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kpiuniverse · 3 months ago

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Penelope had nothing on you

This fic has been inspired by @ultimate-marysue Odysseus/Penelope's prompt here.

Roy deserves to have a little Odysseus/Penelope moment and say "you need to be able to string my bow to date me". Cue to Jason suddenly increasing the weights in every machine he owns. He eventually manages but it's a struggle. Like, he's on the floor sweating and out of breath, but the bow is strung. He's so very pleased with himself, it's really pathetic. Roy thinks it's super hot (he likes a wretched creature), the Titans are begging him to get better taste.

It takes place in an alternate AU where Jason did not die, but the motherfucker still managed to get the same character development as the comics...

Written and edited in a day (which had not happened since Vigilante Chaos and Sleepless Nights). I hope you enjoy it!

Read it on AO3

It starts as a joke.

Dick is at Titans Tower with his team, blowing off steam after a high-stakes mission. Naturally, alcohol is involved. Surprising absolutely no one, least of all Dick, the handful of unsupervised teenagers quickly spirals out of control.

It starts with them trying to string Roy’s bow. Emphasis on ‘trying’. It’s late into the night, and only the core Titans (Donna, Wally, Dick and Roy) remain after everybody else either went to bed or passed out from drinking. Wally jokes about Roy’s archaic choice of weapons, Roy counters by pointing out that a bow is much more reliable than mechanical weapons. The discussion escalates toward the respective merits of arrowheads or bullets to hold tricks, culminating with Roy deciding that Wally’s inability to use a bow renders his opinion irrelevant anyway.

It spirals down from there. Wally’s pride is picked, and he immediately snatches Roy’s bow from wherever his owner abandoned it earlier tonight. Posturing on top of their table, he loudly asks: “What’s in it for me, pretty boy?”

Roy falls on the floor with laughter and promises Wally the date of his choice – no veto from Roy - if he manages to string the bow. Pumped by the idea to humiliate Roy, Wally tries to string the bow at once. And tries. And keeps trying, under Roy’s degrading comments and Donna’s loud Wally doesn’t succeed and finally puts down the weapon with a sheepish look.

Roy’s trademark smirk is in place, and he offers the bow to Donna. Never one to shy away from a physical challenge, she gives it all she can. She can’t string it either and loudly curses Roy’s ancestors as well as his potential offspring with such colorful language that even Roy is impressed.

Roy presents his weapon to Dick next, a single eyebrow raised in challenge. The thing is, Dick already knows he’s not able to string it. He's fully aware of his physical abilities, for starters. While the most acrobatic of them in the air, his shoulder and arm strength is nowhere near Roy’s. Dick also knows that all the Arrow’s bows have a hidden release button, as a security feature. It’s supposed to prevent anybody other than Roy or Oliver from using their weapons.

Apparently, it also makes for a comical distraction among young, inebriated heroes.

Without a word, Dick slowly takes the bow from Roy’s hands as his friend's whistle. He doesn’t take his eyes away from Roy’s as he skims the weapon's surface until he feels an almost imperceptible catch. He lets his finger linger there for a couple of seconds, savoring Roy’s blanching when his friend figures out that, of course, the Bats would know all about his and Oliver’s dirty little secrets.

Still, even without the trick release, Dick is drunk out of his ass and nowhere near certain that he could actually string the weapon fully. He decides against risking making a fool of himself for the cheap price of parading Roy in lace panties and a cute dress all over Queen Enterprise - the man is shameless; he would probably enjoy it.

Dick still makes a good show of trying his best, waiting until color returns to Roy's cheeks before handing him back the bow with a knowing grin.

Roy recovers quickly and proudly announces. “Well, that settles it! Anybody that can string my bow can take me on the date of their choice and get a kiss from me. But I’m not holding my breath, losers!”

The party withers away after that, and they all return to their quarters. The next morning, the story is shared, embellished and deformed to the point it becomes an inside joke for the Titans. Never one to stay out of a good laugh, even at his own expense, Roy goes the extra mile and sacrifices one of his older bows by putting it up the wall of the Tower lounge, so that anybody can try to string it.

It becomes a fixed feature in their decoration and a good story to tell their new members.

***

It becomes an innocent afterthought.

Truth be told, Dick has a lot on his mind at this time. The bow running gag is far from any of his current concerns. That’s why he doesn't think anything of it when he returns to the Titans lounge, after updating Bruce on their outing with the Titans, and finds Garth vividly retailing the story of the bow and the unclaimed associated price to an impressionable young Jason in his new Robin’s colors. The boy – his young brother. God, Dick is never going to get used to it – is hanging on Garth’s lips, eyes wide and more focused than Dick ever saw him in the few weeks he has known him.

Sure, Dick saw the look Jason sent toward Donna and Roy's direction whenever he was around them during the weekend. But a bit of a crush on any of them was to be expected anyway, and it’s not like it could lead to anything harmful, after all. Jason isn't even thirteen yet, and both Dick’s friends are well into their twenties, not the least interested in a kid, especially one under Batman’s protection.

And if that night, back at the Manor, Jason shovels all the proteins onto his plate first and then goes over his usual shyness regarding food when asking Alfred for seconds, while grilling a bemused Bruce about the best diet to augment one’s muscle mass, well. The kid has a crush, that’s all. It’s kind of adorable.

It’s not like a heavily proteic diet is going to have any adverse side effects on a growing vigilante kid. Not under Alfred's watch, at least.

***

It turns concerning after that.

Jason's eating habits settle and become the new normal. Bruce and Alfred take it in stride and keep pushing high-protein meals toward him, never asking why. Dick doesn't let on that he has any insider information, because his relationship with Jason is still rocky at the best of times. Outing the kid’s crush isn't going to help anybody.

There’s a moment, though, when Dick hesitates.

Looking for Jason at Alfred's demand, he finds the boy in his room. Dick would not have thought anything of it if Jason's reaction to his unanticipated presence in his space hasn’t been that violent. Jason startles, pushes what he had in his hands under his comforter and quickly rushes Dick out of the room.

His little brother’s behavior is so removed from his normal one that Dick’s detective senses tingle for the rest of the day. Ashamed and concerned all at once, he uses the time Jason spent in the shower that night after patrol to go through his room.

Concern wins the match when Dick stumbles upon a bottle of prescription steroids that he knows for a fact Jason was not prescribed with. The screaming match that follows when Jason emerges from the bathroom and sees Dick sitting on his bed with the bottle clearly in sight, only stays at decent sound levels because neither of them wants Bruce involved.

Jason’s reasons for that are obvious; after two years at the Manor, he is well accounted with Bruce's overprotective behavior and old enough that it starts to shaffle. Dick’s own reasons are a lot more selfish; somehow, he feels responsible for Jason’s crush on Roy and his subsequent behavior.

They reach an understanding. Jason stays away from any pharmaceutical substances altogether - it was such an easy promise to extract from him that Dick doubts the kid really had any real intention of taking the pills in the first place - and Dick doesn’t share this misstep with Bruce. The compromise still involves telling Alfred, much to Jason’s chagrin, because Dick doesn’t live at the Manor, and his irregular visits aren’t frequent enough to really make sure that Jason keeps his word.

For a couple of days, Dick regrets his decision and spends a good part of his day job hovering over the call button on Bruce’s contact. Until he decides to go back to the Manor without advance notice and finds Jason struggling through his usual training regimen.

Dick breathes better after that. If he keeps his visits more frequent than he used to before the incident, well, only Alfred and Jason might figure out why. That’s good enough for him.

***

Then it gets ridiculous.

Dick is using one of his sporadic visits at the Manor to make good use of the extensive gym on the third floor. The natural light coming through the large windows feels nice after the winter months spent in Blüdhaven.

Distraction is the only reason Dick even takes his place on the weight bench without checking that’s already been put upon the bar.

He takes out the bar absently and almost lets it topple upon his chest from the surprise. The weight it’s carrying is way more than anything even Bruce usually uses. It’s not unmanageable for Dick, but he still struggles to put the bar back without incident.

Out of breath and shaking with leftover anxiety at the idea of what would have happened to him if he had to confess to Alfred his poor decision to train unspotted, he gets up and checks the leaded discs on the side. It is indeed a far cry from their usual regiment. He gets a look around the rest of the gym, and sure enough, all the machines are heavily loaded.

At dinner, he tries to joke with Bruce about it, who does not react in the slightest. All it takes is seeing Jason's shoulders hunching and the tips of his ears blushing to understand that Bruce is not the one currently using the third-floor gym.

Which, duh. The man has never once in his life exposed himself to sunlight if he could avoid it, and there’s a perfectly useable gym in the Cave. Dick is still reeling from the implication when Jason finds him right before he leaves and asks him to not rat him to their joined paternal figure. Dick makes him promise to not train alone with this kind of weight, going as far as assuring his regular presence at the Manor to help Jason train if that is what it takes.

It kind of becomes their thing; Dick coming over every other day after work or whenever he can spare the time to help Jason slowly increase the weight on the machines and witnessing his once-upon-a-time malnourished little brother develop into a tank of a man before he reaches official adulthood.

As it happens, regular exposure and forced trust do wonders for their relationship, above anything else Dick ever tried with Jason. The fact that Dick has to take a step back from the Titans' most time-consuming missions – space ones, for example - to be there for Jason on the regular doesn’t hurt either, to be honest. After the induced panic attack Dick gets when Jason one day calls him out of the blue, proudly announcing his intent to go to Ethiopia of all places to look for this birth mother, Dick comes to realize that without their closeness, Jason most likely would have faced the Joker alone in the damned warehouse where his mother lost her life. Dick never misses a session after that day.

Dick has no doubts about why and who Jason is focused on reaching ridiculous bench press levels for. Dick is also a coward, because he never calls Jason out on it, but regularly shares his suspicions with his Titans friends, including Roy.

Roy finds it funny, because it objectively is. He also assures Dick that Jason always has been and always will be Dick’s little brother above anything else. With what Roy is currently going through with his newfound sobriety and having to take care of an infant full-time, Dick wasn’t really concerned to start with.

Still, Dick has known Roy for years, so any extra reassurance that his old friend has no interest in returning his little brother's crush is welcome.

***

At some point, Dick starts to get a little bit worried.

Jason is only nineteen, for crying out loud! Dick is well aware that his little brother is built like a double fridge. He also knows why Jason first started to develop his musculature a few years ago. That’s why Dick is absolutely not amused by the way Roy starts looking back at Jason.

After a couple of chance encounters in Gotham and on Titans business when Roy’s touch lingers a little too much on Jason for Dick’s taste, he corners his old friend for a chat.

The next morning at breakfast, Roy makes a show of renewing the bow story while Jason’s there. He lays heavily on the ‘not interested in anything right now with everything I have going on’ and emphasizes that of course being able to string his bow will stay the only exception to his new ‘no dating’ rule.

Jason looks crestfallen at Roy’s tirade. Dick lingers around after the meal, ready to be the supportive shoulder Jason could lay his young heart on. That’s the only reason he witnesses his brother glaring at the bow on the wall with renewed vigor.

Unfortunately, the matter does not settle after Roy, deciding to go all in, brings Lian to the Tower to meet the Titans. If Dick was expecting Jason to realize that dating a vigilante single father was not the best usage of his teenage hormones, he is sorely mistaken. Jason is in awe of the little girl, spends his time entertaining her and becomes her favorite uncle in the span of the weekend, making Dick ferociously jealous.

All in all, the operation of keeping Jason away from Roy is an astounding failure. Dick is going to cry.

***

So, as the mature adult Dick pretends to be, he learns to live with it. Some moments are easier than others.

Seeing Jason and Roy develop a tentative friendship based on a shared love of sarcasm, their tendency to stir trouble wherever they go, and repetitive babysitting emergencies is easy.

Jason doesn't have a lot of friends, civilians or vigilantes. He tries the college thing at Gotham City University, and manages to stick to it despite their lifestyle, much to Bruce's delight and Dick's surprise. His impressive physique and pick-and-choose attitude toward classes isn’t conducive to building closeness with the other students, though.

The Titans always have been Dick’s, and the Young Justice initiative the newest heroes started definitely has Tim’s dirty paw prints all over it. Somehow, Jason never manages to find his own hero team. He never complains about it, happy to focus on trying to make the City he grew up in a better place, whatever not-so-Bat-sanctioned methods it takes.

Jason's controversial choice of moniker when he leaves the Robin colors to Tim doesn't help him maintain a healthy working relationship with Bruce either; not that Dick is judging him for rebelling at age nineteen and slamming the Manor door in Bruce’s face after a dispute.

He isn't that much of a hypocrite. Choosing to name himself after one of the Joker's old names, on the other hand, it was maybe a bit too much of a slap in Batman’s face. But the rogue did kill Jason's biological mother in front of him, so if anybody is allowed to claim the ‘Red Hood’ name, it should be him.

Roy’s sobriety comes and goes in unpredictable turns, until he loses Lian and... well, it’s not pretty. Jason is by his side throughout all of it, probably preventing Dick’s friend from using more fucked up coping mechanisms than his addictions. Dick might be bitter that Roy prefers Jason’s support over his, but he would never voice anything about that, since it might push Roy to stop seeking Jason’s help when he needs it.

When Jason blows up everything and everybody to jump at Roy’s rescue in Qurac without any backup, it’s difficult. Seeing his not-so-little-anymore brother really heartbroken for the first time when Roy falls in bed with Kori in the aftermath is even worse. Then Kori leaves and the pair decide to start some kind of twisted vigilante-for-hire business, Dick is too worried to evaluate where it falls on the spectrum.

It all goes up in flames, as per usual with them. For the first time ever, Jason walks away from Roy and cuts ties with everybody else. But the moment they find out Lian is alive, and a teenager now, Jason is back faster than a comic book retcons, playing uncle with her at Roy’s place every other weekend.

Throughout it all, Dick knows Jason stays in love with Roy. Because after everything the two of them went through, there is no way both the heated looks his brother throws at the redhead when he thinks no one is looking and his fearful protectiveness over the Harpers are fueled by a childhood crush. But Jason never tells anyone, never makes a move other than wistfully looking at Roy’s bow whenever he comes by the Tower.

Dick stays a coward, because he never pushes the issue with either Jason or Roy. He decides to stay out of it, fairly confident that his previous interventions on the matter made things harder for them. And if he keeps seeing the way Roy’s face dropped before hardening into resolve the day Dick all but threatened him to stay away from his brother, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

***

Everything comes down to it with a bang. A real one.

There’s an unusual number of Titans – current and previous ones – at the Tower that day. They are loudly celebrating Tim's eighteenth birthday, much to his dismay. Roy is there, having tagged along with Jason. Or Jason tagged along with Roy, nobody’s sure and nobody really cares. The two of them almost live in each other's pockets these days.

Of course, with Tim’s luck and his uncanny ability to piss off powerful beings, the party is rudely interrupted by a stressing amount of assassins from the League Of Assassins bypassing the Tower’s security system and falling upon them all. Between the genuine surprise – because targeting the Titans in their own living room, really? - and the packed room, it takes Dick’s fellow heroes a distressing delay to deal with Ra’s inappropriate birthday gift.

It comes to the point where Dick worries that collateral damage is inevitable. Most of the Titans are meta-humans or aliens or something, so unlike the Bats and the Arrows in the room, they aren't under-equipped or weaponless. But they aren't used to working together, and the lack of clear leadership shows.

One of their opponents passes both Roy and Jason's defensive positions around Lian and gets his hands on her. The teenage girl holds her own, of course, but Roy panics and launches himself at the man gripping his daughter by the throat with only his bare hands. Suffice it to say, when Dick catches sight of the situation through the global mess, he realizes there is a good chance Roy is going to be the collateral damage.

Before he can react or shout at Wally and Donna to go help Roy, Jason has all but ripped Roy’s old bow from the wall, clenched the emergency arrow embedded in the frame and strung it with a grunt so loud it covers the battling sound surrounding him. He releases the arrow right where the ninja's head is hovering over a fallen Roy, taking care of the threat. Roy freezes on the floor when the arrow passes him, gets rid of the body that fell onto him and launches at Lian to check her for injuries in the same breath.

Having one of them almost get killed seems to be the trick to organize the present Titans into something resembling a functional team. They make good work of the rest of the League’s assassins, sending them back to Ra’s Al Ghul in a handful of minutes.

Afterward, it’s business as usual, all of them still high on adrenaline. Roy and Lian are huddled together in a corner, Jason quietly speaking to them with a hand on Roy's trembling shoulder. Wally sees them getting out of cleaning duty and decides to act jealous, ignoring Dick’s signal to shut his mouth.

“So...” he announces to the room at large. He waits until everybody is looking at him, the asshole, before pointing at Roy’s bow, discarded on the floor next to where Jason is crouching. “Are we going to address that?” He adds.

The entire present company looks at him with various degrees of bewilderment. Some of them don’t realize, of course, because they are in the aftermath of a battle that almost cost the life of one of their own and don’t immediately understand what he is talking about. The ones that understand what Wally is referring to are still taken aback, because they are in the aftermath of a battle that almost cost the life of one of their own.

In addition to being in the second category, Dick is also reeling from the disaster that this has been. Suffice it to say, his temper is as short as his tone when he cuts whatever retort Jason was trying to get out from under his blush.

“Shut up, Walls!” Dick takes a deep breath and opens the eyes he closed on reflex while trying to center himself. He is met with concerned looks he does not care for. What he does care for, however, is Roy’s single eyebrow raised in surprise and Jason’s frown.

Before he can apologize and explain himself, Jason shoulders his way out of the room under Roy’s desperate expression.

He was right, Dick suddenly realizes. No intervention he ever made into Roy and Jason’s relationship has ever failed to worsen the situation.

***

It ends like it started all those years ago. With a joke.

The beginning of the end is when Jason corners Dick a couple of hours later and lashes out at him. “What the fuck is your problem with me and Roy, huh?” Jason asks while pushing him to the wall.

Dick somehow doubts a shouting match with his brother over Roy’s honor in one of the Tower corridors while the better part of every hero that was ever a Titan is in attendance is the best way to handle this.

“I’m talking to you, Dickface!” Jason escalates in the spare seconds it takes Dick to find his target. Without a word, Dick takes Jason by the wrist and all but shoves him through a not-so-random door.

They find themselves in one of the Tower cupboards. Jason raises an eyebrow at him, but Dick quickly shuts him up with a pointed remark about their weight difference and how Dick never would have been able to manhandle him here if the younger one did not allow it. Jason concedes the point and takes pointed inspiration, ready to resume his shouting.

“I don’t have a problem with you and Roy,” Dick cuts Jason before he can alert the entire Tower about his obvious feelings for a certain redhead.

Jason startles, clearly not expecting Dick’s answer to his questioning. He gets over it quickly and retorts. “Well, that’s new, for starters. Care to share what your little outburst was about, then?”

Dick shakes his head and counters. “Please, you can’t tell me that having Wally publicly grill you over your feelings for Roy felt appropriate. Roy was shaken; we all were.”

He looks directly at Jason and delivers what feels like a long-overdue apology. “I’m sorry about that, though. And I’m sorry about any part I have played in keeping you from telling Roy how you feel about him.”

On cue, the deep dive into emotional territory takes Jason off balance. He scratches his head, a nervous tick, and avoids looking at Dick when he answers. “’s okay. It’s not like I didn't always know how you felt about me going after Roy, ever since I was just the street rat Bruce brought home. And it’s not like I became a catch ever since.”

Then it’s Dick's turn to struggle. What? All those years, Jason kept his feelings for Roy hidden because of Dick? No way. No way?

“Jason,” he asks slowly, approaching the situation the same way he would approach a cornered predator cornered. Which is not so far from the reality of the situation, really. “Why did you never tell Roy how you feel about him?”

Jason looks over Dick’s shoulder and explains. “Look, I know I’m not good enough for him, okay? And he’s your friend. And you’re my brother. And...” He hesitates and concludes. “It’s not worth endangering that, that’s all.”

Dick places both hands on his little brother’s shoulders and waits for Jason to look back at him. “Jason, you are worthy of anybody that catches your interest. Why would you let what I think keep you from going after something that makes you happy?”

Judging by the odd look Jason gives him, Dick may have dialed too much on the melodramatic here. Time to back-pedal to more comfortable zones. He tries for humor. “If anything, it’s Roy that isn’t worthy of you!”

Jason defaults to his comfort zone as well. Except, for him, it’s anger. “Oh yeah? Then why did you do everything you could to keep me from landing Roy when I was younger?” He accuses.

Dick gasps audibly. “Because you were a child! A child with a crush on a man a decade older than you. Can you see how it could have been seen as concerning back then?”

Jason huffs and crosses his arms in front of his torso, making himself even bigger than he already is. His posture adding to the choleric vibes coming from him have Dick’s reptilian brain screaming ‘danger’.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jason retorts. “We’re only 8 eight years apart.”

Dick prays for patience and pinches the bridge of his nose to display that fact to the present company. “An eight-year gap is concerning when one of the parties involved is so young any relation between them falls under statutory rape!” He takes a deep breath and adds. “You were a child back then. But you haven’t been a child for a long time, Jason. And if I have kept being your brother all throughout the insanity that passes as your teenage crisis, you dating Roy is not going to change that fact.”

Their discussion ends with a hug and a joint agreement that neither of them is equipped to handle more emotionally charged conversation.

Dick figures the conversation was worth it the next day during breakfast. Roy and Jason emerge together, hand in hand. Roy sports a grin that could illuminate the state of New Jersey during New Year's Eve while Jason darts a nervous look toward Lian the moment they pass the door. The kid flashes him a toothy smile as reassuring as it is threatening – she is Jade's daughter, as much as they tend to forget it – and gives him a thumbs up for good measure. Jason visibly relaxes after that and courteously accepts the banter all the Titans present rain on the two of them.

Dick waits until the catcalls and the unsubtle innuendos recess before sitting next to them. “There’s still one thing I don't understand,” he asks, gaining their attention. “If you always knew how to string the bow, why didn’t you do it when you were younger?” He directs the question at Jason, because Dick is a known masochist who wants to imagine his underage brother dating one of his best friends.

Jason looks at him like he sprouted another head during the night. “Because I physically couldn’t, Dickiebird. You would know, you were there.” Roy, bless him, stays silent and keeps smiling. Dick insists. “No, what I meant is when did you figure it out?”

“Figure what out?” Wally asks over his shoulder. Jason doesn’t look like he has any clue about what Dick is talking about, which is infuriating, to say the least. Dick hesitates and catches Roy's eye. His friend shrugs noncommittedly, as to convey he doesn’t have any stake in the game anymore. Which, fair. Dick guesses the joke went on long enough as it is.

“Roy’s bow.” He explains to his suddenly attentive surrounding audience. “It’s not about being strong enough. There’s a hidden release in it. That’s why nobody ever managed to string it. It’s a trick.”

Wally cries outrage all over the place, Donna grumbles about how she always knew, because of course she should have been able to do it otherwise, and the others have a good laugh. All of them, except Jason, who seems star-struck in his seat. “What?” He finally asks. “What do you mean, it’s a trick?”

Everybody sobers up. A good part of the present company, Roy included, have heard Dick rant about the herculean tales of his little brother over the bow. Present company also has been in the field with the Red Hood and knows from first-hand account the kind of violence he is capable of when pushed.

There is an audible gulp in the room. Lian retrieves the bow from his usual place on the wall and shows Jason the small dentition that releases it, then effortlessly strings it with her only four feet and a half body. Jason stays notably silents during the demonstration.

“Wait a minute,” Wally suddenly says. “If you didn’t know about the trick,” he gesticulates at Jason, “how did you do it?”

Roy slowly turns toward his new boyfriend. Dick has known him for more than a decade at this point. He knows Roy, and he knows that look.

“I...” Jason hesitates. “Adrenaline, I guess?” He tries, because he might be a proud man, but he is not one to flash any type of superiority over Wonder Woman or any other Amazon. He’s a gentleman like that.

Jason grimaces and turns to Roy, as to apologize for having put his precious bow under duress. He must recognize the look in Roy’s eyes as well, because he turns redder than Dick ever saw him – first encounter with Wonder Woman included - in a handful of seconds. Without a word, Roy gets up and grips Jason's elbow to make him follow him.

The room erupts in laughs and catcalls until they disappear toward Jason’s room and Dick takes a second to appreciate their choice. Roy’s room is next to his, and there are definitely things about his little brother and his friend’s relationship he does not need to know about.

Find my other works here.

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artemismoorea03 · 2 years ago

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DC x DP or Marvel Prompt: The Gremlin Janitor

When Wayne Enterprises/Stark Industries hire two new people at the same time who just happened to share the same two references they just though it was a weird coincidence. After all, one was hired on as a programmer due to his excellent hacking abilities while the other was hired on as a Janitor.

They of course ran background checks on both of them but they came up clear. Fresh out of High School, lived in the area, came from Amity Park Illinois, and no criminal record outside of what they had actively admitted to which was only the one who was hired as a Programmer. He got caught for Hacking - hence how they knew about his skills.

But what caught everybody off guard was the first meeting.

Tucker Foley is rather tall, looks his age, and despite looking around like a kid in a candy store seems to have everything in order.

But then there's Danny Fenton. He looks too young to be out of High School though all of his information was sound and he even had paper documentation and other such proof that he was 19 and was as he claimed "Just short". But he was just here to be a janitor.

So did it truely matter?

If anybody was going to be a security risk it would be the hacker with a record.

The first week goes smoothly, but half way through the second week things start to get noticed. Not about Tucker but about Danny. Sure, there had been plenty of comments about his age but other than that he was just praised as being a hard worker even if he didn't understand the concept of wearing a mask and gloves around spilled chemicals.

But no injuries were reported any time he did this. Even when an experimental suit went out of control and started rushing through the building. It was small compared to some of the other tech, but it was still over six feet tall and easily 400 pounds. It wasn't necessarily on a rampage but it was out of control. People ran out of the way, tried to block it, but nobody was successful until Danny - short as hell Danny Fenton - threw himself right in front of it.

Danny blocked it, with just his forearm, stopping it from running over an intern who had been running from the area in fear of getting crushed by the machine. The intern would report that the area was terribly cold when Danny did this but when Tucker came out of hiding a few seconds later saying the machine had been shut down they attributed the cold to anxiety and figured that Tucker had stopped the machine before it had actually hit Danny.

A few weeks later there was a break in the dead of the night, a fight between the intruder and Danny broke out and again Danny held his own and managed to chase off the intruder but not before one of the metal tables were snapped in half. Danny claimed that the intruder had some kind of blade on his arm that cut through it but it was clearly not cut through.

After that Bruce/Tony starts paying more attention to Danny.

More and more minor things popped up until they were finally driven to a point where they just had to meet this kid in person and see him work.

Within moments of arriving they saw Danny Fenton pick up spilled container of Hydrofloric Acid like it was nothing. Which was just one of MANY things that Danny did within an hour that should have ended in disaster.

The final straw though was when Bruce/Tony decided to finally approach Danny and caught him yelling at a box that was mysteriously floating a few feet off the ground.

"PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME!" The box then dropped, Danny let out a hiss that sounded like a feral animal, then turned and made eyecontact with the man a few feet from him. Danny's only response? To lean against the broom he was holding and smile. "Oh, hey boss!"

#dp x dc prompt #dp x marvel #Danny Fenton is a Menace #my prompts #dc x dp prompt

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the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake · 6 days ago

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Just A Kid Next Door -Chapter 9

Bruce is finally back from being stuck in the time stream. Tim managed to save Batman and his loved ones. Now it is time for Tim to go home and rest. But the problem is that, Tim has no home. Or that's what he thinks so.

This will be a multichapter fic on how did Tim reconcile with his family. It will be full of angst, family feels and family shenanigans.

Masterlist

Here in the link to read the story in ao3.

-------------------------------CHAPTER 9---------------------------------

CHAPTER 9

Tim stirred slowly, lids fluttering against the soft morning light seeping through the blinds of Jason’s apartment. It took him a moment to remember where he was. The ceiling was unfamiliar. The soft blanket draped over him wasn’t his. The scent of gun oil and old leather clung to the air like a warning sign.

Jason.

His side throbbed. Pain, sharp and hot, laced through him the second he tried to sit up. He bit down on a groan. The bandages were soaked through—damp, warm, and sticky beneath the fabric. His head swam.

But of course, pain was good. Pain meant he was still alive. Not that it mattered.

He dragged himself upright eventually, swinging his legs off the bed like dead weight. The living room was empty. No Kon, no Cassie, no Bart. Good. He didn't think he had the emotional energy to explain himself—especially when he didn’t even know what explanation they were expecting.

His mouth was dry, so he dragged himself into the kitchen, footsteps slow, uncertain. The sun spilled across the counter, golden and soft. He reached for a mug, filled it with tea someone must've made earlier—lukewarm now—and cradled it in both hands. The mug was chipped at the rim. It suited him.

He took a sip. His hands shook, just a little.

And then he saw it.

Steam.

Faint tendrils curling upward from the cup, whisper-thin but unmistakable.

He blinked. Once. Twice. The realization was sluggish, like trying to remember something you only ever half-knew.

"...Ah," he muttered dryly, deadpan to no one but the silence, “Forgot I don’t have a spleen.”

Of course the wound was infected. Of course stitching it up wasn’t enough. His body couldn’t fight it off on its own. He hadn’t taken antibiotics in... who even knew how long? Days? Maybe a week?

He barely remembered.

A low, bitter chuckle escaped him, brittle and hollow.

“Ten points to Ravenclaw.”

He stared at the mug as if waiting for the sarcasm to taste stronger. “Yeah, that’ll help the infection.”

He took another sip. An edge of humor in his voice. Pain lanced through him—sharp, invasive—but he didn’t drop the mug. He just held it, staring down at the tea like it owed him answers.

“Smart, Drake. Real smart: miss a vital organ. Skip antibiotics. Get sepsis. Great job.”

A low, bitter chuckle escaped him.

And still—he couldn’t afford to stay.

Jason would be back soon. He’d ask questions, and Tim didn’t have answers. Or rather—he had too many.

None worth giving.

He didn’t want sympathy. Didn’t need comfort. What would Jason even do? Put a hand on his shoulder and act like it was okay? Like he suddenly cared?

Jason would look him in the eye and know.

He couldn’t risk that.

He straightened, breath catching in his throat from the movement. The wound ached now—deep and infected, likely spreading—but it was fine. Manageable. Not worse than what he was used to.

There were more important things to do.

Tim’s mind clicked into motion like a machine turning over despite rusted gears:

He had three meetings stacked at Wayne Enterprises today—Lucius would already be wondering where he was. Tam would be pacing near the glass elevators with a data pad in one hand and a glare ready in the other. She always looked at him that way when he ghosted. Which he did, often. She didn’t deserve it.

They’d once had... something. Not dating, not really, They mutually agreed to shove it into a locked file labeled “Temporary Malfunction" and decided that they were better off as friends.... She was the only one who occasionally looked him in the eye and called him out.

She’d know something was off. Another reason to stay quiet and keep moving.

He had reports to sign. Stockholder files to review. A board to reassure that Gotham wouldn’t implode just because Brucie Wayne is back from his so called "vacation" now....not that they knew that he was literally dead a while ago...

Then there was the Demon Head....still somehow weirdly obsessed with him even though he tricked him, sabotaged all of his plans, blew up all the league bases....

He could stop by his apartment on the way to the WE Tower. Grab his antibiotics. Maybe down them with coffee. Or not. They'd probably make him nauseous anyway.

The infection would settle. Eventually.

He didn’t have time to be sick. Time to explain. Time to feel anything.

Because it didn’t matter.

This—this pain, this fever, this rotting wound—none of it mattered.

His job was to keep the wheels turning. He was the stopgap. The stand-in. The Red Robin who stayed behind when everyone else moved forward.

He’d patched up the world when Bruce died. He’d put on the suit and smiled at press conferences and chased down corpses that refused to stay buried. He’d pulled his weight. And everyone else’s. For years.

He made sure all of Bruce's loved ones stayed alive.

That’s what he did. That’s all he did.

It wasn’t about him.

He didn’t need rest. He didn’t need care. He needed to finish the mission. Get the job done. That was his role. That was his place.

“You don’t matter. Just the outcome does.”

He repeated that in his head like a litany, like a mantra worn thin over the years.

His health was... a footnote. A minor inconvenience in the middle of more important things.

People didn’t notice when he fell apart unless he made noise. So he’d stopped making noise.

And maybe—just maybe—if he did this right, if he pushed hard enough, worked long enough, saved enough people, someone would notice one day.

But probably not.

He wasn’t expecting it.

The mug slipped from his fingers before he even realized he was falling.

Porcelain shattered against tile—sharp, echoing, meaningless.

The world pitched sideways. Pain lanced through his gut like glass, hot and splitting, but distant. His body folded in on itself, breath snagging somewhere between his ribs.

And just as the dark started to pull him under—

Something surfaced.

Not a memory. Not exactly.

A sound.

Laughter—soft, bright, not real. A flicker of light behind closed eyelids.

Long wind lifting hair.

Caramel skin.

Eyes like sunlit earth.

A moment from somewhere—far off, never touched, barely held. He’d only seen it once, maybe. A lifetime ago.

Maybe he dreamed it. Maybe he didn’t.

But it always came back in the quiet. Right before he blacked out. Right when he wanted to give up.

And now, in the middle of all this rot and fever, in RedHood’s kitchen with blood in his mouth and bile in his throat— It came again.

That sound.

That light.

Just long enough for him to hold on.

One more second.

...

He hit the tile, tasting blood. Bruises bloomed beneath his skin.

He couldn’t see properly anymore.

He didn’t even try to stand.

Jason’s boots hit the ground harder than usual as he made his way up the apartment steps. His hands were trembling. He hated every second of it.

The world outside was quiet, unaware of the storm that had detonated inside his chest. The conversation at Drake Manor hadn’t lasted long—but it had been enough. Too much. More than he ever wanted to know.

And still not enough to make sense of all of it.

He wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten home. Just muscle memory, taking over when the rest of him had been too stunned to think.

God, Timmy. What the hell did you go through?

He gripped the railing, knuckles white.

The memory of Damian’s voice echoed in his skull, emotionless, clinical as always—yet the things he’d shown Jason…

He didn’t want to believe them. He did. But he didn’t.

It wasn’t even denial. It was just too big. Too deep. Something you couldn’t look directly at because it hurt too much to understand. Like trying to stare at the sun.

He hadn’t spoken a word the entire walk back.

What could he say?

He unlocked the door with a shaky hand, his breath catching in his throat as he stepped into the apartment.

"Tim—"

The word died.

His eyes fell immediately on the blood on the floor. A shattered mug. A dark smear near the kitchen counter.

His heart froze.

“Tim?”

No response.

He bolted forward, his combat boots crunching against ceramic. And there—there he was.

A limp, pale mess of skin and sweat, blood oozing through the bandages at his side. Shallow breaths. His lips tinged with blue. His eyes half-lidded, barely clinging to consciousness.

“Shit—shit, no, no, no—”

Jason dropped to his knees, already pressing two fingers against Tim’s neck. The pulse was weak. Fever-hot skin. His body radiating heat like a furnace.

Why was he like this?

He pressed a finger to the wound on Tim's side. The gauze was red, crusted. It looked infected. Bad. Red and angry, heat radiating off of it.

Jason's mind raced. Med records. No mention of infection this bad. Not in the pioneer files. Something was off.

He tried to recall any note about bleeding issues—none. Not in emergency rations.

Jason swallowed hard. He didn't know.

But he hated that he was powerless.

"Stay with me, you stubborn idiot," he murmured. Tim’s body burned, coated in sweat and shaking.

Jason didn’t waste a second. He scooped Tim up—gently, trying not to jostle the wound—but the younger man whimpered, barely conscious. Jason swallowed the ache in his throat and carried him toward the guest bed.

Tim’s head lolled against his shoulder, and Jason could feel the burning heat radiating through the thin shirt. It was bad. Really bad.

Jason laid him down and reached for the first aid supplies again, but his hands were shaking too hard to open the medical kit.

He stared down at Tim’s unconscious form.

Jason had thought he knew what it meant to be broken.

But whatever Tim had recorded…

Whatever Jason had watched at the Drake Manor…

It wasn’t just pain. It was a slow, quiet erosion of self. A boy tearing pieces of himself away because no one noticed he was bleeding.

Jason dragged a hand down his face. He didn’t cry. He couldn’t afford to cry right now.

But his heart was screaming.

Screaming for the kid lying on his bed, burning up with infection, too tired to even ask for help.

He should’ve been here.

He should’ve known.

He didn't know what had happened. He didn't know how long Tim had been bleeding or infected.

But he wasn't gonna wait.

He whisked med supplies, dumping painkillers, prepping antiseptics. His hands shook.

He bent to Tim’s face, brushing damp hair from his brow.

“Hang on, Robin,” he whispered, “This is just another stupid thing we fix.”

His heart thundered.

Jason should’ve known.

But he didn’t. Because Tim never asked. Because Tim never begged. Because Tim never screamed.

He just... bled in silence.

Like he always did.

Jason took a long, shaky breath, forcing himself to work through it, pulling out the antibiotics from the bottom drawer, mixing meds from his own emergency stash.

He wasn’t going to lose him.

Not after this.

Not after what he knew now.

Not when he had seen just how long Tim had been screaming for help with no voice left to use.

#tim drake angst #batfam #tim drake needs a hug #young justice #jason todd #damian wayne #dick grayson #conner kent #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #dc comics #tim drake #good parent bruce wayne #bruce wayne #tim drake missing spleen

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funkylittlebidiot · 1 year ago

Text

leap of faith

It's happened again - sleeping in the afternoon means i get creative in the evening. Here's a thing.

The Bats wouldn’t make it in time, Tim knew as he scrambled through the door leading onto the roof of Wayne Enterprises. He’d known it the second he’d hit the panic button right before his doors burst open, spilling tactical gear-clad goons into his office.

He’d also known instantly this wasn’t a situation worth the risk of playing Timothy Drake-Wayne, so he’d chucked the Manila folder he’d been holding out like a batarang.

It wasn’t particularly effective, but it was instinct, as much as ducking for cover behind his mahogany desk in the same move. Thank god Bruce had made it bullet resistant - there’s no feature more practical in a desk. Especially in Gotham.

Of course, that’s when a bullet pierced through the wood anyway and almost knicked his shoulder. It only took a moment to take in the projectile, a bullet shaped like an arrowhead the size of a thumb, lodged into the wood with the tip coated in a green crystalline sheen.

It’s only then that Tim had begun to panic.

There were many reasons why criminals might attack Timothy Drake-Wayne - money, leverage, petty grudge, a slip in his identity or a social faux-pass were all possibilities that easily swam to his mind. There wasn’t a single reason he could think of that they would attack Timothy Drake-Wayne with kryptonite.

And Tim was an inventive guy, if he did say so himself.

Breathing going slightly funny, but forcing that to the side, he took stock of his options. The bats wouldn’t make it in time, he didn’t have his own suit and weapons, and there was no way in hell he was going to call to Kon for help. Not with kryptonite in play.

If he could he’d text Kon he was craving Belgian chocolate so he’d get as far away from WE as possible.

Anyway, think.

Tim waited for the first goon to round the desk and point his gun at his head, and purposefully fumbled a bit as he grabbed the gun and twisted in a move he’d mastered at twelve years old. He might not be able to afford playing civilian, but he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity of being underestimated.

They took it as a lucky shot - a rich boy taking a defense class is only common sense in a city like Gotham - but it still left one out of six attackers on the floor with a dislocated shoulder. The gun he’d twisted out of his arm was used to knock aside another, before breaking the nose of the assailant.

There were still four guns on him - five if the guy got over his broken nose - and the space was too cramped a battle ground. Tim was used to fighting the open space of city streets, or the occasional indoors he’d been able to case beforehand, swooping in with full control of the situation. Situations where he’d had his suit.

His dark slacks and white button down wouldn’t hold back as much as an open-palmed slap, and with his missing spleen he was too high-maintenance to be a kidnappee.

He had to get out of the office.

Tim jumped over his desk, clearly surprising his assailants as he used the same move to kick out with his feet. They dodged, but their movement had cleared out a path to the roof access stairs hidden behind a set of doors resembling a build-in closet.

It was a useful feature - both for the CEO with the private helipad on the roof and the vigilante needing to sneak out of the office during city emergencies.

Tim ran up the stairs now, grateful they hadn’t managed to get a hit in yet, but hyper-aware he wasn’t actually running towards something, and burst out into the April chill. The helipad was empty because he hadn’t thought to schedule an emergency evacuation today, but the feel of cold air against his skin was soothing. It made him feel more like Robin - Red Robin, whatever - standing high on a roof, in control of his surroundings once more.

They would have to follow him up. They would need to come through the door one by one. And Tim still had the gun.

Of course he couldn’t actually use it. He didn’t know how lethal the unfamiliar weapon would be.

Besides, the thought of shooting rounds of kryptonite made him ill.

The door bust open, followed by two guns with men attached stepping out onto the concrete. They moved quickly, swarming out like a trained SWAT team, which made his stomach flutter nervously. He’d only seen the six, five now were left.

But he didn’t know how high up they went. How many had been needed to get the six of them up to the top floor of Wayne Enterprises in the first place? How many more were downstairs?

Tim fought the urge to take his eyes off the men in front of him to sweep the surrounding roofs for snipers.

The previous comfort had left him, feeling exposed with his back turned to the skyline, his button-down catching the wind like a white flag.

“You’re trapped,” one of the men called, voice amplified to be heard over the roar of the wind. “Surrender and we’ll take you quietly.”

Tim frowned.

“What do you want?” He yelled back, playing along as his thoughts ran ahead, calculating his options. “Money?”

“Leverage.” The second guy on the left called out. “You’ll be fine as long as you play along.”

“What do I have to do?” His heart was racing in his chest, fearing the answer but also determined it wouldn’t be a problem. If they ask him for Superboy it’s an easy response.

“Just get back down, open your computer, and set up a -“

Tim already wasn’t listening anymore, ears rushing with relief as he threw down the gun and started running.

It was a stupid coincidence - the kryptonite just an extra precaution or a new trend on the streets of Gotham or whatever. They didn’t want Conner. Which meant there probably wasn’t a sophisticated contingency set up for if he were to show up - no hidden snipers in the surrounding buildings (at least none expecting Superboy), no Cadmus technology, nothing.

Still, he made sure to wait until he’d dropped at least 30 stories to finally yell out a slightly strangled - Superboy!

The following few seconds, as he continued to fall, his heart sinking into his stomach, he was forced to question the decision of leaping before making sure Kon was actually paying attention.

Then, only fifteen stories below that, he collided with a familiar body, strong arms wrapping around him as his momentum careened to a halt. Tim clung on instinctively, air leaving his lungs with a sigh as his arms came up around Kon’s neck in a tight hug, the tiptoes of his leather shoes awkwardly fitting their usual holds on Kon’s feet. This sure was easier in his Robin suit, but that thought quickly left his head as he was surrounded by the warmth of Conner. His thin white shirt had been terrible at keeping out the chill of the drop, the wind tugging at it incessantly, but against Conner it allowed him to actually feel the arms wrapped around his back, the hands pressed against his side like pools of heat.

Tim smiled into the crook of Kon’s neck, before forcing his brain to focus back on the situation as he could feel Superboy tense with anger, shifting to fly back up to take in the scene. He pressed a quick kiss into the soft skin under his jaw, hoping to soothe.

“Do not engage,” he spoke into Kon’s ear, though he knew he’d be able to hear perfectly even if Tim couldn’t catch his own voice over the sound of the wind. “They have kryptonite weapons.”

Kon tightened his grip and shifted like he wanted to take his chances, but Tim tugged at his hair until he looked down and Tim was finally able to meet his eyes.

The sight was heaven-send, but the slow curls of panic were still swirling in his gut, telling him to get those eyes as far away as possible.

“Let’s go home. Please.”

Kon swallowed but nodded, tightening his grip before they were swept away by the wind.

As soon as they came to a halt and Tim couldn’t see the city gray of Gotham anymore, his heart finally un-clenched. He went boneless as their feet touched the ground, and Kon’s grip on him softened into a proper hug.

“Thank god you’re okay.” Tim breathed into Kon’s hair, causing Kon to pull back and meet his eyes with a furious gaze.

“Me?” He ground out, hands tightening on Tim’s hips. “I’m not the one pushed off the top of a building!”

“I’m fine! I wasn’t even pushed - I jumped!”

“You- jumped.” He looked like he was short-circuiting, which might have been funny if Tim hadn’t cared that he was clearly upset. “Tim!”

“Yeah.”

“Why would you do that?!”

“Because I needed to call for help but I wasn’t going to do that anywhere near where they could get a good shot at you!”

“So you jumped?! From a skyscraper!”

“No, I jumped into your arms!”

“What if I hadn’t heard you!”

“Then I would have been upset.”

“You would have -“

Tim kissed him before he could short-circuit some more, which luckily did help him reboot and focus on what’s important - wrapping his arms around Tim’s hips again and pulling him closer, pressing their chests together as Tim moaned against Kon’s mouth.

He wanted to walk Kon back, push him against a wall before dragging him into his bedroom to thank him properly for being his knight in leather jacket - which is when he realized they were no where near his apartment OR the tower.

They were on a forest-lined stretch of road, a familiar iron gate to Tim’s back.

He pulled back, accusatory, mentally rearranging his gratitude into punishment instead, as he glared at Kon. “I told you to take me home!”

“I did!” Kon sounded way too smug, clearly pleased Tim was suffering in his own right. “They were almost at the tower when I got there. Cass told me to get you home or else - and I’m more scared of her then I am of you.”

“If I get murdered by the Spawn you’re going to feel so guilty.” Tim murmured, crossing his arms against the hollow feeling of dread in his stomach as he stared up at the manor. Cass was there. Bruce was alive.

He could deal for half an hour.

That would have to be enough.

Kon’s arm fell like a comforting weight around his waist as he came to stand beside him, squeezing softly. “I’m just a shout away.”

#timothy drake #my newest boy #kon-el #conner kent #timkon #batman #batfamily #dc batman #superboy #red robin #robin #dc robin #fanfic #timkon fanfic #fanfiction

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nayziiz · 1 year ago

Text

Shadows | LN4

Summary: [Mafia] In the face of dire financial troubles, Lando receives a desperate plea from his father to unearth a lucrative solution within the family business. Fueled by the pressure to rescue his family from ruin, Lando stumbles upon a seemingly perfect venture—using luxury cars as a facade for the clandestine world of drug trafficking. With the unexpected partnership of Amelia Rossi, his father's best friend's daughter, Lando believes he has found the ideal accomplice. However, as the Norris family collides with the ambitious Russells in a ruthless bid to establish their dominance, the perilous path Lando has chosen places not only his newfound enterprise at stake but also entangles Amelia in the dangerous crossfire that unfolds.

Warning: Violence, drugs, blood, smut, fluff, guns

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Amelia Rossi) - appearances from other drivers

Masterlist

Chapter 11

As Lando mulled over his options, one course of action emerged as the most direct and potentially effective: confronting Harold Rossi directly. Despite the risks and the emotional turmoil it might unleash, Lando believed that confronting Harold face-to-face was the only way to uncover the truth once and for all.

Harold Rossi had been a prominent figure in Lando's life for as long as he could remember. From childhood to adulthood, Harold had been a fixture in the Norris family's orbit, a respected businessman with a reputation for integrity and success. But now, faced with the shocking revelation of Harold's involvement in Clyde Mitchells' murder and the kidnapping of a baby, Lando's perception of the man had been shattered.

The thought of confronting Harold filled Lando with a mixture of anger and frustration. How could someone he had known and trusted for so long be capable of such heinous acts? The betrayal cut deep, and Lando struggled to reconcile the image of the man he had once looked up to with the reality of his actions.

But despite his anger, Lando knew that he needed answers. He needed to confront Harold and demand the truth, no matter how painful it might be. With a steely resolve, Lando made preparations to confront Harold, steeling himself for whatever revelations might come to light.

As Lando approached the familiar Rossi home, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. The house, once a second home where he had spent countless hours with Amelia and her family, now felt like unfamiliar territory, fraught with tension and uncertainty.

Parking his car in front of the house, Lando took a moment to collect his thoughts before stepping out onto the familiar path leading to the front door. Each step felt heavy with the weight of the impending confrontation, the air thick with anticipation.

With a deep breath, Lando ascended the steps to the front door and reached out to knock. The sound reverberated through the silent house, echoing off the walls and sending a shiver down Lando's spine. He waited, his heart pounding in his chest, for a response.

After what felt like an eternity, the door swung open, revealing the imposing figure of Harold Rossi standing on the threshold. His expression was unreadable, his eyes betraying no hint of emotion as he regarded Lando with a cool detachment.

“Ah, Lando! What a surprise. It's been a minute since I last saw you.” Harold enthusiastically greeted Lando.

“Hi, Mr Rossi.” Lando managed to greet Harold, feigning a small smile.

“Are you here for business or looking for Amelia?” Harold chuckled as he studied the twenty-four year old at his doorstep.

“Business, actually. Do you have a minute?” Lando enquired, suddenly sounding serious.

“Sure, come through to the study.” Harold agreed and gestured for Lando to follow him to the study.

The door clicked softly shut behind Lando, enclosing them in the dimly lit study. Harold motioned for Lando to take a seat across from him, and Lando complied, though his nerves were wound tight. The familiar surroundings of the study, once comforting, now felt suffocating as Lando prepared to broach a topic he had never imagined confronting Harold about.

“I wanted your advice on something.” Lando began, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him.

“Yes?” Harold leaned forward slightly, his expression curious yet composed.

Lando listened intently to Harold's response, his mind whirling with a mix of frustration and disbelief. The calm demeanour Harold projected only served to deepen Lando's sense of unease.

“How have you managed to keep your business clean for so long? I'm finding it quite difficult at the moment to not get my hands dirty.” Lando pressed, unable to shake the feeling of betrayal that simmered beneath the surface.

Harold leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on Lando with a measured intensity.

“Patience.” He replied, his tone deliberate. “And knowing the right people.”

There was a pause as Lando absorbed Harold's words, a bitter taste settling in his mouth. The realisation dawned on him that Harold's definition of "knowing the right people" likely extended far beyond mere acquaintanceship. He couldn't help but feel a sense of disillusionment at the revelation that the man he had respected and looked up to for so long was not the paragon of integrity he had believed him to be.

“Like the Russells?” Lando's question hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Harold's expression remained stoic, but a flicker of tension betrayed his facade of composure.

“I beg your pardon?” He echoed, his tone sharp with feigned innocence. Lando leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering.

“Would you ever ask the Russells to clean up a mess for you?” He repeated, his voice steady despite the rising tension in the room.

“Lando, I'm not sure what mess you find yourself in, but keep clear of the Russells. They are notorious for blackmail and bribery. Trust me, I know.” Harold warned.

Lando's eyebrows lifted in surprise at Harold's admission.

“So you're aware of their methods?” He asked, his tone tinged with scepticism. Harold sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging as if under a great weight.

“Unfortunately, yes. They've approached me on more than one occasion, offering their 'services' in exchange for favours.” Harold admitted, his voice heavy with resignation.

“And did you accept?” Lando inquired, his gaze unwavering as he watched Harold closely. Harold hesitated for a moment before responding.

“I won't deny that I've entertained their proposals in the past.” He admitted, his tone tinged with regret. “But I've since realised the dangers of getting involved with such individuals. They're a liability, Lando, and I advise you to steer clear of them at all costs.”

“Is that what happened with Clyde Mitchells?” Lando suddenly asked. Harold's eyes widened in shock at Lando's accusation, his expression quickly morphing into one of guarded composure.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Lando.” He replied, his voice steady despite the underlying tension in the air.

“Don't play dumb with me, Harold.” Lando pressed, his tone sharp and accusatory. “I know about Clyde Mitchells and what happened to him in those woods.”

Harold's facade faltered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he regained his composure.

“I think you're mistaken, Lando. I had nothing to do with whatever happened to Mr. Mitchells.” He countered, his voice tinged with defensiveness.

Harold's jaw clenched visibly, his gaze hardening as he regarded Lando with a steely resolve.

A knock at the study door abruptly halted their conversation before the door creaked open and Amelia popped her head in.

“Hey, I thought I heard your voice.” Amelia stated as she entered her father's study, her eyes landing on Lando’s frustrated expression. “What's going on?”

“Oh, nothing, dear. Lando just needed some business advice.” Harold quickly interjected before Lando could say anything, but Amelia noticed that Lando wanted to say something.

“Lando?” Amelia pressed, her tone tinged with concern.

“Boy, I am warning you.” Harold threatened Lando as Lando rose from his seat.

“Okay, seriously, what is happening? You’re scaring me.” Amelia insisted, stepping closer to Lando.

Lando took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to reveal.

“Your father... he's not who you think he is.” Lando began, his voice grave. Amelia's eyes widened in disbelief.

“What are you talking about, Lando?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Lando, I suggest you choose your next words very carefully.” Harold interjected, his tone icy. But Lando ignored him, his gaze locked with Amelia's.

“Your father... he was involved in something years ago. Something... dark.” Lando continued, his voice faltering slightly as he spoke.

“Involved in what?” Amelia's brow furrowed in confusion.

Lando hesitated, struggling to find the right words to convey the gravity of the situation.

“Amelia, your father was involved in the death of Clyde Mitchells.” He finally admitted, his voice barely audible.

“Who’s Clyde Mitchells?” Amelia asked, confused, as her gaze shifted between Lando and her father.

Lando took a deep breath, his gaze shifting between Amelia and her father, Harold.

“Clyde Mitchells was your biological father.” He repeated, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. Amelia's eyes widened in shock, her mind struggling to process the revelation.

“But... that makes no sense, Lando…” She stammered, unable to form coherent thoughts.

Harold remained silent, his expression unreadable as he watched the scene unfold before him.

“Lando, what are you saying?” Amelia asked, her voice tinged with desperation. Lando took a step closer to her, his eyes filled with empathy.

“Your father - Harold - he's been lying to you, Amelia. He's been hiding the truth from you for years.” He explained, his voice soft yet firm.

Amelia's breath caught in her throat as she turned to face her father, searching his eyes for any sign of denial or explanation. Harold remained stoic, his features composed as he met his daughter's gaze. But there was a flicker of unease in his eyes, a subtle hint of guilt that Lando couldn't ignore.

“Amelia, listen to me.” Harold began, his voice strained. “There are things you don't understand.”

Amelia's voice trembled with disbelief as she turned to face her father, her eyes pleading for an explanation.

“Dad, is this true?” She repeated, her voice cracking with emotion. Harold's jaw tightened as he finally met her gaze.

“Amelia, there's more to the story than you know.” He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“But why? Why would you do something like that? And, why would you kill him?” Amelia demanded, her voice rising with anger and hurt.

“Your biological father found you and before he could make contact, your father here had him killed. You remember the night out in the woods, when we saw that man get shot?” Lando asked, reigniting a painful memory.

“We saw my father get shot?” Amelia choked as she replayed the visual in her mind.

Harold watched as the tears streamed down his daughter’s face as she grabbed hold of Lando’s bicep to keep herself steady.

“Your mother was broken after the baby died. And, I needed her to be happy, so I did what I had to do. And, we've only given you the very best life.” Harold attempted to explain his decisions.

Amelia recoiled at her father's words, the gravity of his actions hitting her like a ton of bricks. The revelation left her feeling hollow and betrayed, her sense of security shattered in an instant.

“You... You sacrificed someone's life for your own happiness?” She whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief and anger.

“Amelia, I know it sounds unforgivable, but I thought I was protecting your mother. I thought I was doing what was best for our family.” Harold continued.

Amelia's eyes burned with unshed tears as she struggled to comprehend the depth of her father's deception. The man she had always looked up to, the man she had trusted implicitly, had been keeping a dark and devastating secret from her for her entire life.

“How could you?” She whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. “How could you lie to me, to everyone?”

Harold's shoulders slumped with the weight of his guilt as he met her gaze, his eyes brimming with tears.

“I'm sorry, Amelia.” He choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted any of this to come to light.”

But his words offered little comfort to Amelia, who felt as though her entire world had been turned upside down. The man she had once idolized was now a stranger to her, his actions unforgivable in her eyes.

“You didn't have to kill him.” Amelia sneered, seeing Harold a completely different light.

“He wouldn't take money for his silence.” Harold countered.

“Because you stole his daughter from him! You're more awful than I thought.” She argued, her voice strained as she got the words out.

“You see what you've done, Norris. You've disrupted everything.” Harold remarked, slumping back in his chair.

“Oh, no. You keep Lando out of this. It's thanks to him that I know the truth, and fuck, it's thanks to him I'm still alive today. You can take your money, your cars, everything, Harold, but I want nothing to do with you.” Amelia shrugged, her disappointment and anger weaving a web in her words.

“Amelia, let's just be rational.” Harold urged her, causing her to scoff at his audacity.

“What is my real name?” Amelia enquired. “The name Clyde and his wife gave me.’

“Catherine.” Lando informed her.

But his words offered little solace to Amelia, who felt as though she had been robbed of the chance to know her true identity. The name Catherine echoed in her mind, a constant reminder of the lies that had shaped her life.

“I need some time.” She whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I need to figure things out.”

Harold nodded, his own grief mirroring hers as he watched his daughter retreat into herself. The rift between them seemed insurmountable, a gaping chasm that threatened to swallow them both whole.

As she left her father's study, Amelia couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that consumed her. The truth had set her free, but it had also left her adrift in a sea of uncertainty, unsure of who she was or where she belonged. All she knew was that her life would never be the same again.

Lando's heart felt heavy as he watched Amelia leave her father's study, her world shattered by the revelations that had been laid bare. He had known that confronting Harold Rossi would unravel the fabric of their lives, but he hadn't anticipated the extent of the devastation it would wreak.

“I hope you're happy, Norris. You've torn my family apart.” Harold's voice cut through the silence, filled with bitterness and resentment. Lando met Harold's gaze, his expression unreadable as he processed the weight of his words.

“She deserves more than being lied to.” He finally replied, his voice tinged with regret.

“And who are you to decide what she deserves? You've always had a way of meddling in things that don't concern you.” Harold's eyes narrowed as he regarded Lando, his features twisted with anger.

“This does concern me. That’s the woman I love, Harold.” Lando insisted, his tone firm as he met Harold's gaze head-on. Harold's jaw clenched as he absorbed Lando's words, his expression hardening with resolve.

“You may think you're doing what's best for her, Norris, but mark my words – you'll only bring her more pain.” Harold warned Lando.

“At least I won’t be kidnapping children to keep my wife happy. I’ll be sure to take the adoption route instead.” Lando countered and with that left Harold’s study to find Amelia.

Lando found her standing outside by his McLaren.

“Let’s get out of here.” She told Lando as she got into the passenger seat.

As Lando drove, the silence between them was heavy with unspoken words, each lost in their own thoughts. Amelia's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief, her heart weighed down by the weight of the truth she had just learned. Beside her, Lando's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw set with determination as he navigated the familiar streets.

Finally, they arrived at Lando's home, a sanctuary where they could escape the chaos of the outside world and find solace in each other's company. Amelia stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she followed Lando inside.

As the weight of everything she had learned began to bear down on her, Amelia felt her chest tighten, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Panic clawed at the edges of her consciousness, threatening to overwhelm her as her heart pounded erratically in her chest.

Lando sensed the shift in her demeanor immediately, his gaze softening with concern as he reached out to gently place a hand on her shoulder.

“Amelia, hey, it's okay.” He murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the rising tide of panic. “Just focus on your breathing, okay? In and out, nice and slow.”

But the walls of her mind seemed to close in around her, suffocating her with their oppressive weight. Her thoughts spiraled out of control, a chaotic whirlwind of fear and uncertainty threatening to consume her whole.

“Amelia, look at me.” Lando urged, his voice cutting through the fog of her panic. Slowly, she turned to meet his gaze, the warmth and reassurance in his eyes anchoring her to the present moment.

“You're safe here.” He continued, his words a lifeline in the storm. “I'm right here with you. Just keep breathing, okay? You're stronger than you think.”

Lando gently takes Amelia's hand and places it on her chest, encouraging her to feel the rise and fall of her breath.

“Focus on your breath, Amelia.” He encouraged her, his voice gentle. “Feel your hands on your chest, okay?”

As Lando continues to hold her hands against her chest, Amelia gradually feels the tension easing from her body. With each passing moment, his steady presence and comforting touch serve as an anchor, grounding her in the present and offering a sense of security. As her racing heart begins to slow its frantic pace, Amelia's breathing steadies, deepening into a calm and rhythmic pattern.

She leaned against him and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace. The warmth of his embrace envelops her, offering solace and reassurance in the midst of her turmoil. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the tightness in her chest begins to loosen, replaced by a sense of peace and serenity.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she turned to look at Lando. “I don't know what I would do without you.”

Lando offered her a warm smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his affection and concern.

“You don't have to do anything alone, Amelia. I'll always be here for you, no matter what. You can trust me.” He replied softly before placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“I need the world to know what he did.” Amelia's voice, though steady, carried the weight of determination and resolve as she spoke. Her words hung in the air with a sense of conviction, echoing the strength of her newfound resolve.

“Are you sure about that? What about your career, your business?” Lando asked, worried about her sudden conviction.

“A man lost his life looking for his daughter, there is no plausible reason why the world shouldn’t know. The dealership is mine, so regardless of what happens to Harold, my business should be fine. And, if I have to change my name, then I’ll do that too.” Amelia responded, shrugging.

“Are you sure?” Lando asked, wanting to make sure that she was confident in her plan.

“Would you still love me if I was named Catherine?” Amelia wondered, diverting the conversation slightly.

“Amelia, Catherine, a name doesn’t change the person you are. So, yeah. I would love you if your name was Catherine.” Lando replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You really do love me, don’t you?” Amelia realised as she studied him.

“I would go through hell for you, baby, yeah. I love you so much.” He assured her before kissing her lightly.

“I love you, Lan.” She told him and kissed him again.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #mclaren #mclaren f1 #lando norris x oc #mafia!au #mafia!f1 #f1 drivers #f1 driver x oc #lando norris x reader #f1 driver x reader #f1 x reader

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igmpi · 5 months ago

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perlukafarinn · 1 year ago

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I'm back with another unbearably homoerotic story from The New Voyages (this one even has a foreword written by Leonard Nimoy)!

The story in question is Ni Var, written by Claire Gabriel and published in the first New Voyages volume in 1976. In it, Spock is split in two - his human half and his Vulcan half. He and Kirk also have unnecessarily intense and emotionally loaded interactions pretty much every page. Just look at this passage that happens right after Spock is split:

The moment Kirk sees Spock, he knows something is wrong. They have an emotional talk that turns into an argument that turns into Kirk asking Spock what's wrong and if he can help.

It's the way Kirk reads Spock like an open book! How Spock finds comfort in Kirk's offer to help, even if he's not ready to accept it.

And just when you think it can't get any more intense, bam - City on the Edge of Forever callback!

Kirk is having an extremely normal one.

Anyway, Kirk finds out about the split soon enough because damned if Spock can keep a single secret from him once he's determined to find out.

We are distracted from the main plot, however, as the Enterprise is sent on a mission to a planet whose natives love the taste of human flesh. Of course, Kirk insists on joining the landing party but Spock is Not Having It.

They are having this fight in front of the crew. If the rumors didn't exist before, they certainly do now.

Spock loses the argument on account of Kirk being Captain and goes back to his quarters to discuss the issue with his Vulcan half.

This, the text points out, is the first thing Spock's two halves are in complete agreement on. Protecting Jim. I am banging my head against the wall.

Then Vulcan Spock goes on a mental tangent about humans and emotions and one human in particular, and this passage drives me bonkers.

"Until he met Jim Kirk."

"A man for whom he felt friendship, perhaps even what Humans call love."

Clawing my eyes out. The romanticism of it all. These are completely normal thoughts to have about your commanding officer!!

And then Spock decides to risk what he calls "for a Vulcan, torture" to ensure Kirk's safety. What this whole subplot is for is essentially to show that Spock's two halves can be united and the thing they unite over..... is Jim.

I am unwell.

Spock does manage to keep Kirk from throwing himself to the proverbial wolves, the plot moves on, and then they're back in front of the machine that split Spock and can be used to unite him again. Kirk has an angsty moment about that time he was split in two (the whole story, in addition to exploring Spock's split identity, is filled with callbacks to The Enemy Within and the toll that experience took on Kirk mentally and it's great).

This isn't a particularly Kirk/Spock moment but I had to include it because I love the mental image of Kirk flipping himself off and Spock laughing at it. Kirk would fuck his clone, actually.

Then the time is at hand to unite the two Spocks. Kirk puts a comforting hand on Human Spock's shoulder but then hesitates to do the same to the Vulcan half and this whole page has me crying, screaming, throwing up, etc.

God.

Spock is united, all is well, and the story ends with Kirk grinning at Spock and Spock responding with an oh-so-subtle smile.

In conclusion: gay.

#spirk #kirk/spock #k/s #the premise #star trek tos #start trek #the new voyages #again the star trek novels stay intensely homoerotic

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episodicnostalgia · 6 months ago

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Star Trek, 105 (Oct. 6, 1966) - “The Enemy Within” [Production order #05]

Written by: Richard Matheson Directed by: Leo Penn [TRIGGER WARNING: Some discussion of attempted SA is necessarily touched upon in my review of this episode.]

This is the Episode Where…

The time-honoured tradition of transporter accidents begins! Kirk is split into two versions of himself, one positive, the other negative. Naturally the good Kirk is an intelligent-but-emotionally-timid-cuck, and the evil Kirk is a raging psychopath sex-crazed-bad-boy. Along the way, Spock imparts his hilariously troubling views about the human psyche.

The Breakdown

The crux of this episode’s conflict stems from two key talking points, so let’s start with the transporter B-Plot, before we tackle the significantly more problematic A-Plot.

Let the transporter shenanigans begin: The Enterprise crew are surveying one of the many styrofoam-desert-planets scattered across the alpha quadrant, when their geologist sustains an injury from a rockslide that subsequently covers him with a yellow powdered-ore that fucks up the transporters after he gets beamed to the ship for medical treatment. Shortly thereafter, Kirk also beams back up, but he arrives with some dizziness and a somewhat lethargic demeanor. Since even the slightest frailty is so unlike the incredible specimen-that-is-Kirk, Scotty escorts him into the corridor (leaving the room unattended), when the transporter pad fires up again on it’s own, and spits out a second kirk; except this one is FUCKING INSANE!

While the Good-Kirk/Bad-Kirk debacle carries on over in the A-Plot, Scotty is hard at work establishing his reputation as a miracle worker. You see, after Kirk’s literal-split personality disorder starts up, the survey team (now led by Sulu) sends up an indigenous alien unicorn-dog they found (essentially just a normal dog in a cute little horned onesie), which also splits into calm-v-rabid duplicates. Scotty quickly figures out that the yellow ore is the problem, meaning that until he can fix it, he doesn’t dare beam anyone else back up without risking a transpo-splitting fiasco, leaving the landing party stranded. The problem is that night is fast approaching down on styro-firma, where the temperatures drop well below freezing as the sun goes down, meaning poor Scotty’s working against the clock. Classic!

Now, thankfully Scotty whips up a way to reverse the splitting process on the unicorn-dog, but the shock of being re-merged into one pup tragically kills it. Naturally, Spock recklessly proposes that the two Kirks give the transporters a whirl next, despite the risks, because the story needs to keep moving. And speaking of the two Kirks, lets switch over to the A-plot!

Seeing Double: Yeah, so Kirk gets split in two. Here’s the basic expository low-down from Spock’s own mouth; Good-Kirk is compassionate and intelligent, and Bad-Kirk rageful and willful. This means (according to some incredibly tenuous logic) that while the good Kirk is more pleasant, his ability to take decisive action is significantly diminished, compromising his ability to command. Likewise, Bad-Kirk is capable of making decisions very quickly, but he’s a sexual predator, so… ‘nuff said.

Oh, and in case you thought I was exaggerating, Bad-Kirk’s first impulse is legitimately to straight up enter his Yeoman’s (Janice Rand’s) quarters and force himself on her. Thankfully she manages to call for help before things become tragic, but not before getting deeply uncomfortable to watch. Naturally everyone doubts her story about Kirk’s attempted assault (because that’s so implausible…), but after Scotty fills them in about the unicorn-dog, Spock figures out what’s going on.

The rest of the episode carries on with the standard cat-and-mouse hijinks one might expect from an episode like this, as Bad-Kirk lunges around like a cocaine fueled maniac, and Good-Kirk essentially does what ever Spock suggests. Of course, it’s all made unnecessarily complicated by the fact that none of the crew are aware of the situation, since filling them in (according to some more impeccable logic by Spock) would cause the crew to doubt their captain. You see, Captains aren’t allowed the luxury of weakness, and anything short of absolute perfection would compromise Kirk’s rank and status… which is to be protected at all costs, apparently. Consequently, this upkeep of deception stretches out the episode’s runtime until the last few minutes, at which point Spock and co. corral the two Kirk’s into the transporter to be rejoined, which works perfectly.

Oh yeah, and Sulu’s landing party gets to come home now too, so it all works out!

The Verdict

I’m not going to waste time explaining how the pop psychology of a nearly-60-year-old show is wildly flawed. Obviously the will to act is no more inherently tied to our rage and carnal desires, than intelligence is inherently tied to compassion and emotional frailty. The show needed an excuse to pit Kirk against himself, and the writers used their limited understanding of a medical field that was still in its infancy. The various assertions this episode makes about masculinity and psychology, is clearly tied to biases that would have been remarkably common for that era, to the point where I’d have been genuinely surprised if it wasn’t prevalent throughout the series. Some of Spock’s advice sounds not unlike something that Roger from ‘Mad Men’ might say, while downing an old fashioned and ogling his secretary; it’s so brazenly wrong that I can’t help but find it funny.

Which brings us to Janice.

After escaping Kirk’s attack, Janice heads straight to Sickbay, which is a good call. Using all of his tact and consideration as a medical professional, McCoy (with Spock) responds by summoning her alleged attacker while she’s still in the room. It’s obviously the good Kirk that arrives, but at this point no one is aware there’s two of them, and that’s when things start to get… icky. For starters, there is a distinct undercurrent within the scene that Kirk's reputation, and the preserving of it, is a higher priority than Janice's wellbeing. Even though she's visibly shaken, and disheveled, the three men all stand over her domineeringly as Kirk tests her stories for inconsistencies. Janice goes on to explain that normally she wouldn’t have resisted (he is the captain after all), but that she was just so surprised. Oh yeah, and there's also the fact that he was harming her that she didn’t care for either. Thankfully a crewmember with a penis, who actually witnessed the event (Bad-Kirk bludgeoned him for intervening), is able to set the record straight that someone with Kirk’s face definitely did attack her. With that cleared up, everyone quickly moves on because Janice’s trauma no longer drives the plot forward.

But the real kicker is in the final scene. With Kirk restored, Janice let’s him know that he’s off the hook, given the circumstances. It’s certainly not like he owes her a profuse apology for the 50% of him that evidently wants to take-and-possess her like an object, right? Because I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that Spock and McCoy each hold to the principle that both Kirks are equally necessary parts of his collective psyche. So, while Kirk “innocently” carries on with his captaining, Spock leans over to Janice and playfully insinuates that she probably kinda liked the attention Bad-Kirk gave her. Isn’t that neat? [Haha! The world is a nightmare.] Janice simply responds with a glowering look, which normally I would assume is her politely telling Spock to get Pon Farred. Unfortunately, context clues bring me to infer that she’s conveying embarrassment, indicating that Spock is meant to be partially correct, according to whoever wrote/signed off on this poorly conceived scene (official credit goes to Richard Matheson, but I’m not letting Gene Roddenberry off the hook either).

Again, I’m not surprised by the troubling views being expressed here, but in the case of Janice’s role within this story, it goes beyond what I can ignore. Barring that particular topic, I won’t deny the rest of the episode is otherwise somewhat entertaining, in a predominantly cringy sort of way. There are also some creative elements at play that would go on to become franchise staples, the most notable being ‘the transporter accident’ trope. I likely would have given this something closer to a 3 star rating if it didn’t take such a glib stance on sexual assault, but the excuse that this was a ‘product of it’s time’ doesn’t count towards a pass either.

1.5 stars (out of 5)

Parting Thoughts

Even a broken clock…: One thing I do agree with, is that fear is often the driving force behind anger. At one point, McCoy points out that while Good-Kirk is highly emotional and regularly distraught, he’s not ever overwhelmed by fear, conversely the Bad-Kirk regularly is. I suppose this is where I’ll admit that there is some credence behind the idea that if you simply remove one part of yourself, even a negative part, that it would likely impact the parts of you that are positive, to the extent that it may even change you fundamentally. What I disagree with is the idea that sexual desire is innately tied to compulsive behaviors beyond our control, at least insofar as it is depicted in this episode, written by a team of creatives that clearly held some inherently misogynistic biases.

Pacifist Vulcan Violence: In addition to transporter shenanigans, this episode also introduces us to the ‘Vulcan nerve pinch.’ The story goes that Leonard Nimoy felt brute force would be uncharacteristic of an advanced progressive anti-emotion society, and offered the now-famous nerve pinch as an alternative. I find it interesting, because the moment barely registers today, since that move is such a casually iconic staple of the franchise. But I can only imagine this would have been such a novel concept when it first aired, especially for younger viewers.

The unicorn-dog is dead, Jim: I believe this might also be the show’s first use (according to production order) of McCoy’s famous line, “He’s dead, Jim.” Fitting that it was for a dog, the universal best friend of humankind, be it horned or otherwise. Good boy unicorn-dog. Good boy.

Medical Binge Drinking: So, I guess McCoy has a liquor cabinet in sickbay. Immediately after Bad-Kirk emerges, he heads straight for sickbay and demands a drink. He even goes so far as to shake McCoy until he surrenders an entire bottle of booze, and then proceeds to chug it like a frat-boy on a bender, stumbling down a corridor. I realize drinking on the job was more socially acceptable in the 60’s, but it does seem odd that a doctor would have enough drinking alcohol to stock a small bar, for the purpose of serving it to patients. I guess the 23rd century is so progressive that my feeble 21st century mind just wouldn’t understand. Yeah, that must be it.

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lottiesnotebook · 5 months ago

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hey, happy friday! "Pick a sin we can both live with, is what I ask." - from the horror prompt list, for isabela/merrill? :>

Happy Friday! Sorry I didn't get to this last week, but I hope you like it! I've taken this prompt before, but these characters lend themselves to a completely different take on it, so I'm repeating it anyway. It's my first attempt at Isabela/Merrill, so hopefully I got our favourite Dragon Age 2 girlies right.

Isabela/Merril, angst, hurt/comfort, post A New Path

@dadrunkwriting

where my demons hide

It's not in Isabela's nature to fuss or fret over others. Not that she doesn't care, exactly - she's not a sadist, she doesn't enjoy seeing people suffer, but she's no bleeding heart, to go out of her way to check on every broken-winged sparrow within Kirkwall's uncaring walls. Between Anders and Hawke, their little on-off crew has more than enough bleeding hearts to drown the city in grief and sympathy. Better to seek out life's pleasures and joys, to treasure her friends' smiles and remember them laughing and waving from the dockside when she bids them goodbye. She hates seeing or thinking of them in pain, unhappy. She'd rather drown memories like that in rum or ale than face them in the unforgiving light of day.

It's not in her nature, but still, she's here on her knees at the door to Merrill's rooms, picking a lock she could more easily barge through if it wouldn't affect her friend's rent. Of course, this would all be easier if Merrill would simply answer her knocks, or better yet, come out to the Hanged Man so she could drown her sorrows until she was pink-cheeked and giggly and clumsy as the kitten Isabela had named her for.

But since they came back from the Wounded Coast, since her mage-friend - Marethari - died, Merrill hasn't been to the Hanged Man, or to the port, or even curled up by the fire in Hawke's too-big house. As far as Isabela can tell, she's been shut up in her dark little corner of the alienage, and if anyone's checked on her, they haven't been ruthless enough to get a sign of life.

Hence, Isabela, here, on her knees, jimmying the lock of her front door open in broad daylight, and hoping nobody takes her for an enterprising shem and stabs her before she can get inside. At least in the alienage, there's no risk of anyone calling the guard. Aveline's lot are even less welcome in this corner of Lowtown than they are in the rest of it, not that any of them would be quick enough to catch her if called.

It's more work to keep the lock in one piece than it is to crack it, but the door pops open with a disgruntled creak, and she nudges it with a boot to put it in its place and steps into the shadows of Merrill's room.

"Morning, Kitten!" she calls, with all the forced cheer she can manage. "Ready to come out and play again yet?"

There is a muffled, unhappy sound from the other room, and it sends a spike of fear through her, because if she's hurt- if the reason she hasn't answered the door is because she can't, and nobody checked on her-

But the dim room does not hold the stench of sickness, or of a wound gone bad. Mostly it holds the too-familiar smells of stale food and staler sweat, which are disgusting but hardly unfamiliar from her time at sea. It's too dark for her to make sense of much, but the undyed linens of the bed in the corner gather what light there is into their pale folds, and she thinks she can just about make out a lump in the middle of it.

She picks her way across the room, curses as something sharp - broken glass? - slices through the stitching of her boot, but comes to perch on the end of the narrow bed regardless. She gropes blindly in the dark until she finds the warmth of the blanketed lump-that-is-Merrill, and squeezes what she thinks is a foot until the lump squeaks and confirms her suspicions.

"You shouldn't be here." Merrill's voice usually sparkles as bright and glittering as her magic, or as a precious jewel Isabela might covet for her own. Now though, it is dull, hollow, empty - cut glass where a diamond had once been. "I'm- I'm a wilful, stubborn idiot. I ruin everything I touch, and I don't even know I'm doing it!"

"Not sure that's entirely true." Isabela squeezes her foot again, fights the urge to run and find someone better at the messy parts of friendship and feelings. If she leaves now, who knows where Merrill will be when she gets back? It takes a bolter to know a bolter, and Isabela has been running half her life now. "I'm touching you right now, and I don't think I look ruined. It's a little early in the day for that, even for me."

"You're not ruined yet," Merrill corrects, rolling upright to pull her knees into her chest. "It's- it's only a matter of time. You saw what I did to Marethari, what I did to my clan. I can never go back there. I can never go home."

"Well, that makes two of us." Isabela sits back on the bed and stretches out until her hand rests on Merrill's knee, until she can stretch just a little further to bury it in her hair. It's longer than she usually keeps it, stuck up in short spikes, but she cards her fingers through it anyway. "Hurts, doesn't it?" She feels Merrill nod beneath her hand, and it emboldens her - she wriggles closer. "There's only one way it'll stop, you know."

"I know," she says, and it's half a sob, "but I can't- I'm not brave enough-"

"Not that," she says, quick, bracing, nipping that line of thought in the bud before it can grow to strangle her. "It'll stop hurting when you realise what they had was never built for you, or you'd still be there." If she'd been meant to remain her mother's daughter, her husband's wife, she'd still be in her childhood bedroom, or an old man's bed. She wouldn't have carved her way out with her teeth and come away bloody and free.

"It isn't their fault," Merrill says, head snapping up, suddenly fierce in their defence (not that they deserve it. "They're just- they did what they thought was best, and maybe they were right to. It's my fault they lost their Keeper, and a clan without a Keeper…"

"Will survive without her," she says, which perhaps is harsh or clumsy, but soothing tempers and wiping away tears has never come easily to her. That's always been Merrill's domain more than hers. "This can't be the first time in Dalish history this has happened, right?"

"No, there are traditions, but- everything she knew, all the history of Clan Sabrae… I wiped it out, didn't I?"

"She wiped it out," Isabela corrects, "when she chose to let the demon in rather than telling you the truth or asking for help sooner, or, Maker, even working with the fucker - if Anders can manage it, it can't be that hard!"

Merrill almost laughs at that, but cuts herself off too quickly, as if her laughter is indecent rather than the sweetest sound in the world. Isabela would kill Marethari all over again for making her believe that, if she could.

"That's not- that isn't how these things work," she says, soft and sad. "I'm sure- I'm certain she did the best she could with the information she had."

"And so did you!" Isabela reminds her. "You wanted to give your people something important, you took risks and made sacrifices for something I'll never be selfless enough to understand-"

"That's just it!" Merrill bursts out, "It wasn't selfless! I pretended- I said it was for the clan, but really it was for me. I wanted to know the secrets. I wanted to prove I knew better than the Keeper-"

"And to prove she knew better than you, she let out the demon she wants you to blame yourself for!" Isabela kneels, takes the other woman's face in her hands, forces her to meet her eyes. Merrill's gleam eerie reflective green, flashing with what little light the room still holds, but she can see the tears that overspill from them. "Sure, maybe everything she said was true, or maybe she wanted to blame you rather than admit she made her own mistakes. Plenty of people, even people you like or trust, even people with power- especially people with power will do things like that, if they can get away with it."

She thinks of the Arishok, then, of the Qunari who ravaged the city only a few years ago. Sure, maybe she shouldn't have taken their book, but they had the choice to leave, to do anything other than what they did, and at the end of things, it wasn't like returning it had fixed anything at all. They'd still burned half the city. They'd still wanted to kill her.

"You can't let people like that tell you who you are," she finishes, lamely, and wonders if the words are more for Merrill or for herself. If she allowed herself to believe what the Arishok would make of her… She can't think of that. Even she isn't quite selfish enough to live with that reflection.

Merrill peeks out at her, over her knees. "Even if they're right?"

"They're not right," she says, with all the certainty she can muster. "If you need someone to tell you who you are, Kitten, listen to me, not them."

She unfurls, then, like one of her flowers creeping from its bud, and leans her head against her shoulder. "It could still happen," she cautions her. "What happened to Marethari… that could still be me, one day. I'm still a mage. Even if I gave up on the eluvian, there will still be spirits and demons out there. I'll still want to talk to them, to know what they know…"

She doesn't want to think about that, to think about something else wearing Merrill's skin, but she knows in her gut that this would be the wrong thing to say.

"If you're going to play games with demons again," she says, instead, "pick a sin we can both live with, is all I ask. Justice- Vengeance- whatever he's going by today, that would be too much for me, but Avarice?" She pauses, presses a kiss to her cheek as chastely as she can, "Desire? Those I think I can handle. I deal with those every day."

"Demons are different, though. Abominations are different."

"Hawke makes it work."

"She's Hawke. She and Anders are-"

"Insane, I know." She cups Merrill's face in her hands, kisses the corner of her mouth with careful, deliberate affection, "But for you, I think, I could be a little crazy. Just- pick your sins carefully, alright?"

"I will," Merrill says, and flings her arms around Isabela with such intensity that she ends up half in her lap. "I promise."

#fic #dragon age 2 #da2 #isabela da2 #merrill sabrae #dragon age #asks #streganicha #isabela x merrill

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acceptccnow · 2 years ago

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Secure and Efficient: Modern Techniques in Credit Card Payment Processing

Article by Jonathan Bomser | CEO | Accept-Credit-Cards-Now.com

In the whirlwind of commerce, the bedrock of modern business operations lies in the art of Credit Card Payment Processing. Efficiently and securely managing credit card payments is the linchpin, especially in the high-stakes arenas of high-risk credit card processing, e-commerce, credit repair, and CBD merchant services. This exploration delves into the avant-garde strategies and techniques that businesses are deploying to ensure a marriage of both security and efficiency in credit card payment processing within today's digital landscape.

DOWNLOAD THE SECURE AND EFFICIENT INFOGRAPHIC HERE

Charting the Evolution of Payment Processing

From the analog days of paper checks and cash transactions, the trajectory of payment processing has undergone a metamorphosis. In the current digital epoch, where electronic transactions reign supreme, staying abreast of cutting-edge payment processing technology is imperative. Whether navigating the labyrinth of high-risk industries or steering the ship of e-commerce ventures, the mandate is clear – stay secure and efficient.

High-Risk Credit Card Processing: Navigating the Perils

Industries like credit repair and CBD often find themselves sailing turbulent high-risk seas due to stringent regulations and perceived risk factors. However, being earmarked as high-risk need not be a roadblock; it can be a catalyst for thriving. The key lies in embracing modern techniques tailored for high-risk credit card processing.

Effectively navigating risks calls for strategic partnerships with payment processing providers who specialize in high-risk transactions. These providers offer bespoke solutions, navigating the labyrinth of complexities and shielding businesses from potential pitfalls.

E-commerce Merchant Accounts: Anchors in the Online Sphere

In the theater of online commerce, e-commerce merchant accounts emerge as stalwart anchors. These accounts empower businesses to securely hoist the sails for payments over the internet, whether it's a nimble online store or a grand e-commerce platform. The article underscores the pivotal role of reliable e-commerce merchant accounts, advocating for features that align with diverse business needs, from seamless integration capabilities to robust fraud prevention tools.

Credit Repair Payment Gateway: Paving Effortless Paths

For credit repair enterprises, a dedicated credit repair payment gateway becomes the captain's wheel. This specialized gateway streamlines financial voyages, ensuring the secure handling of sensitive financial data. The article accentuates the importance of selecting credit repair payment gateways with formidable security features like encryption and tokenization. A user-friendly interface and compatibility with various credit cards become the north star for elevating the customer experience.

CBD Merchant Processing: Sailing the High-Risk Seas Safely

CBD merchants, navigating the high-risk seas due to the industry's association with cannabis, find solace in modern techniques. To chart a course to success in CBD merchant processing, adopting strategies that mitigate risks and ensure smooth operations becomes imperative.

Strategic alliances with CBD merchant processing providers, well-versed in industry intricacies, are paramount. These providers furnish tailored payment processing solutions, and coupled with specialized credit card payment services, enable businesses to efficiently and securely accept credit card payments.

The Dominance of Payment Gateway Solutions

In the contemporary business amphitheater, payment gateway solutions emerge as indispensable orchestra conductors for facilitating online transactions. Acting as the harmonious bridge between websites or apps and financial institutions, the right payment gateway orchestrates a seamless payment symphony. The article urges businesses to select payment gateways boasting a symphony of features, including real-time transaction processing, advanced fraud detection, and harmonious integration capabilities.

Credit Card Payment Services: Elevating Operational Sonatas

Operational sonatas take center stage in the grand performance of credit card payment processing. Businesses adept at orchestrating payments swiftly and accurately gain a competitive edge. Modern credit card payment services, offering a symphony of features like mobile payments, contactless payments, and online account management, become instrumental in achieving this symphonic efficiency. The article champions the adoption of these services to serenade a broader audience and provide a harmonious payment experience that crescendos into customer loyalty.

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Embrace Modernization for a Flourishing Finale

In the realm of Credit Card Payment Processing, the symphony of evolution plays out rapidly, demanding businesses to conduct themselves to stay competitive. Whether traversing the landscape of high-risk industries, e-commerce, credit repair, or CBD merchant services, embracing modern techniques becomes the crescendo for success.

Strategic partnerships with specialized providers well-versed in industry intricacies become an essential note. Investments in e-commerce merchant accounts, credit repair payment gateways, and CBD merchant processing solutions, harmonizing both security and efficiency, are advocated. Leveraging payment gateway solutions and credit card payment services, businesses can elevate their operational symphonies.

As technology continues its relentless crescendo, securing both security and efficiency in credit card payment processing isn't just advisable; it's the grand finale. This ensures a seamless symphony of payment experiences for customers and charts a path for businesses to flourish in the digital age. The clarion call is to embrace modernization today and compose a prosperous future for your business. With Accept-Credit-Cards-Now Merchant processing services as your virtuoso, the symphony becomes smoother and more secure.

#high risk merchant account #payment processing #high risk payment gateway #credit card processing #high risk payment processing #youtube #accept credit cards #credit card payment #merchant processing #payment #Youtube

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weerd1 · 1 year ago

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ENT Rewatch Starlog, 15 January, 2024: Episode 3.03 “Extinction”

A humanoid alien is pursued through a jungle by other humanoids in environmental protection suits. He almost makes it to a shuttle before they surround him and incinerate him with flamethrowers.

Trip goes to T’Pol’s quarters having missed two neuro-pressure sessions. He offers her some of his Georgia peaches he stocked up on before leaving Earth, and insists she try one.

They are interrupted when Archer calls T’Pol to the situation room. He’s been reviewing the Xindi database and has discovered a third Xindi species, the Arboreals. He also has found a nearby uninhabited planet which the Xindi have visited in the last few weeks.

Archer, T’Pol, Hoshi Sato, and Malcolm Reed head to the surface where they find the Xindi landing craft and an incinerated body; the body is NOT reading as Xindi, and shortly, neither are Archer, Reed, or Sato. They have mutated into the same type of humanoid incinerated by the hunters. T’Pol has started to transform, but only suffers some minor physical changes and is still aware of who she it. The other three believe themselves to be a different species, and want to find what they believe to be their city, Urquat.

Phlox figures out some of what’s going on from orbit, and Tucker takes a shuttlepod down to recover the crew they believe have been altered by the Expanse somehow. After a struggle, they get Reed back to the ship, but T’Pol stays to try and care for Archer and Sato as much as she can. Phlox studies Reed and realizes it is a virus that has rewritten his physiognomy, and that T’Pol’s Vulcan biology should make her immune. They need her DNA to synthesize a cure. Trip remembers the peach she took a bite of, and with that saliva, Phlox goes to work.

Another ship approaches and warns Enterprise that they’ve been fighting this virus for six decades and the only cure is eradication. They intend to kill everyone exposed. Tucker manages to convince them T’Pol is immune, so the aliens send a team to the surface to capture her but still burn Archer and Sato. Meanwhile, Primal-Archer has found the city Urquat which is now just rubble. The virus was designed as the only way to propagate a species that was otherwise facing extinction. The kill team finds them, but Tucker and a MACO risk the transporter to intercept them and get the crew back to Enterprise.

The ship flees, pursued by the alien guardians, but a recovering Archer and Hoshi are able to convince them there is a cure. They share it with the guardians.

As they are healing, Phlox says he will destroy the samples of the virus. Archer stops him, mentioning that they came into the Expanse to save their species, and that virus is all that’s left of another one; he won’t be party to destroying them. Phlox puts the sample in stasis.

I didn’t realize how hated this episode apparently is. To me, it’s perhaps a little hokey in places, but is a fine retelling of a repeated Trek trope. This calls back to Geordie on TNG being altered into another race in “Identity Crisis” (making it fitting that Levar Burton, saying he’s “ashamed” of “Extinction” or not, directed this episode). There are aspects of “Genesis” from TNG with the reversed evolution to a more primal state, or even “Masks” with what’s left of a now extinct civilization trying to preserve itself.�� Both of those are of course Brannon Braga episodes of TNG, but this one was written by science advisor Andre Bormanis. I’m willing to say though that this theme reaches back to the Original Series episode “All Our Yesterdays,” where Spock, thrown 5000 years into the past, begins to lose the civilized tendencies of Vulcans because they were savage then; does it make a lot of sense? Know, but can make for fun performances and that’s what I feel we get here. What’s not to love about Primal-Archer and Primal-Reed fighting over who gets to eat a giant egg filled with grub worms? (In the end they shared, kind of sweet.)

Archer’s decision NOT to destroy the virus because maybe someday the species that made it CAN live again is a pretty great step for a man who almost put someone out an airlock the episode before. A nice reminder that despite the dire situation, the point of Star Trek is that even then the better nature of Humanity CAN exist, and indeed should. Star Trek in that way is always relevant.

Next Voyage: The NX-01 crew faces what in espionage terms is referred to as the “honey pot” in “Rajiin.

(Images taken from the main website for @trekcore; I am happy to remove the images if asked.)

#star trek #star trek enterprise #Xindi Saga #Enterprise #Enterprise Season 3 #Enterprise Rewatch

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archanagunda · 1 year ago

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Charting the Course to SAP HANA Cloud

The push towards SAP HANA cloud shift stems from the need for agility and responsiveness in a dynamic business climate. The cloud promises reduced infrastructure expenses, robust data analytics, and the nimbleness to address changing needs quickly. However, for many companies, transitioning from on-premise SAP HANA to the cloud involves navigating concerns around data security, performance, and potentially relinquishing control of business-critical ERP systems.

SAP HANA Enterprise Cloud: A Tailored Offering

In light of these challenges, SAP presented the SAP HANA Enterprise Cloud (HEC), a private cloud service designed expressly for mission-critical workloads. HEC advertises no compromise on performance, integration, security, failover, or disaster recovery. It spotlights versatility, strong customer support, and end-to-end coverage - from strategic planning to application management. This offering intends to provide the cloud’s agility and innovation under SAP’s direct guidance and expertise.

Actual Delivery of HANA Enterprise Cloud

Despite SAP’s messaging, the HEC’s delivery involves a consortium of third-party providers, including HPE, IBM, CenturyLink, Dimension Data, and Virtustream. SAP collaborates with these partners, who bid on projects often awarded to the lowest bidder, to leverage specialized capabilities while upholding SAP’s standards.

Weighing the Pros and Cons

Partnering with competent vendors ensures clients receive secure, best-practice SAP hosting and support. HEC’s comprehensive solution integrates licensing, infrastructure, and support with touted scalability and integration.

However, several customer challenges emerge. Firstly, leveraging SAP’s brand for cloud hosting and SAP managed services risks diminishing anticipated cost savings. Secondly, the lack of direct engagement with third-party providers raises concerns about entrusting critical ERP operations to unseen partners. This dynamic obscures visibility and control over SAP HANA migration and management.

Furthermore, the absence of a direct relationship between SAP HANA users and cloud suppliers may complicate support, especially for urgent issues warranting rapid response. While SAP’s ecosystem aims to guarantee quality and security, intermediation can hinder the timely resolution of critical situations, affecting system uptime and operations.

SAP HANA Cloud: A Strategic Decision

As SAP systems become increasingly vital, migrating SAP HANA is not simply a technical or operational choice but a strategic one. SAP HANA transcends a database or software suite – it constitutes a competitive advantage that, when optimized, can spur tremendous innovation and success. This migration necessitates meticulous planning, execution, and governance to ensure the transition empowers rather than compromises SAP HANA’s strategic value.

In this context, selecting the ideal cloud model and service providers represents critical decisions. Companies must scrutinize partners beyond cost, evaluating track records, SAP skills, security protocols, and the aptitude to deliver personalized, responsive service.

The Future SAP HANA Cloud Trajectory

As we advance into 2024, the SAP DATA Cloud Analytics landscape continues evolving. Innovations in cloud technology, security, and service creation provide new prospects for migration planning. Firms must stay updated on cloud service advancements, SAP’s strategic direction, and cloud shift best practices to navigate this transition successfully.

To accomplish this, companies should:

Collaborate cross-functionally to align SAP HANA cloud plans with broader business goals and technology roadmaps.

Ensure chosen cloud environments and suppliers meet rigorous data security, privacy, and regulatory standards.

Assess infrastructure ability to support SAP HANA performance requirements and scale amid fluctuating demands.

Institute clear governance and support structures for effective issue resolution throughout and post-migration.

Transitioning SAP HANA to the cloud is complex but ultimately rewarding, unlocking efficiency, agility, and innovation when executed deliberately. By weighing the strategic, operational, and technical dynamics, businesses can drive this migration smoothly, fully capturing SAP HANA’s power to fuel future prosperity.

#sap #software providers #technology

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vivekavicky12 · 2 years ago

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Empowering Decision-Making: Unlocking the Potential of Data Science Across Industries

In the era of information abundance, data has become a formidable asset. However, the real distinction for successful enterprises lies in their ability to derive meaningful insights from this vast sea of data. Enter data science – a field that transcends mere analysis and offers a transformative lens through which industries can innovate, optimize, and thrive. Opting for the Best Data Science Institute can further expedite your journey into this burgeoning industry. In this blog, we will delve into the diverse applications of data science across various sectors, spotlighting its pivotal role in steering informed decision-making and fostering innovation.

1. Business Intelligence and Analytics: Revealing Patterns for Growth

At the heart of data science is the ability to unravel intricate patterns within extensive datasets. For businesses, this translates into a powerful tool for business intelligence and analytics. By harnessing historical and current data, organizations can gain valuable insights into their performance, identify trends, and make informed decisions that drive growth. Whether optimizing operational processes or uncovering opportunities for expansion, data science serves as a compass for strategic decision-making.

2. Predictive Modeling: Forecasting the Future with Confidence

Predictive modeling stands out as one of the hallmark applications of data science. By analyzing historical data, organizations can develop models that forecast future trends and outcomes. This capability proves invaluable across various domains. In finance, predictive modeling aids in anticipating stock prices; in healthcare, it contributes to predicting patient outcomes. The ability to foresee potential scenarios empowers decision-makers to plan and strategize with confidence.

3. Machine Learning Applications: Infusing Intelligence into Applications

Machine learning, a subset of data science, takes analytical power a step further by enabling intelligent applications. From recommendation systems in e-commerce to fraud detection in finance and image recognition in healthcare, machine learning algorithms bring a layer of automation and adaptability to diverse domains. This not only enhances user experience but also improves the efficiency and effectiveness of various processes.

4. Healthcare and Life Sciences: Revolutionizing Patient Care and Research

In the realm of healthcare, data science acts as a catalyst for transformation. From patient diagnosis to personalized treatment plans and drug discovery, data-driven insights are revolutionizing the industry. Analyzing large datasets allows medical professionals to identify patterns, tailor treatment strategies, and accelerate medical research, ultimately leading to better patient outcomes.

5. Finance and Risk Management: Navigating Uncertainty with Data-Driven Insights

Financial institutions leverage the power of data science for risk assessment, fraud detection, and portfolio optimization. Predictive analytics aids in forecasting market trends, managing risks, and making informed investment decisions. In an industry where every decision carries significant consequences, data science provides a reliable compass for navigating uncertainties. Choosing the finest Data Science Courses in Chennai is a pivotal step in acquiring the necessary expertise for a successful career in the evolving landscape of data science.

6. Supply Chain Optimization: Enhancing Efficiency from End to End

Optimizing supply chain operations is a complex endeavor, but data science offers a clear path forward. By utilizing data to forecast demand, manage inventory effectively, and optimize logistics, organizations can achieve substantial cost savings and improve overall operational efficiency. From manufacturers to retailers, data science is reshaping how businesses approach the end-to-end supply chain process.

7. Marketing and Customer Insights: Tailoring Strategies for Success

In the realm of marketing, data science emerges as a game-changer. Analyzing customer behavior, preferences, and engagement patterns allows marketers to create targeted campaigns that resonate with their audience. The ability to derive actionable insights from data enhances customer experience, improves satisfaction, and maximizes the impact of marketing initiatives.

8. Social Media Analysis: Decoding Trends and Sentiments

The digital era has ushered in an abundance of social media data, and data science plays a crucial role in making sense of this vast landscape. By analyzing social media data, businesses can extract valuable insights into user behavior, sentiment, and trends. This information is instrumental in shaping social media strategies, engaging with the audience effectively, and managing online reputation.

9. Smart Cities and Urban Planning: Paving the Way for Sustainable Living

In the context of urban planning, data science contributes to the development of smart cities. By analyzing data from sensors, traffic cameras, and citizen feedback, urban planners can optimize city infrastructure, improve traffic flow, and enhance overall urban living. Data-driven insights play a pivotal role in creating sustainable and livable urban environments.

10. Education and Personal Development: Shaping the Future of Learning

Data science is making significant inroads into education, where it is utilized to analyze student performance, tailor learning materials, and provide personalized recommendations. This not only enhances the learning experience for students but also facilitates adaptive learning platforms. The application of data science in education is reshaping how we approach teaching and learning, with a focus on individualized and effective educational experiences.

As we delve deeper into the era of big data, data science stands as a beacon of innovation and progress. Its applications span across industries, touching every facet of modern life. From healthcare and finance to education and urban planning, data science is shaping the way we make decisions, solve problems, and envision the future. Embracing the power of data science is not just a choice; it's a necessity for those looking to thrive in a data-driven world.

#data science certification #data science course #data science training #datascience #technology

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