#it's not nearly as creative as it used to be

[mcalli-fr]

Okay positive post:

The Everlux are super cool and I'm glad that the art team really stretched their wings and gave us a really interesting design. Sure, they're a little cluttered and the male pose nearly completely negates the secondary genes, but I think overall the design AND all the Everlux genes are home runs. It's probably one of the best releases, in my opinion.

I think it's great that they're really pushing what kind of dragons can exist in their world and really making it clear that shape and concept are not inherently tied to the Element the dragon originates from.

I hope that all the negativity does not cause the art team to pull back on pushing the envelope. We need more of this creativity, not less! Even if you don't like Everlux, I hope you'll understand how important it is, conceptually, for the team to make designs that aren't going to appeal to every single player -- even outside of the fact that you just can't please everyone no matter how hard you try.

The more variety in dragons, the cooler the site as a whole is. I hope that the team gives us even more weird dragons inspired by a wide variety of animals and insects. I hope the Wind Ancient is neat as fuck.

And I hope that Shadow can get a modern common breed. Please.

[emjayewrites]

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (12/15) - Part II

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @httpsserene @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237 @niahxo @purplelewlew @tremendousstarlighttragedy @henneseyhoe @serpenttines-library @f1-football-fiend

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

The warehouse stood inconspicuous amidst the arid Palm Springs landscape, its weathered exterior masking the creative pulse within. Inside, the vast space was a stark contrast - state-of-the-art sound equipment lined the walls, and a professional-grade stage dominated one end of the room. Soft, ambient lighting created an atmosphere conducive to artistic expression, while the air conditioning fought a constant battle against the desert heat.

Rorie stood center stage, her voice resonating through the cavernous space as she ran through the chorus of "The Zone."

"I never meant to make you feel alone, a non-chivalrous tone you've used since I got home..."

Ms. Tee, her vocal coach, nodded approvingly from the side, occasionally calling out suggestions. "Remember to support from your diaphragm on that high note, honey!"

Van, the choreographer, moved in sync with Rorie, demonstrating the fluid movements that would accompany the lyrics.

Rorie nodded, sweat beading on her forehead as she repeated the sequence. The knowledge that Beyoncé had once rehearsed in this very space for her legendary Beychella performance added an extra layer of pressure.

From his seat not far from the stage, Lyric's voice piped up. "Go, Mama!" he cheered, his little hands clapping enthusiastically.

Ms. Tee chuckled, shaking her head. "That baby is too cute!"

"And he knows it," Rorie quipped, shooting a wink at her son.

As they moved into the next song, Rorie's mind briefly wandered to the mysterious text she'd received weeks ago. The sender hadn't responded when she'd asked who it was, leaving her with an unsettling sense of curiosity.

After running through the set twice more, Yael called for a lunch break. The team dispersed, grateful for the respite from the intense rehearsal.

Rorie scooped up Lyric, making her way to a table laden with an array of healthy options. As she settled in next to Yael, balancing Lyric on her lap, she couldn't help but marvel at how surreal this all felt.

"So," Yael began, taking a bite of her salad, "have you given any thought to the Mercedes event? They're really pushing for you to be there for the G Wagon unveiling."

Rorie nodded, helping Lyric with his lunch. "Yeah, I think we can make it work. It's after Coachella, right?"

"Car!" Lyric exclaimed, pointing at Yael's phone which displayed an image of the new G Wagon.

Rorie laughed, ruffling his hair. "That's right, baby. It's a big car."

"He's growing up so fast," Yael remarked, smiling at Lyric. "Seems like just yesterday he was saying his first words."

Rorie nodded, a mix of pride and nostalgia washing over her. "I know. It's crazy how quickly they develop. He's stringing two or three words together now. The other day he said 'Mama sing pretty.' Nearly made me cry right there in the kitchen."

Yael chuckled. "Well, he's not wrong. Speaking of which, how are you feeling about the performance? Three songs is a lot, especially with the choreography."

Rorie took a sip of water, considering. "Honestly? I'm nervous as hell. But also excited. I've never been on a stage that big."

"You've got this," Yael assured her. "The rehearsals are going great, and the crowd is going to love you."

As they continued to discuss the logistics of the upcoming events, Rorie felt a familiar mix of excitement and nervousness. Coachella was a big stage, one that could make or break careers. She absentmindedly stroked Lyric's hair as she listened to Yael outline the schedule for the next few days.

"We've got two more full rehearsals here, then we move to the actual festival grounds for a tech run," Yael explained, scrolling through her tablet. "Lil Yachty's team will join us for the final run-through."

Rorie nodded, her mind already racing with all the details she needed to perfect. "What about wardrobe? Have we finalized the looks?"

"Almost," Yael replied. "The stylist wants to do one more fitting tomorrow. She's got some ideas for a quick change between songs."

As they delved into the intricacies of the performance, Lyric began to fidget in Rorie's lap. "Mama, play," he said, pointing towards the small play area they'd set up in the corner of the warehouse.

"Okay, baby. Just for a little bit," Rorie smiled, setting him down. She watched as he toddled off, his little legs carrying him with determined enthusiasm.

"He's handling all this travel and chaos like a champ," Yael observed, following Rorie's gaze.

Rorie sighed, a mix of pride and guilt washing over her. "Yeah, he is. Sometimes I worry it's too much, you know? But he seems to thrive on it."

"He's resilient, just like his parents," Yael reassured her. "Speaking of which, have you heard from Lewis? How's he feeling about the DNF in Australia?"

Rorie's expression softened at the mention of her husband. "He's frustrated, of course. But he's channeling it into preparation for the next race. You know Lewis, always looking forward."

Yael nodded, then added with a hint of sympathy, "It's a shame he'll miss your performance at Coachella though. The scheduling conflict is unfortunate."

"Yeah, it is," Rorie agreed, a touch of disappointment in her voice. "But he's got the GQ Global Creative Awards in New York that weekend. It's a big honor, and I wouldn't want him to miss that." She brightened a bit as she continued, "Besides, the Biebers will be there, and my sister's coming too. They'll make sure Lyric has plenty of support in the crowd."

"That's great," Yael smiled. "It's good to have your people there. And I'm sure Lewis will be watching the livestream, cheering you on from New York."

Rorie nodded, grateful for the support system she had. "Absolutely. We've always made it work, no matter the distance. This is just another one of those times."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Lyric's delighted laughter. He had discovered a small ball and was attempting to bounce it, his coordination not quite matching his enthusiasm.

"Should we get back to it?" Rorie asked, her eyes still on Lyric.

Yael nodded, standing up. "Absolutely. Let's run through the transitions one more time before we call it a day."

As they made their way back to the stage, Rorie felt a renewed sense of purpose. The nerves were still there, but they were overshadowed by excitement and determination. This performance wasn't just about her; it was about showing Lyric that dreams were worth pursuing, no matter the challenges.

With one last glance at her son, happily playing in his own world, Rorie stepped onto the stage. The music began to play, and she lost herself in the rhythm, ready to give it her all. Coachella was waiting, and she was going to make every moment count.

_____________________________________________

Rorie cruised down the Palm Springs street, the desert sun casting long shadows as evening approached. From the backseat, Lyric's voice joined hers in a sweet, if slightly off-key, rendition of Daniel Caesar's "Get You."

As the song faded out, Lyric piped up, "Bwent!"

Rorie chuckled, shaking her head. "Being toxic isn't cute, sonshine." She skipped to Brent Faiyaz's "Clouded," the smooth R&B filling the car as they pulled up to their rental.

Waving to the security guard at the front gate, Rorie parked and unstrapped Lyric from his car seat. She held his hand as they made their way inside, Lyric gleefully jumping up each step to the front door.

Roscoe greeted them enthusiastically, and Rorie let Lyric play with the dog while she headed to the kitchen. After washing her hands, she pulled out pre-made cookie dough from the fridge.

"You want cookies, baby?" she called out.

"Yes, Mama!" came the eager reply.

Rorie scoffed, muttering, "Of course you do," as she arranged the dough on a cookie sheet.

Struck by a sudden craving, she grabbed a popsicle from the freezer. Then, following an odd impulse, she dug into the cabinet for chunky peanut butter. Scooping some onto the popsicle, she savored the unexpected combination of salty and sweet on her tongue as she slid the cookies into the oven, setting it to 380 degrees.

Just then, her phone rang. Seeing Martin's name on the screen, she hesitated before answering.

"Hello?" she said, her voice cautious.

"Rorie, hi," Martin's voice came through, a mix of nervousness and hope. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she replied, her tone neutral. "What's this about, Martin?"

"I... I wanted to talk to you. About Athena, about everything. How's Lyric doing?"

Rorie paused, conflicted. "He's good," she finally said. "Growing fast."

"That's great," Martin said, his voice softening. "Listen, Rorie, I was hoping we could meet. I know things are complicated, but-"

"I don't know, Martin," Rorie cut in, glancing at the oven timer. "Things are pretty busy right now."

"Please," he pressed. "I want to make things right. I want to be part of your life, of Lyric's life."

Rorie sighed, the weight of the situation settling on her shoulders. "I need time, Martin. This isn't something I can decide on a whim."

"I understand," he said, a note of disappointment in his voice. "But will you at least think about it? For real this time?"

"I'll think about it," Rorie conceded. "But I can't promise anything."

As she hung up, Rorie leaned against the counter, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. The timer dinged, jolting her back to the present. She pulled out the cookies, the sweet aroma filling the kitchen.

"Cookie, Mama?" Lyric's voice called from the living room.

"Almost, baby," Rorie replied, forcing a smile into her voice. "They need to cool first."

As she set the tray on the counter, Rorie took a deep breath. Coachella, Martin, the constant juggle of family and career - it was a lot to handle. But as Lyric's excited chatter drifted in from the other room, she knew she'd find a way to navigate it all. She always did.

The desert night hummed with anticipation as Rorie stood in the wings of the Coachella stage, her heart hammering against her ribs. The bass from the previous set reverberated through her body, but the nausea rolling through her stomach had nothing to do with the vibrations.

"Five minutes, Mrs. Hamilton," a stage manager called out, then paused, studying her face. "Hey, you're looking a bit pale. You okay?"

Rorie nodded, though her complexion said otherwise. "I'm good," she managed, willing her stomach to settle. Somewhere in the VIP section, she knew Lyric was watching with Aaliyah, the Biebers keeping them company.

"You sure?" The stage manager pressed. "You look like you might puke...."

"I said I'm good," Rorie cut in, more sharply than intended. She softened her tone. "Just pre-show jitters."

The opening notes of "The Zone" filled the air, and Lil Yachty's voice boomed across the festival grounds: "Y'all make some noise for my girl, Rorie!"

Taking one final deep breath, Rorie stepped into the lights. The crowd's roar washed over her as she emerged, and suddenly, the nausea didn't matter anymore. This was what she was born to do.

Her voice, clear and strong, cut through the night air. The choreography she'd practiced countless times flowed naturally, her body moving in perfect sync with the music. Each transition, each note, each movement came together in a performance that felt both carefully rehearsed and effortlessly spontaneous.

But as the adrenaline of the first song began to fade, that unsettling queasiness returned, stronger than before. Rorie pushed through, determined not to let it show. She had two more songs to go, and she was going to give this crowd everything she had.

The crowd surged with energy as Rorie finished her planned set, their cheers echoing across the festival grounds. Sweat glistened on her skin under the stage lights.

"One more! One more!" The chant built like a wave.

Rorie exchanged a glance with her band, a slight nod passing between them. As the opening notes of another song filled the air, the crowd's roar grew even louder.

But it was the second encore that would become the night's most talked-about moment. Rorie stepped to the microphone, her breath slightly catching as she spoke.

"Y'all have been amazing tonight," she said, her voice carrying across the field. "I want to share something special with you. A few years ago, my husband and I wrote this song together. Some of you might know him as XNDA…"

The crowd erupted at the mention of Lewis's musical alter ego. A smile played on Rorie's lips as she remembered the late nights in their home studio, the two of them writing and rewriting lyrics, finding the perfect melody to express their love story.

The stage darkened, and then a recorded voicemail played through the speakers: "Hey baby, just wanted to hear your voice…" Lewis's distinctive accent filled the space, intimate and warm.

The soft melody began to build, and Rorie's voice floated over the instrumental, telling their story of love found in the fast lane of life. When Lewis's pre-recorded vocals joined in for the chorus, their voices intertwined in perfect harmony, the chemistry evident even through the playback.

"When the world's moving too fast You're the one thing that lasts Through the curves and the breaks You're the risk I'll always take…"

The crowd swayed, phone lights dotting the darkness like stars. Somewhere in the VIP section, Rorie caught sight of Lyric on Aaliyah's shoulders, his little hands waving in the air.

As their voices rose together for the final chorus, Rorie felt tears prick at her eyes. This song, this moment, was everything - their love, their family, their journey, all wrapped up in melody and rhythm.

The final note hung in the air, and for a moment, there was complete silence. Then the crowd exploded, the cheers almost deafening. Rorie took a final bow, her heart full to bursting.

Walking off stage, she quickly checked her phone. A text from Lewis was waiting:

Killed it, baby. Wish I could've been there. So proud of you.

Rorie smiled, the nausea from earlier completely forgotten in the glow of the night's success. This performance would definitely be one for the books.

Following her triumphant performance, Rorie took a long drink of water before her bodyguards escorted her to the VIP section. Aaliyah immediately engulfed her in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her face.

"You were incredible!" Aaliyah sobbed, overcome with pride for her sister.

Rorie's own eyes welled up as Lyric toddled over, clutching a piece of paper in his tiny hands. "Mama!" he exclaimed, holding up his drawing of her on stage. "I love you, Mama," he said, his toddler pronunciation making the words even more precious.

Rorie dropped to her knees, gathering him close as tears spilled down her cheeks. The Biebers joined the group hug, everyone congratulating her on the spectacular show.

After a while, Justin excused himself to prepare for his set with Tems and WizKid. Rorie and Hailey settled into comfortable chairs, falling into easy conversation and shared laughter.

When a waiter approached, Rorie ordered vodka, water, and lime. "What about you, Hails?"

"Just water is fine," Hailey replied.

Rorie shot her friend a questioning look. "When do you ever say no to a drink?" she teased.

Hailey grew bashful, shrugging. "I'm fine with water."

"What's going on, Hails?" Rorie pressed.

Hailey opened her mouth to respond but closed it as the waiter returned with their drinks. Once he left, she gave Rorie a sympathetic look.

"I don't want to talk about it, Ror, especially with what's going on with you and Lew," Hailey explained.

"What do you mean?" Rorie asked, setting down her drink.

Hailey shrugged again. "With you guys going through IVF again… I don't think..."

"It's fine, Hailey. We're fine," Rorie assured her, taking her friend's hands. "It's okay."

"Honestly?" Hailey questioned.

"Yes, Hailey. It's fine."

They stared at each other in silence before Hailey opened her oversized leather jacket slightly, revealing a small rounded belly. "Justin and I are pregnant," she confessed, tears running down her face.

Rorie felt a complex mix of emotions - genuine joy for her friend tinged with a hint of sadness for her own situation. But happiness won out as she pulled Hailey into a tight hug.

"It's still early, though," Hailey said after they separated. "I'm barely ten weeks, but I'm showing really soon for some reason."

"It's a boy," Rorie said instinctively.

"How can you tell?"

"I was showing early with Lyric. It's definitely a boy and he probably has a big head," Rorie joked.

Hailey laughed. "Just like his father."

As their laughter subsided, Hailey grew serious. "I want you to be a godmother. You're an amazing friend and Justin and I love you so much."

"I would love to be the godmother, Hailey. Thank you," Rorie replied, wiping away fresh tears. "Damn, tonight is making me such a sap!" Hailey's smile widened. "But thank you. Seriously. Not only for asking me to be a godmother but sharing this and taking note of everything. I love you so much."

The two friends embraced again, the desert night wrapping around them like a warm blanket, full of joy, hope, and the promise of new beginnings.

The week after Coachella felt like a whirlwind. Rorie scrolled through her phone, taking in the flood of coverage about her performance.

@/MusicInsider: "Rorie's surprise performance of XNDA collab brought Coachella to its knees. The chemistry is undeniable, even through a recording. #PowerCouple"

@/ChartData: "Rorie's Coachella performance garnered over 2M livestream views, highest for a guest appearance this year."

Of course, there were also the less favorable takes:

@/PopCultureTakes: "Sure, she can sing. But is anyone else tired of the Hamilton PR machine? #Coachella"

Rorie rolled her eyes at the last one. Her nausea had finally subsided, and she was grateful to chalk it up to pre-Coachella nerves. With Lewis in Shanghai for his race, she missed him, but they had a packed schedule ahead - the WhatsApp collaboration in New York, Miami Grand Prix, and then the Met Gala. The thought of reuniting made her smile.

Stepping out of her G Wagon onto the black carpet at the Mercedes-Benz G-Class premiere, Rorie was immediately engulfed in camera flashes.

"Mrs. Mercedes! Over here!" "To your left, Rorie!" "Give us that smile, Mrs. Mercedes!"

She couldn't help but laugh at the nickname - an extension of what they called Lewis. As she posed for photos, a familiar figure caught her eye. Miles was making his way down the carpet, pointing at her with an exaggerated gesture. She returned the gesture, and he came bounding over. They posed for several shots together before heading inside, arm in arm.

"I didn't know you were going to be here!" she said as they stopped at the bar.

"Sort of last minute, honestly," Miles revealed. "But look at you, Miss Superstar - that Coachella performance though…"

"How was it?" Rorie asked, genuinely curious.

"Off the fuckin' chain, lil' sis. You did that."

"Thank you," she smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

As Miles and Rorie made their way through the event, they were stopped every few feet by familiar faces. Kendall Jenner pulled Rorie into a warm embrace, gushing about the Coachella performance.

"You absolutely killed it," Kendall beamed. "And that song with Lewis? Everyone's still talking about it."

Before Rorie could respond, Ciara joined them, her megawatt smile lighting up the space. "Girl, when were you going to tell me you were performing again? That was incredible!"

The conversations flowed easily, punctuated by genuine laughter and warm exchanges. Tracee Ellis Ross swept by, wrapping an arm around Rorie's waist as they posed for photos, while Snoh Aalegra complimented her vocal arrangements.

The evening progressed with typical Hollywood glamour - Travis Scott's performance had the crowd energized, the bass reverberating through the space as he commanded the stage. During dinner, Rorie found herself engaged in easy conversation with those around her, the kind of mindless chatter that filled these events.

As the night wound down, Rorie decided to head home early, missing Lyric and feeling the weight of the day settling in her bones. The drive started peacefully enough, the lights of LA streaming past her window as she thought about the upcoming reunion with Lewis.

Then her phone lit up with an unknown number.

Rorie hesitated before answering, but something compelled her to pick up. The moment she heard the voice on the other end, her blood ran cold.

"Rorie—"

"You must have a fucking death wish," Rorie cut in, her voice sharp with anger.

"Please, just hear me out—"

"I'm calling my lawyer," Rorie snapped.

"Wait!" Deja's voice was urgent. "I want to meet in Miami. We need to talk face to face."

"You've lost your rabbit ass mind!" Rorie couldn't believe her ears. After everything - the lawsuit, the leaked information, the media circus - Deja really thought they could just meet? The audacity was mind-blowing. Rorie clenched her jaw, her hand gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles went white. She could almost picture Deja on the other end, probably desperate, maybe even smug, as if she’d thought Rorie would just give in to this little stunt.

Deja doubled down. "I'm not settling until we talk. Face to face."

"I don't give a fuck what you want. We're going to win anyway - you violated my privacy, remember?"

They went back and forth, Deja pleading her case while Rorie's anger mounted. Finally, Deja suggested Rorie bring her lawyer if it made her feel better, but insisted they needed to meet.

"I'll think about it, bitch," Rorie spat before hanging up.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her hard. "Pull over," she managed to tell her driver, who immediately complied.

Rorie barely made it out of the car before emptying the contents of her stomach, her hands braced on her knees.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Hamilton?" the driver asked, concern evident in his voice.

Another wave hit her, and she groaned as a headache began to pulse behind her eyes. "Call my husband, please."

The driver quickly dialed Lewis, putting the phone on speaker just as Rorie retched again.

"Baby, are you okay? You're scaring me!" Lewis's voice rang out.

"It's Deja…" Rorie managed after a moment.

"What about her?"

"I'm going to kill that bitch, Lewis."

Lewis let out an exhausted "Fuck," followed by, "Let me call Julian."

Rorie stayed bent over, the cool night air doing little to settle her churning stomach. This night had definitely taken an unexpected turn, and somehow she knew it was just the beginning of whatever Deja had planned.

The Miami Grand Prix was a spectacle of color, sound, and energy—a vibrant mix of fans, press, and celebrities, all eager to catch a glimpse of the action on the track. Rorie moved through the paddock with an effortless confidence, dressed in a chic Tommy Hilfiger ensemble—a red mini dress paired with a tailored jacket that bore the iconic brand’s colors. As a Tommy Hilfiger ambassador, she was there to represent, but her mind was constantly pulled to her family, to Lyric, who was wide-eyed and curious, soaking in everything around him.

Julian, their lawyer, had been adamant about his involvement from the start. He wasn’t thrilled about the meeting, and honestly, neither was she—but at least they’d agreed that Julian would be there too, ensuring Deja wouldn’t pull any more stunts. When Julian had looked her in the eye and said, "We’re not letting her turn this into another circus," Rorie had felt an odd sense of relief. Knowing he’d be present gave her the peace of mind to enjoy the weekend with Lewis and Lyric.

Rorie’s attention snapped back to the present as she felt a tiny hand tug at her fingers. Lyric was pointing excitedly to the rows of cars lined up, his face lit with pure awe. She bent down to his level, taking in his excitement with a soft smile.

"Vroom! Vroom!"

"Yeah, baby," she murmured, brushing a soft kiss over his braids. "Those are Daddy’s friends’ cars."

"Where Dada?"

Rorie grinned. "He’s around here somewhere."

Just then, as if on cue, she spotted Lewis, looking impossibly focused and handsome in his race suit, his head bent as he spoke with one of his team members. When he looked up and saw them, his face transformed, a wide grin spreading across his features. He lifted a hand in greeting, then broke into an easy jog to close the distance between them.

"There’s Daddy," Rorie murmured to Lyric, moving aside so he could see his father approaching. "Look, sweetheart."

Lewis bent down, scooping Lyric up and spinning him around, making their son laugh with pure joy. Then, Lewis turned to her, his eyes softening as they met hers. "You’re a vision today," he murmured, his voice low and warm.

Rorie smiled, feeling her cheeks flush a little. "All part of the ambassador duty," she teased, tugging lightly on the lapel of her jacket.

The three of them shared a quiet moment, standing close amid the bustling paddock. For a while, it was easy to forget about Deja, about the upcoming meeting, about everything that threatened to intrude on this moment. But she could still feel the tension, a low hum of anxiety that sat just below the surface.

Julian’s text from earlier that morning flashed in her mind: Remember, we’re handling this our way. She doesn’t get to make the rules.

It was a reminder she clung to, something that kept her grounded even as she stole another glance at Lewis and Lyric. This weekend, she’d focus on them, on supporting Lewis and creating memories with Lyric. Whatever Deja had to say could wait—she wasn’t about to let that woman spoil the joy of watching her husband race, of seeing her son’s eyes light up in wonder.

But just as she settled into the moment, she heard a familiar voice calling her name. Turning around, she was greeted by the sight of KiKi, striding over with her typical swagger, dressed in a sharp, stylish outfit that turned heads as she passed.

Rorie raised her brows, genuinely surprised. "KiKi? What are you doing here?"

KiKi grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Lewis called me in for backup," she said with a shrug, flashing Lewis a knowing smile.

Lewis, still holding Lyric, gave a small, guilty grin. "Figured it wouldn’t hurt to have some extra support this weekend," he said, adjusting Lyric on his hip. "Especially with everything going on."

Rorie couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief. Having KiKi around meant an added layer of support, someone who understood the intricacies of their situation with Deja and who would have her back if things got tense. But she was also wary; KiKi wasn’t exactly known for her subtlety, and Rorie wanted this meeting to be as low-key as possible.

"I don’t know if having you there is the best idea, though," Rorie said, keeping her tone light but firm. "You know how things can get."

KiKi put a hand on her hip, feigning offense. "Girl, please. I can be chill when I need to be," she replied, but the glint in her eyes suggested otherwise.

Rorie sighed, giving her friend a look. "I mean it, Ki. The last thing I want is for this to turn into a showdown."

KiKi held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Promise, I'll keep it cool. I’m just here to have your back. Besides, I’m curious to see what Deja’s got to say for herself."

Rorie gave a reluctant nod, knowing KiKi meant well. She’d always been fiercely protective, and Rorie knew that no matter what, KiKi wouldn’t let anyone disrespect her or her family. Still, she wasn’t entirely sure how Deja would react to seeing KiKi there.

"So, what’s the plan with her anyway?" KiKi asked, lowering her voice slightly. "You really think she’s trying to play nice?"

Rorie bit her lip, glancing over at Lewis, who was now trying to entertain Lyric with exaggerated car sounds. "I don’t know. She claims she wants to talk about boundaries, but I’m not sure I buy it. It feels like another setup."

KiKi snorted. "Wouldn’t put it past her. But hey, at least you’ve got Julian there to keep things on track. And me, if she tries any funny business."

Rorie managed a small smile, grateful for KiKi’s support even if she was apprehensive about the meeting. "Yeah. Julian’s already set some strict ground rules. We’re meeting in a neutral space, and he’s keeping it professional. He won’t let her turn this into another circus."

"Good," KiKi replied, crossing her arms as her gaze turned serious. "Just remember, she doesn’t get to call the shots here. You’re in control."

Rorie took a deep breath, nodding. "Right. I just don’t want her stirring up drama when all I want is to focus on this weekend with my family."

KiKi gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "You’ve got this, Ro. And if she steps out of line? Well, I’ll be there, chillin'... but keeping an eye out."

Rorie laughed, the tension easing slightly as she glanced back at Lewis, who had Lyric balanced on his shoulders now, the little boy giggling as he held onto his father’s head.

"Thanks, Ki. I appreciate you being here," Rorie said softly.

KiKi smirked. "Girl, you know I’d be here even if you didn’t want me to. Now, let’s enjoy the day and not let her mess with our vibe. Besides, your little one looks like he’s having the time of his life."

After watching Lewis' Free Practice, Rorie found herself alongside Mick Schumacher at the Tommy Hilfiger pop-up store in the paddock. Their easy rapport made the ambassador duties feel less like work and more like hanging out with a friend.

"The new collection's fire," Mick said, adjusting the collar of his Tommy polo. "But I think Lyric's stealing the show."

He wasn't wrong. Lyric, now dressed in a miniature version of the collection, was charming everyone who passed by.

After wrapping up the promotional duties, Rorie made her way to watch the F1 Academy practice sessions with Susie Wolff. The sight of female drivers commanding their machines around the track filled her with pride.

"It's amazing to see how far we've come," Susie remarked, her Scottish accent warm with emotion. "These girls are the future."

Lyric, perched on Rorie's hip, pointed excitedly at the cars. "Fast! Mama, fast!"

"That's right, baby. They're very fast," Rorie agreed, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Later, they ran into Kevin Magnussen near the garages. Lyric immediately perked up, looking around expectantly.

"L'waura?" he asked, his little face scrunching up in confusion when he didn't spot his friend.

Kevin laughed warmly. "She's with Mommy today, but we can FaceTime her later. Would you like that?"

"Yes!" Lyric clapped his hands excitedly.

The lightness of the afternoon stood in stark contrast to what awaited Rorie that evening with Deja. She wanted nothing more than to end whatever bullshit Deja was on, but she knew that not everything will be easy coming from her.

____________________________________________________

Later that evening, away from the excitement of the track, Rorie arrived at the offices of Ocasio & Associates, one of Julian's trusted colleagues in Miami. The sleek high-rise office space felt appropriately neutral and formal for what was about to unfold.

Julian was already there, reviewing documents when Rorie walked in with KiKi. They settled into the conference room, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the Miami skyline at dusk.

When Deja walked in with her lawyer, her face immediately darkened at the sight of KiKi. "What is she doing here?"

"I'm here for moral support, honey," KiKi drawled, her tone deceptively sweet.

Julian cleared his throat. "Let's focus on why we're here."

What followed was an hour of increasingly tense discussion. Deja insisted on rehashing her version of events from All-Star Weekend 2017, her voice growing more animated as she described what she claimed was a meaningful connection with Lewis.

"We had something real," Deja insisted, leaning forward in her chair. "Before she came along—"

"You're delusional," Rorie cut in, her patience finally snapping. "You had a drunken hookup - if that even happened - and now you're trying to rewrite history."

"You don't know what—"

"No, you don't know what you're talking about," Rorie stood up, her voice firm and final. "Julian, we're done here. No more settlement talks. Take her ass to court and drag her to fucking filth."

As they left the office building, KiKi fell into step beside her. "You good?"

Rorie nodded, her jaw set with determination. "I'm done playing nice. She wants to live in her fantasy world? Fine. But she's about to learn what reality feels like."

As they walked down the quiet Miami street, the humid evening air thick around them, Rorie suddenly felt her stomach lurch. Without warning, she lurched toward a nearby trash can, barely making it before emptying the contents of her stomach.

"Rorie!" Julian rushed out after them, producing a clean handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it to her as she straightened up, her hand trembling slightly as she wiped her mouth.

KiKi was at her side instantly, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Girl, are you okay? What's going on?"

Rorie took a deep breath, trying to settle her churning stomach. "I'm fine," she managed. "Just stress, I think. This whole situation with Deja…"

"Nah, you need to calm down," KiKi said firmly, keeping her hand on Rorie's back. "This isn't worth getting sick over. Remember that wine bar we used to hit up when I lived down here? The one with the amazing cheese plates?"

Despite her queasy stomach, Rorie felt a small smile tugging at her lips. "God, that sounds perfect right now."

"Then let's go," KiKi decided, already steering Rorie toward the street to hail a car. "Julian, you good?"

Julian nodded, still looking concerned. "Call me if you need anything. And Rorie? Try not to worry about Deja. We've got this handled."

As they climbed into the car, Rorie leaned back against the cool leather seats, grateful for KiKi's steady presence beside her. Maybe what she needed right now wasn't more strategy sessions or legal talks. Maybe what she needed was just this - a night with her best friend, some good wine, and a chance to remember who she was beyond all the drama.

"Thanks, Ki," she said softly as the car pulled away from the curb.

KiKi squeezed her hand. "Always got your back, girl. Always."

TO BE CONTINUED....

[1americanconservative]

@markeatsmeat

Wow. Joel Salatin, a farmer and regenerative agriculture advocate, has been offered a position within the USDA. He will advise Thomas Massie who’s agreed to be Secretary of Agriculture. Here’s the full message posted to his website today: “The deplorables and garbage people won again.  Can you believe it?  I've been contacted by the Trump transition team to hold some sort of position within the USDA and have accepted one of the six "Advisor to the Secretary" spots.  My favorite congressman, Thomas Massie from Kentucky, has agreed to go in as Secretary of Agriculture. He's been the sponsor of the PRIME ACT, which, if pushed through, would be the biggest shot across the bow of the entrenched industrial meat processing system we've seen in a century.  Let liberty ring.  Wouldn't that be a change of fortune for Big Ag?  If RFK Jr. goes in as Sec. of Health and Human Services, everything will be inverted.  Talk about the coolest turn about.  He'd be the boss of the Faucis and Francis Collins--the whole covid anti-science crowd.  Wouldn't that be a change of fortune for Big Pharma?   And if Elon Musk goes in as a Government Waste Czar, do you think he could possibly find something?    Here's an interesting tidbit.  All the income taxes in the U.S. are $2 trillion a year.  Government spending and borrowing are so out of control that if we eliminated $2 trillion from the budget, it would only set us back to 2020.  Does anyone think returning to government spending in 2020 would destroy things?  Of course not.  So all we have to do is cut federal spending to 2020 levels and we can eliminate income tax.  Period.  Done.  How would that make you feel? Most people don't know enough history to know that the federal government was to be financed entirely from tariffs and excise taxes.  In fact, as a nation we operated just fine for nearly 150 years without an income tax.  The only president who eliminated the national debt was Andrew Jackson, and he did it by eliminating the second bank of the U.S.  Nearly 100 years later we got the third bank, known as the Federal Reserve, plus the income tax.  During that time, tariffs averaged 40-50 percent.  After the income tax, tariffs dropped to an average of about 7 percent, where they remain today.  If we went back to 40 percent, like we had for nearly 150 years, we would bring production home and free our citizens from impoverishing taxes.  Dear folks, this is a watershed moment to take a creative and serious look at the sacred cows in our nation and fry some serious burgers. We don't know history.  We don't know liberty.  We don't know earthworms or aquifers or immune systems.  I'm hoping this election is an opening to discovery.  Perhaps we could even figure out how to put negative occurrences like jails, pollution, and cancer on the nation's balance sheet, as a liability rather than an asset (Gross Domestic Product--more jails?  wonderful, pour more concrete and make more jobs).   Perhaps we'll eliminate federal involvement in education, from kindergarten to college.  Make every teacher accountable to performance.  Eliminate ALL federal intervention in the food system, in farming, in energy.  The Constitution (read it) doesn't allow for any of this and it's time to examine all of it.  Shut down foreign military bases; bring them all home.  Stop ALL foreign aid, from USAID to military aid.  Sell stuff is fine; giving it isn't.  I think whatever taxes we pay should be able to be designated to certain departments.  That way we the people could support or defund departments directly.  The reason we have K street is because all our freedoms are for sale.  Eliminate government manipulation and the lobbyists all go home.  These are simple things.  Let's do it.” https://thelunaticfarmer.com/blog/11/6/2024/celebration?format=amp

[archiveikemen]

"Mobius Chord" Main Story Prologue: Chapter 1

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belong to +ONE by Ikemen Series and KansaiTV. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games.

Read this before interacting

Koto Suzuno: Alright, I’ll hit send and… there! 

Koto: YES—! I’m done with my manuscript! 

I nearly shot both arms up to celebrate the accomplishment, but decided to lower them and pretend I was stretching.

(I forgot I’m here at Keido to focus…) 

“Keido” was a quiet café hidden in a peaceful alleyway, away from the bustling streets. 

With the warm sunlight shining through the windows, this has been my favourite place since my college days.

The small flower vase on the table sparkled like a gemstone, alleviating the tiredness in my eyes after staring at my laptop’s screen for as long as I could remember. 

Café Owner: Well done, Koto-chan. Here’s a treat for you. 

Koto: Eh? Wow, thank you so much! 

I received a slice of cake from the café owner whom I was on friendly terms with as a reward and enjoyed its wonderful taste while flipping through a magazine. 

— “Fortessimo”. A magazine that focused on the music industry. 

It’s publisher was the company I had just submitted my manuscript to, and my very first article was planned to be featured in it. 

Koto: In a month’s time, an article I wrote will be here… I’m so happy.

Kamiya Takara: Yo, Koto! How’s work? 

Koto: Oh… Kamiya-san! 

Kamiya: You’re here again.

Koto: Indeed. I find myself very productive whenever I'm at Keido. What about you, Kamiya-san? 

Takara: Just taking a quick break. I’ve been staying up all night since yesterday to keep watch… 

Koto: Since yesterday!? You must be so tired…! 

Kamiya-san ordered an espresso from the café owner and rubbed his eyes to relieve the fatigue.

Kamiya: Actually, I was thinking it’s about time I contacted you. 

Koto: Oh… is it regarding my older brother? 

Kamiya: Yeah. Fortunately or unfortunately, there were “no leads” this time as well. 

Riku Suzuno – my older brother. 

Around the time I entered college, he vanished without a trace as though he had been spirited away. 

We have no clue if he was taken away by someone or left on his own accord. 

Kamiya: Naturally, he hasn't contacted you either, huh?

Koto: … Yeah.

Kamiya-san was my brother’s best friend since their schooling days and also a former bandmate of his. He now worked as a detective.

Despite the fact that my brother’s missing person case has long expired, he continued helping search for any leads. 

Whenever information on an unidentified young man surfaced, he would discreetly look into it on my behalf. 

Kamiya: Damn it, what exactly is that guy up to… making his sister worry this much about him. 

Kamiya: In the blink of an eye, you graduated college, got a job at an advertising firm… and now you’re standing on your own as a writer. 

Kamiya: Honestly, even if he does come back, I don't think I’m going to let him act like some great older brother. You’ve really worked hard to get to where you are, Koto. 

Koto: It’s not like that. I’m still only just starting out as a writer. But… thank you. 

Kamiya: Nah, don’t say that. The advertising firm gives you additional responsibilities at work, right? That’s because you're capable enough for that. 

Koto: I think it’s purely due to the company being short staffed, and this time it just so happens that a senior colleague attended the same college I graduated from. 

Koto: By the way, Kamiya-san, will you be attending the “Autumn Gathering”?

It referred to the party happening next week celebrating the college’s 111th anniversary. 

It was mainly organised by alumni, and since my former workplace was involved, I was given a minor supporting role. 

Kamiya: I’ll show my face there if I don't have any cases to work on that day. It’s been a long time, I’d like to meet Go again.

Kamiya: But still, Go’s more suited to be a producer than being in a band himself. 

Go— Miyamoto Go-san was the CEO of the major music company GAIA, he was also a close friend of my brother and Kamiya-san. 

The trio used to be in a band called “ZEZZ”, which was what sparked my interest in music. 

Kamiya: The opening act at the party is said to be “next-generation superstars”— probably one of Go’s artistes. Could it be Lit? 

Kamiya-san scrolled through his phone, checking the event lineup.

(Is Lit going to make an appearance as guest performers…?)

My mind drifted back to my college days, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. 

[valorxdrive]

"Actually-- You're not too far off." Sora had to try hiding that touch of preening from Xion's vivid reaction. It was honestly thanks to visiting Elsa's land, and of course, witnessing her creativity firsthand that let the thought open in his mind. These crystalline cups were a testament to how much ingenuity counts as much as his strength.

A bottle of Final Fruitasy would be recovered and uncorked. "I actually could've done this a long time ago, but y'know, sometimes just seeing the right thing is what helps put it altogether. Now lesse--"

Those cups bordering on iridescence would soon meet their purpose. For a scarlet toned liquid would bless the bottom of both, a fine fizzle exhaling from their rims as the chilled nature begins to settle their warmer state into refreshing coolness.

Only then would he snag his own, hosting that nearly filled crystal towards Xion, a resolute look set in his eyes. "Time we've got our mini festival here underway. To a fun future for the both of us, and may our wishes come true!" --What else? An abrupt chuckle dawns at a sillier thought.

"And may the meals we chow on be heavensent!"

they laugh shyly, their wings folding behind them before the space around them shimmers and the wings vanish like in a haze. "Aw, it's nothing special, really..! But they do come in handy!" they really couldn't imagine life without wings..

but then, sora's ice trick gets their eyes just as sparkly as their wings had gotten his, if not more. "Whoa..! Where'd you learn to do that?? Elsa teach you that??" ..hey, if sora can do that, they can probably learn to, can't they..? they'll make a mental note to try later... in the meantime, though, they do take one of those glasses, looking it over with massive interest.

"This is so cool........" they've just about forgotten about what the glasses were even for.. only for a few moments, though- then their eyes snap back up to sora, looking just a bit embarrassed. "Right- um! Drinks!"

[stackslip]

i do have criticisms of chainsaw man part 2 tbh as much as i gleefully enjoy it, and one of them is that it feels so heavily built on fire punch that it must not do *nearly* as much if you haven't read fire punch beforehand. it's like half of a conversation and if you're missing the other half i imagine it must sound a bit like nonsense

[slavicafire]

the company I work for has frequent phishing drills - nearly bi-weekly, really, which makes sense given we deal with legal data - and I love how creative our security team gets.

sometimes it looks like an email from our internal days-off system alerting you that you can take one day off more if you click now. sometimes it looks like microsoft asking you to validate your outlook account. sometimes it looks like a free spotify premium because you've been in 5% of listeners of some band that doesn't have a working hyperlink.

and sometimes, which is especially sweet, it looks like a confidential HR email that someone accidentally cc'd you on, dealing with payroll info about someone's salary increase.

[ki1ldeer]

I need to do a research paper on the correlation between me taking a chemistry class and me drawing Finn being sad

[boyfriendunsolved]

the new video was greatly needed if watcher had any hopes of staying afloat. unfortunately, this backpedaling does not change the fact that

1) high production "television quality" content is what they want to make

2) this content is evidently not what people want to watch (even post-apology i'm seeing a lot of people saying they liked bfu better than anything watcher has produced)

again, if they have a clear vision of what they want to make, that's great. but unless there's a market for that content, then it's not going to turn a profit, or break even for that matter. yes, artists deserve to be paid for their work, but art is always bought by people who want and have an interest in said art.

im an artist pursuing my dreams too, but i don't expect people to buy my niche paintings just on the principle that i am an artist creating what i want. if i wanted to make money from this and turn it into a business, i would take commissions and specifically create what other people want. that is what having any kind of artistic job is about, unfortunately.

it's great if what you want to create and what people want to see overlap, but that's not always the case. and i really fear this is the case with watcher and they won't pivot enough to fix any of their problems

[nana2009]

why does Dave drug karkat? Is he like…flighty or something??

buoy is he.

karkat is not the most compliant captive, see.... especially since dave doesn't seem to want to actively harm him and acts so passive most of the time, so even with the possibility of things going sour that does not stop him from trying!! unfortunately, dave knows much too well how to handle these situations :/

but since karkat is so persistent and loud, sometimes a buoy has no options u kno? ;T

[icewindandboringhorror]

a quite simple outfit, trying to use the little blue and white apron thing (which is actually a dress I think, that I just leave un-buttoned in the back and added an apron-like tie to lol)

[hauntedorpheum]

first time people tell a content creator GIVE US MORE ADS

[yourdailyjormy]

Tourniquet

How do you stem the bleeding

When the wound is all there is?

I close my eyes

I try not to think too hard

about the flattened rubble

and the bloodstained streets

and the crowded camps and small boats

and the magnitude of suffering

.

When a wound can't be stemmed

When the poison can't be washed out

and the thought that there are people

who can look a hundred thousand corpses in the eye

and call it defence

and argue that they started it

What can you do

With your own problems?

.

Go numb

Find a reason that it's not your blood

And remember that it's a rule of triage

To fix your own bandages first;

Even if the wound isn't as bad

You can't heal others if you're passing out.

.

I cannot save Sudan

Or Palestine, or Lebanon,

Or the fleeing fearful folk washed ashore,

Or even one man frozen outside the Tesco's;

I cannot change the world.

I can only dress my own wounds

Before I bleed to death -

- slowly, yes, in dribs and drabs

and without the drama of disaster

but a knife is still a weapon

even if it's not a mortar shell -

There is nothing I can do for others' wounds

If I do not tend my own.

.

So I will find where my hope gives way to gaping wreckage

And where my energy bleeds out into the ground.

I will triage.

I will spare myself.

I will close my eyes to what I cannot change

And cut off the wounded limbs of humanity

With a tight ligature of What more can I say?

Wrapping empathy in a much-needed tourniquet

Because I am bleeding out.

.

And I will try not to think

About how many people have no tourniquets left.

.

And I will try not to think

How much of my pain I can cordon off

To stop the bleeding

Before the tourniquet has amputated all of me

And strangled around my heart.

[ghoul--doodle]

I might poke for some asks about Bailey tomorrow if I have the time!!

I don’t know why I specifically have an issue with talking about him or why I get so weirdly nervous about it so I wanna get over that

[brynnmclean]

I have been daydreaming recently about getting five of my female friends + maybe my sister (if I can lure her out of her apartment) to play D&D with me. We could play monthly. I could brave running base 5e so people can play spellcasters. We could make the setting together via Ex Novo and/or the Session 0 System. Or, I SWEAR, I'll read and run Ghosts of Saltmarsh. Or... I could enlist them to help me figure out the starter box for The One Ring 2e which I think starts out with hobbit pregen PCs. It could be fun. Trouble is... I HAVE to wrap up AKB first. I have tried to run multiple campaigns at once and it is Too Much for me (not to mention I have other hobbies)! So. I have to sit on my hands until Spring anyway. Alas.

[shirleyjacksonism]

soo everything in uni feels EXACTLY like school + I don't even like the subjects I'm studying. the classes are so exasperatingly boring and I do not care even a bit about the material. fighting the urge to fall asleep + dreaming about my room is NOT what I want to be constantly doing for 4 years straight