— a couple years younger than Ida and Erica. She’s a shy little bookworm and often gets kind of lost in the shuffle of her big family.

Beth— same age as Holly Wheeler, they’re also besties. They terrorize Eddie on a regular basis by demanding he play beauty parlor with them and let them “style” his hair.

Grant’s dad owns some stuffy corporate accounting firm and he expects Grant to follow in his footsteps and join the family business. Grant is studying accounting at college, but he hates it and dreams of being a rock star or a pastry chef— or both! He wants to create beautiful things. (Full credit for the pastry chef idea goes to @moonchildreads - we ❤️ Donny!)

His dad also is the director of the church choir. Grant likes being in the choir but after spring break ‘86 he started enjoying church itself a lot less. He’s thinking of quitting but doesn’t want to disappoint his father.

Grant goes to the local community college because he wanted to stay close to home to help take care of his sisters— he didn’t think all the babysitting, cooking, etc should fall to Lisa just because she’s a girl.

Just because he’s chubby doesn’t mean he’s slow. Grant is super strong and agile. He played football during his freshman and sophomore years, but HATED the toxic attitude of the jocks and the constant pressure from the coach. When he didn’t come back to the team junior year, most of them viewed it as a betrayal. But they can’t bully him because he’s bigger and stronger than all of them.

Full name: Jeffrey Dean Collins

Middle kid of three, all brothers…

Julian— two years older. Star athlete who now coaches football at one of the state colleges.

Jonathan— two years younger. Total math and science nerd. Dustin calls him the smartest kid in the school (and is totally jealous of that fact).

Jeff is majoring in education, and his first year in college he did a minor in some music related field (producing or sound or something). He wants to be a music teacher. Initially he was thinking he could use what he learned to help corroded coffin make it big, but heard enough horror stories about trying to get into the music biz that he decided teaching would be just fine with him.

Jeff loves his brothers, but they’re all so different he feels like he has nothing in common with either of them. He also feels like the “underachiever” of the family since his talent isn’t in a school-related thing like sports or science.

However, Jeff does get along GREAT with his mom. Sometimes he feels like she’s the only person in his family he can actually talk to. They have the same wildly eclectic taste in music, both of them love reading, and she understands his moods better than anyone.

When Jeff and Eddie first decided to start Corroded Coffin, his dad and his brothers didn’t get it and were a little mean about it. “Why do you wanna play loud angry white music with that trailer trash boy”, etc etc. But his mom saw in Eddie the same thing she’d always seen in Jeff, that they were outsiders just looking for a place to fit in and a group to belong to, and she defended him. She informed the rest of the family that Jeff could make any kind of music he wanted, with any kind of people he wanted, as long as it made him happy. Eventually the rest of the Collins fam came around, and Jon even asked Jeff to teach him to play guitar.

If you have any headcanons for them you want to share with me, please feel free!!!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Todd Spangler at Variety:

Comcast, amid the upheaval in the TV biz caused by cord-cutting, is considering spinning off NBCUniversal‘s portfolio of cable networks into a new publicly traded company. Comcast president Mike Cavanagh announced the exploratory plans on the conglomerate’s Q3 2024 earnings call. NBCU’s cable networks include Oxygen True Crime, Bravo, MSNBC, CNBC, USA Network, E!, Syfy, Universal Kids and Spanish-language channel Universo.

“As you know, we chose not to participate in the M&A process around Paramount in the earlier part of this year, but we would consider partnerships in streaming despite their complexities, and like many of our peers in media, we are experiencing the effects of the transition in our video businesses, and have been studying the best path forward for these assets,” he said. Cavanagh continued, “To that end, we are now exploring whether creating a new well-capitalized company owned by our shareholders and comprised of our strong portfolio of cable networks would position them to take advantage of opportunities in the changing media landscape and create value for our shareholders. We are not ready to talk about any specifics yet, but we’ll be back to you as and when we reach firm conclusions.”

Cavanagh said the hypothetical spinoff would include cable TV networks and not NBC’s broadcast operations. He indicated Comcast is still early in the process of doing the due diligence about such a transaction.

NBCU’s cable networks could be spun off separately from the broadcast channel NBC and Peacock.

See Also:

THR: Comcast Says It May Spin Off Cable Networks and Seek a Streaming Partner Amid TV Business Tumult

[demondmayhew016]

The Firm - Firm Biz

[burlveneer-music]

BASIC - This Is BASIC - guitarists Chris Forsyth & Nick Millevoi in a tribute to Robert Quine & Fred Maher's 1984 album Basic

BASIC, a mind-meld between Chris Forsyth, his frequent running partner (and formidable 6-string thinker) Nick Millevoi, and Mikel Patrick Avery presents This Is BASIC, a complex and entrancing instrumental LP recasting forgotten scraps of guitar history into a moving mosaic of strings, skins and electronics. Back in the mid ’80s (a moment in music history as remote to us now as bebop was to us back then), there was an entire subgenre spawned by prog-rock-gone-new-wave icons meeting up to make sounds, their names reading like a panoply of druggy law firms: Manzanera & Bruford, Fripp & Summers, French/Frith/Kaiser/Thompson. Their records clogged pre-internet college radio playlists, cut-out bins and public library shelves, but served as a touchstone for heads seeking inspiration from deeper wells than FM rock radio (which was fixated, then as now, on the Eagles and Led Zeppelin). Far from being mere self-indulgences, these “side projects” were, at best, outlets for exploration of then-novel technologies (looping, drum programming, sampling, etc.) for creators otherwise stuck in ’70s projects moribund with fan expectations and music-biz balance sheets. One such record is guitarist Robert Quine and drummer Fred Maher’s Basic, an arachnidian weave of subtly shifting rhythm tracks and chiming guitar that, true to its name, was left largely untouched by Quine’s celebrated McLaughlin-through-a-cheese grater solos (a trait that did not please many critics at the time). Quine’s untimely passing has since awakened many to the joys hidden within his scant solo discography, but more expansive ears were already tuned in, including a few guitarists hungry for sounds outside of the second-hand pentatonic canon—among them, Chris Forsyth and Nick Millevoi. Chris Forsyth: guitar Nick Millevoi: baritone guitar & drum machine Mikel Patrick Avery: percussion & electronics Cover art at by MPA