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[mrsonvsyoutube]

Can I Make Ravioli Like an Italian?

[waitimcomingtoo]

How Do I Get You Alone?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: When you get stuck in the lab together during an earthquake, you and Peter share a moment but have to hide it from your dad

Masterlist

Peter was working in the robotics lab in Stark tower one day like usual. He had his earbuds in and was blasting music so loudly that he didn’t hear you come in. He happened to look up and saw you standing in the middle of the lab with a clipboard in hand. He screamed in surprise and tore his earbuds out, allowing the music to sound throughout the echoey lab.

“Were you listening to Justin Bieber?” You asked as Peter quickly paused his music.

“No.” He scoffed and flipped his phone over so you couldn’t see that he was in fact listening to Justin Bieber. You nodded your head skeptically and started to walk around the lab as you wrote things down on your clipboard. Peter sucked in a sharp breath and felt his cheeks redden as he watched you. He’d been working with Tony for 6 years now and harbored a rather large yet secret crush on you for the duration of that time. It wasn’t often that you were alone together, so he needed to make every moment count.

“What are you doing here?”Peter wondered. “I mean, not that you can’t come in here. Obviously you can. Your daddy owns the building. I mean, your dad. Unless daddy is his preferred pronoun-“

“Peter. Relax.” You cut him off. “I’m just doing a routine checkup to make sure everything in the lab is working as it should be. Ignore me.”

Peter wanted to tell you that he could never ignore you but didn’t want to freak you out with his desperation, so he tried to tell an anecdote instead.

“You know, at my last routine checkup, my doctor said that my prostate actually-“

“Don’t finish that sentence.” You pointed at him as you cut him off again.

“You’re right. Good call.” He nodded and stayed silent. You gave him a tight smile before continuing to walk around the room and check things off. Peter watched you and had a millions things he wanted to say but none of them seemed cool enough to impress you.

“So is everything up to par?” He asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Par?” You asked in confusion.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were gonna ask what that meant. I just know it’s a phrase people use. I think it’s a golf term? But it might be a volleyball term.”

“Right. Well, everything looks good.” You said and put your clipboard down on the lab table. That’s when Peters dinosaur patterned lunchbox caught your eye.

“Except for this. Is this yours?” You asked and held the lunchbox up.

“No. I’ve never seen that. Someone else must’ve left it.” Peter lied.

“The label has your name and grade written on it. And the grade just says “college”.” You pointed out and turned the lunchbox to show him.

“Someone must’ve have written that as a joke.” He mumbled and looked down.

“Hm. Well someone packed you baby carrots and hummus. Probably also as a joke.” You humored him and Peter looked up in surprise. He never saw you as anything but serious but that almost seemed like a joke.

“Yeah. Probably.” He smiled. You looked at each other for a moment and he felt the overwhelming urge to just admit how he felt about you.

“So, uh, I don’t know if you like to eat dinner or anything but-“

Peter was cut off by a loud alarm ringing through the entire building. You immediately tensed up and looked around as the lights flashed red.

“What’s that?” You asked and moved closer to Peter.

“I don’t know. It’s either the earthquake alarm or the tornado alarm.” Peter answered. Just then, the ground began to shake and your clipboard flew off the table. You looked at Peter with wide, fear filled eyes and moved to where he was.

“Definitely earthquake. Get down.” Peter instructed and ducked under the table. Once on the ground, he shot a web at each of the machines in the lab to keep them in place. You scooted beside Peter and held yourself tightly as your entire body shook with anxiety.

“What do we do?” You asked him. He’d never heard you sound so vulnerable so he put his own fear aside to be there for you.

“We’re gonna stay under the table and draw our knees in so that nothing falls and hurts us.” Peter calmly explained. You nodded many times and wrapped your arms around your knees.

“Okay.” You voice shook as you answered him.

“It’s gonna be okay. This will be over soon.” he assured you as the earth continued to shake.

“Have you ever been in an earthquake before?” You asked him.

“No. But I hear they’re not actually that bad.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“From the little voice inside my head that tells me every night that it wasn’t that embarrassing when I called the teacher “mom” that one time.” He weakly joked. You actually laughed for a second but went right back to being scared.

“That’s so embarrassing. You don’t even have a mom.” You laughed nervously. Peter had never told you that and wondered if that meant you had asked your dad about him.

“I know. And it actually happened multiple times.” He admitted.

“What? How? Wouldn’t the embarrassment of the first time make you hyper-vigilant of what you were saying so you never did it again?”

“Shh. The earth is shaking.” He said and waved his hand. You started to laugh until something fell off the table and you screamed.

“Shhh. We’re okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.” Peter said and wrapped his arm around you. He thought it might be too much but you immediately wrapped both arms around him and buried your face in his chest. He blinked in surprise before holding you tightly and keeping you as close as possible. Parts of the ceilings and things from the tables fell down and crashed onto the floor, leaving you screaming and shaking with fear each time.

“AHHH!” You screamed. “Something cold and wet just touched me.”

“It’s okay. It’s just my baby carrots.” Peter said and caught a few of the falling carrots.

“Peter.” You whined when you heard him eating them.

“I hope it knocks my hummus down too. Come on, earth. Shake my hummus onto the floor.” Peter called out.

“This isn’t funny.” You said just as Peter hummus fell in front of you.

“Holy shit.”Peter whispered. “Do you think I’m a witch?”

Before you could answer, an overheard light came crashing down in front of you and smashed against the floor, sending sparks flying everywhere. You screamed again and clung so tightly to Peter he thought he might bruise.

“Are you okay?” He whispered into your ear as he rubbed your back.

“No. The earth is spitting in half right now and we are im a very high floor of a very high tower.” You answered and he realized you were crying.

“Well when you put it like that….” He mumbled.

“I don’t know what to do.” You whimpered. “I don’t know how to get us out of here.”

“That’s okay. I don’t know what to do either. The only earthquake training I can remember is to tell someone you trust.”

“That’s not for earthquakes. And it’s different for me. I always know what to do. That’s my job.”

“Right now your job is don’t get squished.” Peter told you.

“You don’t understand. Knowing what to do the only thing I’m good at.”

“That’s not true. You’re so good at…” Peter trailed off when he realized he didn’t have any examples to give you off the top of his head.

“To be fair, I don’t really know you that well.” He said after a beat of silence.

“You’ve known me since you were 15.” You reminded him. You had pulled your head off of his chest to look him in the eyes but neither of you let go of the other.

“I know. But you’re kinda…” He trailed off again and shrugged his shoulders.

“Mean?” You said with a sad smile.

“No, no, no.” He quickly assured you. “I wasn’t gonna say mean.”

“But I am. I didn’t even say hi to you when I walked in. I never say hi to you. You’re always so nice to me and I’m always acting like I’m too cool to be nice back. I don’t know why I do that. I don’t mean it.”

“Hey, I never thought you were mean. I always thought of you as the cool, collected, stoic daughter of my boss.”

“I really thought the last word was gonna be another “c” word but you said stoic instead.” You laughed half heartedly.

“I know. I wanted to complete the trio but the only “c” word I could think of was conglomerate.” Peter admitted. You looked at him curiously and he turned red with embarrassment.

“It’s a type of rock.” He said quietly.

“Cumulonimbus.” You replied, making him smile.

“Constable.” He said back.

“Cassiopeia.”

“That too. Thats a lot of “c” words. And we didn’t even say the naughty one. We make a good team.” Peter said with a soft smile. You smiled back and realized you had never been this close to him before this moment. Your smile faded and you gulped.

“Peter, I’m really scared.” You admitted. He nodded his head and rubbed your back up and down. You had your arms around his neck and he had his around your shoulder and waist to keep you as close as possible.

“Well, don’t be. This will all be over soon and we can leave. Everything will be fine.” He assured you.

“What if it’s not? We don’t even know what’s happening outside of this room. My dad could be…” You trailed off and your eyes filled with fear again.

“Hey, it’s okay. Your dad built a metal suit when he was trapped in a cave. The earth shaking a little is not gonna stop that man. I’ve seen him swallow Tylenol with no water.”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly as a tear rolled down your face.

“For what?”

“Distracting me.”

“Oh, well, you’re welcome. And, I don’t know, it’s kinda nice.”

“What is?” You wondered.

“Talking to you. We never really get to do that.” Peter pointed out.

“Yeah. Maybe after this, we could-“

You were cut off but another light exploding and showering the room with sparks. You let out a scream and buried your face in Peter’s neck again as he wrapped his arms around you to shield you from the sparks.

“It’s okay. I got you.” He said into your ear.

“Peter, I don’t want to die.” You cried into his shirt.

“You’re not gonna die. I’m not gonna let that happen.”

“But-“

“Shhh. I would never let anything hurt you, okay? I have you. No matter what else you have in your head, I am with you and I am not going anywhere. You are going to be just fine. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.” Peter assured you as he cupped your face to make you look into his eyes. Once you processed what he had said, you pulled him by the shirt into a kiss. Peter’s eyes flew open but he quickly got over his initial shock and deepened the kiss. The room was crumbling around you but neither of you paid it any mind. You tangled your hands in his hair as you kissed him and he did the same to you. It didn’t feel like a first kiss. It felt comfortable and familiar and warm. By the time you pulled away to get some air, the earthquake had stopped.

“It stopped.” You realized.

“I love you too.” He said breathlessly.

“What?” You asked when you realized he had said something.

“I said we should get out of here and make sure everyone’s okay.” Peter quickly lied.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” You nodded and got off the floor. You helped Peter up before surveying the damage. The machines were okay but there were chunks of rubble and debris everywhere. Peter moved things out of the way with ease and never let go of your hand as he lead you out of the lab. He kept you close to his side as the two of you made your way to the living room. That’s where you found your dad and a few other team members.

“Oh, thank God you’re okay.” Tony said and let out a relieved sigh.

“I’m okay, daddy. Peter was there-“

Tony ran past you and grabbed his People’s Choice Award out of the rubble and gave it a kiss. You sighed and rolled your eyes until he noticed that everyone was looking at him.

“What? This are harder to win than an Oscar. They give those to any old hag.” Tony said in defense.

“I’m okay too, dad.” You said sarcastically.

“Oh yes. My precious angel princess baby. Are you okay?” Tony asked as he went over to give you a hug. You hugged him back for a while as Peter hung back and watched with a soft smile. You let go of Tony and wrapped your hand around Peter’s arm.

“We’re okay.” You answered.

“We?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. It would have been really bad for me if Peter wasn’t there. I had no idea what to do. But he pulled me under a table and kept me calm.”

“Peter did?” Tony laughed in surprise. “I’ve seen Peter scream at his own fart.”

“Hey, that was one time and I wasn’t expecting it to make a noise and I especially didn’t think it would echo like that.” Peter said in defense.

“Well I’m really grateful he was with me.” You told your dad.

“Wow. Thanks for not letting my daughter get squished, kid. I owe you one.” Tony said and proudly patted Peter on the back.

“Anytime.” Peter smiled weakly.

“Well, now that we know the most important people in the tower and possibly all of New York are okay, you should go see your aunt. She probably wants to know if you’re dead or alive right now. I mean, unless she doesn’t really care.” Tony shrugged. You made eye contact with Peter and gave him a sad smile. He nodded his head and understood what you mean, you didn’t want him to go so that you could talk about what had happed, but you couldn’t admit what happened in front of your dad.

“Right. I should go see her.” Peter said without taking his eyes off you. You kept your eyes on him as he left the building and wrapped your arms around once he was gone.

Peter had never gotten your number despite the years you had known each other but he was desperate to talk to you. The kiss was the only thing on his mind for days and it got to the point where he could no longer sleep. Tony was busy with construction to repair the damages from the earthquake so Peter couldn’t go over to see you. But to his surprise, he was sitting in his bed one day watching TV on his laptop when you appeared in his doorway.

“Hey. Your aunt let me in. And your doorman was reading a Highlights magazine so I don’t think he even saw me enter the building, so.” You said as you leaned against his wall. Peter quickly threw the covers off of himself and set his laptop down.

“Oh, hey. Come on in. I wasn’t touching my private parts or anything.” He said and immediately regretted it.

“Oh, I didn’t think you were.” You laughed awkwardly.

“Well I just didn’t want you to think that because my hands were hidden under the covers.” He tried to explain himself but there was no coming back from that.

“I wasn’t thinking that but now that you mention it I kinda think that is what you were doing.” You said out of the corner of your mouth.

“Psh. I wasn’t.” He scoffed and pushed his laptop away.

“Show me your laptop then.” You shrugged. Peter turned red and he handed him laptop over to you.

“Oh. The episode of Glee where they all switch characters. Nice.” You nodded when you saw what was last opened on his screen.

“Thank you.” He said sincerely.

“Weird thing to jack off too, though.” You shrugged as you sat down on his bed.

“No, I wasn’t-“ Peter quickly tried to explain himself until he realized you were just joking. He smiled shyly and shut the laptop to give you his full attention.

“So, I wanted to talk about the other day.” You began.

“The other day? Could you be more specific? I’ve been alive for a long time.” Peter played dumb and scratched his head.

“The day when there was an earthquake. And we kissed. And you peed your pants.”

“That pee was there when we got to the lab. I just happened to sit it in.” Peter insisted.

“Right.” You chuckled. “I wanted to talk about the kiss though. If that’s okay.”

There was a long, long pause between the two of you and Peter contemplated his next move. The kiss was all he was able to think about since it happened but he didn’t want to make it seem like he was desperate. You were staring into his eyes, hopeful for a certain response, but he was too stupid to give the right one.

“What kiss?” He said finally.

“Okay. This was a mistake. I’m gonna go.” You sighed and got off his bed.

“Wait.” Peter caught your hand and pulled you back towards him.

“Is that your jacking off hand?” You asked and pulled away from him.

“No. I wasn’t - never mind.” He whined. “My hands are clean. Just sit down.”

You rolled your eyes a little but sat back down on his bed.

“I also wanted to talk about the kiss. I’m just extremely nervous and constantly uncomfortable.” He admitted to you.

“I mean, same. So let’s make this as quick and painless as possible. All I wanted to say is that I think we should keep it between us. The kiss, I mean. We shouldn’t tell anyone.” You said and Peters world crumbled down.

“Oh.” He squeaked out. He was disappointed but you had an unreadable look on your face so he decided to play it neutral.

“So I should cancel the little banner and sea plane I hired to fly over the tower to announce our kiss to the pedestrians below?” He asked, making you smile in relief.

“Yes. I would appreciate that.” You chuckled.

“Will do.”

“Cool. So let’s just agree to keep this our secret.” You repeated and he nodded while avoiding eye contact with you. You stared at him for a minute and felt guilty for making him upset. You decided that he deserved to know the truth about that day.

“But, uh, that’s not the only reason I came over. I had a lot of things I wanted to say to you the day of the earthquake but with everything going on I wasn’t able to get you alone.” You continued, making Peter’s hope come back.

“Oh? What did you have to say?” He asked. You took a deep breath before looking into his eyes.

“Peter, when I kissed you-“

Just then, Ned came into Peter’s room for the planned hangout that Peter had entirely forgotten about. Your sentence stopped abruptly and Peter sighed in frustration.

“Hey Peter. I think your doorman is in diabetic shock again. I just walked right by him and he didn’t even move.” Ned said.

“We kissed during the earthquake.” Peter blurted and you threw your hands up in exasperation.

“Why would you say that? I just said we’re not telling anyone.”

“I’m sorry! He’s my best friend.” Peter explained before covering his mouth with his hand to keep from blurting anything else.

“No way. You guys kissed? So does that mean you’re like together now or no?” Ned asked and touched his two pointer fingers together.

“Well, we haven’t really talked about-“ You began.

“No. We’re not together.” Peter said with a tight smile.

“Got it. Friends with benefits. Nice.” Ned nodded.

“What? No. We’re not that either.” Peter laughed in embarrassment as his face turned red.

“Yeah, no one said anything about that. We’re barely even friends.” You added.

“Barely even friends but you made out? While the earth was shaking? What would Greta Thunberg say?” Ned asked and put his hands on his hips.

“It wasn’t making out, really.” You lied. “It was like a tiny little peck on the lips. It was nothing. Right, Peter?”

“Oh, yeah. Thats so right. We barely even kissed.” Peter added to your lie as he wondered why you were downplaying it so much.

“Excatly. It was no big deal. We were both just scared and panicked so we kissed a little bit. It happens. But it didn’t mean anything.” You replied, making Peter freeze. He had spent so long thinking about the kiss only for you to say to his face that it meant nothing.

“Yeah. It meant nothing.” He said and looked down at his lap. You picked up on the sadness in his voice and looked over at him.

“Right.” You said weakly.

“Less than nothing.” Peter added and rubbed the back of his neck. You sighed and realized you had absolutely messed that up.

“I don’t know. I was really scared too but I did not try to french the lady I was hiding with in the TJ Maxx I was in.” Ned replied.

“You went to TJ Maxx without me?” Peter gasped.

“You know I’m a bigger maxxonista than you are. I can’t stay away.” Ned whispered harshly.

“The earth was crumbling. You could have died there.” You pointed out.

“There’s no place I’d rather spend my final moments in.” Ned shrugged.

“Anyways.” You interrupted. “I should get going. Uh, thanks, Peter. For what we talked about.”

“Yeah. No problem.” Peter smiled sadly.

“So what exactly did you guys talk about?” Ned asked suspiciously.

“Nothing. She just needed help with the Wordle.” Peter lied and you smiled in appreciation at him.

“And she came all the way here to ask? Damn, girl. How hot was that kiss? I’m genuinely asking. I’ve always said Peter and I should kiss just to know what the other is working with but he always says no.” Ned told you.

“You know what? I think you guys should do it. It’ll bring you closer as friends.” You told them.

“See, Peter? She gets it. Now pucker up.” Ned said and closed his eyes as he leaned in.

“No. I’m not kissing you. Not with those chapped lips.” Peter backed up. Ned gasped and touched his fingertips to his lips.

“Okay. Well, bye guys.” You smiled awkwardly and got off Peter’s bed. You were about to leave when Ned spoke up again.

“What was it?” He asked you.

“What?” You asked.

“The Wordle. I really want to get it right on the first try just once and really impress the people at The New York Times.” Ned explained.

“Oh, uh…” You trailed off and looked to Peter for help.

“Heavy.” Peter said quickly.

“Right. It was ���heavy”. Now you know. So I’m gonna head out. Bye, Peter.” You waved to him.

“Bye.” He waved and felt that same sadness from the day of the kiss return.

“Bye, Ned.”

“Bye, sweetie.” Ned gave you a big smile before you left the room.

“You dirty fucking liar.” Ned said once you were gone.

“What?”

“That’s not today’s Wordle. That was days ago. You lied. What are you hiding?” Ned asked.

“Nothing. She was just asking me not to tell anyone about the kiss.”

“If it was no big deal then why would she care?”

“Because it was a big deal!” Peter admitted. “It was the hugest deal. She had her hands all up in my hair and I had my hands all up in her sweater but over her undershirt because I’m a gentleman. We were going at it so hard, we didn’t even notice the earthquake stopped.”

“Oh my God.” Ned gasped. “That stuff never happens at TJ Maxx.”

“I know!” Peter jumped in excitement.

“You have to tell me everything. Who kissed who?”

“She kissed me. And unbuttoned three of my shirt buttons.” Peter said and held up three fingers.

“Woah. Three? Isn’t that moving kinda fast?”

“I don’t care. It was the greatest moment of my life. But I also thought it was gonna be the last moment of my life so I don’t know if that had any impact.”

“I doubt it.” Ned shrugged. “But what happens now?”

“I don’t know. We were talking about it but then you came in so we never got to finish. And I thought we were both into it but then she said all that stuff about it not being a big deal so now I don’t know where we stand. What do I do?”

“You need to finish the conversation. If you don’t, this kiss will just be a one time thing and you’ll never know what it meant to her or what it could have become. You need to find out how she felt about it before too much time passes.”

“I don’t know. What if she doesn’t want to talk about it because she’s embarrassed that it happened? Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to tell anyone.”

“Or maybe she faked the earthquake just to kiss you.” Ned suggested.

“That’s probably it, yeah.” Peter said sarcastically.

“Whatever the reason is, you need to talk to her. And soon.”

“You’re right.” Peter nodded and a silence feel between the boys as Peter thought everything over.

“Should we go to TJ Maxx?” Ned asked after a beat of silence.

“Well, yes.”

Peter didn’t hear from you for a while after that. He wasn’t allowed back at the tower until the reconstruction was complete so he couldn’t even go see you. He still wasn’t sleeping because now he couldn’t stop wondering about your last conversation. Not only had you downplayed the kiss, you also asked Peter not to tell anyone. That left him thinking that you regretted it and it didn’t mean anything to you despite how much it meant to Peter. After two weeks of hearing nothing, Peter got a text from Tony that the tower was open again and he could come back. Peter went over right away to see what Tony had done with the place and much to his surprise, you were there too.

“Oh. Hi.” You blinked in surprise when Peter walked into the main room of the tower.

“Hey.” Peter nodded curtly. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“Neither was I. Dad? I thought we weren’t letting anyone in until all your Kids Choice awards were back-“

“I never said that.” Tony cut you off. “Never, ever said that. I invited Peter over to thank him for saving all my precious technology. Those webs were the only thing that kept all my billion dollar machines from smashing into tiny little expensive pieces.”

“It was no problem, sir. It’s my job to protect what’s yours.” Peter said without taking his eyes off you. You felt your face heat up and looked down.

“Okay. Weird way to phrase that.” Tony commented. “I also wanted to invite you to dinner tonight. The dining room is fully remodeled and I was gonna have family dinner tonight with all my girls. And you’re my honorary girl so I thought I’d invite you as well. What do you say, kid?”

“Oh, I don’t think he wants to do that.” You said and looked at Peter. He was thinking the same thing; if he came over for dinner, there was a 99% chance the news of the kiss would slip out and Tony would reign hell fire onto Peter.

“Yeah, that’s okay. I appreciate the invitation but my aunt is already cooking something.”

“Oh God. Your aunt is cooking? Then you simply have to come over. I’ve tasted her food. No one should be subjected to that. You’ve been through enough. Please, eat here.” Tony insisted. Peter looked to you for help and you shrugged in defeat.

“Okay. Sure. Thanks. I’ll eat dinner with your daughters and wife. Nothing weird is going to happen if I do that.” Peter nodded stiffly.

“Again, weird way to phrase that. But I’ll see you at 7. Sound good?” Tony asked. Peter looked at you again and you nodded your head.

“Yeah.” Peter sighed. “Sounds good.”

Part two

Tag List 🏷️

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[paragonrobits]

i was just thinking about how in later Discworld books, even as its an unspoken understanding among everyone in Ankh-Morpork that Carrot is the King of the city and he's probably the last descendant of the original ruling line, not only does Carrot avoid pushing the narrative to exploit it unless absolutely necessary, but it never de-emphasizes the fact that he's a dwarf by adoption

Even in later books Carrot is still regularly writing letters to his family in their mine; he thinks of himself as a dwarf, he is CONSIDERED to be a dwarf by all except the most hardliners of dwarf society (and even they can't outright deny him dwarf status, the best they can do is say he is an anomaly); he might USE his narrative status as the One True King, but in his heart, to himself, he is still the child of the Ironfounderssons.

His human heritage is functionally irrelevant to him unless he needs to make use of it, much like his ancestral sword. And it occured to me, what if he actively chose to distance himself from his human heritage because he learned about them in later books and found nothing worth acknowledging?

Carrot is in a weird place because he is the One True King, a narrative status that makes him the good and wise king who knows only truth and justice and comes bringing goodness to all, and this is quite a contrast to the ACTUAL kings of Ankh-Morpork, who were universally at BEST a bunch of horribly useless and inept absolute rulers that are living embodiments of 'the aristocracy are dumber than a sack of doorknobs' the series leans into, and at worst are implcitly some of the most horribly sadistic and cruel people in the setting.

One particular example is Lorenzo the Kind, the last king of Ankh-Morpork, whose name was deliberately ironic; he was so horrifically sadistic that he spelled the end of the kingship because he's the one who was killed by Suffer-Not-Injustice Vimes, who because no one was willing to judge him because kings were considered Special, just dragged him off his throne, cut off his head, and the surviving family members were exiled from the city.

Lorenzo is the last member of Carrot's biological ancestry we have definitive information on, off the top of my head, and he paints a dark, horrific image. He's painted as the absolute nadir of horror from the ruling classes, and is heavily implied to have been a sadistic pedophile with a penchant for torture (at the very least Carrot and Vimes both note that he was apparently fond of children and was painted with a lot of them nearby at all times, discussing it in a way that suggests a DEEPLY uncomfortable topic neither of them wants them to address, and later in Feet Of Clay Vimes points out that Lorenzo had unspecified but horrific machines in the basement).

Carrot is very strongly implied to, at least starting from Men At Arms (in which he discovers he is the king), have investigated his ancestry, and he's able to elaborate on their actions and history, and this also marks the point where he carefully but firmly emphasizes his dwarf heritage for the rest of the series.

He found out who his ancestors were, and discovered they were horrifically evil people, and that Mister Vimes was fully justified in being proud of his ancestor putting them down like rabid beasts, and it leads to him firmly emphasizing that his family are the Ironfoundersson dwarfs.

[hurtspideyparker]

The team learns about Peter's stress baking fairly quickly after he moves into the tower.

"Why does this place smell like cookies?" Tony asks suspiciously, "Pepper put an end to homemade care packages after that Cap incident."

Steve protests from the dining table. "Hey, that fan seemed totally normal. Y'know in my generation you do not mess with baked goods, that's sacred."

Natasha pats his back comfortingly as she joins the conversation.

"They came from the kid. They're actually pretty good, here."

Nat hands a still-warm cookie to Tony, who bites it curiously.

"Damn, it melts in my mouth like buttery ambrosia and still has a perfect crunch around the edges. Is that a nutty aftertaste?"

"Yes!" Peter yells from the other room, a clatter sounding before his head pokes around the wall, oven mitts still attached to his hands.

"I brown the butter, it really deepens the flavour!"

"Good on you kid. What's the occasion?"

Peter stutters, "uhhhh, no occasion. I just like cookies!"

He disappears around the corner again, and Tony sends a confused glance towards his teammates.

Steve shrugs his shoulders, mouth still full of cookie, and Natasha sends him an arched brow. Tony isn't sure what that means, but feels intimidated enough to exit the room anyway.

* * *

The baking lasts the rest of the week, until Peter comes home yelling, "I aced my calculus midterm!!!" running out of the elevator with a stapled set of papers in his hand.

"So no more baking?" Nat asks neutrally.

"Nope! Woohoo!"

Just like that the kid is gone, jumping down the hall towards his bedroom.

Tony looks at Nat quizzically.

"It was midterm week. He baked 3 dozen cookies, 2 types of muffins, and a cheesecake."

"So he stress bakes?"

"He stress bakes."

* * *

It becomes a "thing" in the tower.

Sam eats toast from freshly baked bread one morning while watching Bruce quiz Peter on his upcoming AP history test. Each slice is cut, toasted, and buttered to perfection by Peter while he explains sectionalism in the 20th century.

* * *

Bucky grates carrots while Peter mixes a bowl of dry ingredients furiously, the boy mumbling to himself non-stop.

"Has he gone insane?" Clint asks from the doorway.

"Spanish oral exam," Bucky replies.

"Ay caramba."

"Tal vez pueda sobornar a mi maestra con glaseado de queso crema..." Peter starts mumbling. (Maybe I can bribe my teacher with cream cheese frosting...)

Bucky and Clint share a concerned look.

Clint approaches the boy, "put down the spatula Pete, let's talk about this."

Peter looks up in alarm.

"In English! Just English!"

* * *

"What's up kid? It's spring break, what could you possibly be stressing about."

Today Tony walks into a full kitchen; Wanda, Natasha, and Pepper are occupying the space while Peter pours something creamy into a metal bowl.

"He's asking MJ out tonight, so he's making cookies and cream ice cream in case it goes wrong." Natasha crosses her arms when she replies to him, eyes focused on Peter's mixing.

"Does ice cream even count as stress baking? The very meaning of 'bake' is to put under heat. But I suppose it does feel wrong to call it cooking."

Peter looks up, his brown eyes large and sad like a baby cow, "I still baked the cookies from scratch."

"Yeah he's a real Nara Smith!" Wanda adds enthusiastically.

"Oookay... I'll pretend I know what that means. And since when do we have an ice cream maker?" Tony points to the fancy hardware out on the kitchen counter.

"Oh, I got that for him. We lacked a lot of the tools for basic baking recipes," Pepper informs him.

Tony ponders how ice cream machines count as a basic baking tool, and decides not to argue with three powerful women and their favourite lovesick teenager.

Peter picks up his bowl and moves it into the freezer, clearing away a couple frozen pizzas and a bag of peas.

"Should I even bother with the cones?" Peter asks with a pout.

"Pete she's gonna say yes! Also if you're wallowing in misery with a tub of ice cream we still want our cones so we can emotionally support you with a crunchy treat," Wanda says with a supportive smile.

The others nod along.

"You're right!" Peter agrees before turning around and grabbing an honest-to-god waffle cone maker, with the cone shaping kit to boot.

"Why..." Tony begins to protest, "y'know what, I don't care. Let me know how it goes kid."

The man is ignored as he moves through the kitchen to grab a banana, the women coaching Peter on his manners, flirting, and first date ideas as he exits the room.

* * *

Thor hums around the delicious treat.

"Mmm. You know young Peter, you could have a shop for your creations. Is there a Stark Industries for baked goods?" Thor asks the young lad, crumbs falling from his mouth as he chews the cookie bar.

"I didn't invent the blondie Thor. I was just trying to explain what it is, a cookie brownie! I did decorate them all by myself though," he says with a satisfied grin.

"Ah yes," Thor lifts up another blondie by the pretzel stick Peter put in the squares, attached with a bit of melted chocolate so they're shaped like Mjolnir, "now you are all worthy of the hammer. Ha! This is funny, I'm sure the others will find your talents equally amusing."

Peter picks up his own mini-Mjolnjr and waves it around, "it is I, son of Odin. Don't worry puny Midgardians, I will protect you with my mighty hammer and beautiful hair!"

Thor laughs thunderously at the impression, clapping.

Bruce walks into the room, enticed by the laughter.

"Ah! My friend, Peter has made edible Mjolnirs so you, too, may be worthy. It's delicious and hilarious. Imagine Banner wielding my hammer, ha! Ridiculous," Thor is all too amused by the situation.

Bruce gives Peter an offended look as Thor continues laughing with himself, the younger just shrugging. Bruce takes one of the treats anyways, pointedly not holding it by the pretzel stick.

"Y'know Pete, have you ever considered opening a bakery? You are quite talented. I think the Avengers alone would keep you in business," Bruce asks politely.

"Well I only like to bake when I'm stressed. That wouldn't be a very stable business model," Peter points out.

"True. Although running a business can be quite stressful, so maybe you'd have a continuous supply?"

"Hm. Efficient and unhealthy," Peter nods like it's the perfect plan.

"Wow you really are Stark's intern."

Thor bursts out into another bout of raucous laughter.

"Imagine Stark wielding my dessert hammer," Thor barely gets the words out, "Stark being worthy-AH HAHA."

Bruce and Peter share a look of wide-eyed alarm before joining in on the laughter.

They all share the moment before Bruce straightens up a bit to ask, "what are you even worried about anyways Peter?"

Peter wipes a tear from his eye, "I forgot to call Aunt May this morning like I always do and she only let me move here if I promised I wouldn't neglect her. So now I'm too scared to check my phone."

"I see," Bruce sympathizes.

"Yeah, baking is good for procrastinating. I pretend I'm being productive while also creating comfort food for after my breakdowns."

* * *

Tony steps into the dining room one afternoon to find Peter slicing apples while Steve sits across from him cutting intricate patterns into pie crust. There is an array of leaves and flowers set out on the flour-sprinkled table.

"So is the ornamentation necessary, or is Cap also developing a delicious self-soothing habit," Tony inquires.

"I was just talking to Peter about pie recipes from the 40s and he asked if I could help make his prettier," Steve smiles up at his companions, "it's actually a lot of fun, I can't say I've ever used food to make art before."

"He's a natural talent Mr. Stark!"

Tony agrees with the quirk of an eyebrow and cheeky sideways nod. He observes for a moment before asking something that's been bothering him recently.

"Pete, I gotta ask. Why baking? You inherited your Aunt's terrible cooking skills, and it's not like you're built for other domestic duties. Your room is a mess. What gives? How are you so... refined?"

Peter pauses his chopping to look up incredulously.

"It's science Mr. Stark. Baking is just chemistry! I'm great at chemistry," he says with a grin.

Tony thinks about it.

"Huh. I guess you're right. So, what has you stressed this time? Girl troubles? You get too good a grade in P.E. and Flash is suspicious? Decathlon competition?" Tony lists off some of his previous turmoils.

He hopes it's the decathalon again, those butter tarts were divine.

"Um. Can I finish my apple filling before I tell you? I'll lose motivation if you start yelling at me..." Peter says with a hopeful smile, strain lying underneath it.

Tony's eyes narrow.

"Okay so I maybe blew up your test tubes when trying to develop fire webs and Dum-E may have covered your entire lab in fire supression foam."

Tony's jaw clenches, "I'm gonna let you stew in fear for a bit longer because apple is my favourite - if this was pumpkin you'd already be squashed - but best believe I'm not done with you yet." Tony slowly takes a deep breath before pointing a finger at Peter. "Never change kid, never change."

Tony leaves, distinctly in the opposite direction of his lab, and Peter goes back to slicing apples, now with a genuine smile on his face.

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 5

[prompt: face sitting]

male reader x ahn yujin

3.5k words

Yujin is giving you shit when it happens.

It’s been a little over an hour since she turned to you, bored and pouty about it, and asked if you wanted to fuck again.

She gives you shit in the way only the prettiest girls can get away with. Perfect smile, like she's innocent. And all low and breathy in her throat. Hitched around the vowels of your name. Threatening enough that you thought about just immediately capitulating. It was tempting. 

"Or you could stay on the floor like a lame loser bummin’ around in your pajamas." She leans up on the arm of the sofa. "Either way."

Yujin stretches and her sweater is huge. One of those cozy campus crewnecks that everybody seems to have, oversized and inviting and right. Her shorts are ridiculously small, just enough of her stomach peeking out over her waistband for you to want to feel it, touch it, have the pleasure of sinking your tongue into the shallow groove.

She's teasing you because she never quite knows what to do with her energy. Lacks an outlet big enough, really, but is also selfishly delighted in getting any response at all, no matter how halfhearted it might be. You stare at her. You watch and don't speak when she runs her fingers up her stomach to pull her sweater up with it. You groan. She grins. She is pretty, her lips full and eyes soft. The laugh that follows her is because it's always obvious when she's won and you wish your body wasn't so prone to giving away your weaknesses.

"Hey." She blinks slowly, lifting one leg up. Her bare foot, warm, toes flexed, against your thigh, nudges against you once, and again.

"How many orgasms until I feel a little more forgiving towards my good friend who, I know, is super super sorry that he can't afford the pizza money because he chose to use his own allowance to do something as silly as pay rent, I wonder?"

"I paid half last time."

"Doesn't make sense because you ate it all.

"You said you weren't hungry." You start to object because you do have an objection. A list, actually, prepared, of instances you think you're owed. But Yujin arches, and when a separate but related complaint rises swiftly to the foreground, your throat goes dry -

"Orgasm tax."

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” she asks, and you’re struggling to answer truthfully, honestly.

She rolls over, lets you see everything she has, the tiniest shorts in the world tugged even higher, the generous curve of her ass and thighs in silhouette. You didn't ask for this but you weren’t about to die without it, you think, looking up from the floor and staring, wetting your lips, absolutely sure. She does it all on her own and it takes an absurd amount of effort to peel your hands off the ground.

"Stay where you are," she snaps, seeing it too - and in a second of deliberate slowness, hooks two fingers into her shorts, tugging them aside before looming over you. "Or you're not fucking me today. At all."

You let your head thud down against the rug beneath you. "That's not fair."

"You've gotta come up with something better than that. You could suck up, beg, maybe I'd forgive you if you just told me how much better I was than the cash I could use on literally whatever."

Your eyes cut down.

Part of you wonders if you've always been such an easy mark - whether being here has changed you, if all these months of dangling carrots in front of you are paying off or if you're just a willing accomplice to your own exploitation.

Part of you isn't stupid. Yujin's taken an almost disturbing amount of pleasure in flaunting herself since the first night you drank too much, said too much, resisted too little - you can tell the way it starts, a smile toying in the corner of her mouth, before she taps the band of her bra, waits to hear you swallow - to hear how hot you get - before she casually asks what it would take, "to convince you", to change the conversation from whether she wants something from the vending machine, or she just forgot it was laundry day, or where the hell that note from Wonyoung had gone, to what she'd like the answer to be. What would you let her do if it got you another chance to get under her shirt, see her all bared, eyes dark and hair like a veil across her collarbones, pretty nipples and swells of her breasts pushed up, until you put your mouth on her.

Yujin tilts her hips so it's easier for you to follow, her hand snaking beneath her body as she speaks. A gentle grunt gets muffled in her sweater, her toes curling into the space between your knees and it hurts, stings a little, the desire you're holding back, and then it goes right through you like fire, sharp.

(Part of you is incredibly stupid - but you think the truth is it doesn't matter.)

Yujin's kneeling over your chest, and her bottom lip, plump and lush, catches between her teeth. "Can you think of anyway to be useful?"

"A lot," you choke. It's true.

Yujin makes a noise. "Proof. Evidence. Put up."

The movement she makes - twisting of legs and stomach flexing and the fabric of her shorts down off her ankles - is one single, fluid motion and for a second you're distracted by how quickly she's gotten you there. Thighs resting over your shoulders, the only thing your lungs seem to remember how to do is want.

"Come on." She bounces her knees a bit. "Dick or mouth, get going."

You should really say something smart, show her how clever and charming you can be, how you've actually got a lot to show the hottest girl in the world - and sometimes Yujin giggles like she's shocked  about it all herself, but right now her eyebrows are raising, expectant and challenging and it makes it difficult to think when there's an open invitation inches away for you to bury yourself in. Your lips feel like sandpaper when you kiss the inside of her thigh. Her hips stutter and drop an inch as your tongue works its way out, thick and obscene and it shouldn't be so thrilling to hear her so low, so urgent when you have no say, really, in how this is going to go -

"Take care of me, yeah?" she practically whispers the words - all while your fingertips drag along her outer thighs until her spine straightens, gets her shoulders pushed back, her breathing louder, somehow, as if you couldn't feel her need without knowing already exactly what you can do for her.

And the most honest thing you could say in the moment, because Yujin has her panties stretched to the side, revealing the inviting creases where her long legs meet her hips - for god’s sake, her pussy is right fucking there, inches in front of you; glistening slightly in her own slick and looking so, so pretty - the words get kissed right into the curve of her thigh: "It's not fair."

The look she gives you makes it worth it. "Excuse me?"

"You asked, didn't you. It's not fair that your pussy's so good that I can't think about anything else."

She huffs, her thighs shaking just a little with the effort of staying put. "So, what," and your mouth closes in, kiss deep, your nose pressed in right at the peak of her folds, her entrance, and you try not to drool as you inhale and drag the flat of your tongue in, hard, where she's desperate for you, "you think this should all go in reverse or something, like I should worship your dick until you stop being a useless perv - "

But the insult dies in her throat. A moan comes out instead, harsh, deep, loud and enough that Yujin slaps her palm over her own mouth before throwing an impatient scowl down at you.

Here's what you'd tell her, if you weren't busy licking circles into the ache leaking from her core, eating her cunt like a starving man, if you had the audacity. Yujin can't control herself. Doesn't help that she's sloppy. When her orgasm hits she will get louder and she doesn't even like the things that come out. That's the thing about Yujin, really. She says all this shit, and really, in the end, she wants a good fuck so bad she can't keep her mouth shut, but the noises she makes are exactly the same as the sounds that you choke on -

Because as pretty and easy and fun to kiss as she can be, the absolute best thing about your relationship is that the more orgasms she gets the less she can breathe, much less control what the fuck she's saying to you. It's cute and hilarious and beautiful, when she forgets, when she gives everything up because in the end it's never any competition, the way she fucks, is so desperate. Her hips work themselves into your grip, over and over and over again, like they are meant for this. 

For getting off on your mouth alone.

All you know right now is that with the way you have your hands on her - one still holding her panties open and the other squeezed tight around the muscle of her outer thigh - it's like her clit's directly in line with the back of your throat. If you press your lips around her pussy and hold them firm, just like the way her knees are starting to tighten around your face, she's going to come. It will hurt her and it will leave her completely boneless, and you've fucked this much to the point where you have learned, well, she can never complain.

Not that she would. The slick dripping down your cheeks and throat and down to the front of your shirt - it's fucking everywhere - makes it obvious: any ability to talk is replaced with her just grinding her pussy against you, bucking and shouting, riding and writhing until you decide her pretty little pink slit can have another taste. 

Her only other option, really, is clenching and throbbing and cumming as hard as she can all over your waiting tongue.

"Hey. Get your fucking mouth back down," she breathes, taking her fingers out of her cunt and then promptly pushing your head back in, "and - uhnn, I - yeah, exactly. Mmmnghh - "

You smile, muffled and hot against the fabric of her thighs, her fingers twisting in the hair behind your ears and tugging firmly. "Oh."

"What did you want again?" she asks - except her body tells a different story, all flushed and keening and, fuck, absolutely soaked from your touch - she rocks against the base of your chin, slumping and dropping down and letting gravity do its work. You work your tongue over her throbbing clit, again, again, and Yujin moans loudly. So pleased.

Just this mess she's made of you. The smell that coats your nose, and chin, the way it feels when she ruts her whole body against the place where she's worked the hardest. Her breath stalls where you start to breathe in, and looking up at the cinched look in her face you press further.

It’s every little circle lick and lave and gentle nudge of the tip of your nose, where the feeling makes her cry out, where the sensation, overstimulated, is close to that perfect balance between too much and not quite enough, all while working your fingers into the swell of her ass, and finally her hips make small, greedy, selfish thrusts into your mouth.

She sobs for you. You sigh, contented, because you don't even need to ask.

"You're so fucking good," she murmurs, heel of her palm pushed into her eyes like she's struggling with a headache. "God, fuck, do that again."

It's so wet on your chin already, but you do it again, just for the way she bucks into it.

You give her the closest thing you have, your thumb riding the rim of her ass, tongue rubbing, stroking her pussy faster. Yujin's teeth work against the insides of her mouth as her hips shift forward, and she is clenching and begging for the cock you know would make her scream if you just stood her on her hands and fucked her from behind - it's such a cruel way of making her work to feel so fucking amazing - but you're here to indulge, and really, when she shivers and pleads the exact way she does, your mouth still full, how are you supposed to do anything besides fucking obey.

Yujin reaches up to grab onto the edge of the couch, anything to brace herself as her cunt sloppily gets wetter. The thickest part of your tongue is good enough for this. Everything about her clit is just this dull, swollen throb. Begging to be worked over the way you're licking at the entrance to her pussy, inside and all, kissing, sucking, kneading, pulling, - fucking her just right - until she starts fucking cursing up a storm.

"Oh god, god, oh fuck fuck, fuck," her hips shift until she's the only one riding, the only one fucking. Until you just get to lay there with your lips slack, drooling open, hands a frame for her entire body while she works your face, and nothing could be better - "yeah, oh, fuck, fuck yes - yeah - fuck, hahhh. You're going to make me fucking cum-"

And you almost say it: that's your line - it's not enough, you'll never have enough of her cunt - her clit or the slit, where she leaks, thick and sticky. Her slick tastes heavy on your tongue, and you can't swallow fast enough. Your fingers are so deep into the pliable skin of her ass - digging and needy and reaching for where she's tightest. Her hands pull sharply at your hair. You feel her, tightening her ass around your finger, cumming wet across your cheekbones and -

It goes on, her body pressing into you, until with a sudden snap of a cry, she cums.

“God, fuck-”

If Yujin doesn't have to see the look on your face after getting her off this hard, it's only because the pressure in her body has her knees across your eyes forced shut. A spasm clenches, almost rhythmic, through her thighs, and god, Yujin just cums her brains out. It's pretty hot. You make it count: pushing your fingers just as deep into her pussy, working, exploring - right as her whole body is tensing and coming apart and your other hand circles, two fingers, dipping down and through the cleft of her ass and into her tightest, hottest hole -

You know better than to rub at her entrance once the ripples and waves start - instead, it's more pressure.

Pushing up as deep as you can and your lips mouthing at her folds while her hips squirm for something harder, something stronger and with intent - like, maybe, if she thinks she is trying to push away, she will start to believe that the mess running from her hole isn't hers. It's yours. All that liquid heat pooling below her and what could ever make sense other than she needs more? She needs the way she trembles and shakes, the way her pussy weeps as you wring it for the pleasure that's well on its way -

You always feel like an idiot after, stupid with how much you enjoy this, what she gives you, but how could it be anything but fantastic, your vision dizzying when it swims from lightheadedness and the lack of oxygen to your brain. Yujin's holding you right where she needs, right between her thighs and next to perfection, just tight enough for you to groan, to make a low whine build in the back of your throat and that gets her, too.

There is the rush and a wave, the heat, of something that crests and breaks in her that has to match the absolute loss of control she seems to have all along - the only part you feel you are sure about is that Yujin always rides her cunt - all dripping lips and aching holes, swollen and flaring and practically begging to be fucked harder and more thoroughly - into every orgasm she's taken from you, until there's no where to run.

Even through your nose, and you're suffocating, her legs trembling with the rush of it all. You're gasping and shaking but she's shaking apart and you need that: to feel her melt from where her body collapses all its weight onto you and the way the aftershocks have to make it seem, at least for a moment, that she’ll never, ever recover.

"Fuck," Yujin sighs, "I fucking hate you."

(Translation: she can't fucking live without you.)

"Any time," you murmur and her entire body falls into you, straddled across your chest and slumped there, sweaty and spent. Your heart beats the moment, trying to remember when it was you could stop feeling this way about your roommate.

A part of you believes that, once upon a time, before all of this started, that your desire, your lust was rooted in seeing a friend who was beyond hot and simply unavailable.

A bigger part of you knows that asking for clarity isn't the point - because maybe, right now, in the way your hand has started massaging the soft skin under the curve of her spine, you should realize you can't live with it never happening again.

"What's my balance," you ask, rubbing your thumb into the crook behind her knee.

"Mm?"

You exhale.

"Two. I think you're good for two."

You laugh. "For real?"

She stretches.

"Or I suppose we can go for four or five, but that means you're paying for dinner, too." Yujin does this thing with her hair when she's excited. Swings it back, smiling wide.

Which is fair, you think, given the pulse between your legs throbbing and twitching as you picture it: the curve of Yujin's waist and the drop of her lower back, her bare ass. Her soaked little slit that can't help but beg to fucked and fucked and fucked, until she's trembling and quivering and leaking-

"Then I'm gonna eat," you promise her, "every last inch. Going to taste you and swallow."

Yujin shifts, sitting astride you.

You hum. "Still interested."

She simply kisses you - breathes you in - tasting herself on your lips and tongue, before leaning back with her palms flat against your chest and taking it slow as she starts to ease you into the kind of sex that doesn't leave either one of you with a throat quite so raw and dry.

So it's quiet in your apartment, just for a little while, when the afternoon starts to settle in and she rolls back onto her heels, not able to support the rest of her. You fuck her deep and it's amazing how quickly you both fall into rhythm. Yujin's clutching hard on either side of your hips. Folding herself back. Trying, by the end, to bury you where her fingers have been.

By the time she gets herself up on the couch, belly flat against the cushions and her hips arched back as she fucks herself with the length of your dick, you're just desperate. Aching in a way you know will happen any moment and even so, you can't even bring yourself to consider stopping because this is perfect - it's everything, really. To push her down, hold her still, and fuck her so thoroughly that she cries and shudders as you spill into her.

To have her.

Yujin holds a part of yourself so tender, something you have kept close for far too long, and watching her with her arm reached behind herself, clutching blindly with her fingers, as her moans go quiet with just these whimpery, little things, a thought occurs to you, of exactly how dangerous your roommate is -

Because with you fucking into her like this, this is more than sex ought to be. More than it’s ever been.

(More dangerous yet is thinking: maybe - perhaps - it is exactly what Yujin wanted, from the start.)

[seat-safety-switch]

All across the world, there is a rush by marketeers to sell you new appliances. The last couple decades of increasingly-shitty build quality have failed to plump their margins enough, so now they're trying the carrot. Now, when you buy a refrigerator, it can be connected to the internet. Some ovens need to be connected to the internet, or they can't cook a turkey. If you went back in time and explained this state of affairs to someone in the Victorian Era, they'd shoot you.

When did our civilization lose its inherent distrust of machines pretending to be human? Half of our most popular science-fiction franchises are about a glad-handing, smiling robot trying to steal or murder our children. Now we're going to let a refrigerator lock down access to nutrients for those same children, because it couldn't resolve DNS? No more of this, I say, which is why I've started a new business.

Here at Appliance Endumbinators, our crack team of computer scientists, computer engineers, and angry people with hammers will work hard to remove any semblance of "intelligence" from your appliances. If you bought a new barbecue and it refuses to work unless you use factory-authorized propane, we'll rip its circuit boards out and splice together the miles of wiring that make up its nervous system until it gives in. We'll find your car and use an angle grinder to cut out the part of its positronic brain that obeys speed limits. And just for laughs, we'll duct-tape a thrift store alarm clock to your coffee maker, so that it can still have your brew ready for breakfast.

Book us in now, before the machines have their way with you. Become the master of your own home, comfortable with the most idiotic of automatons as you watch your neighbours suffer with thousand-page manuals, helpless service calls, and outsourced below-minimum-wage customer support just to toast a waffle.

[yerimbrit]

WWIB > 5. lunch with pretty (wc: 1.2k)

danielle grins happily as she listens to y/n explain each classroom and their respective teachers. mrs. kim and mr. park, the math teachers, mr. baek the literature teacher—the list goes on. y/n has more annoyed complaints to say about mr. song, which makes danielle giggle with her hand covering her mouth.

she notices her mentor has a hard time making eye contact with her. everyone that she's talked to is okay, but it seems it's different when it comes to danielle. it reassures her in thinking that her seatmate may already have some feelings for her too.

"mrs. kim is nice, but she keeps giving us pop quizzes," y/n gulps down the last of her pocari sweat and throws it away at the nearest recycling bin. "i don't know about mr. park but from what i've heard for eunchae—the girl who kept poking me in class today—he likes pop quizzes too."

danielle takes a sip of her strawberry milk. y/n was adamant about treating her, even if it was just the school vending machines. they finally replaced the selection with better drinks, and everyone's been swarming the machines during break according to the girl. "that's bad," she pouts, "i can't do well on tests without studying super hard; i'll have to study everyday."

y/n widens her eyes and shakes her head, finally glancing at danielle. the transfer student's eyes glimmer with genuine fear. "ah, it's not that bad! they're usually right after we review some introductory material or something like that, don't worry."

they walk through the hallways. some students stare in awe at danielle as they walk past the pair, even more so when she greets each of them with a bright smile. y/n looks like she's seconds away from either passing out or growling at the other students.

they're about to enter the cafeteria when danielle stops briefly. "you didn't have plans with your friends, did you? i know i asked if you wanted to eat lunch together but it's not too late to back out..."

y/n ponders for a moment, glancing around. "i'll... i want to eat lunch with you, it's okay. do you know anyone else here?" she slowly asks. 'she really has a permanent smile on her face,' y/n notes in her head.

"i have a friend who's a senior, but she's... busy today. i can always catch up with her later!" danielle answers easily, hoisting her backpack up to adjust it.

y/n nods and they walk into the already-bustling lunchroom. they don't bother getting in line since danielle brought her own food for today and y/n had a particularly big breakfast with haerin.

"you're not gonna eat?" danielle decides to question this decision, pulling her comically large lunchbox out of her bag, which separates into three different containers. she almost looks disappointed at the lack of food in front of her mentor. 'she's really expressive,' y/n adds to her mental note.

the girl in front of her stares in bewilderment, looking between danielle and her abundance of food that she prepared for lunch. "is that all for you?" she asks in astonishment, before quickly realizing that danielle might take it the wrong way. "i mean, not that i'm calling you-"

y/n gets cut off by the girl laughing. the sound makes her feel like she's floating, ready to ascend to whatever's up there. 'this must be heaven.'

"it's okay! i'm a big eater, i'm pretty active. i used to do track back in australia, but i had to quit because my family was moving back to korea."

the girl across from her nods in understanding, drumming her fingertips on top of the table. "you're from australia?"

"yeah! i was born there but we moved back and forth between seoul and newcastle. my mom's korean."

danielle takes the lids off of her lunchbox containers, revealing a copious amount of gimbap, some cutlery, and a whole box dedicated to a mix of cherry tomatoes and baby carrots. she gestures to the container filled with the fruits and vegetables. "want some?"

"oh," y/n's mouth forms an 'o' shape, and she picks a cherry tomato from the pile. "thank you."

the australian watches as y/n pops the fruit into her mouth with expectant eyes. "is it sweet?"

"mm, very."

"that's good! i love fruits and vegetables, i can't go a day without having them. oh, especially carrots. i love carrots," danielle rambles as she picks up a piece of her gimbap with her chopsticks and shoves it in her mouth. she repeats this until all of her lunch is gone, before y/n can even blink.

"hey loser," eunchae sets her tray down on the table, taking a seat next to y/n. "hi danielle!"

danielle flashes a huge grin and waves, recognizing the girl as the person that y/n was talking about earlier. "hello! eunchae...?"

"big baby..." y/n mutters under her breath. unfortunately for her, eunchae hears it and pinches her on the side. they side-eye each other.

then, as if nothing happened, she turns back to danielle with a friendly expression. "that's right! yunjin-unnie told me lots about you."

this turns out to be something that danielle didn't expect, because she lets out a loud gasp. "you know yunjin-unnie!?"

y/n curses at eunchae in her head.

the two get wrapped up in an exciting conversation about yunjin and how they know her, and also getting to know each other in the process. danielle, yunjin, and another girl named yuna grew up together, and they still keep in touch even now. they keep each other updated on almost every detail of their lives while danielle is away, and also exchanging small pieces of gossip.

eunchae's older sister, chaewon, is close friends with the musician, and she describes them as a "budding situationship" before she laughs it off and changes to a different subject. internally, y/n takes back the curses she directed to the younger girl as she also got to know the pretty girl better through their interaction.

two figures approach their table and eunchae and danielle's conversation is put on pause in order to see who arrived.

"ah, finally!" y/n stands up, moving her bag so the student council power couple could sit. "you took forever."

"danielle," eunchae starts, pointing to the girls that had just settled down in their seats with a lunchbox that the secretary packed. "this is hanni-unnie and minji-unnie, our very own student council secretary and president. guys, this is danielle, the new transfer."

"wow! it's so nice to meet you! i didn't know y/n-ssi was so connected."

"it's very nice to meet you, danielle," hanni states, making a face at y/n, who flips her off while the bright girl isn't looking.

the rest of the girls finish their lunch, with some taking their share of danielle's offered tomatoes and carrots (minji made a face, though no one except hanni and y/n noticed), and soon lunch was over. y/n's face pales at the bell.

she still has class with the new girl in two periods.

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[luvvannie]

!? --- YOUR HUSBAND, FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

>> husband!fyodor x fem!reader (one use of 'princess,' and 'milaya,' but other than that, pretty gn!)

syn. a compilation of husband fyo headcannons :)

gen. fluffier than his hat

care.

i see a lot of people making him out to be so confident and MPH and although i am not here to undermine that thought (bc i am also horrendously in love w/ that possibility), i simply bring to the table SHY FYO !!!

like like like :(((((( him expressing his care for in like the most subtle ways,, like memorising your nap schedule and working around it for dates and outings AAAHH

and then ud be like 'but fyo isn't that time difficult for u??' and he'd respond 'but thats an hour after the time u wake up from ur nap in the evening so ull have enough time to get ready and pick ur outfit and do ur hair and ur makeup' AND THEN ULL BE LIKE 'AWWW FYOOOOO' and then he'll be so confused bc to him it's like how was that cute i was just being practical 🧍‍♂️

going off of the whole memorising things about you... i feel like he would just have your orders for whatever place written off on a little sticky note in the back of his mind... like he NAILS ur order without so much as a confirmation from you... it's like watching a well-oiled machine run tbh, 'one ___ but without the ___ and extra ___ and also a ___ in a meal with a ___. thank you." LIKE WOW!!! THATS UR MAN!!!

physical affection.

okay listen... still going with shy fyo but steering a little away because AFFECTIONATE FYO???? FYO WHO WILL RANDOMLY GRAB YOUR HAND OUT OF NOWHERE AND STROKE HIS THUMB OVER YOUR KNUCKLES, BEFORE TAKING YOUR HAND TO HIS LIPS AND KISSING EACH FINGER??? FYO WHO WILL WALK INTO THE ROOM, KISS YOUR TEMPLE AND TELL YOU HE LOVES YOU WHILE YOURE JUST MINDING YOUR OWN BUSINESS AND THEN WALK BACK OUT LIKE HIS BUSINESS WAS FINISHED???? FYO WHO WILL WALK UP BEHIND YOU WHILE YOU'RE COOKING OR DOING CHORES AND JUST BACKHUG YOU AND STAY LIKE THAT FOR THE NEXT HUNDRED BEATS???????? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH

i think it definitely wldve taken a while for him to adjust tho. just imagining him at the very start of ur relationship when u both were just silly little college students and you would put your arms around him for a hug and he would just STIFFEN COMPLETELY and not know how to respond... BUT HE GOT THERE IN THE END OKAY!!

i think i may go as far as to argue that he will be the one initiating most of it now... although that's not to say you don't do any of it, because you most definitely do.

i think his favourite is your hugs :(( although i don't think he would ever say that outloud..

householding.

he doesn't like it when you do chores. like he REALLY REALLY doesn't like it...

when you first started living together (before marriage), and he would find you washing dishes, he would just silently come beside you and bump you out of the way and take over without a word LMAOOO

he has gotten more used to it however,, considering the fact that he, unfortunately for him, cannot princess you for every waking hour... he still doesn't love it though. he would much rather you sit there and look pretty and not raise a fingertip.

cooking is an exception though, because he likes doing it with you :((

BUT NO KNIVES AND ESPECIALLY NO CHEESE GRATERS AFTER THAT ONE TIME YOU ACCIDENTALLY CUT YOUR FINGER GRATING A CARROT...

you get to do the fun stuff though, like measuring the ingredients and mixing them all together. i really don't think he's that vocal though, he'll just kinda do him part and then nudge the bowl towards you silently like 'its ur turn do ur thing'

he loves that you're talking your ass of the entire time, something about it feels so endearing to him... the whole time he'll just be giving you small, half-sentences like...

'FYOOOO THE BATTER IS ON MY SHIRTTTTTT!!!'

'that's why i tried to roll up your sleeves earlier, darling...'

'ITS GOING TO STAIN!!!!!!!!!!'

'just... we can just wash it off...'

'HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEEE!?!?!?!?!'

'uhm... you have something on the-'

'AAAAAAAAA ITS ON THE FRONT'

'i told you to wear an apron...'

healing.

when you're sick, he's gone complete caretaker mode... he will NOT allow you to get up from your resting space (whether it be the bed, or the sofa), NO MATTER WHAT THE CIRCUMSTANCES.

he'll cook you very good meals!! making sure they're healthy for you and also extremely tasty so that he can try to coax you back into your appetite and get you the nutrients you need to get better :(( carries you your meals on a little lap desk, and will spoon-feed you each bite until you've had enough, AND ONLY UNTIL YOU'VE HAD ENOUGH!

he's just overall very gentle with you :((

you've lost your appetite and can't have anymore than half of the portion he cooked for you?? 'it's alright love, i'll save it for later.'

your blocked nose is keeping you up and you haven't been able to sleep the entire night because of it?? 'oh, milaya, why didn't you tell me sooner?' before he gets you some nose drops and then rocks you to sleep in his arms.

you're sad because you can't go out for date night like the two of you planned for anymore?? THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN'T HAVE A GOOD NIGHT IN EACH OTHER'S COMPANY!! ITS GO FISH TIME!!!! (yes he will use his expensive playing cards to play go fish with you just to make you feel better he's THAT devoted)

de-stressing.

those nights when you're both stressed and tired and overstimulated out of your minds are strangely enough, your favourite nights, because you know that you'll be able to come home to your loving husband and disappear into his warmth...

you get home a little earlier than he does, so you take the opportunity to warm the bed, as you wait for him to arrive with your mandatory de-stress-cuddles, and before you know it, you're drifting off...

until you're awoken again by the feel of the warm covers gliding against your skin, and the mattress shifting slightly beneath you, opening your eyes to see ITS YOUR PACKAGE!!! ITS HERE!!!!!

you both don't waste any time and practically envelope each other with warmth take a few moments to situate yourselves, mumbling a few croaky 'i love you's before completely falling asleep.

you'll pay for sleeping in your uncomfortable work clothes when the two of you wake up again around three in the morning and decide to FINALLY shower... and then go back to bed.

a/n. hehe first post on this acc yayayay!! hope these were good :)) i'm so inlove with him oh my lord... N E WAYS REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !!!

[joyshinemachinerycompany]

Chinese cabbage cutter|Chinese cabbage cutting machine|leafy vegetable cutting machine 

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[maybeitsalivescribbles]

TTD - And then They Were Roommates ™

Before Villain was their roommate, Hero never had any peculiar feeling about their apartment. They were grateful to have a roof over their head, but were not particularly picky about how it looked like under. It wasn’t like they had the kind of time to arrange the place. To be honest, with their working hours, they didn’t see why they would find energy left for this. As long as they had a bed and electricity, it was fine. The result was a reasonably clean room, but a rather bland place. The only thing that was really personal was the vanity in the bathroom, covered with hair products and beads of all colors. At Villain’s displeasure, Hero spent hours in front of it, because unlike some people whining from behind the door, they had their priorities well in order.

True, Hero had felt a bit insecure when Villain had entered for the first time, stopping in front of every furniture with such solemnity you’d swear they were staring at a masterpiece in a museum. Flustered, the not-so-proud owner had explained that they were not that rich, but Villain had seldom made any comment, and well, with their shadow covering them it wasn’t like their body language was readable. Maybe they were tired too, and after their place had just been destroyed by Supervillain it was understandable. They’d glistened towards the guest room and locked their door without a word.

The agency had called in the middle of that night for news. Hero, toying with their blanket, had assured their superior on the phone that yes, Supervillain had been destroyed for good, no they weren’t making it up, and oh by the way, Villain had reformed and changed their ways, hmmhmm, yep, definitively. On the other side of the line, that declaration was met by no little skepticism. After one hour of pleading, they’d at last convinced their interlocutor not to send a team to eliminate the threat. The next day, they were ordered to keep Villain under lock and key. Villain had stared when they’d shyly explained the situation to them, brandishing a padlock they didn’t really know how to use, and had only said:

“I could open this pathetic thing in my sleep.”

Given how gifted Villain was with building tools and machines, it was probably no idle boast. The good news, though, was that they’d accepted to stay in their room whenever they were left alone as long as Hero would give them an old game-boy left in a drawer for years to keep them occupied. As time passed, it became evident that Villain was an indoor creature who was delighted at the idea of not stepping outside ever again. In return, Hero had given them pretty much whatever they wanted, including scraps of metal and lots of tools. At first, they’d said nothing, but when parts of the room had began to be covered with sinister forms, they’d felt they had to put their foot down:

“You are not building a torture room in my place.”

“What else am I supposed to do, you oppressor ?”

“I’m the one paying the taxes.”

Villain had sulked for a moment after that, but then they’d suddenly asked:

“Aha, but what if my torture tools were also useful appliances?”

Hero had stared and said:

“No.”

“No as no or no as it can’t be?”

“Both.”

“You have little faith.”

Villain had immediately put themself to work. In an alarmingly short time, they’d built a tiny guillotine for the kitchen. It could cut even coconuts properly, in one strike. Hero couldn’t use it much, because it made them feel sorry for the poor vegetables (especially after seeing Villain do it, yelling “death to all of you, you feeble preys!” at a bunch a carrots), but they had to acknowledge it was a decent tool to slice a loaf of bread. Actually, Villain was good with the kitchen in general. Being disturbingly fond of cutting vegetables and fruits, it was no surprise that they’d fallen in love with the blender Hero had never used before:

“For what it is but a miniature death trap, where my innocent victims are trapped in a transparent prison and melted into oblivion by unforgiving blades?”

Hero had asked what kind of blade would be forgiving, and they’d got lightly tapped on the head with a cardboard tube for their trouble. But the outcome of all of this was a fridge always filled with bottles full of drinkable food that never got Hero’s stomach upset. Villain had even made a damn acupuncture chair which spikes looked deadly, but were in fact quite soothing. After that they’d stood up, and Hero just knew that they were puffing their chest behind their shadow:

“So, have I succeeded in my impossible task?”

And Hero could do nothing but answer:

“Yes. Completely. It’s genius.”

And it was. Really, the biggest beef they had was the time when Villain had stolen their two favorite magnets on the fridge. They’d stopped dead in front of the aro and ace pride flags that fixated the to-do lists of the day, declared that green, purple and black were traditional colors for villains and so they were “bound to have them”, had yoinked them and flied back to their room before Hero had time to react. And as much as they were for people exploring their own identity, how were they supposed to keep their groceries list in sight now?

But none of this was the weirdest thing. It was the fact that whenever Hero returned to their place with all these strange additions, it didn’t feel bad or crowded. It was the strange new and warm feeling that finally they were home, they were home, they were home.

(Though they still wanted their magnets back.)

*

Check the These Two Dorks Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with this Hero and Villain. This is how they met and now they’re roommates.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

[hana-bobo-finch]

Uh oh!!! You know what time it is!!! Time to yap about more pikmin headcanons!!!

• Yonny did almost all of dingo’s work in school for him. He has zero regrets. It started off as him trying to tutor dingo but it immediately became extremely obvious that math/science just wasn’t going to click with him so yonny just…did it all for him

• Louie hums to himself. A lot. Very terribly, might I add. Not even any real melody just random sounds. He thinks olimar can’t hear him but he can. Oh boy can he. It drives Olimar up the wall but he’s too polite to ever bring it up

• Nelle barely ever talks to Yorke or Dobbs but is constantly not-so-secretly listening in on all of their conversations. She just watches on silently. Only occasionally chimes in. Yorke and Dobbs just assume she doesn’t like being around them that much but nah, she likes just lurking around them

• Dobbs is a GAMER. He is an absolutely TERRIBLE gamer

• Dingo purposefully tries to put yonny in danger just so he can swoop in for a “heroic save.” It never works and somehow dingo’s always the one who has to be heroically saved

• santi, in a deep, twisted part of his heart, wishes Bernard would “go missing” in a tragic ship crash. He feels terrible for thinking it but…he does.

• After koppai’s food crisis was solved by alph and co Yorke had absolutely NO idea what to do with his life, considering his entire life up until that point was treasure hunting to try to earn money for food

• Louie’s had intense screaming matches with the president multiple times. Only time he ever raises his voice above a whisper. It scares the crap out of Olimar

• Yonny is demiromantic

• Nelle and Brittany haven’t spoken since they were teens. They absolutely despised each other at the time and it would often escalate to physical fights. They’d probably get along just fine as adults but they’re both too petty to be the one to try to reach out to mend things

• Collin gives wonderful hugs!!! If any of the other rescue corps are upset he’ll give them a big ol hug. Provided they want one.

• Louie is bffs with the ship. Mostly because it’s not an actual person. The ship would get extremely offended if he said this but it’s true, he finds it a lot easier to talk to a machine than a person. That weird bond they have is the only reason the ship didn’t snitch on him for eating the golden pikpik carrots.

• Dingo puts himself in dangerous situations just so he could get pampered by yonny in the medical ward. He is unaware that they can just…hang out normally

• Collin has a wonderful singing voice but would rather die than sing in front of anyone. On the flip side shepherd sounds like a dying animal but is just about addicted to karaoke

• Yorke has zero sleep schedule. He will fall asleep whenever and wherever he wants. Even during an active treasure hunt

• Olimar used to be incredibly concerned and disgusted with Louie cooking the creatures they brought back to the point he was genuinely considering calling HR. Eventually he caved in and tried some of Louie’s cooking abd did a complete 180

• Olimar desperately wants to cook with Louie but Louie gets extremely territorial when he’s cooking. If Olimar steps foot in the kitchen while he’s working Louie will go feral

• Yorke is pretty much the hairdresser for Nelle and dobbs when they’re on a long treasure hunting trip. He’s not all that good at it but they don’t mind the shabby look

• Yorke is a chronic makeup-stealer. He doesn’t even use it all too often but he’ll grab any he can find and stash it away. Especially eyeshadow he steals that the most

• ^ adding onto this he is a horrible liar. Absolutely horrible. Noooo Nelle what are you talking about I didn’t steal anything my eyelids just naturally look like this………………..

• Bernard wears sunglasses over sunglasses. At most he will wear 4 pairs at a time. He thinks it multiplies his coolness (he is correct!)

• Alph used to have long hair before getting it cut in an attempt to match charlie

That is all goodbye

[helenvader]

The Last Hero is a difficult book to quote, since I do not have a copy/past-able version, but it's worth the work! This is long, but I just had to share it all. :-)

If there are any typos, feel free to tell me!

--

Lord Vetinari found it best to set up a committee system. More of the ambassadors from other countries had arrived at the university, and more heads of the Guilds were pouring in, and every single one of them wanted to be involved in the decision-making process, without necessarily going through the intelligence-using process first.

About seven committees, he considered, should be about right. And when, ten minutes later, the first sub-committee had miraculously budded off, he took aside a few chosen people into a small room, set-up the Miscellaneous Committee, and locked the door.

"The flying ship will need a crew. I'm told," he said. "It can carry three people. Leonard will have to go because, to be frank, he will be working on it even as it departs. And the other two?" 

"There should be an assassin," said Lord Downey of the Assassins’ Guild.

"No. If Cohen and his friends were easy to assassinate, they would have been dead long ago," said Lord Vetinari.

"Perhaps a woman's touch?" said Mrs Palm, head of the Guild of Seamstresses. "I know they are elderly gentlemen, but my members are–"

"I think the problem there, Mrs Palm, is that although the Horde are apparently very appreciative of the company of women, they don't listen to anything they say. Yes, Captain Carrot?"

Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson of the City Watch was standing to attention, radiating keenness and a hint of soap. "I volunteer to go, sir," he said.

"Yes, I thought you probably would."

"Is this a matter for the Watch?" said the lawyer Mr Slant. "Mr Cohen is simply returning property to its original owner."

"That is an insight which had not hitherto occurred to me," said Lord Vetinari smoothly.

"However, the City Watch would not be the men I think they are if they couldn't think of a reason to arrest anyone. Commander Vimes?"

"Conspiracy to make an affray should do it," said the head of the Watch, lighting a cigar.

"And Captain Carrot is a persuasive young man," said Lord Vetinari.

"With a big sword," grumbled Mr Slant.

Persuasion comes in many forms," said Lord Vetinari. "No. I agree with Archchancellor Ridcully, sending Captain Carrot would be an excellent idea. "What? Did I say something?" said Ridcully.

"Do you think that sending Captain Carrot would be an excellent idea?"

"What? Oh. Yes. Good lad. Keen. Got a sword. "Then I agree with you," said Lord Vetinari, who knew how to work a committee. "We must make haste, gentlemen. The flotilla needs to leave tomorrow. We need a third member of the crew–"

There was a knock at the door. Vetinari signalled to a college porter to open it.

The wizard known as Rincewind lurched into the room, white-faced, and stopped in front of the table.

"I do not wish to volunteer for this mission," he said.

"I beg your pardon?" said Lord Vetinari.

"I do not wish to volunteer, sir."

"No one was asking you to."

Rincewind wagged a weary finger. "Oh, but they will, sir, they will. Someone will say: hey, that Rincewind fella, he's the adventurous sort, he knows the Horde. Cohen seems to like him, he knows all there is to know about cruel and unusual geography, he'd be just the job for something like this." He sighed. "And then I'll run away, and probably hide in a crate somewhere that'll be loaded on to the flying machine in any case."

"Will you?"

"Probably, sir. Or there'll be a whole string of accidents that end up causing the same thing. Trust me, sir. I know how my life works. So I thought I'd better cut through the whole tedious business and come along and tell you I don't wish to volunteer."

"I think you've left out a logical step somewhere," said the Patrician.

"No, sir. It's very simple. I'm volunteering. I just don't wish to. But, after all, when did that ever have anything to do with anything?"

"He's got a point, you know, said Ridcully. "He seems to come back from all sorts of–"

"You see?" Rincewind gave Lord Vetinari a jaded smile. "I've been living my life for a long time. I know how it works."

[the-hinky-panda]

June Bug Series: Chapter 1

Title: June Bug

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Goodie Carangi x OFC!Reader (June)

Summary: You're a business owner that's trying to fly under the radar in Tulsa but that's going to be extremely difficult when you fall for Goodie.

You’re stuck in a rut. A boring, dull, exasperating rut. It’s your third time in the same week coming out to the barn to spend time grooming your ten year old mare, Ruby. It was something you did whenever you needed to get out from behind your desk, out of the four walls of your home. You’re usually not this frequent a visitor to Fennario Ranch and your presence has finally piqued your friend’s interest. 

“If you keep showing up to groom that horse, you’re going to brush her until she’s bald.” 

You stop mid stroke and run a hand over the horse’s coat. “That can happen?” 

Margaret chuckles. “God, no. It was a joke.” 

“Oh.” You go back to brushing Ruby’s flank. “That wasn’t funny.” 

“It was a little funny.” Margaret sits on a tack trunk. “I’m not used to seeing you out here so much in one week. You’re getting dangerously close to running into Cal at some point.” 

“I’m not too worried. Your staff always gives me a heads up when he pulls in.” 

“So you can go hide?” 

“So I can avoid confrontation.” 

“Considering how often you’ve been here this week, maybe some confrontation would be good for you.” 

You flash her a grin over Ruby’s withers. “You just want me to run him off because he’s bugging you now. Wait, aren’t you seeing someone? That guy from New York?” 

Margaret gives you a side eye. “Define ‘seeing.’” 

“Call it whatever you want. He can do your dirty work for you. In fact, I wouldn’t mind seeing Cal have his ass handed to him by some mobster from New York City.” 

“Then maybe you should make friends with him.” 

“What? And have him find out about our little business venture? If he’s really affiliated with the mob then we’ll have to pay a kick-up to him. I already brokered a zero kick-up fee to Kansas City. I don’t want to have to sweet talk my way out of another situation like that.” 

“Alright,” Margaret sips her coffee. “Don’t make friends with him but he does have a guy that works the casino floor that’s from New York as well. He’s your type too.” 

“My type,” you scoff. “And what exactly is that?” 

“Clean cut, good shape, dresses impeccably. He seems personable.” 

Okay, that is your type but you’re going to be damned to let Margaret know she hit the nail on the head. “Sounds boring.” 

Margaret sighs in exasperation. “God, June, come on. You need to get out and have some fun. Loosen the fuck up for a change.” 

You drop the brush back into the tack box and pick up a carrot, snapping it in half before giving it to Ruby. “I’ve been researching through the latest group of men and-” 

Margaret interrupts. “No. No work. Go by yourself. Do something wild and pick someone up.” 

“Oh yeah, a one night stand will solve everything.” 

“Maybe not everything but it’ll take the edge off. You know, let him do all the work for a change.” 

You nod in resignation at your friend and business partner. “Alright. Fine. What’s this guy’s name?” 

Margaret smiles at you. “Ask him yourself.” 

And that is how you end up spending the entire evening at the newly opened Bred 2 Buck Casino and Cabaret. The name kept popping up in your research as an upcoming hot spot in Tulsa and it was also the only place you were guaranteed to not run into your ex-husband. So you pulled out one of your many little black dresses, slipped into a pair of Christian Louboutin pumps and headed to Tulsa’s newest casino.

Some people go to museums to analyze the art, you go to establishments such as this to analyze the patrons. And there were a wide range from out of state high rollers playing black jack and craps to locals who would play $20 on the slots and then go listen to the live music while they sip on mid-shelf whiskey. After making a couple passes through the casino floor and losing fifty bucks on a slot machine just to fit in with the locals, you settle near the end of the bar where you can still hear the house band but the bass doesn’t rattle your martini glass. You’re content to sit in peace but a whiff of expensive cologne alerts you to someone taking the seat next to yours. 

Here we go. 

***

Goodie noticed you the moment you stepped onto the casino floor. You’re dressed in an elegantly cut black dress and expensive heels, your hair is in a sweeping updo with small white flowers tucked into the dark waves. You move around the floor in measured, graceful steps. When you pass behind him at one of the craps tables, he catches the scent of jasmine and cedarwood. Your eyes meet his briefly as you move past the table and he realizes that noticed isn’t a strong enough word. 

Colpo di fulmine. The thunderbolt. 

Fifty-five years old and it happens precisely as his mother predicted it would. No warning, no prelude, nothing. He’s already taken half a step away from the craps table he’s been monitoring to follow you before he comes to his senses. He keeps one eye on the table and one on you as you drift between the gaming tables. You take a seat at one of the slot machines and it strikes him as odd. You don’t seem to be a slots gambler, not with your sense of high style and grace. 

By the time the wannabe oil baron craps out and the pit boss starts to reset the table, you’ve left the casino floor and his heart sinks. He takes a shot and scans the bar and cabaret area and sees you sitting at the bar. The relief he feels is ridiculous but then the nerves return as he approaches you. He can see the small frown, the subtle downturn of your mouth, as he takes the seat at the very end of the bar and the bartender slides him a vodka and lime. 

“You don’t strike me as a slot player.” 

Your eyes scan his face and the frown straightens. “And what kind of player do I strike you as?” 

God, you’re stunning. And that is the proper word because he’s struggling to find his words, his breath. He is properly stunned. But words are his speciality. “Poker.” 

“Poker? Really?” You raise a finely arched eyebrow. “How’s that?” 

“You look like a woman who likes the challenge of reading a room, reading a person.” 

“And you figured this out just by sitting down next to me at the bar?” 

“No, I figured it out by watching you scope out the casino floor. All the craps games were too hot at the moment for you to jump in. Blackjack’s too simple to engage you. Roulette, same. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out why in the world you played the slot machine.” 

“Looks like I’m not the only one who enjoys watching people.” You finally give him a smile and his heart nearly stops. “As for the slot machine, what can I say? I was in the mood for something different tonight. New experience, so to speak.” 

“I get that,” he laughs. “If you can’t tell, I’m not exactly from around here.” 

“No kidding.” There’s a mischievous glint to your eye. “Let me guess, Jersey?” 

He puts a hand to his heart. “Ouch. You wound me.” 

That earns him a soft laugh from you as you pick up the speared olives from your martini. “My apologies. I may have never been to the east coast but a New York accent is very hard to mistake, especially here in Tulsa. But there seems to be an odd influx of youse guys.” 

“That’s not too bad,” he teases. “For someone who’s never been, you’d blend right in.” 

“Well, what can I say,” you look him directly in the eyes, “I like mafia movies.” 

He understands exactly what you’re implying but he’s not sure how to take it. Is this simple flirting? Digging for information? Were you sent by someone? No, it was exceedingly rare that women were sent to deal with family business. But with Chickie’s unstableness recently, he wouldn’t put anything past him. He chooses to proceed as if this were a regular conversation and see where it leads. “Oh yeah. What’s your favorite?” 

“I was an avid Sopranos fan. Never missed an episode.” 

Goodie scoffs. “Sopranos was shit.” 

You actually laugh. “You don't like it because it took place in Jersey.” 

“There was that.” He can feel his phone buzz in his pocket and he knows he has to get back to the casino floor. You notice the dull sound and motion to his suit jacket pocket. 

“It sounds like duty calls and I don’t know your name.” 

He takes out a business card and writes his name and number on the back of it. “To be fair, I don’t know yours either.” 

You take the offered card and narrow your eyes. “Goodie?” 

“It’s a nickname,” he shrugs. “My real name’s Dennis but no one calls me that.” 

That answer satisfies you enough that you return the information. June. Simple, elegant. It fits you. He puts your drink on his tab and heads back to the casino floor. Someone hit big at the blackjack table and needed to cash out their eight thousand dollar winnings. It was a young guy partying with his groomsmen before getting married the next morning. By the time he had handed over the money and saw the very happy groom-to-be out the door, you had already left the premises. Just as he was wondering if you would ever use his number, his phone buzzes again. Pulling it out and wondering what the issue is now, he sees it’s from you. 

The next free night you have, let’s do dinner.  -June

***

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[meatball-headache]

My dealer, @chiclet-go-boom, got me hooked on another survivacrafting game. This one is called Icarus, and it's... a lot like all the others. Pick up sticks and stones and make a crude hut and a stone axe, cut down trees and make a wood hut, hunt an animal or find a carrot, and so forth.

What makes this one interesting is the Mission thing. See, unlike Minecraft or Valheim or whathaveyou, where you just make a world and play in it—while you can do that here—there's also a suite of missions. These drop you into a new world and you have, duh, a mission, like: deploy three radar scanners at certain points. It almost reminds me of Helldivers, or one of those "extraction looters" games.

The thing is, Missions come with a timer, so you have to act fast. And when I say "fast" I mean this "deploy three radar scanners" Mission that I'm currently on has a time limit of seven days. No, that in-game days, real-life days. And no, not just calendar days, it's playtime. I have 168 real-life in-game hours to finish this Mission.

And I'm gonna need 'em.

This is a pretty tough game. There's wildlife, bears, feral horses, boars, and their level varies wildly. I can get attacked by a level 8 wolf and a level 44 bear at the same time. So if you're going to do this "deploy three radar scanners" mission, you need to take it seriously and prepare.

As a survivacraft game, you start with nothing, so you have to pick up sticks and stones and recreate civilization. The radar points—spoiler alert—get swarmed by animals when you deploy it, and they can easily destroy the machine. If you're going to handle that, you're going to have to craft some armor, which means you'll have to hunt a lot of animals, which means you'll have to make some weapons, which means you'll have to spend some time gathering... and once you have that, you can work on the next tier of weapons and armor.

Now, you might be wondering, "Meatball, what's the point of Missions?" I mean, I could ask you, what's the point of any game? There's an open world, endless, classic survival mode. But, if you do Missions, they get harder and harder as you go through. And you have to start from scratch every time? Well... no, actually.

Missions pay you money, and you use that money to unlock blueprints and craft special, powerful items that you can start with. Why make a stone axe to cut down trees to make wooden arrows, when you can just bring a rifle with you in the first place? But, you gotta climb your way up to it. Do enough Missions to earn enough money to unlock the rifle blueprint, then, do enough Missions to earn enough money to make the rifle. Then, you can start the mission with a rifle, or powerful armor, and invincible axe, medical kits, a huge backpack, whatever—but, when the mission is complete, you gotta bring them back, or they're lost for good. This is where those extraction-game mechanics come in, so it's a little like Escape from Tarkov or Helldivers or Dark and Darker in that regard.

It first and third person mode, but I actually prefer first person, and K&M for this game, somehow. It says it has controller support, but I tried it once and it just didn't work right. There's a character creator, but every option is really ugly, and you can never see yourself anyway, even in third person—you're always looking from behind, and you have a helmet on, anyway. You can change your look at any time for no cost, and you can create multiple characters.

Why would you want multiple characters, you wonder? Well, because this game has multiple skill trees. You gain exp as you do anything, and get skill points as you level. There's a tech tree for all the stuff you can build, and there's a skill tree for perks in specific fields. My understanding is you get enough tech points to build everything on every character, but you only get enough skill points to spec into certain abilities. Hunting, gathering, building, bows, guns, fishing, cooking... all different skill trees, and you can't have everything. So, if you're playing with friends—up to 8 person multiplayer—you might want to plan which skills you each want to bring.

There's virtually no story, but from the voiceovers at the start of Missions, I gather that we're explorers exploring this Earth-like planet, Icarus, and it's extremely harsh and full of bears. Our Mission-giver will grouse about whichever company hired us for this Mission, so I guess we're just corporately exploring alien words for profit. I don't know if Earth's been destroyed and we're looking for a second home for humanity, or if there's Spice to be gathered here, or what.

I also enjoy the fact that food and water are separate needs, and you also need oxygen, which you... mine from certain rocks? That you just... eat? Well, there's a slot on your suit you can put it in to automatically get the oxygen out. I appreciate a survival game that you really have to work to survive. You don't seem to need to sleep, it's one of those where you get a buff if you do... and it's really picky about whether your bed is "sheltered" or not. If you leave the door to your house open and go die, you get the "Bed is not sheltered. Respawn at a random location?" message.

One last point: there's a lot of paid DLCs, and that seems to be the main negative point in the reviews on Steam. Right now, it's available for free for the weekend, and the base game is 50% off. If you were to get all the DLCs, it's 176 USD, not counting the sales. Right now the sales have it at 115 USD. I'm having fun playing for free, but when the free weekend is over and it costs money again, I already have Once Human, No Man's Sky, Nightingale, Valheim . . .

Anyway, that's my thoughts.