#la marketing firm

[tackmediaus]

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[lurkingshan]

Helloooo, Shan! This is a bit out of left field but it’s something I’ve been wondering for a while. BL has developed more as a genre and shown itself to be increasingly sociopolitically aware (whether or not it effectively engages with that awareness beyond marketing is another thing), do you have thoughts on any sort of progression of how women and girls have been portrayed? Or observations on the general state of women and girls in BL? It seems to me their roles have become meatier, not just one-dimensional femme fatales or fujoshi. Or am I projecting a false narrative of genre evolution? 🤔

Hey Megan, thanks for sending! I love an out of left field ask. And I agree with you, I do think there has been a clear evolution in the way women characters are portrayed in BL, and I have been making note of it where I see it.

It used to be that female characters in BL were mostly just there to be antagonists, either as villainous femme fatales trying to break up the couple (like Plern Pleng in TWM) or fujoshis inserting themselves into the main couple's relationship in really inappropriate and fetishizing ways (like Pang in Love Sick). Even the precious few decent women characters from early BL (like Manow from UWMA) are still really only there as side characters who provide support to the boys and/or a bit of comic relief. Women in early BL were either problematic or kind of an afterthought in the narrative.

But more recently there have been BL dramas featuring women who are more fully fleshed out and actually a crucial part of the story. This is not linear and consistent, of course--there are BLs airing as we speak, like Knock Knock Boys and Blue Boys, that are still relying on women as primary antagonists--but there has been some growth. Here are some of the characters I find particularly notable in regards to the role they play in the narrative:

Ae Ri, The Eighth Sense

Ae Ri was a notable character because the narrative set us up to think she was going to be a typical femme fatale. She seemed to like Ji Hyun and we were naturally inclined to assume she would be an obstacle to him pursuing Jae Won, until the show completely turned that on its head and made her a knowing ally instead. It was a delightful surprise and she remained an important support and get a grip friend for Ji Hyun throughout the story.

Nara, La Pluie

Nara is another in the category of the subverted femme fatale trope, but this show took that much further by writing her with so much empathy and making her a fully fleshed out character with her own arc and even the start of a new romance by the end. It is still the best treatment of an ex-girlfriend character I have ever seen in a BL.

Fujisaki/Pai, Cherry Magic

Speaking of trope subversion, let's give a shoutout to these two corrective takes on the fujoshi archetype. Each version of this story did it a bit differently, but the common thread was that Fujisaki and Pai only wanted the best for their friends, and kept a firm line on how much to interfere in their relationship. Fujisaki is gentle and kind, offering small encouragements and nice gestures. Pai is much more of an enthusiastic fangirl so I was a bit weary at the start of her story, but the show used her fannish interests as an opportunity to model respectful fan behavior and I was quite pleased in the end.

Yiwa, Wedding Plan

And of course, I have to mention the current title holder for best female character in a BL, Wedding Plan's Yiwa. She is not only a great character in terms of having a fully formed personality, clear motivations, and a great set of relationships, she is also the engine that drives the entire narrative. I am still kinda amazed she exists.

This is separate but related to the recent increase in GL content and GL side couples in BLs, which is also getting steadily better. And I want both! I want solid GL dramas where the girls own the narrative, and I want BLs to write women better when they choose to include them in the story. I'm encouraged by the progress we've already seen.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Truthout:

Rural La Paz County, Arizona, positioned on the Colorado River across from California, is at the center of a growing fight over water in the American Southwest. At the heart of the battle is a question: Should water be treated as a human right, to be allocated by governments with the priority of sustaining life? Or is it a commodity to be bought, sold and invested in for the greatest profits?

As the West suffers its worst megadrought in 1,200 years, investors have increasingly eyed water as a valuable asset and a resource to be exploited. For years, investment firms have bought up farmland throughout the Southwest, drilling to new depths for their water-hungry crops and causing nearby wells to run dry. Now, new players have entered the scene: “Water management companies” are purchasing up thousands of acres of farmland, with the intention of selling the water rights at a profit to cities and suburbs elsewhere in the state. Some argue that treating water as a commodity can efficiently get it where it is needed most. But others fear that water markets open the door to profiteering and hoarding, leaving poorer communities in the dust.

In 2013 and 2014, GSC Farm, a subsidiary of a water management company called Greenstone Resource Partners, which is backed by MassMutual, bought nearly 500 acres of farmland in Cibola, a tiny town in Arizona’s La Paz County, for just under $10 million. The farmland comes with the rights to more than 2,000 acre-feet of Colorado River water a year. (An acre-foot is the amount of water it takes to cover one acre with one foot of water.) Then in 2018, Greenstone sold the water rights, in perpetuity, to Queen Creek, a rapidly growing suburb of Phoenix nearly 200 miles away, for $24 million.

The transfer marked the first time a water management company sold Colorado River water rights. La Paz and two other counties sued to block the transfer, arguing that the Bureau of Reclamation, the federal agency that oversees water resource management, had conducted an insufficient environmental review before signing off. The counties’ request for a preliminary injunction was denied in April 2023 by a federal judge, and three months later the water began flowing down the Central Arizona Project, a 336-mile canal. Then, the judge seemingly backtracked in February 2024, ordering a more thorough environmental review.

“In the meantime, they’re still allowing for the water to flow, which we argued should have been stopped completely until the complete environmental studies have been done,” Holly Irwin, a La Paz County supervisor, told Truthout. “It’s really frustrating, not only for myself, but for the other leaders and elected officials in what we refer to as the river communities.”

The ultimate results of the lawsuit could affect how easily water management companies are able to transfer river water rights for profit in the future.

“I’ve had people already contacting me, asking, ‘Hey, look, I’m looking to buy this piece of property. It’s got water rights. Can it be transferred off the Colorado River?’” said Irwin. “Which is what we knew was going to happen. They just opened up Pandora’s box.”

Companies like Greenstone are betting that the price of water will increase. Western states generally allocate water through a “prior appropriation” policy of “first in time, first in right.” In times of shortage, those with the most senior water claims — often farmers and ranchers whose ancestors claimed Native land — are allotted their full share of water first. Now, companies like Greenstone are lining up to buy those increasingly valuable water rights.

The Colorado River provides drinking water to 40 million people across seven U.S. states, two Mexican states, and multiple tribal lands. Since 1922, its water has been allocated among the states through a framework created by the Colorado River Compact. But river volume has decreased 20 percent since the beginning of the century, leading to tense renegotiations, with the three “lower basin” states — California, Arizona and Nevada — agreeing to reduce their water shares.

Compared to Colorado River water, groundwater tends to be less regulated. Major investment banks have spent hundreds of millions buying up farms with claims to the groundwater beneath them — part of a larger movement by investors into physical assets like lumber, buildings and infrastructure.

Once pumped, groundwater aquifers in warm, dry places can take thousands of years to replenish. In an effort to conserve water basins, Arizona passed the 1980 Groundwater Management Act, heavily restricting groundwater pumping in several urban “active-management areas” (AMAs), including the Phoenix and Tucson areas. It also mandated that developers obtain a state Certificate of Assured Water Supply, demonstrating their new projects have enough water for 100 years. The law is credited as a success for protecting water levels in urban areas. But its lack of restrictions on groundwater removal from rural basins has become a concern as the state population swells and rural wells run dry.

[centrally-unplanned]

To fulfill my insufferable grey tribe quota after the antitrust post, there are some industries where the inherent monopoly is strong enough that corporate management is always going to be rent extractive in some form. Exclusive infrastructure is the most common form of this - many in the US live in broadband internet monopolies, where since private providers own the actual wire connections and building duplicate connections is incredibly wasteful, a lot of areas have only one provider who by metrics offers worse services at higher prices than in peer countries (tangent note: breaking them up nationally does nothing to address this locally) . There are still constraints - you can get hotspot internet, satellite internet, etc, these do bind prices - but they are weak.

Similar things apply to some public transit; private companies owning a subway line have a monopoly because you absolutely should not build a second line for competition's sake. They still have to price around alternate modes of transit, for sure, but depending on the city there is a "cost gap" they can extract rent from.

All of this is to say that some countries address this via price controls, and it works just fine! Tokyo's subway is managed by private companies, but the government directly intervenes in their pricing strategies, capping profit margins. Dozens of countries have price controls on various utilities. Any publicly owned company is, in a sense, doing price controls unless they are operating as a purely for-profit entity. There are costs paid by these policies, of course, but they absolutely can provide greater benefits than those costs.

Like everything else, price controls are actually just a tool in the box. They are often portrayed as theoretically impossible; that they are the slippery slope to central planning a la the USSR, and that they will necessarily blow up. If you were doing it for the whole economy it is true enough (*puts the 20 page essay on the evolution of GOSPLAN to the side with a sigh of remorse and longing*), but for individual goods it just isn't that hard to calculate the marginal price of a good, understand that price, and then subsidize it or w/e for your social end without blowing up your entire supply chain. This happens all the time, it is called a firm; all of them do internal price controls.

The problems with price controls are not that theoretical calculation debate stuff, but instead that governments just generally aren't very good at things and fuck shit up all the time. Sometimes you need to do some kind of policy anyway, for some things markets do not work at all so you just gotta do your best. But price controls are exactly the kind of thing governments fuck up the most, and so using them needs to clear an exceptionally high bar. In practice, most problems never do. There is almost always another, better way to address the problem that will fuck up less. But it is just costs vs benefits in the end, it isn't a magic box. You can price control subways, it's fine enough. Don't price control groceries, that is not going to work. Different industries, different policies.

[bangtan-in-black]

VIVE LA RÉVOLUTION

Chapter 1: the beginning.

‘Many many years ago’

That's how most stories start, right? Stories that entail a damsel in distress unable to do as much as defend herself, or would be so ditsy as to leave her magical shoe behind.

Yes ‘many many years ago’ is used to tell stories, these olden folk tales. Stories that are told to make village daughters work for their happily ever after. A happily ever after in which all likelihood would never come to them. Would never arrive on the common girls doorsteps like they so desperately desired.

These are all they are, tales and stories promising a better future that would never come.

~~~~~~~~

Another day rises over the mor. The soft light awakens the village's inhabitants.

A tired sigh leaves your lips as you are one of the first to rise on this new day.

A dull ache remains at the bottom of your back from the injury acquired days ago, where you had slipped over a glistening wet rock on the way back uphill from the town market, on your way back to your workhouse.

The red lion workhouse.

Far from the life you'd heard and even imagined as a child hearing the stories of lower class peasants like you, as you were often called by nobles passing through the shacks and muddy barren fields. The peasants in the stories were able to leave their station with their gentry and noble husbands. A glint in their eyes as they walked towards their new life with their husbands. A ring on their finger and a life in the lap of luxury secured.

Time.

Time had been the one to slap that dream out of your head. The cruelest reality of all, indeed. The one where you realized that no prince on a white stallion would come riding up the mountains for you.

Any hope of that happening died that day, 15 years ago.

The moment the king's soldiers, the knights came to town.

They had stormed into your small village where your family lived. They came marching towards your shack, dragged your parents out of bed and mutilated them where they stood while they made you, their child watch on in horror as they were tortured and finally being thrown into the blazing flame that ate away at your home where you'd all lived.

Your tiny body held back despite the struggle against the stoney like hold of the royal pests holding onto you.

You screamed out for your parents to come back to you from the fire.

You were found in front of your burnt down home after the knights had ridden off into the dark distance.

Madam Rouge, the village wealthiest resident, was the one to find you after the tragic events of that night. Scandalous red lipstick painting her lips, the torch in her hands highlighted the gleam in her eager eyes, eyes eager to help.

She dragged you back to the red lion that night.

Her kindness was what kept you alive, but you were too young, too young and naive to realize her kindness came with a price.

Yes, that was something you soon learned. Everything came with a price.

Madam Rouge's greatest pleasure in life was dolling her girls up as if the young peasants were royalty.

You were a particular victim of this. Often being pulled away from the other girls working.

Madam rouge may have been many things, but cruel to the ones she took in was not one of them.

She was firm but fair.

She gave you and many other girls homes through the years. Food and water being given to you when you could've been lying dead in the streets.

The girls, of course, had to work for what they had. And you worked the hardest, so happy to be alive. To be given a chance to have a family again.

But of course with every good thing comes a bad, many of the girls found it unfair. These girls were Madam Rouge's least favorite girls.

Spoiled, entitled and quite frankly, dull.

Of course a woman of her refined elegance would not take kindly to such behaviors.

The morning sun poking through the windows with the worn wooden frames. This was truly a sight accustomed to you by now, a surefire way to know it was time for the workday to start.

Getting up before the rest of the girls had become pure routine by this point. It was something you'd always prided yourself on ever since you first came to the red lion workhouse, your work ethic outshined any others in the shared house of labour.

There was something about the way madam red looked at you when you did the job better than everyone else.

Pride. A pride strongly glistening in her dark brown eyes.

If such a thing was possible you'd even describe her gaze as shining. A genuine pride that she held for you made you feel worthwhile, it almost felt motherly.

Almost.

You knew she could never ever be your mother, and she didn't try to be but that didn't stop you from reaching for her highest praises. They were the closest thing you'd experienced to parental pride for 13 years.

The closest you'd have for the rest of your life.

Getting ready for another tiresome workday was as tantalisingly mundane, as usual. Throwing your H/L H/C hair up into a scruffy loose ponytail. The birds continued singing, the cows kept mooing.

Walking down the olden wooden steps that were practically breaking apart. First thing on the agenda today was to help feed the rest of the girls in the mess hall.

It seemed as if fate had other plans as you were distracted from your path to the kitchens by the mistress of the red lion herself. Lady Rouge, much preferring her former title of madam, but was still three times the lady compared to most snobby nobles.

“Y/N i thought that was you? Come sit with us for a moment dear, you deserve the break. A proper lady like you should never have calluses.”

That was something that had always confused you greatly. You were going to get calluses working in a workhouse, but Madam Rouge seemed to believe that you were the only one above working hard enough for calluses. You were also the only one she ever called a lady, you'd never thought to question why. It must be because you were the youngest girl she'd ever brought into the red lion. She still sees you as the baby she had taken in.

She sat there with her posture perfectly poised, sipping a sweet smelling tea from a delicately painted teacup. She was adorning her usual attire with her hat placed splendidly on the solid oak coffee table.

Sitting opposite her was a face you had not seen for almost a year and a half. A woman wearing a navy blue hanbok. Her outfit was sophisticated for the village, but you doubted that nobles from the capital would ever even set their eyes on the scruffy silk patterns embedded on the course material. The brunette smiled, her hands caressing her large stomach.

“Oh my! Congratulations” you smiled brightly, truly elated at the sight of one of the older girls from the house doing so well. Sylvia smiles, her eyes creasing in the corners as she takes a sip of an equally sweet smelling tea.

“Oh well it's a lot of work but it's worth it to raise a future knight.” Sylvia says excitedly but her excitement makes you pause.

“A knight?” you couldn't help but ask incredulously.

Sylvia's eyelashes fluttered as her gaze fell to you and her smile dissipated.

“Yes, a knight, my little boy is already so strong.” she said with a certain look in her eye and the way she spoke had an edge, a colder, more stern edge than before.

“Boy?” you asked again, a little confused as to how she was so sure of her baby's sex.

Sylvia's eye twitches as she forces an almost unbearably noticeable smile on her pale pink lips. “Yes, a boy. I would never dishonour my husband, the man who gives me such a good life by giving him a girl.” her eyes look down at you as if you had killed her unborn child. Her eyes were filled with something akin to pure hatred.

Madam Rouge smiles as if not noticing the newly tense atmosphere in the workhouse common room. “I knew you'd bring honour to the red household” Lady Rouge smiled brightly as if all the village's problems had just been solved.

You’d stopped paying attention by this point, too entranced by something that Sylvia had said earlier.

Many thoughts swirled around your head at once. But the one most prominent was the one screaming at you to take this woman's baby from her as she clearly had no regard for anyone other than herself and ‘honour’.

Of course you knew you couldn't really take her baby away, but it hurt your heart to know of the future that this child will be forced into. Never feeling enough unless he becomes a knight and brings his mother honour.

“You'd really wish for your son to become a knight? Even after the royal platoon burned our homes to the ground?” You were unable to keep your tongue to yourself it seems as the words that spill out of you cause a huge sense of panic at the realisation that you’d voiced your thoughts. The question was asked sharply, something whic clearly bothered the mother to be.

“Y/N, they burned your home to the ground, not mine. My son will do as I say and you will keep yourself out of my business because you are pathetic. You hold onto hatred of the people who govern us. They give us everything an youre still not grateful? . Spoiled brat, even after your parents died you had everything handed to you. Didn't have to do anything but be as pathetic as you are to become madams favourite." There was a sick enjoyment in her eyes as she spluttered off her filth.

A deep ashamed feeling creeps into your stomach as you mutter a quiet apology.

“That's right, respect your betters. I worked for everything I have. You're just a sad little girl whose parents died and so madam pitties you because of your losses. If I want my son to bring honour to his family, he will do as I say.” Sylvia felt a sick sense of pride seeing the tears gather in your waterline.

Madam rouges face, once painted with a pleased smile, turns to solid stone as she watches the exchange between her favourite and a former girl of hers.

“My son will even bring honour to you, everyone in this rat infested squalor in fact.” Sylvia sneers.

You thought that out of everyone that Sylvias would be the most likely to understand her stance and the horrid resentment that you held towards the royal knights. Sylvia's story was perhaps more harrowing than your own so you simply couldn't understand why she was jumping so gallantly to the knights defence.

“That's enough Y/N, go and get some eggs from the chickens and some milk.” Madam Rouge raises her voice bitterly, even as she spoke to you, her fiery gaze was trapped on Sylvia. “And Sylvia,”

The brunette perks up, foolishly expecting to be praised.

“I’d not speak of honour while you force your own desired future on your unborn baby, a future in which he's with people who slaughtered your whole family.” Both you and sylvia became silent at madam Rouges outburst. Her breathing now gone ragged.

“This is not how I raised either of you. Start behaving like the proper ladies I've raised. Sylvia id like to have a word with you before you go. Y/N you'll need not stay here or help to cook this morning, go and gather ingredients from outside." Madam Rouge huffs.

“Yes madam.” Y/N curtsies apologetically, before rushing to go to the chicken coop and cow pen.

The room suddenly becomes eerily silent. Madam rouge looks at Sylvia with her sharp cold eyes. Sylvia shivers as madam Rouges cold demeanour becomes altogether something much darker.

“She was always your favourite” Sylvia starts, wildly off put by Madam Rouge's new frightening demeanour, Sylvia couldn't describe it. But she felt unsafe in the presence of the sole woman who raised her, a feeling that she didn't like.

Madam Rouge goes to speak but she never gets the opportunity as she is barraged with Sylvia's sudden emotion.

“Don't deny it.” there's a long period of silence,

“If I've ever treated that girl differently it's because she's deserved it.” Rouge defends.

Sylvia's resolve cracks and she utters a quiet and croaky “why? What makes her different from me or any of the other girls that've been here over the years?” Sylvia indeed felt threatened.

Madam Rouge stands firm. “Have a safe trip home little one.” she says, already turned around, prepared to walk away.

“It's always been the same! Why her! I worked hard too! I lost my family too!”

Madam rouge stops. A manic smile paints her blood red lips as she turns around, launching her sharp cruel words like a bullet.

“She's simply more beautiful than you my darling. Always has been and always will be. Do you even know what a pretty penny she'd fetch in the world of nobles looking for sluts to add to their expensive collections? You'd never be worth a sixteenth of her price.”

Sylvia stares with an unplaced hurt.

“But my dowry-” she begins to argue

“Your dowry was nothing but a cruel joke. Alas I knew it was the best offer you were going to get. You are not the prettiest girl like you believe yourself to be.” Madam Rouge retorts, un bothered as she picks at her pristine nails.

Sylvia could only nod as she fought back tears. She took a deep breath and then left quickly out of the red lion workhouse and into her chief husband's carriage that awaited her. Ready and eager to take her back down the steep hill on which the red lion was situated.

Madam Rouges expression returns to peace.

[vague-humanoid]

In late June, a company called My Israel Home hosted an expo at a Los Angeles synagogue catering to a specific clientele: Jewish Americans looking to buy a new home in Israel — or on illegal Israeli settlements in the occupied West Bank.

Similar real estate fairs have popped up across North America this year, in places such as Montreal, Toronto, New Jersey, Baltimore, and Brooklyn, and several have faced protests as the war on Gaza has brought the issue of Israeli settlements and Palestinian sovereignty to the fore.

An outbreak of violence at the LA event thrust the incident into the national spotlight. Protesters at the Adas Torah synagogue, who decried the sale of what they called “stolen land,” were met by pro-Israel counterprotesters on the West LA streets. Fights broke out among demonstrators, LA police said, while protesters reported being beaten by police with batons. The fracas was cast in the national media as an incident of violence at a place of worship, rather than a political protest at a corporate event, prompting political leaders from both parties, including President Joe Biden, to characterize the demonstration as antisemitic. The Justice Department said it is investigating the incident.

But homebuyers interested in purchasing a property in the occupied West Bank have a more convenient option for making an offer: a simple scroll through online listings. 

[qwainte]

Headcanons/speculation about how the preps acquired their wealth and current source if income:

The Harringtons: "Harrington Oil" can be seen advertized on the go-cart racetrack so we can assume they are oil tycoons. Derby is featured in Aquaberry advertisements so perhaps his family are shareholders and invest in other luxury clothing brands as well.

The Gauthiers: It's hard to say. Chad mentions Pinky's father bought her an entire ice cream factory so maybe he owns a major food manufacturing company a la Nestle. I also guess her parents are philanthropists considering that she has no qualms about donating to charity

The Taylors: Bif mentions his dad possibly bulldozing some low-income housing so I'm going to say land development and real estate. If he gets hit by a car Bif will mention his father being an attorney. I'm also going to consider Derby's little jab about him being a Democrat and say his dad is a political attorney.

The Spencers: "Spencer Shipping", a shipping manufacturing company; Tad says his father is a self-made man but perhaps his mother is old-money, hence the inbreeding. She may have came from an old British aristocrat family, and Tad does his best to replicate her accent.

The Vanderveldes: Sounds like "Vanderbilt" so imma say railroads

The Vendomes: Gord's dad is an attorney and owns a law firm that specializes in criminal cases. He also owns several hotels so he's in the hospitality business

The Montroses: Bryce's dad has gambled away most of their money and whatever source of wealth they have isn't enough to get their family out of debt. The best guess I can give is that his father is an investor and is currently seeing little to no returns on his investments (after more digging I found a quote were Bryce states his father told him he "lost a bundle in the stock market").

The Ogilvies: Literally no dialogue hints at his family's business so let's say his father owns a large vehicle manufacturing company and his mother is a professional conductor.

The Morrises: Chad mentions his father a lot like he's a really important person so perhaps he's in politics or works on the board of education. He mentions not receiving his usual care package from his mother, meaning that she may not live nearby in the Vale. She may have a profession that requires her to travel a lot. Judging by Chad's quotes about the environment I'd say she's an environmentalist.

[christian-dubuis-santini]

Tout était faux, ceux au pouvoir et leurs complices ont menti de bout en bout, ce n’était pas une "pandémie", la guenille faciale ne sert strictement à rien contre un virus respiratoire, les "vaccins" n’étaient ni sûrs ni efficaces, n’empêchaient pas de contracter la maladie ni de la transmettre, ils ont des effets secondaires redoutables, ce n’était en vérité qu’une monstrueuse opération de marketing planétaire qui reprenait les mêmes ingrédients que la campagne H1N1 qui avait échoué (regardez les extraits, Bachelot dit les mêmes mots, sur le même ton…) La différence entre 2007 et 2020 ? La sophistication des moyens de contrôler les populations liée au développement du numérique… Ces opérations n’ont rien à voir avec la santé de quiconque qui est l’affaire de chacun, ce sont des opérations fascistes (lisez la définition qu’en donnait Mussolini) destinées à habituer les citoyens à se voir priver de leurs libertés fondamentales pour les livrer à la domination d’un appareil d’État lui-même inféodé aux firmes privées et à des intérêts particuliers… La politique ne se définit-elle pas précisément de ce qui échappe au diktat économique, d’autant plus lorsque l’économie est dominée par l’abstraction réelle des marchés financiers ?

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kashmir Hill’s “Your Face Belongs to Us”

This Friday (September 22), I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. That night, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

Your Face Belongs To Us is Kashmir Hill's new tell-all history of Clearview AI, the creepy facial recognition company whose origins are mired in far-right politics, off-the-books police misconduct, sales to authoritarian states and sleazy one-percenter one-upmanship:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/691288/your-face-belongs-to-us-by-kashmir-hill/

Hill is a fitting chronicler here. Clearview first rose to prominence – or, rather, notoriety – with the publication of her 2020 expose on the company, which had scraped more than a billion facial images from the web, and then started secretly marketing a search engine for faces to cops, spooks, private security firms, and, eventually, repressive governments:

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/18/technology/clearview-privacy-facial-recognition.html

Hill's original blockbuster expose was followed by an in-depth magazine feature and then a string more articles, which revealed the company's origins in white nationalist movements, and the mercurial jourey of its founder, Hoan Ton-That:

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/03/18/magazine/facial-recognition-clearview-ai.html

The story of Clearview's technology is an interesting one, a story about the machine learning gold-rush where modestly talented technologists who could lay hands on sufficient data could throw it together with off-the-shelf algorithms and do things that had previously been considered impossible. While Clearview has plenty of competitors today, as recently as a couple of years ago, it played like a magic trick.

That's where the more interesting story of Clearview's founding comes in. Hill is a meticulous researcher and had the benefit of a disaffected – and excommunicated – Clearview co-founder, who provided her with masses of internal communications. She also benefited from the court documents from the flurry of lawsuits that Clearview prompted.

What emerges from these primary sources – including multiple interviews with Ton-That – is a story about a move-fast-and-break-things company at the tail end of the forgiveness-not-permission era of technological development. Clearview's founders are violating laws and norms, they're short on cash, and they're racing across the river on the backs of alligators, hoping to reach the riches on the opposite bank without losing a leg.

A decade ago, they might have played as heroes. Today, they're just grifters – bullshitters faking it until they make it, lying to Hill (and getting caught out), and the rest of us. The founders themselves are erratic weirdos, and not the fun kind of weirdos, either. Ton-That – who emigrated to Silicon Valley from Australia as a teenager, seeking a techie's fortune – comes across as a bro-addled dimbulb who threw his lot in with white nationalists, MAGA Republicans, Rudy Guiliani bagmen, Peter Theil, and assorted other tech-adjascent goblins.

Meanwhile, biometrics generally – and facial recognition specifically – is a discipline with a long and sordid history, inextricably entwined with phrenology and eugenics, as Hill describes in a series of interstitial chapters that recount historical attempts to indentify the facial features that correspond with criminality and low intelligence.

These interstitials are woven into a-ha moments from Clearview's history, in which various investors, employees, hangers-on, competitors and customers speculate about how a facial-recognition system could eventually not just recognize criminals, but predict criminality. It's a potent reminder of the AI industry's many overlaps with "race-science" and other quack beliefs.

Hill also describes how Clearview and its competitors' recklessness and arrogance created the openings for shrewd civil libertarians to secure bipartisan support for biometric privacy laws, most notably Illinois' best-of-breed Biometric Information Privacy Act:

https://www.ilga.gov/legislation/ilcs/ilcs3.asp?ActID=3004&ChapterID=57

But by the end of the book, Hill makes the case that Ton-That and his competitors have gotten away with it. Facial recognition is now so easy to build that – she says – we're unlikely to abolish it, despite all the many horrifying ways that FR could fuck up our societies. It's a sobering conclusion, and while Hill holds out some hope for curbing the official use of FR, she seems resigned to a future in which – for example – creepy guys covertly snap photos of women on the street, use those pictures to figure out their names and addresses, and then stalk and harass them.

If she's right, this is Ton-That's true legacy, and the legacy of the funders who handed him millions to spend building this. Perhaps someone else would have stepped into that sweaty, reckless-grifter-shaped hole if Ton-That hadn't been there to fill it, but in our timeline, we can say that Ton-That was the bumbler who helped destroy something precious.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/20/steal-your-face/#hoan-ton-that

[harrrystyles-writing]

Little Family

Sinopse: Onde S/n assisti a uma entrevista onde Harry diz que ainda a ama.

Personagens: Ex!Harry X Leitora.

Avisos: Um pouco ou muita angústia com final feliz?

Frases: Você foi embora e eu implorei para que isso nunca acontecesse porque eu ainda te amava, você não acha que merecia alguém que estivesse disposto a ficar? /Você é um maldito narcisista. /Por favor, eu não posso, eu não quero discutir esta noite./ Por que você esperou tanto para me dizer como se sente ?

NotaAutora: Juntei dois pedidos, com muitas frases kkkkk mas achei que elas se encaixaram tão bem, então espero que gostem🥰

Pedido anonimo| Pedido: fluff n14º aqui

MASTERLIST

Você saiu do carro e respirou fundo, tentando acalmar todas suas emoções, já era muito difícil ver Harry após decidirem dividir a guarda de sua linda garotinha quando ele terminou o noivado, mas após ter visto aquela maldita entrevista, certamente não sabia se conseguiria vê-lo sem desmoronar.

Às palavras dele ainda ecoavam em sua mente.

— Então, Harry, você agora é pai, certo? Como está a paternidade para você?

— Eu amo ser pai, minha pequena Anne é a melhor coisa que aconteceu em minha vida.

— S/n, é uma boa mãe?

— S/n é uma mãe incrível, ela é muito compreensiva com minha carreira, à dedicação e amor que ela dá a nossa filha é admirável e eu a amo mais por isso.

— Ahhh! Que lindo, mas vocês estão separados, certo?

— Sim, infelizmente, mas S/n é o amor da minha vida, é a mãe da minha filha, um amor desses não desaparece assim.

— Se arrepende pelo término? Se não for muito difícil dizer.

— Todos os dias, mas acho que não há salvação para mim.

— Oh! Harry Todos nós merecemos uma segunda chance, tenho certeza que se ainda se amam acharam o caminho de volta.

— Quem sabe um dia, eu realmente gostaria muito de consertar as coisas.

Segurando firme todo ressentimento, apertou a campainha, suas mãos não conseguiam ficar quietas nos poucos segundos que esperou a porta ser aberta, Harry com um sorriso no rosto apareceu, ele estava tão bonito como sempre, com seu cabelo recém cortado, a barba feita, foi impossível não sentir aquela pontada de saudades ao olhá-lo.

"Oi." Disse tímida.

"Oi" Ele parecia feliz em vê-la.

"Anne está pronta?"

"Bem, na verdade, estamos jantando."

"Eu disse que viria às 20:00, ela já deveria estar pronta, Harry." Você suspirou irritada.

A cada minuto perto dele era uma tortura.

"Nós perdemos um pouco a noção de tempo enquanto brincávamos, me desculpe." Ele coçou a cabeça. "Por que você não fica um pouco? Você está com fome? Se quiser pode jantar com a gente?" Sugeriu casualmente.

Como se não tivesse destruído seu coração.

"Não estou, mas posso ficar um pouco."

Sentar naquela mesa era estranho, parecerem uma família, quando agora não passavam de dois estranhos.

Mesmo você insistindo que não, Harry preparou um prato para você, ele ajudava a pequena Anne a comer os legumes.

"Muito goxtoso papai." A garotinha de 2 anos agradeceu.

"Obrigada minha pequena." Ele sorriu.

Era agonizante ver aquele momento feliz entre pai e filha.

Você não tocou na comida, mas o ajudou a tirar a mesa, depois que sua filha terminou de comer, e o observou terminar de arrumar as coisas de Anne para levá-la para casa.

"Eu vi a entrevista." Não conseguiu evitar dizer assim que viu Harry amarrando os sapatos de sua filha.

"O quê?" No mesmo instante ele virou-se para você.

"À entrevista que saiu hoje, sobre você, sobre nós, às pessoas não param de me marcar."

"Me desculpe, eu só…"

"Tudo bem." Você o interrompeu. "Mas não nos mencione de novo, eu não sei que tipo de marketing você pensava ganhar com isso, como bom pai ou noivo arrependido, mas por favor não nos envolva nisso."

"Eu não... Eu nunca faria isso com vocês."

"Como disse que nunca ia nos deixar? Mas olha o que aconteceu não é?"

"S/n!" Ele se levantou, tentando se aproximar.

Ele estava tão arrependido. Não foi intenção menciona-lá na entrevista, apenas saiu.

"Não me toque, por favor." Ele se afastou no instante seguinte. "Obrigado."

"Eu quero muito poder esclarecer as coisas, podemos ter essa conversa, hoje?" Ele disse tímido. "Uma hora temos que conversar."

"Por favor, eu não posso, eu não quero discutir esta noite."

"Não tenho essa intenção, eu só quero conversar, eu prometo que depois disso você pode só ir embora sem dizer nada, se quiser."

"Você faz muitas promessas para alguém que as quebra na primeira oportunidade." Isso foi como uma facada no coração de Harry. "E não acho que seja uma boa ideia, eu preciso levar a Anne para casa, já está tarde."

"Ela pode dormir aqui, um dia a mais não fará mal, eu faço uma xícara de chá e podemos conversar como dois adultos, só me dê essa chance, por favor?" Ele implorou com seu olhar triste. Era uma ideia estúpida, mas você gostaria de ouvir o que ele tinha a dizer, vocês nunca tiveram uma conversa após o término, talvez essa fosse a hora certa. "S/n?"

"Tudo bem."

Demorou um pouco mais de meia hora quando Harry apareceu na cozinha novamente, você não se atreveu a ficar com ele para fazer sua filha dormir, era muito doloroso, então em um abraço apertado e um beijo você se despediu dela na porta do quarto improvisado que ele fez, antes dele começar a contar a história de ninar.

"Oi." Ele sorriu ao vê-la sentada em sua banqueta.

"Oi."

"Ainda gosta de chá de frutas vermelhas com um toque de mel?"

"Sim." Seu rosto corou.

Ele ainda lembrava.

Já faz um ano desde que ele simplesmente foi embora e tem sido os piores meses de sua vida, mas estar ali sentada vendo ele preparar o chá, você não sabia por que, mas a fez se sentir em casa.

"Aqui está." Ele passou a xícara fumegante antes de ficar em pé recostado ao balcão em sua frente.

"Obrigado."

"Está... Está tudo bem se eu disser que eu realmente... Eu realmente sinto sua falta?" Ele gaguejou sentindo seu peito apertar.

"Não, acho que você perdeu esse direito no momento em que me abandonou."

"Eu não abandonei você, eu continuo aqui, cuidando de Anne."

"Você continua aqui por ela, não por mim, então não diga que sente minha falta, não fale que me ama em rede nacional quando você nem merece dizer meu nome depois do que fez." Você despejou todo ressentimento guardado em cima dele.

"Me perdoe, eu não queria que as coisas fossem assim, eu realmente não queria."

Um silêncio se instalou no ambiente por alguns minutos.

"Eu só quero que você saiba S/n, você não sai da minha mente, é uma merda, eu não consigo te esquecer, foi difícil para caralho esse ano sem ter você por perto e eu vivo de migalhas, só esperando você aparecer para trazer e pegar a Anne e eu poder te ver, eu sinto falta de como éramos, vocês significam muito para mim, você significa muito para mim."

"Você está brincando comigo?!" Você riu amargamente. "Você é um maldito narcisista." Você apontou o dedo para ele. "Se eu realmente significasse muito para você, você teria ficado." Você não queria brigar com Harry, mas não conseguia parar de sentir toda a dor e raiva que ele causou. "Você foi embora e eu implorei para que isso nunca acontecesse porque eu ainda te amava, você não acha que merecia alguém que estivesse disposto a ficar?" Você pensou que nunca mais iria chorar por Harry, mas estava errada.

"Eu estraguei tudo, eu sei, mas não há um dia que não pense e me arrependa disso." Diz cabisbaixo. "Você não merecia, eu sei disso." Ele levantou o rosto, você pôde ver que ele também tinha seu rosto molhado pelas lágrimas. "Eu só fiquei com medo, medo de estragar tudo e, no fundo, eu realmente fiz isso."

"Do que você tinha tanto medo? Porque eu não entendo Harry, eu fiz de tudo para que déssemos certo." Você se levantou, não conseguindo mais se manter parada naquela cadeira.

"Eu sempre achei que nunca seria o suficiente para você, para nossa filha, eu não poderia te dar uma vida normal à vocês, eu queria, como eu tentei, o primeiro ano em que passamos com nossa filha juntos foi incrível, aquela bolha que criamos em volta de nós era perfeita, eu nunca fui tão feliz em passar todo aquele ano com vocês em casa, havia aquela maldita pandemia, mas eu estava com vocês, em casa e eu nunca me sentir tão normal, porém quando eu precisei sair de novo, voltar para minha vida de shows e mais shows e isso foi me consumindo, me fez sentir inútil pra caralho, como um pai ruim e um noivo ruim, então pensei que fosse melhor só deixá-la livre para achar alguém que pudesse te dar tudo o que eu nunca poderia dar."

"Por que você esperou tanto para me dizer como se sente?" Você aproximou-se um pouco mais, não o suficiente. "Se você me contasse isso, nós poderíamos darmos um jeito em vez de deixar chegar tão longe."

"Porque assim que tivemos a Anne, você sempre fazia planos sobre a casa perfeita, sobre nosso casamento perfeito e nossa vida perfeita e era assustador, eu sentia como se você esperasse que eu fosse outra pessoa, sempre mencionado o casamento perfeito e monótono de seus pais, como você invejava a vida normal que eles tiveram, era como se eu não pudesse me encaixar nesse papel perfeito de pai e marido que você tanto sonhava."

"Harry! Eu nunca pedi para você mudar por mim, eu sempre amei você e nossa vida como era, sim, talvez não fosse como eu queria muitas vezes, mas ainda era você e ainda era nossa pequena família e era isso que importava." Você se recusou a acreditar nele.

"Você nunca disse, mas era como eu me sentia perto de você e era realmente muito difícil para mim então eu só precisei ir, mas eu arrependo todos os dias por isso porque eu pensei que seria melhor assim, que era o certo a se fazer, mas depois de um tempo eu realmente comecei a me perguntar se havia feito a coisa certa, porque o vazio em meu coração não parecia ter fim." Ele deu um passo em sua direção e você não se afastou desta vez.

"Eu sinto muito, eu nunca quis que se sentisse assim, se eu soubesse talvez eu pudesse só mudar e consertar o que estava errado."

"Eu sei que não, mas não havia como consertar porque o problema não era você nunca foi você, hoje eu entendo que projetei todo meu medo em nossa família." Às mãos dele viajaram até suas mãos, envolvendo-as levemente, quando você não se moveu, ele soube o que precisava dizer. "Eu te amo"

"Não diga isso, por favor, não."

"Você não precisa dizer nada, eu só quero que saiba."

"Harry, você não sabe que dizer coisas assim me machucam?"

"Me deixa consertar as coisas, fazer isso passar."

"Eu não posso simplesmente deixar você entrar na minha vida de novo, entende? Você causou essa dor!"

"Eu sei, eu sei e sei que sou o único que posso fazer ela ir embora."

"Não é tão fácil, você foi embora por um motivo, então por que desta vez seria diferente?"

"Porque eu vou fazer dar certo, eu não me importo com o que tenho que fazer, eu deixo minha carreira de lado para viver uma vida com vocês se for preciso, porque eu odeio o que nos tornamos, odeio não acordar todos os dias ao seu lado e não suportaria vê-la com outro alguém, eu to aqui agora implorando por uma chance, eu quero consertar as coisas, por favor, me dê a chance de mostrar que mudei, me dê a chance não apenas por nós, mas também para a nossa Anne, ela merece crescer e ver seus pais juntos, você pertence à mim e eu pertenço a você, nós dois sabemos disso, não há como negar que nascemos um para o outro."

Ele pareceu tão sincero, tão desesperado, você sentiu isso no fundo da sua alma, sua confissão fez seu coração se apertar, você realmente queria acreditar, mas seu ego ferido ainda a deixava desconfiada.

"Eu não quero que você se sinta pressionado de novo em dar a vida perfeita para mim, eu não quero que você desista do seu sonho, Harry, eu nunca quis." Você murmurou tristemente. "Eu não quero que se sentia como se sentia, então do que valeria a pena estarmos juntos se você não estivesse feliz?"

"Porque eu não me sinto mais assim e nada disso importa se eu não tiver você, eu não sou feliz sem você."

"Harry, eu... Eu estou com medo."

"Tudo bem ter medo." Ele pegou seu rosto entre as mãos. "Eu também estou." Aqueles olhos verdes estavam focados nos seus como se visse sua alma.

"Podemos ir devagar?" Suspirou fechando os olhos. "Ainda preciso de um tempo para conseguir olhá-lo sem que meu coração doa."

"Eu esperaria mil vidas por você, porque vale a pena esperar por você, então , quando você estiver pronta, estarei bem aqui." Harry proferiu descansando sua testa na sua.

"Obrigado."

Você se aconchegou nos braços dele em um abraço e Harry não conteve o sorriso que invadiu seus lábios, era tudo o que ele mais queria, ter sua pequena família novamente.

Muito obrigado por ler até aqui! Se gostou por favor considere deixar uma ask aqui, com seu Feedback, isso é realmente muito importante pra mim e minha escrita 🥰

Taglist: @say-narry @umadirectioner @harry-sofrida

[tackmediaus]

Digital Marketing Agencies Los Angeles

Explore the top digital marketing agencies in Los Angeles? Tack Media offers a range of services including SEO, SMM, branding, graphic design, website design, development, and multimedia. For more information, please visit our website.

[beardedmrbean]

A Los Angeles social justice advocate was killed on Monday when a homeless woman, who lived out of her car, broke into his home and shot him.

Michael Latt, 33, the founder of the social justice group Lead With Love, was the victim of a “tragic act of violence” after he was found suffering from a gunshot wound before being transported to a local hospital, where he was pronounced dead.

The suspect, identified as Jameelah Elena Michl, broke into the Mid-Wilshire neighborhood home around 6 p.m., the LAPD announced in a statement.

Michl, 36, remained on the scene and was taken into LAPD custody while she was standing outside the home.

A motive behind the shooting — as well as whether Latt and Michl knew each other — remain unknown, but the incident is being treated as a random act of violence, according to the LA Times, citing police sources.

Michl was arrested and booked on a murder charge and is being held on $3 million bail, as her vehicle was booked as evidence.

Latt’s family paid tribute on his Instagram page, saying he spent his career helping others, especially from minority groups.

“Our beloved son, brother, grandson, fiancé Michael Latt, fell victim to a tragic act of violence Monday night,” the post read alongside a photo of Latt, his brother and his parents. “Our family, Michael’s extraordinary friends and colleagues are shattered by the profound grief of losing our Michael.”

“He devoted his career to supporting others, championing organizations that raised up women and artists of color, along with leveraging storytelling, art and various mediums to create enduring change and instill communities with hope, love and inspiration. Michael will never be forgotten and we can all carry on his legacy of love, compassion and fierce dedication to positive and lasting change.”

Latt’s neighbors didn’t hear the gunshots but remembered the activist as a sweet guy who lived with his partner.

“I’m heartbroken, I’m shocked,” Avarie Shevin, Latt’s next-door neighbor, told to KTLA. “I was looking out my window and saw a female standing in the walkway with her hands up and they took her into custody.”

“He is a super-sweet guy,” Shevin said. “He and his girlfriend lived there with a dog and a cat. He’s just very mellow. I can’t wrap my brain around what could’ve happened that caused him to be shot and killed. I keep picturing his face and I cannot believe he has passed.”

Latt founded Lead With Love, a marketing consulting firm focused on elevating black and other underrepresented entertainers in Hollywood.

He was photographed with rapper Common in 2020 at a rally in Kentucky for Breonna Taylor, the black EMT killed by police inside her own residence during a raid.

[theculturedmarxist]

China’s path to reducing carbon emissions should be determined by China and not controlled by anyone else, President Xi Jinping told dozens of officials, at the same time as US climate envoy John Kerry is in Beijing seeking consensus on global warming.

Xi was speaking at a two-day national conference on ecological and environmental protection that started on Monday, Chinese state broadcaster CCTV reported on Tuesday night.

“China’s commitments are unswerving, but the path towards the goals as well as the manner, pace and intensity of efforts to achieve them should and must be determined by the country itself, rather than swayed by others,” he said.

“[We should] actively and steadily work toward carbon peaking and carbon neutrality, foster a clean, low-carbon, safe and efficient energy system, accelerate the formation of a new power system and strengthen the country’s capability of guaranteeing oil and gas security.”

Xi also urged the country to safeguard ecological security and nuclear and radiation safety to “ensure that the natural environment and conditions, which are the foundation of survival and development, are not threatened or damaged”.

He asked for a concerted legal, market, technological and policy effort to achieve his goals.

The conference was attended by all seven members of the Politburo Standing Committee, the pinnacle of the party’s decision-making apparatus, as well as a wide range of party and government bodies.

Kerry, whose four-day visit concludes on Wednesday, has met Premier Li Qiang and top diplomat Wang Yi, as he seeks consensus on the fight against climate change.

There are also hopes his trip will add positive momentum to US-China relations, in their worst shape in decades.

Kerry tweeted on Tuesday that he appreciated the opportunity to have “an important discussion” with Li on how the US and China can work together to keep the pledge to limit global warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius about pre-industrial levels – a commitment of the 2015 Paris agreement – alive.

Li called for both sides to stick to climate commitments made in the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change and the Paris Agreement.

Xi promised in September 2020 that China’s carbon emissions would peak by 2030 and become carbon neutral by 2060. In 2021, he said China would tightly control coal consumption and gradually reduce it after 2025.

China has repeatedly emphasised the need to secure its energy security and deliver on its climate commitments.

The most recent government work report to address the issue – submitted to the National People’s Congress, China’s legislature, in March by the previous premier Li Keqiang – said research and development of clean energy was a priority for 2023.

In April, the National Energy Administration announced plans to add 160 million kilowatts of installed wind and solar capacity by the end of this year, boosting the share of wind and solar electricity to 15.3 per cent of society’s energy use.

“Three years after making its carbon-reduction pledge, China’s energy and industrial transitions are still far from complete,” said Ma Jun, director of the Institute for Public and Environmental Affairs, a non-profit environmental research firm.

While China’s renewable energy is increasing, China has approved more coal projects recently, noted Ma. “Due to complex geopolitical changes, China has shifted its focus to energy security,” he said.

A major stumbling block to an agreement between the US and China on climate issues is China’s use of coal power. Washington wants China to reduce its domestic reliance on coal to cut more methane emissions. But Xi has reiterated many times that it is a matter of “energy security”.

There has been a significant increase in approvals for coal power projects within China since last summer’s extreme heatwave, which led to power supply crunches in several southern provinces. The rise in domestic approvals has sparked international concern about China’s ability to deliver on its climate promise.

On Kerry’s last visit to China in August 2021, he asked Beijing to stop funding coal power projects outside its borders. A month later, at the UN General Assembly, Xi announced that China would no longer build new coal power overseas.

Regarding China and US’s differences in climate issues and carbon reduction, Ma said, “What we have to see is what kind of cooperation the two sides are going to go for, and whether they can achieve a win-win situation on what each side is good at.”

[rjmartin11]

I'm Aaron

Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Elvis & female!reader

Summary: You're a workaholic who decides to take a private mini vacation in Las Vegas. While there, you stumble into and befriend a handsome stranger at a bar. This handsome stranger is more than meets the eye. He wants to show you a great time... privately. It's an experience that you've never had before. You soon realize that you're in over your head, and your heart is falling fast.

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: The End... with some Smut!

Author's Notes: All great stories must come to an end, but at the end of things, there is a beginning of other things. To all you beautiful souls that have liked, followed, commented, and reposted my story. A big thanks to you! I appreciate you from the bottom of my heart. This is all for the love of E.P., that beautiful man with the gorgeous soul and amazing voice. I have one more story (Just One Kiss) to complete. After that... who knows. Thank y'all again!

✧❁❁✧✿✿✧❁❁✧❁❁✧✿✿✧❁❁✧

A month has passed since you last saw Elvis. You miss him dearly, but you know in your heart that you had to make the trip to Florida to see your parents.

In that month's time, you worked to save money up for the trip to Jacksonville and to Memphis. You put a month's notice in at your job. You even helped train your replacement. The law firm would have paid you more if you stayed, but you wanted to seek more opportunity. At least that's what you told them. You sold a lot of your household things you didn't need. You put your home on the market along with your furniture.

You were living out of your little nook until a suitable buyer purchased it. The little things you couldn't get rid of like your books and clothes you put in storage until the time was suitable to leave.

You went to a record store and bought one of Elvis' albums and a record player. You played it constantly, just so it felt like he was around you. You want to memorize every song. One song in particular made your heart soar. You heard him sing it in Vegas, but you came up with a plan and surprise for him when you'd see him in Memphis.

You wrote him three times a week. Talking about how you missed him, but not informing him of your plans. You kept your letters romantic and always ended them with "I love you."

You stand on the beach, letting the waves kiss your feet as you walk up the shoreline of Jacksonville Beach. The sun is just right in the afternoon sky, and you indulge in the rays as they touch your skin. The sound of the waves crashing over the sand comfort you along with the scent of ocean breeze. It had been years since you saw the shore.

With your mother gone, there was not a reason to go to the beach. The beach was your place that you and your mother shared together. Your safe haven.

It's been years since you've stopped by your mother's grave, and you aren't ready to see it. But you know you must stop by to see her before you see her father.

You left the beach and held a cab to the resting place of your beloved mama. You bring a small boutique of tulips with you. Her favorite. As you approach her grave on foot, your heart starts to sink. You feel the tears collect in your eyes and burn as they leave the tear ducts.

There she is. Your mother's final resting place. Rain and humidity have tarnished her tombstone, but these pretty small daisy like flowers grew around her grave, making it look extra special. You fall to your knees and wept.

"Hey, Mama." You say, placing her flowers on your grave.

"We talk all the time, but to be here. To see your name on a tombstone is not my favorite thing. I like to imagine that you're somewhere else. Dancing with the angels or cooking in the kitchen. On the beach..."

You cover your mouth as you cry. Time doesn't truly heal all wounds. You just deal with it. You live life the best you can. You work and hustle and ignore the enjoyments of life, which is why Las Vegas opened your mind so much. Why Elvis means the world to you.

You think back to the day of your mother's funeral. You came in two days before the day of her burial. You decide to rent a hotel room for the time being because you couldn't be around your father. When you did show to your parent's house, you were surprised to see your father with his arms around another woman. That hypocrite. That sinning, two-faced, cheating bastard.

You didn't jump and scream like you wanted. Your mother's family embraced you with open arms. You stayed with your loving aunts and uncles and cousins. They gave you the love you needed at that time. The love of your mother's family was the love your mother gave you in your life.

You made eye contact with your father a handful of times, but the two of you didn't speak. The fear you once felt for him was dissolved into hate, and he felt it. Once the funeral concluded, you said your goodbyes, caught a cab, got your things, and got on your plane back to Atlanta. You had no plans to return to Florida. The one you loved the most in the world was gone.

"Mama..." You wipe your tears away and start to speak as if she was physically in front of you. "I came here to tell you about Elvis. The love of my life. I told you about him when I was in Vegas. That's where we met. He... Mama, he is so incredibly amazing and kind. Elvis is so much fun, and he asked me to move in with him. He hasn't asked me to be his wife, but I don't care. I just want to be with him and all it entails. I love him, Mama. I just wanted you to know. I'm happy and in love. I wish you could meet him. I'll never stop talking to you. Even if I don't come here. I will always speak to you."

You stand to your feet but not before you kiss your hand and place it on your mama's tombstone.

"I'm leaving now, Mama. I have one more person I have to see before I catch my flight. You were right. There's so much more to life."

You walk away without looking back and head to the road. You walk a little ways and spot a cab. You ask the cab driver to drive you to Della's Restaurant. You say a quick prayer as the car drives you to the restaurant.

Your cab driver pulled up to Della's, and a part of you froze.

"That'll be $15.00, Miss." The driver said.

You pass him the money, thank him, and get out of the cab, shutting the door behind you. You looked at the door of Della's. Should you really go in? You know you should. You take a deep breath and open the door.

You look around for him, but you don't see him. If he doesn't show up, you would be upset because he was never good for anything except letting you down. If he didn't show up, the sooner you could catch your plane and head to Memphis.

"Hi, ma'am." A hostess happily greeted you. "Welcome to Della's. Is it just you dining in with us?" She asked.

"I uhh..." You look down at your watch and consider the time frame. You can wait fifteen minutes. "It's... for two, ma'am." You finally tell her.

"Right this way." The hostess grabs two menus and two things of silverware. She guides you into the dining room. She sits you in a window booth where you can view the streets of busy Jacksonville.

"Your waitress will be with you soon, ma'am."

"Thank you." You say to the hostess as she walks away.

You make yourself comfortable and consider what to drink and eat before your waitress comes by. Everything on the menu looked delicious. A part of you was too nervous to eat. You remember a time when you couldn't eat this fancy. You laugh at yourself because it's funny how times change.

You glance out the window, thinking on the past. Something close to the Grapes of Wrath.

It was best of times. It was the worst of times.

For you, it was the best of times because of your mama. Your mama did everything to make life spectacular. It was the worst of times because of your father. He was the opposite. Cold and hard as ice. You wondered if he ever loved you. Try as you may, you can think of a good memory with him. You remember walking to him for love and attention, but he would walk away. Or he would pick you up and hand you to your mother.

The church preached on love, but it was as if your father lacked love. You mama was full of love and compassion and grace. She had a strength that you, yourself, prayed for. A strength you want to hone in and use for your own.

"Hi, ma'am. I'm Jenny, and I'll be your waitress for today. What can I get to drink?"

"Oh, I..." Your waitress, Jenny, snaps you back into reality. "May I have some water with lemon, please? And I'm ready to order."

"Yes, ma'am. A water with lemon and what else can I get you?" Jenny took out her pen and order pad.

"May I have a small grilled chicken sandwich with everything on it except for onions?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be back up with your drink in a moment."

Your waitress takes your menu and walks away. Two minutes later, she comes back with your water and lemon.

"Your order should be ready in ten minutes. Oh, did I miss your friend?" Jenny refers to the menu on the other side of your booth.

"He's not here yet. If he's not here by the time my food comes. You can take the menu." You state.

"Yes, ma'am." She says.

"Thank you, ma'am." You say, squeezing the freshly cut lemon into your drink.

Five minutes later, you hear the front door swing open, and there stands the Old Man. Your breath leaves you, but you can't look away from him. A part of you is shocked that even came. He approaches your table, and you don't stand to greet him. You just stare.

He's aged. A part of him looks torn down and weary. His clothes are worn, and his hair is more gray than when you saw him last.

He stops right in front of you, and for a moment, the look in eyes reads something dark. Like he wants to hit you, but you just look at him.

"Hello, Y/N." He finally speaks.

"Hello, sir." You answer back. "Please, sit down. Can I get you anything, sir?" You ask.

"Yeah. I could use a drink." He says, sitting across from you.

You stare at him again as he says this, and you think there lies the issue.

"Hi, sir. I'm Jenny. Can I get you anything to drink?" Your waitress pops over to help him out and passes you your grilled chicken sandwich.

"Yeah, a Coke." He says to Jenny.

"Yes, sir. Coming right up." Jenny says, never losing her sweetness.

"Thank you, Ms. Jenny." You say, viewing your sandwich and fries.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be back with your drink, sir."

Jenny leaves you two alone for a moment. You wanna tell him how badly he looks, but that's not only disrespectful. It's not the reason you came here. You notice the wedding back on his finger. It's not the one he wore when your mama was alive. You know now that he remarried and moved on.

"How are you, sir?" You ask, breaking the ice.

"I'm making it." He says. "You look..." He pauses.

You raise your eyebrows. Is he really about to tell you how you look?

"You look grown. Like an adult." He finishes.

"Thank you."

Jenny places his Coke in front of him and takes out her order pad.

"Ready to order, sir?"

"Order whatever you want. I'll pay for it, sir." You tell him.

A look of shock plagues his face. Are you really going to pay for his meal? He looks back up at Jenny and orders a burger medium well loaded with everything and steak fries.

"Thank you for coming, sir." You say to him. "I won't hold you for too long. I just wanted to talk to you."

"For what? What do you want?" He speaks to you so harshly.

"I want your time. I came to tell you that I fell in love and I'm moving to Tennessee to be with him."

The Old Man puffs his lips at you and takes a sip from his Coke. He rolls his eyes and steals a fry off your plate.

"So what? You choosing to live in sin?" He says.

Your dear old dad. There he is. You were huff at his actions, wondering when he was going to speak out of term.

"Don't preach to me. I didn't come here to fight or argue. I came to let you know... I'm in love with a good guy. I don't need nor want your approval, but I do think you should know. Know that I'm okay. I'm great, in fact."

"Y/N, you can barely take care of yourself. How you gonna be with a man you barely know. Why are you telling me?"

"Because you're the only other man that I've loved in my life." You speak to him calmly but firmly.

You see something shift in his eyes.

"Sir, I don't call you daddy or dad because you've never ever felt like a dad. If I speak about you to others, I refer to you as my father because you are. Yet, I think I'm your shame. You tried to do right by me and my mother, but you didn't want the life we had."

A tear streams down your cheek. You quickly rip it away.

"I don't wanna think about the blatant disrespect you displayed at my mother's funeral. Parading your girlfriend around. Being such a holy, God-fearing man, and you..."

You stop yourself. You are verbally judging the Old Man and know your mother would never approve of that. You see the shame on his face, but you won't apologize for what you said. You got all your burdens off your chest. You feel completely liberated.

"Sir. A father is supposed to show a girl what a real man is, but we both know the truth. Don't we? I see you remarried, and you didn't bother calling me."

The Old Man looks down at his wedding band and slides his hand out of sight.

"Don't be ashamed. I hope she makes you happy. As happy as... Aaron has made me. You'll never hear from me again."

You dig in your purse, taking out $50.00 for your sandwich and your father's sandwich, plus his drink and then some. You never touched your food, but you leave it there. Maybe the Old Man was hungry. You get out of your seat and head for the door, but not before saying your final words to your father.

"Sir, I forgive you. I know you tried your best. The best you know. Live a beautiful life. Goodbye... dad."

You pat his shoulder and leave. Never ever looking back. You catch a cab for the last time in Jacksonville ever and head to Jacksonville International Airport.

You catch your flight to Memphis, and your heart is pounding with the thought of surprising Elvis.

"I'm coming to you, E. Please wait for me. I'm coming." You whisper to yourself.

Four hours later, you land at Memphis International Airport. You hail a cab to Graceland, and you're on your way.

Nine minutes later, you're at the gates of Graceland. It's more spectacular than you ever imagined. Elvis described it to you perfectly, but this is truly a little patch of heaven.

There are people all in front of the gate, and you fear there's no way of passage for you to enter. You move toward the security guard to see if you can get inside. You remember what Elvis told you to do if you received any hassle getting into the show.

"Excuse me, sir."

"Yeah, can I help you?" The guard says.

"Yes, is Joe Esposito around or Jerry Schilling? I'm a friend." You briefly explain. Still trying to surprise Elvis.

The guard is shocked that a friend is asking for Joe or Jerry. Or maybe he's confused about you being a friend and no car to drive up the hill. Either way. You wait patiently as he dials the phone.

"Hey, Ms. Nancy. Is Joe or Jerry around? I have a young lady here claiming to be a friend."

...

"Thank you, ma'am."

You look at the guard and wait. Anxiousness has taken over your body, and you bounce your leg a bit. You want to act crazy and do something unbelievable like jump over the fence. For fear, you'll never see Elvis again. You remain as calm as possible. The thought of seeing the inside of Graceland is overwhelming.

The guard starts to speak again.

"Hey Jerry, there a young lady who says she's your friend.

...

"No, sir. She hasn't given me her name."

You hold your hand out to take the phone from him.

"May I, sir?" You ask with you small smile on your face.

"She wants to speak to you."

...

"Here you go, sweetheart." The guard hands you the phone.

"Jerry, it's me. Y/N. If he's around, don't say anything."

"Well, hey stranger. Fancy catching you here. He's not around me, though. We're safe." Jerry says.

"Good."

"I'll get someone to drive down to pick you up."

"Thank you, Jerry. You're the sweetest."

"Hand the phone to Mr. Paul."

You hand the phone back to the guard and wait to be picked up. Mr. Paul opens the gate to let you in.

The taxi cab drove through the crowd, and the gates of Graceland. You were in awe at the draping moss from the oak trees. The house. The house is breathtaking. It was just as Elvis described it. Four large pillars. Green shutters. Cobblestone. Triangle frame with a window. It's just magnificent. You pay the cab driver and get out of the car.

"Miss? You think I could get an autograph from the King?" He asked, excitement brimming through him.

"Maybe." You said.

Jerry came out of the house and down the stairs, a smile on his face.

"Hey, Y/N." Jerry said, giving you a hug.

"Hi, Jerry."

"The taxi driver need a fee?"

"No, he wants an autograph from Elvis."

"Oh, we can fix that. Do you have bags?"

"I do. In the trunk. Where is he?" You whisper to Jerry.

"He's upstairs. Just go in the front door and go up the stairs. His room is at the end."

An excitement fills your insides, and you feel as though you could float to Elvis. But you don't. You calmly walk up the steps as Jerry grabs your luggage.

You open the front door, and the house is simply magnificent. You look up and see the chandelier. Right where Elvis told you it would be. Front and center as you walk in the door. You look to the right and notice the living room and the little music room with the piano. You look to the left and notice the dining room.

You then walk upstairs to find Elvis. Jerry said at the end of the hall. You see the door. This is it. You take a breath and knock on his door.

"Yeah." You hear his deep Southern drawl behind the door, and you sing:

Wise men say, "Only fools rush in," but I can't help falling in love with you.

The door opens, and you see Elvis standing there in awe. His eyes are wide with surprise and delight at your presence. You sense a little shock, too. He smiles at you and places his hands on your arms.

"Please, don't stop. Keep singing."

You smile and sing some more.

Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? For I can't help falling in love with you.

As you continue to sing, he gently takes you into his arms, swaying you both slowly into his room.

Like a river flows surely to the sea Darling so it goes som things are meant to be.

Elvis holds you close, kissing your forehead as you continue to sway a little ways.

Take my hand take my whole life too, for I can't help falling in love with you.

You stop moving and look at one another for a moment.

"Hi, E." You say.

"Hey, Y/N/N. You're here. You're here."

"I'm here. I missed you. I didn't stop thinking about you once."

"You were always on my mind, Y/N/N. I received all your letters."

Elvis grabs your face, crashing his soft velvet lips into yours. They are so soft. Oh, how you missed this feeling. The heat at the pit of your tummy. The goosebumps raising on your skin.

"I missed this." You speak out of breath.

Elvis shuts the door to give you both more privacy.

"I missed you, Y/N/N. I missed you so much." Elvis says, walking you over to the bed.

Elvis sits you down and sits along with you. He continues to plant kisses on your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck. He plays in your curls as he starts to kiss your neck.

"Elvis?" You speak out of breath.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Is that offer still open?"

"What offer?" Elvis pulls away from you. A confused look graces the ethereal features of his face.

"To move in with you? Is it too late?" You ask him. Hope liters your voice. God, please don't let it be too late, you think.

"No... no, Y/N, it's not too late. Please move in and be my girlfriend. Love me. Share my life with me. Be a part of my crazy world. Please." Elvis says.

"Yes, E! Yes! A thousand times, yes!" You shout, placing your arms around his neck once again. You kiss him deeply, hoping it leads to something more.

Elvis kisses you back slowly. He's taking his time to show you just how much he missed you.

He wraps his index finger in the strap of your dress, and he slowly pulls the strap down your arm, exposing your shoulder. Elvis repeats this action with your other arm, allowing your dress to fall down.

He leaves your lips and moves down your neck. You close your eyes and indulge in the feelings that come over you. Those splendid feelings from Las Vegas. The goosebumps. The longing of love. The butterflies at the pit of your tummy. The moisture in your sacred cavern. Elvis just sets you all a glow. You're ready for him.

Elvis moves from your neck to your chest. He removes your strapless bra and tosses it to the floor, leaving you bare before him. The cool air of the bedroom has your nipples handen. Elvis pulls away to admire your body. You don't shy away. You know better. Elvis likes your confidence.

You unbutton Elvis' night shirt. This will be easier than the first night you both met, being he was fully dressed. This is like the times you slept over in his suite, but so much sweeter. You expose his chest to you, easing the shirt down his arms with your fore fingers.

"You're so beautiful, baby." Elvis says, catching your attention.

You look him in his eyes and smile.

"Thank you, E." You say. "It's only because I'm so in love with you."

"Is it? You were beautiful before you loved me, Y/N/N. The moment I saw you at the bar in Vegas."

"That night that started this story. Our story."

Elvis nods his head and smiles. He kisses you once more on the lips with vigor. Then, he pulls away from your lips and goes straight to your chest and licks your nipple on your left breast.

You moan as the thrill of his lips and tongue sends you railing. You wrap your hand on the back of his head and fall back on the mattress.

As Elvis works his way to your other breast, his hand is moving under your dress past your panties and to your clit. As his long fingers gaze your panties, you gasp with pleasure. He rapidly rubs circles clockwise on your clit. At least, it seems like he is winding you up for what's to come.

"Oh, Elvis! I missed you." You exclaim.

"I missed you too, Y/N/N. So much." Elvis says, kissing your chest in between speech. "Just wishing for the time I get to plunge my dick in that pussy of yours."

At the moment, Elvis leaves your clit and dips into your deliciously wet pussy. You moan in excitement. Your free hand slips into Elvis' pants, rubbing his firm ass and then slipping it near his hardened cock.

Elvis moans at your touch and pulls your dress, plus your panties all the way off. He slides himself down to the entrance of your sacred place and licks your vaginal lips. Then he French kisses your clit slowly bringing you closer and closer to the pinnacle of love.

You grind against his tongue, feeding your cravings you've longed for since you left him in Vegas. It's so much pleasure after a month of separation. You writhe under the sensation Elvis brings you. Obscene words and sounds passing vocally through your lips.

Elvis stops himself as you feel yourself coming undone. You try to catch your breath from the unwanted break. You look at him as he stares at you with love filled eyes.

Elvis then pulls off his trousers, and his dick bounces forward. He gives his dick a few tugs before he he climbs on top of you, kissing you. You both start to softly make out. You put your arms around his shoulders; wrapping your legs around his waist.

"You ready for me, baby?" Elvis whispers to you.

You nod your head.

"Y/N, no more shyness. There's no need. Use your words."

You take a breath and say,

"Yes. I'm ready, Elvis." You slide your hands up his back, putting your right hand gently through his hair.

Elvis nods his head in acknowledgment to your plee. You help line him up to penatrate your sweet spot. He softly enters inside of you, and you both breathe out in sexual bliss. You wrap your legs around him, bringing him closer to hit that spot deep inside you. Elvis hits that spot continuously. Again and again. His penis getting reacquainted with your vagina. Your walls forming and molding to his perfect hardened cock all over again.

You feel the ambers in the pit of your tummy set your blood a blaze as Elvis fucks you silly. You writhe under him once again. Yes, Elvis, yes. This is what you needed. To make love to the man you love.

Still sensitive from earlier when Elvis was tonguing your clit, you feel yourself cumming. You don't want to. You want Elvis to love you all night into the next day.

"I'm... AHHH! FUCK, ELVIS!" You shout to him, cumming all over him.

Elvis pushes himself quicker and deeper as your pussy begins milking the goodness from his cock.

"Holy... Fuck!!!" Elvis says, collapsing on top of you. His dick still buried deep within you.

As you both catch your breath, you feel him soften inside you. Just that sends a thrill within you. Elvis starts to kiss your arm. Then your shoulder. Then your neck. He works his way up to your lips. You both kiss one another. You both look at one another with admiration.

"You're staying right?" Elvis asks you.

"Yes, I am. If you'll have me."

"Good." Elvis says, planting another kiss in your lips. "Let's go for a walk. I wanna show you the meditation garden."

"The meditation garden?"

"Yes." Elvis says to you.

You both get out of bed and get dressed. Elvis takes your hand and leads you down another case of stairs. The staircase leads you to a different room than what you recall. It leads you outside to the back of the house. You see the pastures and the horses.

Elvis leads you by the pool, and you hear a fountain running. You turn to look, and you see a garden with small pillars and stained glass windows on a wall that shields the garden. The fountain in the middle has crystal blue water and three small fountains running in the middle of this pool. It's quite peaceful. Then, you notice the bushes of wildflowers that surround the fountain.

"Elvis, are these forget-me-nots?" You ask him, closely inspecting the flowers.

"Yes, they are. I thought I'd surprise you. I had these planted for you when you first told me about them in Vegas."

You look around at all the forget-me-nots brushes surrounding the garden. You're at a loss for words. Elvis sees the smile on your face and is pleased with his choice.

"Elvis, this whole garden is amazing. Those stained glass windows are beautiful."

"Thank you. I had the garden placed here a few years ago when I was on my mission of seeking God and why he put me here. Seeking answers to life."

"Have you found any, E?" You ask, holding his hand.

"Maybe. A few. Like you."

You look down at the forget-me-nots in front of you, trying your best not to blush at his words.

"Y/N/N?" Elvis places his index finger under your chin, looking you in the eyes.

"Yes, E?" You reply. Somehow, his touch softens you.

You place your hand on his and smile.

"Baby, y-you think. You might w-wanna get married? Someday?"

Your eyes widen, and your heart drops like you're on a rollercoaster.

"Yes, I would love to get married one day. To you."

Elvis smiles and plants a kiss on your lips.

"Good. I love you so much, Y/N." Elvis says, hugging you.

"I love you too, Elvis." You embrace him back. He feels so warm and smells so amazing. A thought floats through your mind about something once said to you, and you have to tell Elvis.

"Elvis, promise me something?" I say, removing your from his arm to look at his ethereal face.

"What is it, Y/N/N? I'll promise you anything." He says, moving your curl out of your eye.

"If you ever..." You pause and take a breath. "Ever fall out of love with me, please let me know."

Elvis is shocked, to say the least.

"Y/N, I..."

"Promise me." You boldly say.

"I promise, but I'll never ever stop loving you."

"Good." You say, grabbing his face and kissing his precious lips. He tastes so delicious. "What do we do now, E?"

"We live. We take care of each and travel. I'm going international, and I'm taking you with me, Y/N/N! London, Paris, Japan! The works!" You feel his excitement and join him.

"Everywhere, Elvis. I'd love to go! When do we leave?"

"In two months. I'm on vacation now with my girl!"

Elvis grabs you and kisses you. You put your hands around his neck and kiss him back.

Elvis takes your hand, and you both go back into the house. You're so excited to start this new life with Elvis, the love of your life.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @plasticfantasticl0ver @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @thememphisflash1935-1977 @vintageshanny @iloveelvis

[shadow13dickpistons]

I’m also requesting Ryou Bakura.

Another one of these.

Sexuality Headcanon: I actually greatly go against the fandom on this one in that I actually think he's mostly straight. Like a 1-2 on the Kinsey scale. About the only mxm ship I've considered is for Bakura x Yugi, and that's less about sexuality and more that only Yugi can really understand what he's gone through.

Gender Headcanon: Again, cis.

A ship I have with said character: HOSTSHIPPING!!!!! Check out Broadway is Dark Tonight, which will someday be updated again!!! It's been a really hectic....nine months for both Ink and myself.

I could also totally see Bakura x Isis/Ishizu. I actually came to the conclusion the other night those two would be perfect in the EOSWOM verse.

A BROTP I have with said character: Again, Bakura and Kaiba, I know it in my soul.

A NOTP I have with said character: So, to me, a NOTP has to give me a gut squick reaction. I wouldn't say I have one of those like I do with Kaiba, but yeah, the more popular ships for him aren't my cup of tea. I am neutral-positive on puffshipping, though.

A random headcanon: The "dead family" thing was such a hamfisted retcon I completely ignore it. I have a very solid family backstory in my head, and honestly, it's gospel. Japanese Dad meets English Mom studying antiquities/archaeology in Oxford, but while Mom is a Good Museum Scientist, Dad gets into selling antiquities for private collectors in a bid to make money for the family, and slowly gets into more black-market choices. Leads to divorce, Ryou goes with dad, Amane stays with mom, which is pretty common in Japanese families. You get a lot of this in "Broadway is Dark Tonight," actually.

Oh gawd, talking about bad retcons, what they did to Bakura's dad in DSOD (honestly, a lot of bad retconning on top of retconning in DSOD). I go with that one tiny glimpse we get of him in DM.

General Opinion over said character: Deserves so much more attention and so much less whumping. Please stop making him a sopping wet kitten, he's so much more interesting than that. I'm a firm believer that the Yamis reflect their hosts a la Persona, and boy do I miss the more active, witty Bakura we see in Duelist Kingdom.

[terrence-silver]

Beloved surprising Terry with honey cake and apple cookies she baked herself for the new year's dinner. She's a bit nervous because she's not Jewish herself and she's not even sure if she can participate in the celebration but she just looked up the recipes online because she wanted to do something nice for him.

---

It was strange, perhaps, to be with a man who was frequently the subject of tabloids.

Newspapers.

Business insiders and the LA Times reporting on his bankruptcy.

On rumors lined together like a string of pearls, creating a torniquet. Dynatox under fire. Mass sackings. An international conglomerate sliced in half, into countless branches and his personal revenues and failures making headlines on the daily. Sport scandals. Cobra Kai and local Tournament losses. The stock market tanking in lieu of the backlash in the aftermath of so many skeletons in the closet. Talks of bribery. Corruption. It was the September of 1992, --- the beginning of a new decade and the latter part of the year Or the 1st of Tishrei, 5753, and it seemed that even for the Holidays, the media onslaught wouldn't cease. Especially when he downsized, deliberately moving his address from the coveted slopes of his Beverly Hills Ennis mansion overlooking the city, somewhere more compact and amenable. To Malibu. The 80's ended and Terry said, with you distinctly remembering his exact words that all the fun ended with it. Things would change. People would change with it. They'd have to. And things did change, you felt so in your bones as the black limousine waited outside along with the chauffeur and you rushed in from the mansion being secured and locked behind you with not a single piece of luggage on you. Terry made sure everything you needed was already transported by his men. All you carried into the parked vehicle with you as you scooted next to him on the leather backseat was a warm plate covered with a napkin as the last bit of cookery the workers didn't load in previously, catching your breath as you closed the door behind you shut.

Taking one last look at your colossal Mayan temple of a house.

There was no Margaret. No Milos. No Snake. No Dennis.

The stony courtyard stood empty.

-"What's this?"-

Terry pointed his nose at the China in your lap. You weren't moving to the surface of Mars. He made that clear multiple times. Everything you ever needed he'd replace and buy again by the tenfold. He'd make things anew. Better. -"The last thing I cooked in our old home. A sort of goodbye."- You explain as the limousine moved forward and the secured iron gate and its walls started moving with it, disappearing behind you and into the dusky streets of Glendower Avenue. -"Sentimental."- Terry chuckled, peppering the ash of his cigar into a nearby crystal ashtray. He told you he'd quit soon. It was falling out of fashion, he explained. It was like he had a third eye capable of predicting these things. If you don't change, he said, you die. You remove the napkin covering the plate, revealing what you were busy tinkering with this last day here. You were pretty certain the manor still had the scent of sweets lingering in the air when you left. The idea of that made you feel a certain way, even though Terry told you, with as much firmness as you remember him having, that one day, he'll avenge himself and everything he was giving up now. Weirdest thing was, you entirely believed him. -"Apple cake and honey. You know? For Rosh Hashanah."- You explain carefully, finding his eyes stilling in the darkness of the car until he wasn't blinking anymore, perfectly calm as the chauffeur in the front turned left. -"For you. Before we settle into our new place and celebrate properly."- You add once he says nothing, observing you and your offerings, cigar in hand, suited up, insisting he leave this place in grand style. You gulp, feeling a bit nervous, fidgeting where you sat. His expression perfectly cool. You talked about religion before. First time you decided to do something like this for him.

He needed that, you felt.

After everything.

-"Are you upset? You seem upset."-

-"For the most talked about man in the country, huh? Perfect."-

His mouth melts upward slowly, into a smile, until his teeth are on full display.

-"For the most talked about man in the country, yes."-

You repeat with a chuckle of your own, relieved, offering him a dessert from your plated entree. He sets down his cigar, affixing his cufflinks, taking one and bringing it up to his nostrils, inhaling the scent. His gaze meeting yours, hooded, from under his brows. His eyes were smiling too. -"I won, you know. I always win."- Terry practically purrs. You adjust yourself in your seat, finally finding a comfortable place, shaking your head, slightly confused. He dips the slice of apple into the tiny, honey filled glass container, never separating his stare from you. You follow suit, taking a slice yourself. -"What do you mean?"- You ask, scooting closer. -"They indicted me five times this year. That's four times more than last year."- He's all emotive and energy, even as he chews with distinction to the point where it was hard to pinpoint if Terry felt beleaguered by the fact, or entirely proud. Knowing him, you'd guess proud. -"Then there's Dynatox."- He adds, his mirth fading into something more serious until he becomes distant for but a moment. You knew how much that company meant to him. -"Cobra Kai. John."- He includes, holding your eyes with a peculiar sort of fierceness. The fallout with John too. If anything, you knew that part possibly hurt him more than what was going on with Dynatox. -"But, here you are, huh --- all cookies and cream for me on the Day of Repentance."- You lower your head, oddly humbled and bashful. The honey symbolized and alluded to a sweet beginning of a New Year and you hoped for just that, for you --- for him. You just wanted things to be alright again, nearly gasping when you felt his finger under your chin, lifting your face up to look at him, Griffith Park bypassing you through the tinted windows. It was the end of an era; the least you could do is commemorate it, even if it was on the backseat of a limo.

-"Terry..."-

You whisper, flattered, watching him reach for the minibar, producing a bottle.

A pair of glasses. Pouring you and him a glass of white wine each.

Handing you yours, grinning from ear to ear.

-"Baby, that smells like winning to me."-

He declares, throwing his arm around you, clinking glasses.

Dipping another slice of apple cake into honey.