#bigwig enterprises

[old-evanescence]

Extremely rare Evanescence Origin advertisement featured on Automata Magazine issue 3.0, 2001

Origin was rated #3 in their Top 10 of 2000 chart

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Evanescence - Imaginary 2000

"Imaginary" has lasted for the whole span of Evanescence's recording history. The first version was released as a part of the Evanescence EP in 1998. It was remade and released again in 2000, for Origin (in my opinion, the best version of the song). Several demo recordings were made in the making of Fallen (2003), followed by an official appearance on the album featuring The Millineum Choir arranged by Amy Lee. Throughout the years, live performances of "Imaginary" have occasionally altered lyrics to fit that of previous versions of the song. Origin is a compilation of home-recorded demos from 1996-1999, the CD was self-released and sold at local shows, and then packaged to showcase to record labels. A total of 2,000 copies were made and sold on the Bigwig Enterprises website from 2000 to 2003. Immediately after the release of their debut album Fallen, the demo CD was sold for $400 on eBay. Origin was released commercially for the first time in February 2017 as a part of Evanescence's The Ultimate Collection vinyl box set. "Imaginary" recieved 72,6% total yes votes!

[weaselandfriends]

Web Original, Recently Witnessed

In a previous post, I mentioned some web fiction I'd recently read. This time, I'll highlight some web original content outside of the literary sphere. While I have some experience with literature, I'm completely untalented in other mediums, so my assessment of this content is no better than a layman's. However, I still thought it worth highlighting.

1. Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History by Kevin Perjurer (Defunctland)

Perjurer has been putting out excellent documentary-style content on theme parks and their rides for years now, but while his production quality is consistently high, his videos often live or die based on the core level of interest his subject engenders. For instance, his video on notoriously awful ride Superstar Limo (with a general focus on notoriously awful theme park California Adventure) is an incredible watch, while his video on a random assortment of small, local Santa Claus theme parks across America isn't quite so compelling. He's no Jon Bois (of 17776 fame), a documentarian capable of rendering extraordinary seemingly the most banal of subjects.

Journey to EPCOT Center, however, is unlike anything Perjurer has ever put out before. It completely eschews Perjurer's typical voiceover narration style of documentary, instead stitching together music, audio of news reports and press releases, and dramatizations of Disney boardroom meetings to create a seamless narrative. Beyond the unique style and presentation of the piece, however, is the incredible artistry on display in several of the segments. Some of the biggest highlights:

12:00 to 16:14: A neon light animation detailing the vision and plan of EPCOT, which gradually transforms into a 3D map that the camera travels through

16:52 to 21:03: An impressively animated series of newspaper articles detailing Disney's struggles finding signatories for its world showcase; the video comments indicate some shots of the moving newspapers were created practically, with Lego conveyer belts

38:46 to 44:27: A puppet show dramatizing Disney's efforts to seek international sponsors

There are numerous other impressive, inventive, and creative segments as well, with unique animation and visual styles. The video rarely repeats the same trick twice.

The funniest part is that all of this is in service to a topic I would personally consider quite boring. EPCOT is such a Disney-buffs-only type of subject, neither Disney's greatest success nor its greatest failure. The incredible skill on display is all aimed toward depicting a fairly corporate, backroom-style story about men in suits trying to secure handshakes. There's an almost propagandistic feel to it, an extolling of capitalist bigwigs that feels completely at odds with Perjurer's visionary style.

In a way, it's reminiscent of United Passions, a FIFA propaganda film meant to make its executives look good in the wake of real-life controversy. On the other hand, though, Perjurer's exceedingly loving depiction is appropriate for Walt Disney's final passion project, Disney himself being a man who, for better or for worse, was as much of a dreamer and visionary as he was a cutthroat businessman. EPCOT, as the video tells you, was designed as an optimistic reaffirmation of the American free enterprise project, and as a complement to that vision Perjurer's video could not be more accurate. Unlike United Passions, this video was also made independently, not financed by Disney to make itself look good in the eyes of the public. Metatextually, it poses a fascinating question: Is there value to corporate art? Can a corporation create something of true beauty? Perjurer's video suggests it can.

2. The Mind Electric Animation - Lonely-Man's Lazarus by Daisy

Perjurer is probably familiar to many of my readers, so this next entry is more obscure, something I stumbled on almost by chance.

A friend of mine is big into animatics, which as far as YouTube is concerned is about setting music (usually Broadway or Disney musical numbers) to sketchy, storyboard-style art. I'm not a major Broadway fan in general, so these have never appealed to me much, although I've been shown several.

This one, though, rather generically titled "The Mind Electric Animation" (after the song it features), caught me entirely off guard. The first notable element is that the animation is monstrously more fluid than a typical animatic, though it retains the sketchy/storyboard art style and traditional animatic sensibilities toward character design (very "Tumblr," if I had to put a word on it). Secondly, the music, rather than being from Hamilton or Heathers or some other popular musical, is from the itself rather arcane album Hawaii: Part II by Joe Hawley (under the name ミラクルミュージカル). Hawaii: Part II is, as far as I can tell, a concept album detailing the story of a man who goes insane after his girlfriend is murdered (possibly by himself), with a strange secondary subtext of possibly being metaphorical for the 9/11 terrorist attacks. The lyrics are certainly open to interpretation.

The animatic combines these elements with heavy inspiration from a different concept album, potentially the most famous one ever made: Pink Floyd's The Wall, with specific nods to the film adaptation's animations for The Trial and Empty Spaces. There is no skimping on detail, with some sequences absolutely bursting with bizarre visuals. The ultimate result is absolutely trippy, abstract, and surreal, which are some of my favorite things for something to be.

Regardless, it's an impressive work of animation for a single person to make; the video description states it took 15 months, which is more time than I've spent on any one of even my longest works. The creator themselves is somewhat enigmatic from what I could tell, despite having a whole host of social media platforms. They seem to be working on a web comic, but trying to find any concrete information on what it is actually about was difficult. Nonetheless, whoever made this certainly has an abundance of creative vision and talent. Though I've seen skilled artists sit down to create something narrative before and flub it utterly (an example that comes to mind is Ava's Demon), so who knows if what is on display in this animation will make it into that web comic. Even if it doesn't, the animation by itself is incredible, so check it out.

3. The Skibidi Toilet podcast guys are for real by Mikhail Klimentov / Built By Gamers in general

Built By Gamers has been on my radar for some time (ever since seeing this video) as an absolute masterclass of performance art. The voice, the emphasis, the little oddities here and there, the way the two hosts so often ignore direct questions posed by one another, it creates something inimitably uncanny. This interview by Mikhail Klimentov, who I am familiar with primarily through his esports journalism, only adds new layers to what was already a convoluted question of irony and sincerity.

There are a few concrete insights, most shockingly to me that the creators of Built By Gamers (Todd Searle and Peter Armendariz) got their start in esports. But despite the title that seems to clearly suggest their videos are sincere, the actual interview is far less conclusive. For instance, this exchange:

It's evident to me that you guys take this very seriously. You feel as though there's a lot of craft behind these videos. Tell me about the stuff that a viewer won't see: the behind-the-scenes stuff that you're thinking about as you're working on these videos. Armendariz: A lot of people think it's ChatGPT. That's a big thing that people think that we do. But a lot of it is actually well crafted, through hours — like we'll spend hours on one script and really thinking about how we can get someone to react. It doesn't matter if it's them laughing, if it's them feeling sad, or them hating on one of us, our main goal in our videos is to get someone to feel something. The hard truth is that people don't realize how many hours we spend on one video to get that one line. I think that's what people don't really understand. We’ll spend like two hours on one line. Searle: Our tone, like how we talk — it’s on purpose. I have to get into character for it. Armendariz: Todd has a voice, bro! He didn't think he'd be good at telling stories, and I have him tell every single story because he has this campfire story voice. And sometimes he'll hit a line and I'm like, “No, no, you’ve got to hit it harder.” And we'll spend like 30 minutes trying to hit the line, or hitting the hook just the right way.

Followed immediately by:

People really don't know what to make of you guys. They don't have a sense of whether you're serious, whether you're in on the joke, whether there's a joke at all. I'm curious if you can clear that up. Searle: We want it to be everything you just said. We want people to think we're serious. We want camps of people who don't think we're serious. People who think that we're A.I. We kind of want to keep it, I guess, vague in that regard. Like we want you to believe… what we are — and that's OK. Armendariz: I think sometimes we'll play into different communities. So, like, some people will say, ‘You guys sound like you got brain surgery.’ So then we’ll make the most cringey video that's like super brain-rot, you know? We just kind of mess around and have fun.

So are they just messing around and having fun, or are they spending hours trying to nail specific lines just right? Are they sincerely trying to tell a story that gets an emotional reaction or are they just trolling, which also gets an emotional reaction? The biggest troll of the interview, targeted specifically at me, was this response:

Can you tell me what those writing principles are? Armendariz: I think a big writing principle that everyone should follow is, it's really important to show, don't tell.

People who have talked to me elsewhere know I am a massive enthusiast of the ubiquitous Mr. Beast, not necessarily because I like his content (though I do think he puts together some strong game show/Wipeout-style videos), but because of the story behind him: That he is an extreme, almost insufferable perfectionist, who analyzes video success and failure to a scientific degree, doing experiments with thumbnails, video lengths, et cetera, all to take detailed assessments of the results and perfectly calibrate his videos in mathematical fashion. It's a type of rigor that flies in the face of the casual, wastefully generous persona he cultivates in his videos proper.

I think many people have this innate idea that a work of art's quality is somehow tied to the effort expended to produce it. (Even I have it. Notice how for both of the first two entries in this post I mention the effort or time or craftsmanship of the work in question.) This is the kind of sensibility that causes a layman, who knows nothing about painting, to prefer a Caravaggio to a Rothko. But this sensibility is both conceptually and often practically wrong; Rothko, for instance, engineered his own paints, creating custom blends of materials (including non-paint material, like egg) to form paints of a perfectly specific color or gloss or sheen, a process often completely unseen by a casual glance at the finished work.

Subsequently, there's a reason they're called writer's workshops, that writing is so often described as a craft: It's an attempt to imbue writing with a sense of effort that makes it more palatable. The stereotype extends to the artist who sneers at quote-unquote "low" art, thinking "If I was willing to lower myself, I could create that slop and make millions too." In my experience, though, the people creating this "low" art are often expending absurd amounts of effort and exhibiting incredible skill to create something perfectly engineered for success. I, certainly, have found zero success in attempting to broaden my own audience, even when I make attempts at it; it's not something that's easier to do if you're just willing to try.

I also increasingly fail to believe in the stereotype of the miserable cynic artist who creates something they think is garbage because they know that'll be most popular. Those people don't last long; those who succeed in the popular sphere are people who are genuinely passionate about what they create, even if it looks like dreck to everyone else (including the millions who consume it).

I've been kicking around an idea for a story about Mr. Beast for some time now, exploring these concepts in even greater depth. That won't happen in the immediate future, but it's something to look out for.

[arabian-bloodstream]

La'an & Kirk: A Theory

I have a theory about La'an and Kirk!

La'an and Kirk actually first met in their first alternate timeline. In the first season finale, 1x10, "Quality of Mercy," this timeline was created after Pike prevented the death of some Starfleet cadets. La'an transferred from the Operations division to the Command division. She reached the rank of Commander and was assigned to the… wait for it! USS Farragut under, oh yes, the command of Captain James T. Kirk.

So, that is Timeline Number One.

Then in season 02, 2x03, "Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow," La'an is bum-rushed by a man in a business suit who hands her a device and tells her to save the bridge. She goes to the bridge where the captain is James T. Kirk, but it's not her bridge (obviously, no Pike), and he's not the captain of her Enterprise in her universe (again, duh, no Pike). We are now in another alternate timeline. The Vulcans and Romulans and Klingons and everyone hates each other and cats and dogs are all fighting! It's war! War! War!

So, this is Timeline Number Two.

Jim reaches for the device in La'an's hand and activates it and they are transported to Earth 21st century. They steal clothing, play chess, hang out in a hotel room, engage in car chases, visit a new, old friend, save the future, and develop the feels for one another, have a kissy-face, and then Kirk dies before La'an does what she has to do (i.e., letting her evil future ancestor live), and she gets transported back to her timeline. La'an sends a subspace call to Kirk to say 'Hey!' -- as they had never spoken or met prior -- but then is visited by a temporal bigwig who tells her no telling anyone, that's a big no-no!

That be Timeline Number Three.

In the current timeline in which La'an normally occupies, Lieutenant James T. Kirk comes on over to the Enterprise and he and La'an officially meet. Subspace harmonies happen and truths do be spilled in song, so La'an decides to break the big timey-wimey no-no to Kirk before a 17th sea shanty can do the deed. He too feels the connection, but alas, his on again/off again girlfriend is on because she's preggers. So, welps!

And this, folks, is Timeline Number Four.

So, my theory!

Kirk and La'an have now been thrown together in not one, not two, not three, but FOUR different alternate timelines. That's a lot of timelines for two people to be linked together. Now, admittedly, the two in "TATAT" are tied together, but they are still two separate timelines. The kicker is the one from "Quality of Mercy." Another one? Really?! So, yeah. And, it has been pointed out, if you take a gander at her uniform, it looks as if she is not only in command but as if she is his First Officer, his Number One! Uh, yeah.

However, before we dive into that, let's look deeper at the conversation between the real timeline Kirk and La'an which I feel has been misrepresented overall from what I've read. The overall take I've seen is that Kirk and La'an are dunzos because of that convo, and I dunno, I just didn't even remotely get that. Kirk made things very clear, and based on what we know about life in this era, other things can be pretty clearly inferred, and based on what we know from The Wrath of Khan we know other things.

So, let's do some numbering.

Life is complicated.

In other words, the fact that he has a girlfriend who is pregnant is "complicated," not good or happy, but rather "complicated."

She is his "sometimes" girlfriend.

That in and of itself is NEVER how one should describe their significant other. Like EVA!

Carol is intensely dedicated to her job on Starfleet One.

He tends to not stay in one place for long which is a growing problem since Carol is pregnant.

We are putting these two together because Carol is intensely dedicated to her job ON STARFLEET ONE, while Jim tends to NOT STAY IN ONE PLACE LONG. Ie., yeah, it's complicated. This is basically a bright, neon glaring sign that this is a relationship that is not for long. Like at all. (Even if we didn't already know that.)

So, OK, in this era, it's not really easy to get pregnant what with modern technology and medicine, right?

Carol is his "sometimes" girlfriend who ain't leaving Starfleet One, while her "sometimes" boyfriend goes flying all over the place, and she just happens to get preggers? Hmm, OK, then. We know from "The Wrath of Khan" that when David shows up and finds out about Kirk, Kirk, of course already knows, and tells Carol, "I stayed away like YOU wanted me to." Mmhmm!

So, with all that said, I'm speculating that Carol either (a) got herself pregnant to make Kirk stay on Starfleet One or (b) was so busy science'ing up she got preggers. Either way, being pregnant it came down to he needed to make a choice choose her and his kid, or her career and the stars. And Kirk chose his career and the stars. And that is what is going to come out… and La'an will be there through the fall-out because there likely will be fall-out from like Sam, and Kirk just feeling guilty and all that.

But what about the timelines? Well, so my theory is that Kirk and La'an have a relationship, happiness, blah blah blah, while he's on the Farragut, she's on Enterprise, etc., and then as we get near the end of SNW's run, some big choice has to happen. In order to save lives or some such, La'an makes a sacrifice, saving peeps, but in the process, everyone in the current timeline forgets her. Thus, no mention of La'an when they meet Khan, no mention of her and Kirk, or basically just her at all in TOS.

But for her sacrifice, she gets:

TADA!! Timeline Number Five….

In this one, she and Kirk live happily ever after. And her family didn't die at the hands of the Gorn. So on and so forth.

Or maybe this is all just wishful thinking, hahahahaha!

[papercranesong]

I wanted to spell you a word for the ask game and I've gone with WATCH 🖖

Ha that’s really cool @unmaskedcardinal I didn’t even think of using the letters to spell a word!

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

Probably when the characters age up somehow and get old really quick. It happens sooooo much in sci-fi, usually to my favourite character too!

A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.

Currently - (defining currently as in past week or so) - 

So my little one has happily become obsessed with Watership Down recently, we’ve watched the Netflix version with James McAvoy and John Boyega so many times (it’s really good, I tear up every time - you can see it on YouTube. Don’t watch the completely traumatising cartoon version though) - so I would say Hazel and Bigwig, they have a great enemies-to-friends thing going. 

Nathan and Kelly in Misfits, which I am rewatching just to chill my brain out from fanfic - I love how they just accept each other without trying to change each other, and just how much they delight in each other being themselves.

Jack and Stephen from Aubrey / Maturin series - @ola-na-tungee has been posting cartoons of various scenes from the books recently which are so well done. I love how they are both each other’s heroes.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 

Someone asked me a little while ago if I had any head canons and I thought I didn’t but I’ve since realised that I probably have quite a few - the main one being that Trip didn’t die in Star Trek Enterprise and that These are the voyages didn’t happen. I think a lot of Enterprise fans share this head canon! 

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will

Chakotay and Seven of Nine in voyager. So wrong.

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., TV shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)?

I think the original source which in my case is the TV shows or films. I need it to be visual.

Thank you for the ask! 🖖

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

First off... Definitely go see THE BOY AND THE HERON / HOW DO YOU LIVE?

Number two... I can't believe I have to say all of this, but... Some avenues of animation fan-land need to C-H-I-L-L... Not just with this movie, but with a multitude of other things, but I won't get into them here. I just wanna talk about how Miyazaki's new film did in the U.S. Fantastic $10-13m opening, already bests the domestic totals of SPIRITED AWAY and PONYO. Looks to make a decent gross, maybe even outgross WISH- hey wait a minute...

So, one of my first questions is... Why are we even bringing "Disney" into this?

Or WISH for that matter?

I feel bad for the WISH filmmakers honestly, for all their hard work to culminate in their movie losing money at the box office. It barely passed $100m just recently. That all has zilch to do with Miyazaki's new movie. Or anything, for that matter. You might as well single out DreamWorks and TROLLS 3 while you're at it.

This should be about Miyazaki's new film, possibly his last, that he came out of retirement - in his EIGHTIES - to make, and how it's doing.

This and GODZILLA MINUS ONE's successes should be looked at, it shows that there are markets for other kinds of movies, it shows that some audiences will be there for some things... And that's great! We need more room in multiplexes for these kinds of movies, and their respective successes I feel are a positive sign for that...

Buuuuut, what the hell does HERON's success have to do with Disney?

I get that Disney is one of the largest players in both animation and mainstream movies, but really- BOY AND THE HERON's success is only going to tell Disney executives one thing, and it's what I just laid out above. It's not going to singlehandedly convince Disney execs to allow Walt Disney Animation Studios to open a full-on 2D unit and greenlight a 2D animated movie. HERON would have to make MARIO numbers in order to possibly do that, and that's being generous... And Disney used to distribute Ghibli films, too, even well after they called it quits on 2D films. (They released THE WIND RISES through the Touchstone banner in 2014.)

Like, let's celebrate the new Miyazaki film doing great without having to center Disney all the damn time. There are so many 2D movies that get made every few years all around the world, and they're far more accessible than ever before.

Why do we need big bad Diz to try again when so many other filmmakers are doing new and innovative stuff with that medium? And besides, what if they make a 2D movie and it has the same writing style as WISH, STRANGE WORLD, RAYA, etc.? "You made a 2D movie Disney, that's great! But it's still MID!" Disney gave you back the evil bad guy villains with King Magnifico, but WISH still sucked to you... You're just not going to get what you want out of this company anymore.

I get that Disney's 2D films are the bedrock of the enterprise, and of feature animation history. I get that in their official "canon", 46 of their 62 features are largely 2D/hand-drawn... But, we gotta stop expecting this big conglomerate to do it when they've steadfastly refused to for a decade now. They're answering to market research and what they think audiences want, not people like us who can detect a Milt Kahl head swaggle from a mile away...

Instead of making shallow remarks that only put down the animators/filmmakers, and not the bigwigs at the company (this whole "that'll teach 'em a lesson" mentality is among the dumbest on twitter and a few other places), just go find cool 2D stuff being made elsewhere and put your energy into making that stuff more known. You've got internet, right? Just google every year's crop of animated movies and even TV shows (like, say, SCAVENGER'S REIGN. Go watch that!), it's all right there, yeesh.

Like, let's celebrate BOY AND THE HERON's success, not make this another Disney Animation and Pixar bash-fest. Miyazaki didn't come out of retirement and hand-craft this film - which is an often heavy and painful reflective work on loss and grief and life and death and the universe - at his old age... for people to act like this is a playground, pitting it against another movie that has its own reason for existing. It just seems, among other obnoxious things some animation fans are currently doing, disingenuous to me. What is this hierarchy? Can we just enjoy and celebrate the art for once?

[thewittyphantom]

Finally, here's Roa's dialogue with Mimi!

Mimi: Woooooooo! Rooooooaaaaa! Roa: Hey there. You're Mimi, right? Romin told me you're our biggest fan. She said you wanted my autograph. Here you go. Mimi: No....way! Romin actually followed through! She's da bomb! Thanks Roa! Thanks Romin! This is so tubular! Roa: I heard you work for Goha Enterprises? Mimi: I sure do! I may look like a kid, but I'm one of Goha's top execs! Roa: Wow...I have so many questions. Mimi: Ask away! I'll tell you anything you want to know! Ah! Wait! (I took an oath when I joined Roa's official fan club. To make sure I don't give him the cooties and wreck his lovely voice, I need to give him space. The minimum safe distance is one Roa Radius - which is equal to one Roa! I'm also Number Six - one of bigwigs at Goha Enterprises! If I accidentally spill company secrets to Roa, i'm dunzo! Then I'll never be the president of Goha! My dream will turn into a nightmare! I gotta act professional!) Maintain corporate guidelines! Maintain Roa Radius! *scooch scooch scooch* *scooch away* Roa: Uh oh...Did I scare her away? This may be tougher than I thought...

[mmoxie]

Now we can get specific about Dani.

The story I tell with Dani, I Promise You I Have Given Up, is based on a lie that Dani constantly tells herself. That she's given up, that she doesn't care. That she's all the way at the edge and could go at any time.

When villains monologue, that's what she tells them. That she may as well fight back because she has nothing left to lose. She actually has a lot left to lose, but her stress levels are so volcanically high that the only relief she ever feels is when something is actually done.

When you work retail, the job is never done. There's another truck coming tomorrow, or some stupid fucking promotion where you have to take pictures with a Minor League baseball mascot, or where the company turns 100 years old and expects you to be cool as a cucumber about them "celebrating" by giving you a scratchy Gildan t-shirt and a literal single can of Coca-Cola.

She turns vigilante because of it, is the thing. She's a little bit of Batman, a little bit of Ghost Rider, and a whole lot of catharsis. She starts calling herself Nametag, and begins to act as a kind of enforcer on behalf of ill-represented workers in underpaid and abused industries.

In I Promise You I Have Given Up, Nametag appears in the safe places for the wealthy and powerful. Yachts. High-rise offices. Summer homes and boltholes of the rich and unscrupulous.

From her perspective, she's job-hopping. She's taking up a position mopping floors on the glossy decks of the Compensator, or acting as an electrician servicing elevators in Plover Heights. But she'll hear something- she always hears something- that sets her teeth on edge and puts a cramp in her fire bladder. She'll wait for a banquet or a board meeting, watch the powerpoint presentations and listen to the speeches, wait for the esteemed guests, cronies, and sycophants to filter out, and then... come in to clean.

She's invisible to the wallet in the room. That's good. She can get as close as she wants. She'll try to strike up conversation- sometimes they'll feign decency, sometimes they won't. But they're cornered either way.

When they see the flickering sparks in the back of her throat, the gray edges of her fire-blasted teeth, they either buckle, or double down.

The ones who buckle have well-paid, happy employees at every level of their enterprise. They make good on unkept promises.

The ones that double down... well, who knows? Maybe they're in the Cayman Islands, knocking back daiquiris. She didn't see anything, she just came in to mop. She doesn't need the kind of stress that comes from working with bigwigs like that.

She builds her reputation as Nametag after a couple of mysterious disappearances that just happened to benefit the people suffering the most that day. Some mutual coworkers- different companies, different times, both having worked with Dani- happen to notice her in the back of a news report about the fall of a CEO.

And then another one.

And then they've got to get her in the group chat.

[cavewithshadows]

(Too Many) Admiral Les Buenamigo Head-Canons

1. Grew up as a family friend of Alonzo Freeman (Alonzo being named after Les’ father), where Les was something of a little brother to Alonzo. 

2. Les has always been fascinated by and talented with engineering.

3. Worked as part of the Support Team for Nova Squadron at Starfleet Academy, which is where he met Carol Mariner. 

4. Introduced Alonzo and Carol to each other, and was one of Alonzo’s groomsmen at the wedding.

5. Assigned to the Galaxy-class Project at Utopia Planitia right out of the Academy... and remained an Ensign for the duration of the project (which was about six years).

6. Pattern emerged where Les was assigned to various projects that would last for years, and only get promoted at the end. (Danube Runabout project, Defiant class project). Meanwhile, his friends are working their way up the ranks, with Alzono already in the Admiralty, and Carol a mid-ranking officer on the Enterprise.

7. Les dreams of making a name for himself in Starfleet, designing the Texas-class starship. Finally, he is assigned to the Prometheus-class Project as a Lieutenant Commander, where he is promised a chance to work on his own project once this is done.

8. Problem is, part of the assignment is the Prometheus’ auto-piloting during Multi-Vector Assault Mode, and while Les is a fantastic engineer, computer programming is not his skillset. But his career is saved when he notices the talents of young Samanthan Rutherford, who IS brilliant with computers.

9. Les basically trades starship parts to Samanthan (for his shuttle races) in exchange for his computer code for Prometheus. The young man gets better parts for his shuttles, Starfleet gets top-running computer code, and Les gets the credit, and, in his mind, a long overdue promotion and chance to work on his own project.

10. Les encourages Samanthan to apply to Starfleet Academy, intending to use him to complete the Texas-class, which Les has now come to envision as an automated starship, based on the Prometheus class. 

11. Unfortunately, there is an “accident” (secretly the result of Samanthan’s demented and evil-prone AI code), but Les can’t let this kill, or even delay, his project. So, he gives a bogus investigative report blaming human error, wipes Samanthan’s memory upon his Cyborg conversion, and uses his connections to arrange a transfer to a different division in Starfleet (Carol’s division, but as a staff officer for some bigwig). (It is because Les covered everything up that he did not discover the AI was the cause of the “accident”, leaving the problem unaddressed for years).

12. Legitimately does good work during the Breen Attack on Earth in the Dominion War, where he jury-rigs a shield that saves a good chunk of Starfleet Command, as well as a visiting member of the Federation Council. The Admiral that Les was a staff officer for was critically injured, so Les was tapped to fill the position temporarily. With his connections to the highly-ranked Alonzo, as well as a grateful Federation Councilor, Les’ position is made permanent.

13. Prior to this, Les was the one to give Beckett Mariner her two years of horse-riding lessons (teaching her how to be a cowgirl, basically), and also tutored her for Early Admission to Starfleet Academy (a la Wesley Crusher, only it worked). 

14. Les is the source of Beckett’s philosophy of ‘rules that get in the way of helping people are better off broken’, because that is how Les justifies his corner-cutting to himself.

15. Used his new rank to help protect Beckett’s career after Beckett went AWOL from her second starship to rescue General K’orin from a Klingon prison. Les’ help ensured that Beckett was not discharged, but instead transferred to Carol’s division of Starfleet (though not to the Cerritos just yet).

16. Les continues to be friendly with Alonzo and Carol, but now that he is in Carol’s division, he quietly stonewalls Carol’s idea for Operation Swing-By until his baby, the Texas-class, is ready, because he likes Carol’s idea and decided to steal it to make a name for himself and his class of starship.

17. The Texas-class is actually a masterclass in starship engineering, and would make an excellent starship, if it hadn’t been for Les’ insistence on making it automated. And if he hadn’t used Samanthan Rutherford’s AI coding (but if he’d used anyone else’s, he wouldn’t have been able to take the credit).

18. Sam Rutherford was assigned to the Cerritos so that Les could keep tabs on him, since it wouldn’t be strange for Les to keep track of his friend Carol’s ship.

19. Les was the one, along with Alonzo, to transfer Beckett to the Cerritos from the Quito, as a genuine friendly favor.

PS: Hello everyone! This is my first major post here! I had a lot of fun thinking these up, and I hope it captures the right feel for this character. Les is someone sociopathic and self-obsessed, but slick. There should be enough here to justify Beckett calling him “Uncle Les”, and for his corruption to be unthinkable to Carol. Not only that, but he has to go from Lieutenant Commander (as seen in Rutherford’s cyborg-based memory) to Vice Admiral in only a few years. Go ahead and share any thoughts or head-canons you have about him as well!

[turningpointphysiotherapy]

Dry Needling Therapy in Edmonton: Save Time and Money with These Insider Tips

Introduction:

Welcome to Turning Point Physical Therapy, your premier destination for dry-needling remedies in Edmonton. In this composition, we'll claw into the world of dry needling remedies, exploring their benefits, what to anticipate during treatment, and bigwig tips to maximize your experience and results.

Understanding Dry Needling Therapy:

Dry needling remedy is a technical treatment technique used by trained physiotherapists to target and palliate musculoskeletal pain and dysfunction. Unlike acupuncture, which focuses on balancing energy inflow, dry needling targets spark points within muscles to release pressure and promote mending.

Dry needling therapy is generally used to treat a variety of conditions, including habitual pain, sports injuries, pressure headaches, and musculoskeletal diseases similar to fibromyalgia and myofascial pain patterns.

Insider Tips for Optimal Dry Needling Therapy in Edmonton:

1. Choose a Qualified Practitioner: When seeking dry needling remedies, ensure you are working with a certified physiotherapist who has entered technical training in dry needling ways. This will ensure safe and effective treatment.

2. Communicate Openly: previous to your dry needling session, communicate any enterprises or questions you may have with your therapist. Be sure to expose any medical conditions, specifics, or disinclinations to ensure a safe and customized treatment plan.

3. Stay Hydrated: Proper hydration is essential both ahead of and after your dry needling session. Drinking plenitude of water can help flush out poisons released during treatment and promote optimal mending.

4. Manage Expectations: While numerous individuals witness immediate relief following dry needling remedies, others may bear multiple sessions to achieve the desired results. Be patient and trust the process.

5. Follow Post-Treatment Instructions: Your therapist will give you specific instructions to follow after your dry needling session, including recommendations for rest, ice or heat remedy, and stretching exercises. clinging to these guidelines can help enhance the effectiveness of your treatment.

Benefits of Dry Needling Therapy in Edmonton:

- Targeted relief of muscle pain and pressure

- Advanced range of stir and inflexibility

- Accelerated recovery from injuries

- Enhanced overall well-being and quality of life

- Non-invasive volition to traditional pain operation ways

Conclusion:

With its capability to target and address musculoskeletal pain at its source, dry needling remedy offers a precious addition to traditional activity treatments. By following these bigwig tips and seeking treatment from a good guru, you can witness the full benefits of dry needling therapy in Edmonton.

[africanlivenews]

Who's Who in The New Takatso Consortium

The DA says the first major concern about SAA's new majority shareholders is the fact that the board of Harith General Partners was chaired by Jabu Moloketi.

A consortium involving a former deputy finance minister, as well as the man behind low-cost airlines like Kulula, has taken majority ownership of South African Airways (SAA).

The new strategic partner, the Takatso Consortium, was announced by Public Enterprises Minister Pravin Gordhan last week as the new majority owner of SAA.

During his address, Gordhan said the partnership would see SAA receiving a R3 billion boost from the strategic partners. The Takatso Consortium will own the majority of SAA shares at 51%, with government holding 49%.

Takatso chair and current Harith group executive director is Tshepo Mahloele.

The consortium comprises Harith General Partners, a pan-African investor in African infrastructure, as well as aviation group Global Aviation.

Harith General Partners is chaired by former deputy finance minister Jabulani Moleketi. The other equity partner is Global Airways’ Gidon Novick who will serve as Takatso CEO. Novick is the former Comair co-CEO, which operates Kulula, and recently co-founder of LIFT airline.

Novick said there were incredible skills and talent available right here in South Africa as well as an abundance of low-priced aircraft available globally. These, he said, were both critical ingredients for a successful airline.

“Transformation will be core to SAA, including accelerated training and promotion of qualified black pilots and a broad based employee incentive scheme,” he said.

Novick has also served as chief executive officer at Discovery Vitality, having co-founded Kulula, and serving as Comair CEO.

The consortium said the intention was to list the airline in the future as one way to address funding requirements.

Moleketi chaired the Public Investment Corporation and was also deputy finance minister when Harith was granted R17 million in seed funding in 2006.

United Democratic Movement leader Bantu Holomisa made allegations against Harith Fund Manager, its CEO Mahloele and non-executive chairperson at the time Moleketi, saying that Mahloele and Moleketi used their previous positions at the PIC to enrich themselves - allegations they denied.

The Mpati commission of inquiry into the matter cleared them of wrongdoing when the report was released last year.

According to the Mail & Guardian, Holomisa was prevented from making further allegations by court order.

Reacting to the deal, the Democratic Alliance (DA) said the first major concern was the fact that the board of Harith General Partners was chaired by Moleketi.

“It is noteworthy that, whenever the ANC engages in public-private partnerships, it is almost always ANC bigwigs that benefit most,” said DA member of Parliament Alf Lees.

[old-evanescence]

Evanescence - Origin Photoshoot (part 1)

[kilopmf]

Tubecast microsoft

TUBECAST MICROSOFT WINDOWS 10

TUBECAST MICROSOFT ANDROID

The source doesn't say if Google Apps will be announced for Mobile or Desktop, however, folks at Neowin think that looking at "Microsoft's push for the Universal Windows Platform, it is very likely that if Google brings its apps to the desktop Store, they will be Universal Apps and, thus, also be functional on the phone." It wouldn't be unprecedented thus for Microsoft to finally make it to the top even if its mobile platform is still struggling.

TUBECAST MICROSOFT ANDROID

Google and Apple already try to offer their services to as many people as possible with even Apple moving away from restricting its services to its own platform as it announced to bring Apple Music to Android OS. This shouldn't be a surprise as we have seen plenty of collaborations happening recently between the biggest names of the tech industry.

TUBECAST MICROSOFT WINDOWS 10

It could change very soon though, as an Arabic site claims that Google plans to attend Microsoft's event this week in New York City to announce some of its services for the Windows 10 platform. However, Google has long refused to bring any of its services to Microsoft's Mobile OS as it insisted that Windows Phone's market share is not large enough to develop the apps for the platform. With the lack of apps on Windows platform, users have to go with unofficial third-party solutions or use inconvenient alternatives. Gmail, YouTube and Google Maps are some of the most popular services provided by Google. Windows Mobile users have long lamented over the lack of Google Apps. After the ceasefire between the two companies, rumors now indicate that Windows 10 users might be able to finally get their cherished and super useful Google Apps on Windows 10. A statement released that day said, "Google and Microsoft have agreed to collaborate on certain patent matters and anticipate working together in other areas in the future to benefit our customers." With Redmond having released its first every Windows as a Service (WaaS) this year, and holding possibly its biggest launch event this week, the company is proactively trying to be on good terms with other tech giants.Īs the technology bigwigs realize how fruitful their collaboration with each other is for consumers and more than that, for themselves, we are now looking at another rumor of Microsoft welcoming Google to its Surface Pro 4 event tomorrow. It was then followed by the company settling a long-standing patent war with Google last week when both the companies decided to settle all the 18 outstanding patent infringement cases. Microsoft appeared at Apple's iPhone 6s event in September to talk about its productivity apps, helping Apple lure in some enterprise consumers to its iPad Pro.

[devilfic]

❝where two are joined, relentlessly❞

III. sick day.

parts: previously / next plot: bats don’t get sick, huh? pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader cw: fluff, humor, flirting, so much pining, when will these two just kiss already, as the author I should know, minor angst, depictions of hospitals, medical procedures, general sickness, and terminal illness (minor character). words: 3.9k.

a/n: I’m using an edward cullen gif for sick bruce on purpose and pushing the “bruce wayne’s room is a mess” agenda. I will not be reasoned with

A steady sprinkling of rain was coating late afternoon in Gotham grey, but whatever sour feelings the weather left behind couldn’t compete with the gorgeous view from this high up. It was the first thing that greeted you upon waking and you were pleased that your mother was the second thing, watching the news and drinking something steaming out of a paper cup. She was clearly amused by how long you’d been out, “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.”

“Hm, I bet. They don’t let you rest over at that Wayne Enterprises. Once I get out of here, I’m heading straight over to Bruce Wayne’s office and giving him a piece of my mind.” You probably would’ve believed her if it wasn’t for the IV taped flush against her arm, simultaneously keeping her healthy and chained to this room.

Once upon a time, you’d dreamed of being someone like Bruce: you could pay away her pain with some miracle drugs that wouldn’t hit the market for another 50 years and still have money left over to vacation in Monte Carlo. After all, your mother was supposed to be enjoying her life at this age. She was supposed to be downing mimosas at brunch and getting into horseback riding (or whatever women her age liked to do). Instead, she was stuck here, wasting away, and no amount of money in the world could make her better. 

“Bruce Wayne pays the bills, mama.” You stifle a smile, “I’m sure you’d make him cry, though.”

Your mother grumbles and picks up the remote control corded to her bed, fruitlessly mashing the volume button, but the TV doesn’t get any louder. “Do you think Bruce Wayne could donate a better TV to my room while he’s at it?”

You’re about to joke that you’d try to make him consider it when your mother’s usual nurse, Annie, enters the room, “What’s this about Bruce Wayne?”

Annie was familiar and thorough. You’d gotten used to watching your mother get her vitals taken, always waiting in anguish for any signs of her health deteriorating, but Annie had a habit of making the process go by quicker. Your mother was a fighter, she had told you as much, but this deadlock in her health was more agonizing than anything else. It felt like she’d be stuck here forever, healthy enough to feel hope for but too sick to leave.

You’re on the verge of zoning out to conserve your high spirits when Annie catches your attention, “So, your mom tells me you’ve been busy with your corporate job. How’s it working for the bigwigs?”

You cast a narrowed glare at your mother who feigns naivety, “It’s... a heavy workload, but my coworkers are nice. Pay’s better than I could ever ask for.”

“I keep telling them they should take a real day off! After all they do for that company, that’s the least they deserve.”

“I like my job, mom.”

“I would too if I worked for Bruce Wayne,” the nurse giggles, writing something down on her clipboard, “have you seen him up close? I saw those photos of him at Mayor Mitchell’s funeral—God bless his poor family—and I couldn’t believe such a gem has been hiding in plain sight.”

The tips of your ears burn as you’re forcibly reminded of your (rather good-looking) boss’ face, “He’s alright.”

Annie continues as if you hadn’t even said anything, off in some daydream where she was talking to Bruce instead of you, “If only he left that tower of his more often. What’s he like, huh? He looks so intimidating, like one of those Christian Grey types. You think he’s into nurses?”

He’s into cats, you think bitterly, and then you consider the sheer absurdity of comparing someone as subdued as Bruce Wayne to a dickhead like Christian Grey, but it isn’t like you fail to see the humor in it. “...I’m sure he could use one given how hard he is on himself. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Annie beams, and though you have no intention of mentioning anything of the like to Bruce, part of you thinks it’s worth storing away in your collection of “things to tease Bruce about” for later. 

Eventually, the nurse’s work is done, and you’re left alone with your mother again while the news continues to report on the goings-on of Gotham’s criminal underbelly. With the volume so low, you could only make out the words that best stood out to you. Something about a rowdy gang vandalizing monuments, a mysterious string of robberies, something something Batsignal... wait.

You waste no time getting your ear as close to the TV speakers as you can get, the news anchor’s voice feeding through, “...still, there has reportedly been no sightings of Gotham’s caped crusader since the 18th, just three days after Commissioner Gordon instated the Batman as chief consultant over the latest case of robberies across the city. The GCPD released an official statement this morning promising that, while the Batman has currently been unreachable, they have and will continue to make every effort to keep the citizens of Gotham safe. Back to you, Jan.”

Batman was... missing?

You try to think back to the last time you saw him, physically saw him, and all you could remember were a few glances in passing. Alfred had mentioned that he’d be busy with a new case on his hands and that it was best to leave him be, but that was it. If he was so busy being Batman, why has no one seen him?

Your mom watches you with clear concern, “What’s wrong, honey? What’s going on?” 

You had a bad feeling about this.

After your first night spent at Wayne Tower, Alfred had presented you with a key, neatly engraved with the Wayne family symbol. While it was more for show than actual use (the tower had stopped relying on deadbolts ages ago), it was a concrete assurance that you had officially entered a new echelon. The implications of such a gift were not lost on you, and you would readily use that privilege to burst into the Wayne’s penthouse unannounced, “Alfred? Dory? It’s me!”

No answer. 

Your stomach had churned the entire drive here, and while you tried to call both Dory and Alfred’s cell phones, neither had picked up before your panic rose to inconsolable levels.

You check every room on the first floor, finding that it was just as barren as it seemed with both Alfred and Dory’s rooms completely empty. Your next bet was the Batcave, but upon your descent, you found no Bruce nor evidence that he’d ever even left; the Batmobile remained parked on its platform, and his motorcycle was still leaning against the staircase as always. That only left the top floor.

You probably look like a mad person as you bound up the steps to the second floor, far more familiar with the area since that stormy night so long ago. You call out again for somebody, anybody, to answer you. When you’re met with nothing but silence, you're forced to confront your last resort.

Yet, before you can even get a hand on the doorknob, Bruce’s door flies open, revealing the irritated man in the most pathetic state of undress you’d ever seen him. At first, you’re shocked. And then... “Are you... sick?”

“No.” Bruce answers through a stuffy nose.

He looked pitiful when he was unwell. Pallid in complexion (more so than usual), hair a matted mess, and shivering. The very tip of his nose was a bright red, as if he’d been rubbing at it all day and the blood had decided to just pool there and stay. While Bruce never cleaned up if he didn’t have to, the wrinkly t-shirt and sweatpants he had on looked like he hadn’t changed out of them in days. Telling by the state of him, he probably hadn’t.

“You’re not here all alone, are you? Where’s Alfred? And Dory?” You gather up the wits to finally ask.

Bruce looks too pained to even make words come out of his mouth, “I sent Dory home so she wouldn’t get sick, and Alfred’s in a meeting.”

“So you are sick.”

“No.”

To your utter devastation, Bruce happens to be really cute when he’s too sick to be convincing, though you hastily chalk it up to the indignant pout of his lips. You never in your life thought you’d call someone like the Batman “cute”. “Then are you and Gordon having marital troubles? GCPD’s saying they haven’t been able to reach the Batman for days and last I checked, the only thing that could stop you from playing hero is a bullet to the head.”

Your boss grumbles, then presses a hand to his forehead, leaning his full weight against the doorframe. He looks positively miserable, “I’ll be fine.”

You mull over your next move, then gently pull his hand away and replace it with your own, feeling him tense up underneath your touch. You try to ignore the way his eyes widen at you between your fingers, “You’re burning up, Bruce.” And if he complains any more after that, it goes in one ear and out the other. 

His bed was also a mess and rightfully so, seeing as it seemed he’d only gotten out of it today to greet you. You fix his sheets properly on the bed and move his pillows back into place before ushering Bruce forth, “Come on, you shouldn’t be up when you’re this sick.”

“I only got up because you wouldn’t stop yelling.” But regardless, Bruce does what you say without delay. The look of visible relief on his face when he slips back under the covers only concerns you more. 

“Can you blame me? No one would answer my calls. I thought... I thought something bad might have happened. When’s the last time you ate, anyway?”

Shutting his eyes to the world, Bruce takes a few moments to answer you. “This morning. Before Alfred left.”

“Oh, goodness, Bruce! It’s almost 5 in the evening!” 

High fever, hasn’t eaten, can’t bear to be up on his feet for very long... no wonder he looked on the verge of death. 

You excuse yourself to the kitchen and go about making a quick meal, hoping that Bruce had the stomach to keep it all down. You had yet to stop and think about whether you were intruding too much on Bruce’s personal space again, your worries for his health managing to trump even that. If he was upset with you for trying to take care of him, he would have tough luck making you feel bad about it.

You’re relieved that he’s sitting up and looking a little more awake when you return. “I made you soup. Can you eat it?” 

He looks between you and the bowl you carry to his bedside, shoulders slouched with the effort to stay upright, “You made that?”

“Yeah, ‘s not hard. My mom taught it to me.” You kneel by his bedside with spoon in hand, fully ready to feed him if he got too fussy, but he didn’t seem like he had the strength to put up a fight in this state. A compliant Bruce was a rare and appreciated variant, indeed.

“I can take it,” you deposit the bowl into his hands with his reassurance and watch him carefully to be sure, “...thank you.”

While Bruce eats, you take the time to really, truly examine his room. Bruce’s bedroom had the bare bones of old money that was a running theme throughout the tower, modified with the personal touches he’d added over the years: blackout curtains, a computer system to rival the Batcave’s, and clothes thrown everywhere. It was the furthest thing from what you’d imagined someone like Bruce Wayne’s room would look like. 

The most surprising thing is his drawings pinned above his desk. The charcoal sketches are of buildings, concepts for Bat tech, and strangers, each having a simple but striking quality to them. You’d seen Bruce doodle on paperwork before, and sometimes he’d put together blueprints and floor layouts on the fly, but you’d never seen him truly draw.

When Bruce’s bowl is half drained, you decide to wander over to the wall and ask him about them, “Do you draw often?”

Bruce flushes at that, having not noticed your wandering eyes while eating. “I used to. I don’t really find the time anymore.”

“That’s a shame. If it wasn’t for the Batman, we’d probably have Gotham’s very own da Vinci on our hands.” Bruce looks scandalized at the thought. “What? You’d be the ultimate bachelor.”

“I’d rather everyone keep thinking I was some selfish recluse with a horrible secret.”

“No, you’d make it too easy for conspiracy theorists to guess that you’re Batman. If you lean into the handsome, sensitive artiste angle, no one would ever think you go around beating people up for fun.”

Bruce snorts, setting his spoon back into his bowl, “Since when do you care about how marketable of a bachelor I am?”

“My mom’s nurse is smitten with you. She also wanted to know if you were into medical professionals, but surely that’s not related.” Bruce just about chokes on his own spit. You hide a smile behind your hand. “Oh come on, Bruce. You must know a lot of people think you’re attractive.”

Annie hadn’t been the only one starstruck by the morning of Mayor Mitchell’s funeral—the hellish nightmare that it was—and the way social media buzzed with the first public sighting of the Wayne family’s heir in months. It was short-lived thanks to the Riddler’s interruption, but by then, you had already seen the reactions.

And then there was Selina Kyle, the stunning woman who’d stolen Bruce’s heart. Though you were positive she never saw under the mask, it was clear to you why it was so easy for Bruce to charm her. You don’t know where the two would’ve been now if she’d decided to stay, but God didn’t grant miracles just for you to be ungrateful.

Bruce blinks innocently. “They do?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

“...It’s not a concern of mine.” And it wasn’t that shocking. If it wasn’t for Alfred cutting his hair and cleaning up his shadow every once in a while, Bruce would look nowhere near the clean-shaven pretty boy the tabloids made him out to be. What actually blew your mind was that he was completely unaware of his effect on the single and searching of Gotham.

Stalking back to Bruce’s bed, you take a seat on the opposite side to face the bashful heir, “You’re telling me that a bombshell like Selina Kyle, who could frankly give all of Gotham’s elite a run for their money just by looks alone, kissed you twice and you don’t think that means something?”

“It wasn’t Bruce Wayne that she kissed, so... yes.”

“I- look, that’s not the point. The point is that mask or not, anyone with half a brain can see how alluring you are. Hell, if you really wanted to, you could be the most enviable playboy in the city. You could dog walk half of Gotham with that power, you know that?”

Bruce is not nearly as convinced or impassioned as you are, “I’m not interested in that. I never have been.”

In your short time working closely with Bruce, you’d observed the many types of people he was expected to rub shoulders with: politicians, higher ranking law enforcement, socialites, and mafiosos who all knew what it took to keep up appearances. The few times you’d exchanged niceties with them had been all you needed to understand why the public persona of Bruce Wayne was an untended one.

Bruce didn’t care about power or appearances. It was why he worked himself to the bone every night as someone else. Even now, you could see the itch under his skin to get back on the streets, as if he couldn’t stand the confines of the tower (of being Bruce Wayne) for too long. His love for this city outweighed it all.

There was just something so tender about that. Ready to dash into battle as the city’s savior when even he himself needed saving. Seeing him vulnerable to his own mortality for once brought out a side of him that felt too precious for anyone else to see, and perhaps that’s why he was so stubborn.

A laugh of disbelief escapes you just then, “Guess that means I’m the only one who gets to know what a catch you are.” In a way, if you were the only one to know this Bruce, you would... you would like to keep him all to yourself.

Bruce’s eyelashes softly flutter as he looks at you. 

God, what were you saying? Bruce’s cold must’ve been getting to you.

Any thoughts of taking back what you said only spelled for more embarrassment, so you willed your lips to stay closed, hanging onto your very last word in the silence. If anything, Bruce probably didn’t take you seriously. You said things like that all the time! 

You were the first one to break eye contact, unsurprisingly. “Do you need anything else? I don’t want to leave you here all by yourself.”

You expect Bruce to protest about that last bit, maybe argue that he was more than capable enough to take care of himself, but all he does is slink back under the covers, “Maybe a... wet towel. And some painkillers, in the drawer over there.”

And so you bustle about getting him exactly that. You make him take the painkillers with a hefty glass of water, and when he lays down to rest, you draw his sweaty bangs back from his forehead and place a cool cloth there instead. While his breathing was still stuffy, you hoped that it would clear up by morning. 

You hadn’t intended to stay long, really. Once Alfred came home, you’d leave the two to each other’s devices and hope that the Batman would be able to make an appearance once more, lest it be known that he was just a man. Yet, as you sit beside Bruce in his bed, swallowed by the comforting nighttime and his steady breathing, you hope that he can rest just a little longer. Be a man just a little longer. Not some bulletproof, terror of a boogeyman. 

Because he’s very clearly not, not when you’re watching him move too much for the covers to follow. Having to tuck him in again, wet the towel on his fevered skin again, walk him down the hall and back to bed again... he’s more human now than you’ve ever seen him allow himself to be.

When Alfred does get home, he’s not shocked to find you sitting up in bed with Bruce fast asleep against your side. You seem to be dozing off too, though you regain all consciousness when Alfred lightly knocks at the door. Before you can even get a word in, the butler gives you a warm smile, “Hope you didn’t have to fight tooth and nail to get him to eat. He doesn’t like me worrying over him anymore.”

“He’s surprisingly obedient when he’s sick. We’ve finally found something more stubborn than Bruce’s will.” As if he could hear the two of you talking about him, Bruce shifts in his sleep. “How come you didn’t tell me about the meeting? I could’ve gone for you.”

Alfred undoes his tie as if it was a reply all on its own, “And keep you from seeing your mother?”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me about Bruce being sick? I had to find out from the news that Batman’s been missing. I was worried.”

“I think you’re confused on who didn’t want you to know.”

You look down at Bruce once more, still resting quietly beside you, and you think about how easily he’d fallen asleep in your presence. A healthier Bruce might have batted away your attempts at caring for him and sent you home already, but instead, he let you in. By the time you’d fed him, he’d already let down the facade that he was fine. Was he just that unwell, or...?

“It’s quite late. Will you be staying the night?” Alfred asks, moving to collect some of Bruce’s clothes from the floor and toss them somewhere tidier. 

“I mean- I don’t want to impose, but you’ve already had a busy day. I don’t mind looking after Bruce for the night.”

“Are you sure? You’re only paid to do paperwork, not babysit. I’d take the out if I were you.”

You shake your head with a faint smile, “It’s fine. Bruce isn’t such bad company, sick or not.”

Alfred returns your smile, impossibly softer than you could even comprehend. Then, he leaves the room, shutting the door as quietly as he can behind him.

By morning, your only regrets are how stiff your neck is.

You wake up still seated in bed, leaning against the upholstered headboard for the smallest bit of comfort, and Bruce is no longer right beside you. The sheets from where he’d fallen asleep are thrown back as if he’d woken up in a hurry.

Just as you consider getting up yourself, said boss of yours enters the room... shirtless, brushing his teeth. “Morning.” He greets through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“M-Morning... I assume you’re feeling better.”

In an attempt to ignore Bruce’s (less pathetic) state of undress, you crawl out of bed and toward the windows, pulling back one of the curtains to get an idea of the time of day. Bruce returns to his en suite to rinse. You’re thankful that he comes back with a shirt on this time.

“I am. I owe it to your mother. For the soup, I mean.”

You could picture your mom’s face upon hearing that the Bruce Wayne had complimented her recipe, and suddenly you couldn’t wait to visit her again, “Maybe hearing that her soup saved a Wayne from certain demise will make her reconsider giving you a piece of her mind.”

Oh, if only you had a camera. The comically innocent look that Bruce sends your way makes him look 10 years younger, “She doesn’t like me?” He keeps a steady handle on his voice, but you notice it’s gone up a pitch.

“She thinks I’m overworked, that’s all. She just wants me to visit more.”

Bruce’s shoulders droop, apologetic. “As a thank you for yesterday, I should give you today off as well. Go see her again. Without distractions this time.”

You really needed to talk him up to your mom now. It wouldn’t be fair if she continued to hold a grudge at this point... seeing the panic on Bruce’s face was worth it, though. “Really? Thanks, Bruce. I promise I will try to get you into her good graces-” You’re suddenly interrupted by a tickling moving up your throat, to your nostrils, and then-!

You heave a strong sneeze. The look you share with Bruce is worth a thousand words.

[falling-pages]

Art Gallery: Tamaki Suoh x Reader

I've been neglecting y'all, I'm so sorry, have some Tamaki soft angst/fluff/I don't even know, it just made me cry.

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Tamaki Suoh x gn Reader

Warnings: None

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"You wondered if you would be his third Great Love–if he would kneel at your altar and pray while some other pretty young thing watched from a doorway."

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In a room packed with ancient sculptures and priceless portraits, Tamaki still managed to stand out.

Of course he did. He himself was history, as old as the stars with an ethereal beauty to match, glowing and radiant despite his archaic visage. Born of a dying sun, a child of primrose and promise. In a gallery full of art, he was a living masterpiece.

But it wasn’t just his face that garnered attention wherever he went. It was his posture, regal as a king; it was his charisma, able to talk a leopard out of its spots; it was his voice, like the flute of an archangel. It was his presence that radiated calm and peace; it was the look in his eyes that had you believing that whatever you said, he listened.

And here you were, hanging off his arm, lucky enough to be the one to whom he directed that great, big heart.

Your glass sparkled in your hand, but not nearly as bright as his teeth when he smiled, greeting visitors and critics and other bigwigs as they entered the gallery. It was the event of the season, you had read in yet another magazine describing his brilliant philanthropic efforts.

His funds came from family money and wise investments, those articles said. They were correct in the fact that it was old money--but he himself was older than money itself, existing before humans knew what fire was and teaching them not to get burned with the flame.

This art gallery was, perhaps, his most brazen show of lavish wealth yet. It filled the most expensive space in downtown Tokyo, wall to wall laden with portraits and statues of landscapes and people past. Each one weathered with age, paint and stone alike cracked as the years bore on. They were in his family’s generational wealth, he told each curious onlooker and reporter with pen in hand; except they never thought to ask why Suoh Enterprises only ever had one CEO, and why his name was kept hidden like an oath.

The fairy prince floated around the marble floor, though he never neglected to keep you close. As much as you loved him, it was in moments like these you felt the multi-millennial age gap. As he charmed donors with stars in their eyes and even the mayor as she visited, you realized just how good he was at flattery. Charm comes easy when you’ve had thousands of years to practice.

He looked remarkably good for his age, you often joked, most often in the early mornings in bed following nights of dedicating love. Lounging on his back with one hand tucked behind his head, the other resting on your waist as you leaned above him, body swathed in silken sheets, his blonde curls unruly and smile soft, was when he looked most human, you had decided. The sheen was put-on; the sparkle was practiced. But when you were close to him, tracing the light hair on the chest which sheltered a heart that would never stop beating, you could entertain the thought of forever.

The guests pitter-pattered on, unaware of the Immortal in their midst. It was better they remain ignorant to it, as their minds could not comprehend. Even you were dumbfounded, sometimes, that the hand you clutched had razed the empires of old, that the lips you kissed had spoken to crowds of thousands in parliaments and Greek forums. But that smile was youthful. That smile was eternal in a way that severed the disconnect between your worlds.

All the statues and portraits were of people he had known and were friends with, but not all were of those he loved. Though he was human enough to have needs platonic and pleasurable, there were only two facades who had captured his heart throughout the ages. He had them immortalized in his gallery, one in paint and one in stone, and in your home you had often found him kneeling before them both, muttering words no human spoke. A language older than language itself, words straight from his immortal heart.

You wondered if you would be his third Great Love–if he would kneel at your altar and pray while some other pretty young thing watched from a doorway.

You knew the stories well. He had told you of each person that sported a spot in his gallery. There was a granite statue of an ancient samurai, nearly ten feet tall and a sword of rough-hewn stone, a man known around the country for his loyalty, skill, and wisdom. From the same material, connected at the ankles, was a child, though Tamaki had said he was feared for his skills of violent arts and manipulation. Then there was a sculpture of a priest cradling a cat, sitting on a bench with his head covered by a cloak. Beside it was a painting of red-headed young men, identical in face and stature, who sported grins so mischievous you could feel the tips of your ears tingle in warning. Closer to the interior hung a portrait of a princess, a stunning young woman dripping with French diamonds and furs and large, sad caramel eyes. Most out of place was a silky pink ribbon keeping her hair from her face– “I gave her that,” Tamaki had said.

Statues were older than the paintings, archeological wonders. And they belonged to him, in mind and soul.

In the center of the gallery were his prized possessions: a portrait of a maiden in boys' clothes, knee-deep in a rice field; and a marble statue of an emperor, clad in primitive spectacles anachronistic of his time.

Those were his two Great Loves.

Surrounded by friends and lesser loves, those two remained frozen in time. The statue of the young man was older than some empires, you were sure; from the cracking in the marble to the way Tamaki often clutched his cold, unfeeling hand, you wondered if, indeed, they were the First Love the earth had ever seen. Beside him was the young girl, distinctly more relevant, in commoner’s period clothes of the 1700s.

An emperor and a commoner, centuries apart. How had Tamaki come to love them both so fully?

You never asked the stories, and Tamaki never told. How they stood with such detail, in such an eminent place of honor, told more of his love than his words ever could. The statue’s details were gilded in gold; the portrait was so realistic that it could have been a photograph.

Tamaki didn’t kneel in public, but his love was magnetic. When he gazed at them, it was as if the world around him disappeared.

“His eyes were black,” he would whisper, caught up in staring at the statue. “They were like onyx jewels. Like a sky without stars. Like ink spilled on a page. But sculptors can’t sculpt colors, they only sculpt marble.”

Whoever heard him would peer curiously at the specimen and ask him how he knew.

“I read it in a book somewhere,” he would say with a bemused smile, “a book so detailed it seemed I knew him personally.”

When he turned to the young lady, her portrait alive with color, he would comment on her surprised expression, pink lips rounded in an “o.”

“And she had a tongue like a whip,” he would laugh, and when faced with the same question, he answered, “My great-great-great grandfather knew her.”

Then he would fall back down from Heaven, give you a soft smile, and drag you to the next exhibit.

Over time, glorious, horrible time, you began to realize that as much as you loved him, as much as he adored you, as much you both wished to spend the ages together, you ached for it no more than any other subject deposed in his gallery. They, too, had once dreamt of forever; but humans are human, and Immortals, immortal.

Just as his destiny was to love and lose, yours was to become art within his walls; memory trapped in marble or paint. Yet you would have your immortality–with the rest who loved him, admired for the ages in his gallery.

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Kofi and Commissions

[old-evanescence]

The cemetery where Evanescence did a photoshoot for Origin at is the Mount Holly Cemetery in Little Rock, Arkansas.