#give this man some service industry experience

[fuzzandfeathers]

I want Stolas to keep being IMP's secretary, but also....a glimpse of Stolas trying 'commoner' jobs would be hilarious.

Bonus sketch because I'm weak:

It still made him laugh :)

[mcrdvcks]

— it's brutal out here

chapter summary: Peter's class is going on a field trip to Stark Industries. The catch? No one believes he's an intern at SI and no one knows he's dating Tony Stark's daughter—other than Ned and MJ. Surely nothing will go wrong, right? word count: 14.7k+ pairing: Peter Parker (MCU) x fem!stark!reader notes: i've said it before, peter parker goes on field trip to SI is one of my favorite tropes ever. but what else is? reader being tony stark's daughter and dating peter. so i thought i'd combine both for the ultimate self-service. it's my first time writing for peter, so feedback is appreciated. enjoy! <3 warnings/tags: avengers are a happy family because i say so (includes bucky!), fluff, peter parker goes on a field trip to stark industries, tony is your biological dad, pranks, slight bullying, reader is a genius (she's a stark after all)

“Alright, before the bell rings I have something important to say!” Mr. Harrington announced, stopping most of the students from packing up.

“I swear, if it’s another—” Peter mumbled before Ned cut in.

“Dude, what if it’s a parental consent form for a movie? Or an experiment? Or—”

"—Or it's just Harrington being overdramatic. Again," MJ added in dryly, not looking away from her book.

Peter snorted softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat dramatically again, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he lifted a stack of papers from his desk. "We will be taking a field trip next week, and it's not just any field trip."

"Oh no," MJ deadpanned, flipping another page of her book, "his voice cracked. That means it's big."

Peter chuckled quietly, looking at Ned with an amused smirk. "Ten bucks it's another 'groundbreaking' planetarium exhibit."

Ned shook his head quickly, grinning. "I'm holding out for something good this time, man."

Mr. Harrington began passing out the papers excitedly. "Next Friday, this class will be touring none other than Stark Industries!"

The room erupted in surprised chatter, excited whispers filling every corner.

Peter froze, eyes wide. "Wait—what?"

Ned's mouth fell open, equally shocked. "No freaking way!"

MJ lifted her gaze from the page for the first time, eyebrows raised as she leaned slightly toward Peter. "I take it back. This actually is big."

"Not again," Peter muttered anxiously, voice strained. "The tower? Seriously?"

"What's the problem, Pete?" Flash's voice rang out smugly from across the room. "Afraid they'll realize you're not actually an intern?"

Peter frowned, shooting Flash a glare. "I am an intern. I've been telling you guys this for literally two years."

Flash scoffed loudly. "Yeah, sure, Parker. And I'm Thor's favorite chess partner."

"Dude," Ned whispered urgently, "this means the whole class is gonna see you with—"

Peter nodded nervously, his voice hushed. "—Y/N. They're going to see me with Y/N."

MJ leaned in slightly, giving Peter a knowing look. "You're worried they'll find out you're dating Tony Stark's daughter?"

Peter's cheeks flushed pink. "I'm not worried, I just... it's gonna be weird."

"You've literally fought aliens, and you're worried about your classmates finding out you have a girlfriend?" MJ remarked flatly.

"It's not just any girlfriend!" Ned argued, waving his hands excitedly, "It's Y/N freaking Stark, MJ! The Y/N Stark!"

MJ rolled her eyes slightly, suppressing a smile as she glanced back at Peter. "So what, you two just gonna pretend you don't know each other?"

Peter hesitated, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I... haven't exactly figured that out yet."

Across the room, Flash continued loudly boasting, "Maybe I'll even get to talk with Tony Stark himself. I've got some great ideas I wanna pitch him."

"Oh, yeah, great," Peter mumbled under his breath sarcastically, "that'll go well."

Mr. Harrington clapped his hands to regain everyone's attention. "Make sure you have these permission slips signed and returned by tomorrow. This is a rare and exciting opportunity, people!"

Peter slumped slightly in his seat, sighing heavily as Ned gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

"Relax, man," Ned said confidently. "It's gonna be fine."

MJ shrugged, eyes back on her book. "Or it'll be an entertaining disaster. Either way, I'm looking forward to it."

"Gee, thanks," Peter muttered, giving MJ a pointed look.

She simply smirked without looking up. "Anytime."

Peter stared down at the permission slip in front of him, anxiety swirling through his chest. Next Friday was going to be interesting, to say the least.

---

“—but, there was always… Y/N? Hey. Hey!” Steve snapped his fingers as you slowly looked up.

"Huh? Sorry, I fell asleep to your boring recollection of the battle of… whatever," you said, leaning back in your chair dramatically with a loud yawn.

Steve crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow as he stared at you. "Y/N, we've literally been covering World War II for months. It's the battle of Normandy."

"Oh, right." You sat up again, blinking sleepily at him. "You know, Steve, when Dad said you'd be teaching me history, I figured we'd cover a little more than just your glory days."

Bucky snorted from his spot on the couch, not even bothering to hide his grin. "See, Steve? Told you even your own niece would get tired of hearing your stories eventually."

Steve shot Bucky an annoyed look. "Not helping, Buck."

You laughed lightly, swiveling your chair toward Bucky. "Honestly, Barnes, your lessons are more interesting. At least when you teach, I get to hear the real stories, not the G-rated, Captain America-approved versions."

Bucky smirked proudly, leaning back comfortably. "That's because I tell you all the gritty details your dad specifically said you shouldn’t hear."

Steve sighed heavily, shaking his head. "You're both impossible."

"And yet," you shrugged innocently, reaching for your phone on the desk, "you still insist on teaching me."

"Because," Steve began firmly, taking a step forward and pointing toward your textbook, "you still need to actually learn this stuff."

Bucky chuckled softly. "Yeah, kiddo, just pretend to pay attention for a couple hours so Steve doesn’t cry himself to sleep tonight."

You bit back a smile, dramatically nodding at Steve. "Alright, alright. Battle of Normandy, June 1944. Got it. Continue, Uncle Steve."

Steve narrowed his eyes suspiciously at you, slowly returning to his spot by the whiteboard. "Right. So as I was saying—"

Your phone buzzed suddenly, and your attention immediately snapped down to it. Peter’s name lit up your screen, making your heart flutter as you quickly picked it up.

"Hold that thought, Steve," you said distractedly, swiping open the message.

Steve paused, arms crossed again with an exasperated sigh. "You're texting Peter again, aren’t you?"

You gave him a guilty smile, fingers flying rapidly over your screen. "Sorry, but it's important."

Bucky raised an eyebrow curiously, leaning toward you. "What's got Parker worked up this time?"

You bit your lip, chuckling softly as you finished your reply. "Apparently, his class is taking a field trip to Stark Industries next week."

Bucky laughed, leaning further forward. "Oh boy, Pete must be freaking out."

"He absolutely is," you confirmed, still texting quickly. "He's worried everyone will figure out we're dating. And, you know, that he's actually an intern there."

Steve looked thoughtful. "Peter's classmates still don't believe him?"

"Nope," you shook your head, grinning slightly. "They all think he's making it up."

Bucky chuckled again. "Poor kid."

Steve tilted his head curiously. "What’s the plan, then? Are you two just going to ignore each other?"

You sighed, setting your phone back down on the desk as you looked at Steve seriously. "Honestly? I have no idea. Peter’s a little nervous."

Bucky gave you a playful smirk. "Well, it's about time the kid stepped up. I mean, he's Spider-Man, he can handle a few high school kids."

Steve nodded in agreement. "Buck's right. Peter’s faced much worse. A field trip can't be that scary."

You smiled slightly, glancing back down at your phone as Peter's next text popped up. "You'd be surprised."

Bucky leaned back again, smirking knowingly. "You’re both being way too dramatic. I say just act normal. Who cares if people find out? You've been dating for a year."

"That's what MJ said," you replied thoughtfully. "Maybe I should just show up and embarrass him."

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head. "That's your father's influence talking."

You flashed a grin, leaning forward eagerly. "Speaking of Dad—"

"Nope," Steve interrupted quickly, pointing at the textbook. "Lesson first, gossip later."

You groaned dramatically, slumping back again. "Fine."

Steve turned back toward the whiteboard again, writing quickly as he resumed. "Alright, moving on. Now, the invasion began in the early hours—"

"Wait!" you suddenly interrupted, lifting your hand in the air.

Steve turned back again, eyes narrowed. "What now?"

You smiled sweetly, fluttering your lashes playfully. "Can I bring Peter lunch when his class comes next Friday? Like, surprise him?"

Bucky nodded approvingly, clearly entertained by the idea. "I think that's an excellent plan."

Steve gave you both a stern look, though you could see amusement hiding behind his eyes. "That's something you should ask your mom or dad."

You pouted dramatically. "But you're my favorite uncle, Steve."

"Hey!" Bucky protested loudly, placing a hand over his heart with mock hurt. "I thought I was your favorite uncle!"

Steve chuckled, crossing his arms. "Nice try, Y/N, but I'm still not falling for it."

You grinned cheekily, shrugging your shoulders lightly. "Worth a shot."

Bucky smirked, giving you an amused nod. "I'll talk to your dad for you. I'm always up for helping embarrass the kid."

You beamed at him. "I knew you were my favorite."

Steve groaned quietly, shaking his head again. "Alright, enough distractions. Back to Normandy."

You sighed dramatically again, leaning your chin on your palm with a small smile. "Alright, Uncle Steve. Back to Normandy."

Bucky chuckled, giving Steve a playful smirk. "Better make this interesting, pal, or else she's definitely texting Parker again."

Steve rolled his eyes, finally giving up and laughing softly. "You two are going to be the death of me."

You smiled innocently, eyes sparkling with amusement. "We know. But you still love us anyway."

Steve smiled softly, his voice warm as he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I suppose I do."

---

"Uncle Bruce? Have I ever told you that you're my favorite teacher?" you asked sweetly, giving him your most convincing smile as you leaned eagerly across the lab table.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, his glasses sliding down his nose as he peered skeptically over them. "Ah, yes, Y/N. I believe you mentioned that just last week when you wanted help avoiding Steve's history lesson."

You laughed softly, shrugging innocently. "Well, this time I really, really mean it."

Bruce chuckled, shaking his head lightly as he placed down the tablet he'd been holding. "Alright, what's going on?"

You sighed dramatically, propping your chin in your palm. "Peter's class is coming here next Friday for a field trip."

Bruce looked thoughtful, nodding slowly. "Ah, that's right. Tony mentioned something about that."

You perked up immediately, sitting straighter. "Dad talked about it?"

"Well, mostly just to warn everyone," Bruce said with an amused smile, taking a seat across from you. "Something about trying not to embarrass Peter too much."

You groaned, dropping your head onto your folded arms. "Ugh, I know! He keeps saying we should just act normal, but—"

Bruce tilted his head curiously, smiling warmly. "But you're worried about embarrassing him?"

"Or maybe myself," you admitted sheepishly, peeking up at Bruce through your fingers. "I don't know. The whole class will be here, and they don't even believe Peter actually interns here. Let alone that we're dating."

Bruce chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair comfortably. "Teenagers can be brutal, huh?"

“Exactly!” You agreed. “Uh, wait, actually I don’t know. The only experience I have is Peter telling me about classes and Mean Girls. Do girls really make Burn Books?”

Bruce chuckled, shaking his head lightly. "I think that's more Hollywood drama than reality, Y/N. At least, I hope so."

You sat up a little straighter, eyes wide with genuine curiosity. "See, that's exactly why I'm worried! I'm totally clueless about how high school works outside of movie clichés and Peter's crazy stories."

Bruce gave you a reassuring smile. "You’re smart, Y/N. I'm sure you'll navigate it just fine. Plus, you've got Peter. He's probably more nervous than you are."

You sighed dramatically, sinking down slightly in your seat. "Yeah, he's pretty worried. I keep telling him it'll be fine, but deep down, I'm just as nervous."

Bruce tilted his head thoughtfully. "Why don't you just be yourself? Your relationship with Peter isn't a secret among the Avengers. You've got nothing to hide."

"But it's different," you argued, fiddling nervously with a pen on the table. "I mean, it's one thing for the team to know. But an entire class of high schoolers? That’s scary."

Bruce chuckled softly, adjusting his glasses again. "Trust me, most of them will probably be too busy being star-struck by Stark Industries to notice much else."

You gave a half-smile, eyes flicking up to meet Bruce’s. "You really think so?"

He nodded reassuringly. "Absolutely. Teenagers aren’t all that complicated—most of them are too wrapped up in their own worlds to pay close attention."

You exhaled softly, leaning back with a little more ease. "I guess you're right."

Bruce smiled warmly. "Of course I am."

You smiled sheepishly, biting your lip in thought before glancing up again. "Do you think it’d be weird if I just... showed up? You know, say hi, maybe give Peter lunch, see how he’s doing?"

Bruce grinned knowingly, leaning forward slightly with amusement in his eyes. "I think that sounds very sweet. Peter would appreciate it, even if he’s embarrassed at first."

You laughed lightly, your face brightening with relief. "Yeah, well, a little embarrassment never killed anyone, right?"

Bruce chuckled again, shaking his head. "Definitely not. And, frankly, you might actually enjoy it."

You smirked mischievously. "Maybe just a little."

He leaned back again, crossing his arms over his chest comfortably. "Just be prepared for some teasing from Tony afterward."

You groaned playfully, rolling your eyes dramatically. "Ugh, Dad's already been dropping hints. Like, ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ Which isn't comforting at all, considering it's Dad."

Bruce laughed, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I think Tony’s probably the worst person to go to for dating advice."

"Tell me about it," you muttered dryly, smiling fondly. "Mom tried to give him a crash course on subtlety the other day. It went about as well as you'd expect."

Bruce grinned warmly. "Your mom is a saint for even trying."

You chuckled, nodding enthusiastically. "I know, right?"

Bruce paused thoughtfully, giving you a gentle look. "Seriously, Y/N, don't overthink it. Peter cares about you. His classmates might be surprised at first, but they'll get used to it quickly. Trust your instincts."

Your smile softened, comforted by his sincerity. "Thanks, Uncle Bruce. I needed to hear that."

He smiled back softly. "Anytime. Now, do you still want to help me with these calculations or are you too busy plotting your field trip takeover?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes slightly. "I think I've done enough plotting for one day."

Bruce chuckled warmly, pushing the tablet toward you gently. "Alright then. Let's get back to work."

You nodded eagerly, reaching for the tablet with newfound confidence. "Right. Work first, world domination later."

Bruce grinned playfully, shaking his head. "You've definitely spent way too much time around your father."

You smirked mischievously, eyes sparkling. "Guilty as charged."

He sighed in mock despair, though his eyes shone with affection. "The world isn't ready for two Stark geniuses."

"Probably not," you replied with a dramatic sigh, then flashed a bright smile. "But that's their problem."

Bruce laughed heartily, pushing his glasses back up his nose again. "Yeah, it definitely is."

You smiled warmly, picking up your stylus and focusing back on the calculations. Bruce was right, after all—you had Peter, and you knew that was what really mattered.

---

During lunch, you sat in the common kitchen eating a sandwich. Your phone was propped up against your water bottle as you pretended to watch it while in reality, it was filming.

You had set up a prank in your head while Steve went on about whatever battle he was talking about, and while making lunch, you put your idea into action. Now, you just had to wait for Sam and Clint to get back from going over the training room schedules.

A few minutes later, you heard familiar footsteps and quickly sat up straighter, looking innocent as you pretended to watch your phone. Sam and Clint walked into the kitchen, mid-conversation.

"All I'm sayin' is, why do you get first dibs on Wednesdays?" Clint complained, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. "Maybe I like to train mid-week too."

Sam raised an eyebrow at Clint as he opened the pantry. "Because, Barton, last time I gave you Wednesday, you used your slot to watch reruns of 'Golden Girls.'"

"Hey," Clint pointed defensively, "those ladies are legends, and you know it."

You bit your lip to suppress a giggle, silently pressing record on your phone. "Sounds intense, guys," you teased, making sure you sounded nonchalant.

Clint looked over at you, shaking his head with a grin. "You have no idea, kid."

Sam smiled at you warmly as he grabbed some chips. "How was your lesson with Steve?"

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. "He spent two hours telling me about the Battle of Normandy. Again."

Clint groaned sympathetically. "Oof, you okay? Need medical assistance?"

You laughed lightly, waving your sandwich at him. "I survived, thanks. Barely."

Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head as he started to walk towards the cabinet to grab a bowl. You held your breath, waiting eagerly for what would happen next.

Right on cue, the cabinet doors flew open, and a burst of confetti exploded outward, showering Sam and Clint in bright, glittery colors.

Sam jumped back with a yelp, dropping the bag of chips. "What the hell—"

Clint let out a high-pitched, startled squeak, nearly tripping over his own feet as he stumbled away from the sparkling confetti shower. "Holy—"

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it back anymore, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you captured their shocked, glitter-covered expressions on camera. "Oh my god, your faces!"

Sam turned slowly, still blinking confetti out of his eyes. He shook his head, pointing at you accusingly. "You are evil, Y/N Stark."

Clint brushed glitter from his hair, eyes wide in disbelief. "Seriously, kid? Glitter?"

You shrugged innocently, giggling uncontrollably. "Well, technically it's biodegradable confetti, but yeah."

"I don't even wanna know how you pulled that off," Sam muttered, shaking confetti off his shoulders with an annoyed expression. "Did Tony help you with this?"

You grinned mischievously. "Nope. All me. Consider it payback for your air horn prank last week."

Sam groaned dramatically, looking up at the ceiling. "Oh, c'mon, that wasn't even my best work!"

Clint was still laughing softly, brushing sparkles from his sleeve. "She got you good, Wilson."

Sam scoffed, pointing at Clint's glitter-covered shirt. "You don't exactly look untouched yourself, Barton."

You giggled again, ending your recording as you spun around happily in your seat. "This footage is gonna look amazing at the next family movie night."

Clint narrowed his eyes playfully at you. "You're lucky we love you, kid."

"Seriously," Sam agreed, finally breaking into a smile. "I oughta put glitter in your training gear."

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. "Sam, you wouldn't."

Clint grinned evilly, leaning over and whispering conspiratorially, "Don't give him ideas, kid."

You smirked playfully, standing up and putting your plate in the sink. "I'll be ready. Bring it on."

Sam shook his head, chuckling softly as he grabbed another bowl, cautiously opening another cabinet. "At least let me have lunch without another attack."

You held your hands up innocently, giving him your sweetest smile. "I'm out of glitter bombs. For now."

"Why do I not believe you?" Clint asked skeptically, side-eyeing you as he finally sat at the table with his water bottle.

"Because you're smart," you teased, winking at him as you started walking toward the kitchen door. "Better watch your backs!"

---

“Can’t you teach me Latin instead? Latin is cool,” you said to Natasha, leaning your elbows on the kitchen island dramatically. “You promised you would when you pretended to be Dad’s assistant. Or… whatever happened.”

Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes affectionately as she set down her mug of tea. “Y/N, for the last time—I was undercover, not just pretending. And I distinctly remember saying maybe. Besides, you're already learning Russian.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Da, da, ya znayu. Yes, yes, I know. Russian is fine, but I think Latin would be more fun.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, folding her arms and giving you a skeptical look. “Fun? Y/N, Latin is literally a dead language.”

“Exactly!” You pointed at her excitedly. “Dead languages are cool, Natasha. Think of how impressive it’ll sound when I can insult Clint without him even knowing it.”

Clint turned his head quickly from his spot across the kitchen, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me, Stark Junior?”

You grinned sweetly, fluttering your eyelashes innocently. “Nothing, Uncle Clint. Love you!”

Clint narrowed his eyes suspiciously, slowly returning his attention to his sandwich. “Yeah, sure you do.”

Natasha chuckled softly, shaking her head as she returned her focus to you. “Look, Y/N, as entertaining as it sounds, Russian is actually useful. Latin—not so much.”

“Useful?” You scoffed playfully, leaning back slightly on your stool. “Nat, I already speak fluent Spanish and Chinese. I literally don’t need Russian. Did you know Chinese is gonna be the most spoken language by 2050? So, really, teaching me Latin would at least be interesting.”

Natasha tilted her head, looking mildly impressed despite herself. “You’ve really done your research on this, haven’t you?”

You nodded enthusiastically, smiling confidently. “See? Genius. I rest my case.”

Bruce chuckled softly from across the room, glancing up from his own notes. “She’s got you there, Natasha. You might want to reconsider.”

Natasha shot Bruce an amused glare before sighing softly, shoulders slumping slightly in resignation. “You really won’t let this go, will you?”

“Absolutely not,” you replied immediately, beaming brightly.

She shook her head again, giving you a reluctant smile. “Fine. How about this? You ace your Russian exam next week, and I’ll teach you some Latin. Deal?”

You perked up immediately, eyes sparkling. “Deal! Wait—exam? Since when do we have exams?”

Natasha smirked knowingly, sipping her tea calmly. “Since right now.”

You groaned loudly, slumping forward dramatically. “Ugh, betrayal.”

She laughed lightly, reaching over and ruffling your hair affectionately. “You’ll survive. Now, stop complaining and study. Latin’s waiting for you.”

You grumbled softly under your breath, sitting up straighter and nodding reluctantly. “Fine. But when I ace it, you better be prepared to teach me every Latin insult known to mankind.”

She rolled her eyes, lips quirking up slightly. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you,” you smiled brightly again, grabbing your notes dramatically off the counter. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an exam to crush.”

As you hopped off your stool, Clint gave you a teasing grin. “Hey, when you learn all those insults, teach me a few so I can use them on Stark, yeah?”

You smirked mischievously at him, giving a playful wink. “Oh, definitely.”

Bruce chuckled softly again, shaking his head fondly. “I think you two underestimate Tony’s ability to insult in any language.”

Natasha smiled knowingly, eyes glinting with amusement as she watched you head toward the elevator. “He does have an impressive vocabulary.”

Clint sighed dramatically, finishing off his sandwich. “Great. Looks like I’ll have to learn Latin too, just to keep up.”

You grinned from the elevator, waving your notes cheerfully at him. “Don’t worry, Clint! I’ll give you a discount on lessons!”

The elevator doors closed on Clint’s amused laughter and Natasha’s fond shake of her head. You leaned back against the wall, flipping through your Russian notes with renewed determination. The promise of Latin—and a wealth of creative insults—awaited.

---

You were in your lab going over your Russian notes when Peter entered, backpack slung over one shoulder. You looked up from the tablet immediately, giving him a bright smile. "Hey, you made it!"

Peter chuckled softly as he dropped his backpack by the door, coming over to lean against your lab table. "Yeah, finally. Subway was packed, and some guy spilled coffee all over my shoes. So, great afternoon."

You bit your lip sympathetically, glancing down at his slightly stained sneakers. "Aw, Pete. I'll clean them up for you later."

He smiled gratefully, looking down at your notes curiously. "Is this Russian? I thought Natasha already said you're fluent."

"I am," you sighed dramatically, leaning your head back against the chair. "But apparently Nat thinks my Russian still needs work. Something about ‘too much slang’ and ‘not enough proper grammar.’"

Peter laughed lightly, shaking his head. "Well, she's probably right."

"Not helping," you muttered playfully, poking his side with your stylus. "I'm bribing Nat with my language prowess so she'll finally teach me Latin."

"Latin?" Peter asked with surprise, lifting his brows. "Why?"

You gave him a cheeky grin, eyes sparkling mischievously. "So I can insult Clint without him understanding me, obviously."

Peter laughed again, leaning a little closer. "I thought Clint was pretty used to insults by now."

"Yeah," you agreed with a grin, nudging his shoulder gently. "But I bet he doesn't know many in Latin."

Peter smiled warmly at you, his eyes softening as he watched you continue scribbling notes. After a moment, you noticed him staring and tilted your head curiously.

"Everything okay?" you asked softly, reaching out and gently touching his hand.

Peter nodded, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. "Yeah, it's just—I guess I'm still a little nervous about the field trip next Friday."

You softened immediately, putting your notes aside and squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Pete, it's gonna be fine. I promise."

He sighed anxiously, running a hand through his messy curls. "Yeah, I know. It's just weird, you know? Flash was giving me crap again today, and everyone else just thinks I'm lying about my internship."

You frowned slightly, reaching out and tugging Peter gently towards you until he moved around to sit on the stool beside yours. "Well, Flash is an idiot. And honestly? Who cares what everyone thinks? You're amazing, Peter. Let them doubt. Next week, you'll prove them all wrong."

Peter smiled softly, relaxing slightly as he met your reassuring gaze. "Thanks, Y/N. You're the best."

"Obviously," you teased lightly, nudging his arm again with a playful smile. "But, um, speaking of next week—I sort of had an idea."

He lifted a brow, his expression wary but amused. "Should I be scared?"

You laughed, shaking your head quickly. "No, I promise! Nothing embarrassing—well, maybe slightly embarrassing—but in a cute, sweet, romantic kind of way."

Peter chuckled quietly, rolling his eyes with affection. "That doesn't exactly make me feel better."

You grinned sheepishly, leaning closer to him excitedly. "What if I brought you lunch? Like, showed up during your tour, surprised you in front of your class?"

Peter stared at you, eyes wide with mild panic. "Wait, Y/N, I—I mean—"

You bit your lip softly, suddenly nervous. "Unless that's too much. We don't have to. I just thought it'd be nice—"

"No!" Peter quickly interrupted, placing a gentle hand on your arm, voice softening immediately. "No, Y/N. I like the idea. I really do."

You raised your eyebrows skeptically, watching him closely. "Are you sure? You kind of look like you just swallowed a spider."

He made a face at the analogy, chuckling nervously. "It's just—you know, people are gonna freak out. And Flash is definitely gonna say something stupid."

You smirked, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, I hope he does. Then I can watch him shrivel under the power of my infamous Stark glare."

Peter laughed softly, visibly relaxing now as he shook his head with amusement. "You really have spent too much time around Tony."

You flashed a proud grin. "Can't help it. Stark genes."

He smiled warmly at you, eyes lingering fondly as he squeezed your hand gently. "But seriously, Y/N. I'd love for you to stop by. And screw whatever Flash thinks."

You grinned happily, excitement bubbling up in your chest as you leaned forward, pressing a quick, affectionate kiss to his lips. "It's a date, then."

Peter smiled shyly, cheeks turning bright pink as he squeezed your hand tighter. "Yeah, definitely."

Just then, footsteps echoed in the hallway, and you both turned toward the door as Tony strode in, a pizza box balanced in one hand, and the other covering his eyes.

“I’m giving you 15 seconds to get situated from whatever teenage shenanigans you two were up to. I better not see any clothing articles on the floor—”

"Dad!" you groaned loudly, cheeks immediately flushing. You quickly jumped away from Peter, nearly stumbling off your stool in embarrassment as you hurriedly fixed your hair. "We were literally just talking!"

Peter awkwardly cleared his throat, face equally flushed as he stared down at the floor, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, hi, Mr. Stark."

Tony finally lowered his hand from his eyes, giving both of you a deeply amused look as he walked further into the lab. "Relax, kiddos. Just making sure. Can't be too careful, what with teenagers being teenagers and all."

"Dad, seriously," you mumbled, trying to fight the burning embarrassment still flooding your cheeks. "I'm pretty sure the last thing on our minds is doing anything weird in my lab. With you literally two rooms down."

Tony smirked slightly, placing the pizza box on the counter beside you. "Hey, I don't judge. Hormones are unpredictable."

"Oh my God," you muttered, covering your face with your hands, hoping the ground might spontaneously open and swallow you whole. "Why are you like this?"

Peter laughed nervously, shifting uncomfortably as he glanced between you and Tony. "Um, sir, we—we were really just talking about the field trip next week."

Tony raised a skeptical eyebrow, glancing sideways at Peter. "Sure, Pete. You don't have to worry about me, though. I trust you. Mostly."

You let out an exaggerated groan, slumping dramatically against the lab table. "Please, Dad. For the love of Thor, stop talking."

Tony chuckled deeply, flipping the pizza box open casually. "Speaking of the field trip," he started, pulling out a slice, "I've been thinking about how we should handle this whole thing."

You sighed softly, finally looking up at him with a wary expression. "Handle it?"

Tony nodded slowly, taking a casual bite of his pizza. "You know, introductions, awkward teenage social dynamics, maybe a strategically embarrassing slideshow detailing Peter's intern duties—"

"Mr. Stark!" Peter interrupted quickly, looking mortified. "Please don't."

You shook your head vigorously, narrowing your eyes firmly at Tony. "Absolutely not. Dad, you promised you'd behave. No embarrassing Peter, remember?"

Tony pouted dramatically, sighing deeply as he looked between the two of you. "You're no fun at all. You know how much prep I've already put into this presentation?"

Peter paled visibly, shifting anxiously on his stool. "Presentation?"

Tony smirked mischievously, leaning forward slightly as he took another bite. "It's titled 'Peter Parker: Spider Intern or Spider Imposter?' Thought it had a nice ring to it."

You groaned again, burying your face in your arms on the lab table. "Peter, I'm so sorry."

Peter chuckled nervously, shaking his head as he glanced over at you. "It's fine. I mean, how bad could it really be?"

Tony grinned widely. "Oh, kid, famous last words."

"Dad," you finally lifted your head again, giving him a pleading look, "can we please just have a normal field trip? Without your involvement? At all?"

Tony raised an eyebrow, looking dramatically offended. "No involvement? I'm hurt, Y/N. This is literally Stark Industries. Emphasis on the Stark."

"Exactly," you pointed out firmly, crossing your arms. "Industries. Not Tony Stark's Personal Embarrassment Tour."

Peter nodded quickly, clearly hopeful you’d convinced him. "Please, Mr. Stark. I promise I'll make sure my classmates behave."

Tony tilted his head thoughtfully, still chewing his pizza. "Hmm. Alright, Parker. I'll consider scaling back my incredible plans. But only because you're looking at me like a kicked puppy."

Peter relaxed visibly, sighing in relief. "Thank you."

You let out your own relieved breath, reaching over to squeeze Peter's hand gently. "You okay?"

He nodded slightly, squeezing your hand back as he gave you a small smile. "Yeah, thanks. Just, you know, mild panic attack."

You chuckled softly, giving him an affectionate look. "I promise, it'll be okay. We can handle Dad."

Tony rolled his eyes dramatically, finishing off his pizza slice. "I'm literally right here."

You grinned cheekily at him, shrugging your shoulders. "We know."

Tony chuckled lightly, shaking his head fondly at you both. "Alright, alright, I get it. I'll behave." He turned his attention back to Peter, pointing a stern finger in his direction. "But you'd better make sure those high school gremlins don't touch anything. Or breathe on anything expensive. Especially Flash."

Peter nodded quickly, looking relieved but still a bit nervous. "Yes, sir."

Tony sighed dramatically again, reaching for another slice of pizza as he shot you both a teasing smirk. "Honestly, I'm pretty sure running an Avengers-level security detail was less stressful than hosting a bunch of teenagers."

You laughed softly, shaking your head at him. "Relax, Dad. It'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say," Tony grumbled playfully, giving you an affectionate smile. "You're not the one dealing with liability paperwork."

Peter smiled slightly, visibly calmer now as he relaxed next to you. "I promise, Mr. Stark, we'll be on our best behavior."

Tony smiled knowingly, pointing at him dramatically. "Good. Because if not, I'm blaming you directly, Parker. And then—"

"Tony," Pepper's amused voice suddenly cut in from the doorway. You all turned to see her leaning against the frame with a fond expression. "Don't threaten Peter. He's nervous enough."

Tony grinned sheepishly, shrugging at his wife with a playful pout. "Hey, someone’s gotta keep the kid on his toes."

Pepper rolled her eyes warmly, walking toward you and Peter with a reassuring smile. "Don't listen to him. You'll both do great next week."

You smiled gratefully at her, relaxing further. "Thanks, Mom."

Pepper gently squeezed your shoulder, giving Peter a comforting look. "It'll be fun, Peter. And don't worry, Tony will behave himself."

Tony scoffed loudly, crossing his arms indignantly. "I'm literally standing right here. You people act like I'm the teenager."

You smirked cheekily, tilting your head. "Well, Dad—"

He quickly held up his hand, shaking his head firmly. "Don’t. Finish. That. Thought."

Pepper laughed lightly, patting Tony's shoulder affectionately. "Come on, Tony. Let's leave the kids alone."

He sighed dramatically, moving to follow her but turned at the doorway to give you both a mock-stern glare. "Door stays open, kids."

"Dad!" you groaned again, flushing furiously as Tony chuckled and finally followed Pepper out, the door staying conspicuously wide open.

You sighed deeply, slumping slightly as you turned to look at Peter. "Sorry again. He's… a lot."

Peter laughed softly, relaxing completely now as he smiled warmly at you. "I’m used to it. Besides, I think your dad's threats of embarrassment kinda prepared me for this stuff."

You grinned gently, leaning toward him again. "So, still excited for Friday?"

He gave you a nervous but sincere smile, nodding slightly. "Yeah. As long as you're there, I'll be fine."

You felt your heart flutter warmly, squeezing his hand again as you leaned in, gently pressing your lips against his again. This time, without any interruption from Tony.

Peter smiled softly against your lips, pulling back slowly and meeting your gaze warmly. "Thanks, Y/N. For everything."

You smiled gently back at him, your eyes full of affection. "Anytime, Pete."

Peter chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly. "Honestly, compared to being Spider-Man, dealing with your dad isn't so bad."

You laughed, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. "I'll remind you that you said that next Friday."

He sighed dramatically, grinning playfully. "Great. Can't wait."

You smiled warmly, knowing that despite Tony’s teasing, next week really was going to be great—because you'd be together, and that was what mattered most.

---

“Did May sign the permission slip? It’s due today!” Ned asked Peter as they walked down the hallway to Mr. Harrington’s class.

“Yeah, barely,” Peter laughed nervously, tugging his backpack higher onto his shoulder. “She got home late from her shift at the hospital, but I practically shoved the pen in her hand this morning.”

Ned chuckled, shaking his head knowingly. “Man, I still can’t believe we’re going to Stark Industries. Like, the actual Stark Industries. You think they’ll show us the Iron Man suits?”

Peter smirked, glancing over at Ned with amusement. “Probably not the real ones. Knowing Mr. Stark, he’ll probably have holographic decoys or something.”

“Oh, totally,” Ned agreed excitedly. “Wait, do you think the Avengers are gonna be there? Y/N did say the team all lives there.”

Peter bit his lip nervously, glancing around to make sure no one overheard them as they walked. “Yeah, I know. And that’s kinda what I’m worried about. Can you imagine how Flash is gonna react if Thor casually strolls by during the tour?”

Ned laughed, clapping Peter’s shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, just let Thor pick Flash up one-handed—that’ll shut him up real quick.”

Peter chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. “Yeah, tempting as that sounds, I promised Y/N we’d all behave.”

“Aw, man,” Ned teased dramatically, pretending to pout. “You guys are no fun at all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter rolled his eyes affectionately, nudging Ned’s shoulder gently. “Just help me make sure MJ doesn’t instigate something. She’s been weirdly excited about this.”

Ned snorted loudly, nodding vigorously. “Dude, MJ told me she’s bringing popcorn to watch the chaos unfold. I think she’s secretly hoping Flash embarrasses himself.”

“Great,” Peter sighed, running a hand anxiously through his curls. “Just what I needed.”

“You’ll be fine, Peter,” Ned reassured gently, lowering his voice slightly. “Besides, you’re literally Spider-Man and dating Tony Stark’s daughter. Honestly, if Flash knew the truth, he’d lose his mind.”

Peter laughed quietly, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, well, let’s hope he doesn’t find out like that. Flash losing his mind is the last thing I want.”

Ned laughed again, giving Peter another reassuring pat on the back as they approached the classroom. “Relax, dude. It’ll be fine. Besides, Y/N’s coming, right? She’ll probably have your back.”

Peter smiled softly at that, nodding slowly as he walked into Mr. Harrington’s room. “Yeah, she will.”

They found their seats, and MJ looked up from her sketchbook as they joined her. “Morning, losers. Permission slips signed, or are you both gonna have to sit this one out?”

“Very funny,” Ned said dryly, showing her his slip proudly. “Signed, sealed, and delivered.”

MJ smirked, lifting an eyebrow as she glanced at Peter. “And you, Parker?”

Peter waved his permission slip dramatically, giving her a mock-serious look. “Relax, MJ, I’ve got it covered.”

“Good,” she replied casually, returning to her sketching. “Because if you missed this, I was gonna have to record Flash embarrassing himself and send it to you.”

Peter smiled faintly. “How thoughtful.”

“Always,” MJ replied without looking up.

The bell rang, and Mr. Harrington quickly stood, adjusting his glasses and collecting the slips eagerly. “Alright, everyone! Permission slips, hand them in now, please! Stark Industries awaits!”

Peter handed his slip to Mr. Harrington, heart thudding slightly in his chest as he felt reality sinking in again. As Mr. Harrington counted the slips, Flash loudly leaned toward Peter from his seat.

“Better be careful, Parker,” Flash whispered mockingly, a smug grin plastered across his face. “You wouldn’t wanna embarrass yourself in front of Tony Stark by pretending to be his intern, would you?”

Peter sighed deeply, not even bothering to look over. “Thanks, Flash. Really appreciate the advice.”

Flash scoffed arrogantly, crossing his arms as he leaned back. “Just looking out for you, Parker.”

MJ shot Peter an amused, knowing glance, mouthing silently, “Ten bucks says he cries.”

Peter stifled a laugh, relaxing slightly. Maybe Ned was right—Friday wouldn’t be so bad. Especially since he had you.

---

Meanwhile, at the tower, you were currently scribbling equations onto the large whiteboard in your lab, muttering softly to yourself as you worked through a particularly challenging formula.

“You know, most teenagers prefer sleeping in, Y/N,” Rhodey’s voice suddenly teased lightly from the doorway.

You spun around, smiling brightly as you spotted him leaning casually against the frame. “Yeah, but most teenagers aren’t Stark geniuses.”

He chuckled softly, stepping into the lab and glancing at your equations curiously. “Impressive as always. New project?”

“Sort of,” you admitted sheepishly, tapping your marker against your chin thoughtfully. “Peter and I were talking about his web-fluid yesterday, and I think I found a way to improve its tensile strength.”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “Tony’s gonna be thrilled. Speaking of Peter, how’s he feeling about Friday?”

You sighed softly, leaning your back against the table. “Honestly? He’s nervous. Like, really nervous.”

Rhodey smiled knowingly, tilting his head sympathetically. “Poor kid. High school drama, huh?”

“Exactly,” you replied with a small laugh, shaking your head slightly. “It’s just… it’s frustrating. He’s incredible, you know? But he still worries what people like Flash Thompson think.”

Rhodey nodded understandingly. “Well, Flash Thompson’s an idiot.”

“That’s what I said!” you exclaimed immediately, grinning widely.

Rhodey laughed warmly, squeezing your shoulder gently. “Look, just remind Peter that he’s got nothing to prove. He knows who he is. You know who he is. That’s all that matters.”

You smiled softly at that, feeling warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks, Uncle Rhodey. I’ll make sure to remind him.”

He smiled back warmly, eyes gentle. “You two are good for each other, Y/N. You’ve always balanced each other out.”

You blushed slightly, nodding shyly. “Yeah, we do.”

“Alright,” Rhodey stepped back with an affectionate grin, “I better get to that meeting. Just wanted to check on you.”

You smiled warmly, giving him a grateful look. “Thanks, Uncle Rhodey.”

“Anytime, kiddo,” he replied gently before disappearing back into the hallway.

You turned back toward your equations, mind drifting again toward Peter and Friday. Despite all your reassurances, you knew exactly why he was nervous. Peter had always preferred blending in quietly, and dating Tony Stark’s daughter certainly wasn’t the way to keep a low profile.

But you’d made a promise to yourself—you would be there for him. No matter how awkward, how nervous, or how many snarky comments Flash made. Peter was worth it. Besides, you thought with a soft smile, you could handle a bit of embarrassment. Especially if it meant making sure everyone else knew just how amazing Peter Parker really was.

Smiling gently to yourself, you turned your attention back to your calculations. Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

---

Soon, Friday arrived and the bus to Stark Tower was overwhelmed with chatter and excitement.

"Oh my god, we're literally almost there!" Ned practically bounced in his seat, gripping the seat in front of him excitedly. "I'm actually going to see the lab where Iron Man makes his suits."

MJ rolled her eyes slightly, flipping casually through a book she'd brought along. "Please don't faint when you meet Tony again, Ned."

Ned frowned, looking mildly offended. "I didn't faint last time, MJ. I just got a little… dizzy."

Peter chuckled nervously from beside them, fingers fidgeting anxiously in his lap as his leg bounced rapidly. "Guys, please try not to draw too much attention today? Please?"

MJ lifted her gaze to Peter, arching an eyebrow skeptically. "You're dating the daughter of a billionaire superhero, Parker. I'm pretty sure attention is inevitable."

Peter groaned quietly, sinking slightly lower in his seat. "I was afraid you'd say that."

Flash loudly cleared his throat from across the aisle, leaning over with a smug smirk plastered on his face. "Parker, remind me—do interns at Stark Industries actually get to meet anyone important, or do they just spend the whole time fetching coffee?"

Peter sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "Flash, I've told you a million times—I'm an intern. I work in an actual lab."

Flash snorted dismissively. "Yeah, sure you do. We'll see about that."

"Ignore him," MJ muttered calmly, returning her attention to her book. "He's just jealous because his dad couldn't buy him an internship there."

Ned snickered softly as Flash huffed indignantly, turning away again.

Peter's phone buzzed suddenly, and he quickly glanced down, seeing your name light up his screen. He smiled slightly, quickly opening your message.

You: Hey Pete! Just checking in—are you still alive? Ned didn't faint yet, right?

Peter grinned, quickly typing a reply.

Peter: Barely hanging on. And Ned’s still conscious. For now.

You: Good. Can't wait to see you.

Peter's heart fluttered at that, fingers hesitating over the screen before he sent back his message.

Peter: Me too. Miss you.

"Aw, Peter's blushing," MJ teased flatly, smirking without looking up from her page.

Peter flushed deeper, quickly pocketing his phone and stammering awkwardly. "I—uh—I'm not—"

"It's cute, man," Ned reassured, giving him a gentle nudge. "Besides, you're gonna be fine. Y/N will make sure Flash shuts up."

Peter sighed softly, leaning back against his seat. "Yeah. Hopefully without giving him permanent emotional damage."

MJ shrugged nonchalantly. "Either way, it's a win for me."

Peter chuckled softly, shaking his head as the bus finally pulled up in front of Stark Tower. The entire class erupted in excited chatter, students pressing against windows to get a better look at the imposing glass building.

Mr. Harrington stood from the front of the bus, trying to speak loudly over the chatter. "Alright, class! Remember, this is a rare and special opportunity. So please—please—try to behave yourselves."

Flash scoffed loudly from his seat. "Relax, Mr. Harrington. I'm sure Parker here can use his imaginary connections to keep us in line."

Peter bit his lip, clenching his fists tightly to prevent himself from saying something he'd regret. Thankfully, MJ was quick to respond.

"Hey, Flash," she called dryly. "Maybe Stark Industries will have an opening in the mailroom for you after graduation. Aim high."

The class laughed quietly as Flash’s face turned red with embarrassment. Peter gave MJ a grateful look, smiling slightly.

They filed off the bus and gathered at the entrance, Mr. Harrington attempting to count heads. Peter’s nerves spiked again as he glanced up at the glass doors. He swallowed anxiously, realizing in just moments, the quiet corner of his life he’d worked so hard to keep separate was about to collide spectacularly with his classmates.

"Relax, Peter," Ned murmured reassuringly, patting his shoulder. "You got this."

Peter smiled weakly, nodding slightly. "Thanks, Ned."

MJ looked up from her book again, giving him a tiny smirk. "If all else fails, just have Tony Stark kick Flash out of the building."

Peter laughed softly, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. "Good idea."

Before he could reply further, the front doors opened, and Peter's heart skipped when he saw Happy Hogan step through.

"Welcome, Midtown," Happy said loudly, in his usual deadpan voice. "My name is Happy Hogan. I'm head of security here at Stark Industries. I'll be taking you to the conference room, and we'll begin the tour shortly."

Flash's eyes widened, whispering excitedly to his friends, "That's Stark's security guy! You know he's gotta know Iron Man personally."

Peter smiled slightly at Happy, trying to catch his eye. Happy's gaze finally landed on Peter, giving him a small, knowing nod.

"Keep up, people," Happy said impatiently, already turning around and leading the class toward the elevators.

Peter felt the butterflies in his stomach grow heavier with every step they took. His breathing quickened slightly, heart pounding anxiously in his chest as he glanced at Ned, whispering nervously, "This is it. Oh god."

Ned squeezed his shoulder again reassuringly, giving Peter an encouraging smile. "You're gonna be fine, Pete. Just breathe."

MJ smirked faintly as she walked beside them, glancing sideways at Peter. "You look like you're about to faint, Parker."

Peter forced himself to chuckle, nodding weakly. "Yeah, no kidding."

Finally, they reached the massive conference room, and Happy gestured inside impatiently. "Sit down and don't touch anything. We will be passing out badges that you will need during the tour. There are different levels for different roles in the company, and badges are never reprinted unless lost. Because apparently I’m the only here who takes security seriou—”

“Ah, son of Hogan!” Thor boomed, standing in the conference room door. “You wouldn’t mind going out and getting more Pop-Tarts, would you?”

Happy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, visibly counting to ten before turning slowly to face Thor. "Thor, we've discussed this. I'm working."

Thor smiled broadly, completely unfazed. "Ah, yes, Son of Hogan, but this is an emergency. You see, I ate all the strawberry ones, and now Banner refuses to share his."

Happy sighed deeply again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Thor, please—just wait until I'm done here."

Thor's eyes drifted curiously to the classroom full of wide-eyed teenagers, offering them an enthusiastic wave. "Greetings, young scholars! Welcome to Stark's domain!"

Flash’s mouth fell open in shock, eyes wide as he grabbed his friend's shoulder. "Dude, it's literally Thor!"

Peter shrank slightly in his seat, cheeks flushing as he fought the overwhelming urge to bury his head in his arms. Ned elbowed him excitedly, whispering, "This is already the best day ever!"

MJ's smirk deepened as she leaned closer, murmuring softly, "At least Flash finally shut up."

Peter chuckled weakly, glancing nervously back at Thor, who had taken it upon himself to stride confidently into the conference room. Happy followed quickly, irritation clear on his face.

"Thor, I swear, if you break something—" Happy muttered sharply.

"Nonsense," Thor boomed cheerfully, placing his hands confidently on his hips as he smiled warmly at the stunned class. "These fine young Midgardians deserve the full Avengers experience."

Happy groaned softly, rolling his eyes upward in defeat.

Flash finally found his voice, practically vibrating in his seat. "Mr. Thor, sir—do you think we could, uh, maybe see your hammer?"

Thor chuckled heartily, shaking his head good-naturedly. "I'm afraid Mjolnir is resting securely, but perhaps another time!"

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat nervously, stepping forward to address Thor with an awkward smile. "Well, thank you for the unexpected introduction, Mr. Thor. We, uh, appreciate the warm welcome."

Thor beamed brightly, clapping a heavy hand onto Mr. Harrington’s shoulder, nearly knocking the teacher off balance. "Of course! I bid you farewell, small ones. Enjoy Stark's sanctuary!"

With a final dramatic wave, Thor exited the conference room, leaving a stunned silence behind.

Happy exhaled deeply, glancing around the room again. "So that's Thor. Please, no more interruptions. As I was saying before our surprise guest—badges. You'll each receive one based on your level of clearance."

He began passing out badges, placing them carefully onto the table as he spoke. "Blue badges grant general access for today. Do not lose these, do not trade them, do not sell them online. Trust me, we'll know."

Flash eagerly grabbed his badge, practically cradling it in awe as he turned to whisper excitedly to his friends. "Guys, this is legit Stark tech!"

MJ rolled her eyes slightly, carefully clipping her badge onto her shirt. "It's literally a laminated card, Flash."

Flash scowled at her, but Ned cut in excitedly before he could reply. "Hey, Peter, your badge is different. Yours is red!"

Peter flushed, awkwardly reaching out to take his badge from Happy, who gave him another subtle, reassuring nod. "Yeah, uh—it's an intern badge. It gives me access to the labs."

Flash's eyes widened again, looking sharply at Peter. "Wait—Parker actually has a legit badge?"

Peter sighed tiredly, clipping the badge onto his hoodie. "Yeah, Flash, that's what I've been trying to tell you."

Flash narrowed his eyes suspiciously, clearly skeptical but momentarily at a loss for words. Ned grinned proudly, nudging Peter excitedly. "Told you they'd freak."

Peter smiled weakly, glancing anxiously toward the doorway as Happy finished handing out badges and returned to the front of the room.

"Alright, people," Happy continued in his deadpan voice, "we have a lot to cover. I'll be taking you through the lower-level labs, public spaces, and exhibits. You'll be staying together and not touching anything unless explicitly instructed."

Mr. Harrington quickly nodded, his eyes wide with mild panic as he gestured toward the class. "Yes, yes—everyone, please listen carefully to Mr. Hogan."

Peter took a slow, steadying breath, trying to quell the anxiety that bubbled within his chest. MJ leaned slightly toward him, murmuring dryly, "Relax, Parker. You've survived alien invasions. You can survive a high school field trip."

Peter let out a shaky laugh, nodding weakly. "Yeah, you're right."

Happy motioned impatiently, waving everyone toward the door again. "Alright, follow me closely. We're heading down to the exhibit hall first."

Peter stood slowly, falling into step beside Ned and MJ. Flash followed closely behind, loudly whispering to anyone who would listen, "I bet we'll get to meet Tony Stark himself."

Peter's pulse quickened nervously at the mention of Tony, stomach twisting anxiously at the thought of just how close his carefully separated worlds were becoming. MJ glanced at him knowingly, giving a subtle smirk.

"You know," she murmured casually, "if Flash annoys Stark enough, maybe he'll ban him from the building."

Peter chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, let's hope so."

They reached the elevators, and Happy quickly keyed in a security code, herding the group inside. "No pushing, please."

The elevator descended smoothly, opening into the exhibit hall. The entire class gasped, excited murmurs filling the air as they took in the massive display cases of Stark tech, holographic screens detailing various inventions, and impressive Avengers suits lining the walls.

Ned’s mouth fell open, eyes wide with awe. "Peter, this is insane!"

Peter smiled faintly, glancing around nervously. "Yeah, it's pretty cool."

Happy cleared his throat impatiently again, gesturing toward the displays. "Feel free to look around. No touching the glass. You break it, you buy it, and trust me—none of you can afford it."

Flash immediately moved toward the nearest Iron Man suit, practically pressing his nose to the glass as he marveled at it.

MJ leaned toward Peter again, speaking quietly. "You know Flash is gonna touch something eventually, right?"

Peter smiled slightly, nodding in resignation. "Yeah, probably."

“Spider-Man has his own display!?” Flash exclaimed, practically rushing toward the exhibit. He pressed his hands against the glass excitedly, ignoring Happy’s warning glare.

"Dude," Ned whispered to Peter, trying and failing to hide his grin, "That's you!"

"Shh!" Peter hissed nervously, glancing around quickly to ensure no one overheard. "Not here, man."

MJ chuckled quietly from beside them, arms crossed as she casually took in the spectacle. "So, this is what a secret identity crisis looks like."

Flash’s voice rang out loudly again, clearly trying to impress his small gathering of friends. "I mean, Spider-Man’s cool and all, but he's no Iron Man."

Peter felt his face flush slightly, resisting the urge to say something back. Ned, noticing his friend’s tense expression, quickly nudged Peter gently.

"Just breathe, dude," Ned whispered reassuringly, eyes sympathetic. "He doesn’t even know who he’s talking to."

Peter sighed softly, smiling weakly at Ned. "Yeah, you're right."

Flash continued his monologue to anyone who would listen, motioning dramatically to the display. "Spider-Man's alright, sure, but he's probably just some random guy who got lucky. Stark Industries just felt bad and threw him a bone."

"Wow," MJ deadpanned softly, eyebrows raised as she looked at Peter pointedly. "Are you gonna tell him how you single-handedly stopped a flying bird guy and an army of drones, or should I?"

Peter bit back a laugh, shaking his head nervously. "No, MJ. Please, no."

Meanwhile, Happy loudly cleared his throat again, clearly irritated. "Hey! Thompson, right? Keep your hands off the glass."

Flash pulled his hands back immediately, looking sheepish but quickly regaining his confidence. "Sorry, sir. Just admiring Spider-Man’s, uh, impressive suit."

Happy raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I'm sure he'd be thrilled."

The class snickered softly at Flash’s embarrassment, and Ned leaned closer to Peter, whispering excitedly, "Oh man, I wish Y/N were here. She'd totally roast him right now."

Peter chuckled softly, nerves easing slightly at the mention of you. "Yeah, I know. She's definitely better at handling Flash than I am."

MJ smirked faintly, eyes sparkling with amusement. "You mean scarier."

"That too," Peter admitted with a slight laugh, shoulders relaxing a bit more.

Happy guided them further into the exhibit hall, pointing out various pieces of technology as the class followed excitedly behind. Ned eagerly snapped photos with his phone, whispering excited commentary to Peter, who smiled and nodded distractedly, mind clearly elsewhere.

They stopped again in front of a sleek glass display featuring the nanotech suit Tony wore during the battle against Thanos. The entire class gasped softly, and even MJ looked up from her book, clearly impressed.

"This," Happy announced seriously, motioning toward the display, "is Mr. Stark’s most advanced suit to date—fully integrated nanotechnology. It saved his life multiple times."

Flash stepped forward again, looking star-struck. "Is this the actual suit Iron Man wore?"

Happy sighed softly, nodding reluctantly. "Yes. And before you ask, no, you can't touch it."

Flash stepped back quickly, holding his hands up innocently. "Just checking."

"Wow," Ned breathed softly, glancing at Peter excitedly. "Dude, you've literally helped Mr. Stark build stuff like this. That's insane."

Flash overheard Ned's comment, quickly scoffing dismissively. "Oh, come on, Leeds. Stop believing Parker’s ridiculous fantasies. Like Tony Stark would ever let him near something important."

Peter felt his jaw tighten slightly in irritation but forced himself to remain silent, refusing to engage. MJ, however, tilted her head calmly, offering Flash a dry, unimpressed look.

"You're really embarrassing yourself right now," she stated bluntly, returning her attention casually to her book.

Flash opened his mouth to respond, clearly flustered, but Happy quickly interrupted before he could.

"Alright, moving on!" Happy called loudly, gesturing impatiently toward the next exhibit. "We still have a lot to see."

Peter felt a tiny bit of relief as Flash was forced to follow along silently, though his anxiety only grew as they continued deeper into Stark Tower. With every passing moment, they were closer to crossing paths with the Avengers—and, of course, with you.

The group turned the corner, approaching another expansive hall. Happy motioned toward the collection of Captain America’s shields mounted on the walls.

"And here," Happy said flatly, "you'll see the various prototypes and completed designs for Captain America's shield—vibranium alloy, nearly indestructible, and incredibly dangerous when wielded by literally anyone else."

The class laughed softly, admiring the impressive display. MJ glanced casually at Peter, raising an eyebrow with mock seriousness. "Cap's still your favorite Avenger, right?"

Peter chuckled nervously, shrugging slightly. "Uh, I dunno… they're all pretty cool."

Ned rolled his eyes dramatically, nudging Peter again. "Come on, dude. We all know your favorite Avenger."

MJ smirked knowingly. "Y/N doesn't count."

Peter flushed bright red immediately, stammering awkwardly. "I—I mean—she’s not technically an Avenger, so—"

"Uh-huh," MJ replied flatly, returning her focus calmly to the displays.

Flash scoffed softly from behind, overhearing their conversation. "Please. Like Parker even knows Y/N Stark. He probably doesn't even know what she looks like."

Peter's cheeks grew even redder, fists clenching nervously at his sides. Ned quickly placed a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder, shaking his head slightly.

"Just ignore him," Ned murmured softly, eyes sympathetic.

MJ rolled her eyes dramatically, glancing back at Peter calmly. "Seriously, Parker, you need better taste in friends."

Peter smiled weakly, trying not to let Flash’s words get under his skin. But as the tour continued, he felt increasingly anxious, dreading the inevitable moment you’d show up and his carefully guarded secret would be spectacularly shattered.

The class moved forward again, following Happy toward another part of the exhibit hall. Ned continued chattering excitedly, pointing out different displays to Peter, who smiled and nodded distractedly, heart racing anxiously in his chest.

As Happy stopped once more in front of a display case showcasing Hawkeye's various trick arrows, Flash loudly cleared his throat again, arms crossed smugly.

"Honestly," Flash announced loudly, addressing the entire class dramatically, "I'm surprised Stark even has this many Hawkeye arrows on display. I mean, he's basically useless compared to literally anyone else."

Peter frowned slightly, jaw tightening again in annoyance. He knew Clint well enough to appreciate just how skilled and important he truly was.

MJ, however, remained unimpressed, tilting her head calmly toward Flash. "You know Hawkeye could probably take you down with a single paperclip, right?"

Flash scoffed arrogantly, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, right. The guy shoots arrows for a living. Big deal."

From just behind Flash, a familiar voice suddenly spoke, casual but amused. "Actually, paperclips are a little boring. Give me some dental floss and a rubber band—now that's interesting."

Flash turned quickly, eyes wide with shock as he realized Clint Barton himself had silently walked up behind him, a mug of coffee in hand and a relaxed, amused smile on his face.

"Oh—um," Flash stammered awkwardly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the entire class watched eagerly. "I—I didn’t mean—"

Clint chuckled softly, taking a casual sip of his coffee. "Relax, kid. No offense taken."

MJ smirked faintly, clearly entertained by Flash’s embarrassment. "Nice save, Flash."

Clint turned his gaze casually toward Peter, eyes sparkling knowingly. "Hey, Pete. Good to see you."

Peter flushed immediately, suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on him. He quickly waved nervously, voice slightly strained. "Uh, hey, Clint."

Flash stared wide-eyed, completely speechless now, as Clint simply nodded, clearly entertained. "Enjoy the tour, kids. Try not to break anything."

With that, Clint casually continued down the hallway, leaving stunned silence behind him.

MJ looked pointedly at Flash, raising an amused eyebrow. "Still think he's useless?"

Flash remained silent, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he quickly averted his gaze.

Peter exhaled slowly, heart still pounding anxiously in his chest. He glanced nervously toward the door, knowing that with Clint’s appearance, it was only a matter of time before the others arrived—and before you showed up and inevitably turned his entire world upside down.

And that moment came sooner than expected. As Happy led the class to the end of the exhibit hall, Vision phased through the wall, looking politely inquisitive as he hovered just slightly above the ground. "Ah, Mr. Hogan. I need to know where there’s extra sugar. Y/N asked for tea, and I'm 0.05 grams short."

Happy took another deep, exhausted breath, closing his eyes briefly in annoyance. "Vision, you're literally a supercomputer. Can’t you calculate your way to the pantry?"

Vision tilted his head thoughtfully. "I did, indeed. However, the pantry appears to have been relocated to accommodate Thor’s snack preferences. This requires manual intervention."

From the back of the group, Flash practically squeaked, whispering excitedly to the person beside him, "Holy crap, that’s Vision! Actual Vision!"

MJ glanced sideways at Flash, deadpan as always. "You sure? Might just be some other floating, vibranium-infused android phasing through walls."

Flash glared at her, crossing his arms tightly. "Shut up."

Peter swallowed nervously, feeling Ned elbowing him excitedly in the side. "Dude, this is literally the coolest day of my entire life."

"Yeah," Peter mumbled, feeling anxiety bubble up again at the mention of your name. His heart pounded quicker, wondering if this was the start of your inevitable appearance.

The elevators at the end of the hall opened as Wanda walked out. “Vis, you didn’t need to come all the way down here for sugar. I had found a new bag underneath the sink right when you left.”

“Yes,” Happy said, “thank you, Wanda. And Vision, I doubt Y/N would notice a difference if you were 0.05 grams short.”

Vision tilted his head thoughtfully, completely unfazed by the class of teenagers staring at him. "I suppose. But as she tells me, I make it perfect every time. I'd rather not disappoint her."

Wanda smiled softly, gently placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "Trust me, Vis, Y/N will survive a slightly imperfect cup of tea."

From somewhere behind Peter, Flash whispered excitedly to his friend, voice shaking with awe. "Dude—Scarlet Witch too? This is literally the best day of my entire existence."

MJ glanced sideways, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "I'm glad witnessing you reach the peak of your existence is just as disappointing as I imagined, Flash."

Ned elbowed Peter again, practically bouncing in place. "This is insane, Pete! Wanda, Vision—who's next? Black Panther? Captain Marvel?"

Peter chuckled nervously, shifting anxiously on his feet. "Let's hope not."

Happy sighed deeply, giving Vision and Wanda a pointed look. "Alright, could you two maybe move this conversation somewhere else? I'm trying to give an educational tour here."

Vision nodded politely, still hovering just slightly above the ground. "Of course, Mr. Hogan. My apologies. We shall return upstairs."

"Thanks," Happy muttered flatly, clearly counting down the seconds until his tour guide duty ended.

Wanda turned her attention curiously to the class, smiling warmly as she noticed Peter. "Oh, Peter! Hi. How's the tour going?"

Peter flushed again immediately, awkwardly waving at her while feeling every single pair of eyes in the room shift to stare at him. "Uh, hi, Wanda. It's going good, thanks."

Flash stared wide-eyed at Peter, visibly baffled. "Wait—Parker knows Wanda Maximoff? What?"

MJ didn't look up from her book, lips quirking slightly. "If you'd listened to literally anything Peter said in the last two years, Flash, this wouldn't be surprising."

Flash opened his mouth to argue, cheeks flushed, but Wanda simply smiled gently, clearly amused by the drama she'd accidentally caused. "Well, I'll let you get back to it. Have fun, everyone."

With a polite nod, Wanda and Vision left quietly, leaving another stunned silence in their wake.

Mr. Harrington took a shaky breath, clearly overwhelmed by the day's surprises. "Well, this is certainly more exciting than I anticipated. Mr. Hogan, should we continue?"

"Please," Happy agreed impatiently, already walking ahead. "Next up is our robotics lab. Follow closely."

As the class began moving again, Flash stepped quickly beside Peter, clearly desperate for answers. "Okay, Parker, what's going on? First Clint Barton, now Wanda Maximoff knows you? How?"

Peter shrugged awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, I mean—I told you, I work here. I'm an intern."

Flash shook his head skeptically, narrowing his eyes. "No way. There's gotta be something else."

MJ sighed dryly, clearly losing patience with Flash's stubborn disbelief. "Yeah, Flash, it's almost like Peter has an actual life outside of school. Wild concept, I know."

Flash huffed irritably, quickly walking ahead of them with a muttered, "Whatever."

Ned snickered softly, grinning at Peter triumphantly. "Finally! Flash has no idea what's coming next."

"Yeah," Peter chuckled weakly, heart racing anxiously again as he glanced around nervously, half-expecting you to pop out at any moment. "I'm terrified."

MJ smirked knowingly, nudging him gently. "Relax, Parker. This is honestly the best entertainment I've had in weeks."

They entered the robotics lab, a spacious room filled with advanced machinery, holographic interfaces, and several scientists and engineers quietly working at various stations.

Flash immediately rushed toward a particularly impressive robotic arm on display, eyes wide with awe. "Whoa, check this out! Do you think it's remote-controlled or something?"

Happy shot Flash an annoyed glare. "No. And again, Thompson—don't touch."

Flash quickly withdrew his hands, sheepishly stepping back again.

Peter lingered nervously near the doorway, fingers twitching anxiously at his sides. He glanced around the familiar lab, memories of working alongside you and Tony flooding his mind.

"Peter!" Bruce's cheerful voice suddenly called from across the room, causing Peter to jump slightly. Bruce walked over quickly, smiling warmly as he adjusted his glasses. "Good to see you, kid."

The class immediately quieted again, eyes once more shifting curiously toward Peter.

Peter flushed again, offering Bruce a shy, awkward wave. "Hi, Dr. Banner."

Bruce chuckled lightly, gently squeezing Peter's shoulder reassuringly. "You nervous?"

Peter forced a small laugh, scratching his neck nervously. "A little."

Flash stared open-mouthed, clearly unable to process yet another Avenger casually acknowledging Peter's existence. "This is not happening."

MJ smirked faintly, casually flipping another page in her book. "Honestly, Flash, your denial at this point is almost impressive."

Bruce glanced curiously at Flash, tilting his head slightly. "Is everything alright?"

Ned eagerly jumped in before Flash could respond, grinning broadly. "Flash just can't handle the fact that Peter actually interns here. He's been convinced Peter's lying for two years."

Bruce raised his eyebrows, clearly amused as he glanced back at Peter. "Really? Two whole years, huh? That's dedication."

Peter smiled weakly, shrugging again. "Yeah, it's been… interesting."

Bruce chuckled again, patting Peter reassuringly on the shoulder. "Well, don't let them get to you. You're brilliant, Peter."

"Thanks, Dr. Banner," Peter murmured shyly, cheeks pink again.

Flash stood completely silent, glaring at the floor in embarrassed frustration. Ned and MJ exchanged amused looks, clearly enjoying the drama unfolding.

Bruce smiled warmly again before giving Happy a quick nod. "Alright, I'll let you guys get back to the tour. Enjoy yourselves."

As Bruce returned to his workstation, Mr. Harrington cleared his throat nervously, trying to regain control. "Thank you, Dr. Banner. Class, shall we keep moving?"

Flash walked ahead quietly, clearly still stewing in confusion and embarrassment. MJ smirked triumphantly, looking pointedly at Peter. "See, Parker? Told you today would be entertaining."

Peter chuckled softly, still anxious but slightly less tense now. "Yeah, you're definitely right about that."

---

Lunch finally rolled around as the group was led to the mess hall, which was filled with at least a dozen small restaurants and cafes. The students murmured excitedly, marveling at the sprawling array of choices.

"No way," Ned breathed in awe, looking around eagerly. "They literally have everything. Pizza, sushi, burgers… is that a taco stand?"

Peter chuckled softly, his nerves easing slightly as he watched his friend practically vibrate with excitement. "Yeah, Mr. Stark doesn't really do subtle."

MJ raised an amused eyebrow, smirking faintly. "Gee, I couldn't tell. It's not like we've spent all morning touring through his personal Disneyland."

Flash scowled slightly from across the table, clearly still irritated by the earlier embarrassment. He crossed his arms defensively. "Big deal. My dad's company cafeteria has pretty much all the same stuff."

MJ tilted her head calmly, unimpressed. "Yeah, but I'm guessing your dad's cafeteria isn't visited by literal superheroes."

Ned snorted quietly, quickly covering his mouth as Flash's face reddened again with annoyance.

Peter shifted anxiously in his seat, scanning the room carefully. He could feel the familiar flutter of nerves again, anticipation building in his chest. He knew you'd be coming by—he just wasn't sure when.

"Dude," Ned whispered, leaning toward Peter eagerly, eyes darting around the bustling space. "Where's Y/N? She said she was bringing you lunch, right?"

"Yeah," Peter admitted quietly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Maybe she's running late. Or forgot."

MJ rolled her eyes, clearly unbothered as she calmly continued sketching in her notebook. "Parker, you're literally dating the human equivalent of a supercomputer. She didn't forget."

Peter flushed faintly, smiling shyly. "Yeah, you're right."

From nearby, Flash turned sharply, overhearing the tail-end of the conversation. He leaned toward them, voice thick with disbelief and mockery. "Wait, hold up. Did you just imply Parker's dating Y/N Stark?"

Peter swallowed nervously, looking away quickly. "Uh—"

MJ calmly met Flash's skeptical glare. "Do you need a dictionary to understand basic English, Thompson? I thought it was clear."

Flash scoffed loudly, folding his arms with an arrogant smirk. "That's hilarious, even for Parker. There's no way Stark's daughter would look twice at him."

Peter clenched his fists tightly beneath the table, irritation flickering in his eyes. Before he could reply, a familiar voice rang out clearly across the crowded mess hall.

"Peter!" your voice called happily from near the doors. Peter's head snapped up quickly, and he felt his heart skip anxiously as you stepped through the busy cafeteria, smiling brightly and holding two bags in your hands. "Sorry I'm late! Dad wouldn't stop talking about something I was working on, and—"

Your voice trailed off when you noticed everyone staring at you, a hush of surprised whispers quickly spreading through the crowd. You hesitated slightly, your cheeks burning as you realized the entire Midtown High class was openly gaping at you—Flash included.

Peter swallowed nervously, heart hammering in his chest as he slowly stood up, forcing a shy, awkward smile as he walked toward you. "Hey, Y/N."

Your eyes softened immediately at the sight of him, relaxing visibly as your lips curved into a gentle smile. "Hey, Pete."

Flash stared open-mouthed, frozen in shock, his voice coming out as a stunned squeak. "No freaking way."

You glanced sideways at Flash, arching an unimpressed eyebrow at his disbelief before turning your attention fully back to Peter. You held out one of the lunch bags, offering a sheepish smile. "I brought your favorite sandwich from Deluca's. And some cookies Wanda and I made last night."

Peter relaxed slightly, unable to suppress his shy grin as he gently took the bag from you. "Thanks. You're the best."

You smiled warmly, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. "Obviously."

Behind him, Ned coughed pointedly, grinning eagerly as he waved at you. "Hi, Y/N!"

You chuckled softly, stepping around Peter and walking over to greet Ned and MJ warmly. "Hey, Ned. MJ."

MJ nodded calmly, lips quirking faintly. "Nice entrance."

You laughed softly, glancing around the cafeteria again with mild embarrassment. "Yeah, that wasn't exactly intentional."

Flash finally found his voice again, sputtering incredulously. "Hold up. You're seriously dating Parker?"

You glanced over at Flash, raising your eyebrows calmly. "You say that like it's surprising. We've been dating for a year."

Flash gaped openly, completely baffled. "But—but he's Parker! How?"

MJ tilted her head casually, voice dry and deadpan. "Generally, Flash, people date because they like each other. I know, shocking concept."

Peter flushed faintly, gently nudging your side as he leaned in closer. "I'm so sorry."

You grinned mischievously, eyes sparkling playfully as you glanced back at Peter. "Why? This is kind of fun."

Ned chuckled softly, shaking his head fondly. "You're terrifying sometimes, Y/N."

MJ smirked knowingly, still sketching calmly in her notebook. "That's why I like her."

You laughed lightly again, quickly leaning in to press a gentle kiss against Peter's cheek, making his blush deepen even further. "Anyway, enjoy your lunch. I'll see you after the tour?"

Peter nodded shyly, smiling softly at you. "Yeah, definitely."

Flash opened his mouth again, clearly still confused, but Happy suddenly appeared near your shoulder, arms crossed impatiently. "Alright, kids. As amusing as this drama is, lunch break's almost over. Finish eating, and we'll continue the tour."

You smiled sheepishly, giving Peter one final, affectionate glance. "See you soon, Pete."

Peter smiled warmly, heart fluttering softly as he watched you walk away. "See you."

As you disappeared down the hallway, Flash shook his head, muttering softly, "This is literally the weirdest day of my entire life."

MJ didn't look up from her book, casually replying, "Glad I was here to see it."

Ned grinned broadly, happily returning to his sandwich. "Me too."

Peter sighed quietly, finally relaxing fully into his seat again. He carefully opened the lunch bag you'd brought, smiling fondly when he saw his favorite sandwich and cookies neatly packed inside.

"You good, Parker?" MJ asked calmly, glancing up from her book briefly.

Peter smiled softly, feeling warmth spread through his chest as he nodded gently. "Yeah, I'm great."

From across the table, Flash silently stared at Peter for several more moments, clearly processing everything he'd witnessed before finally clearing his throat awkwardly. "So, um—do you, like, know Tony Stark, then?"

MJ rolled her eyes slightly, shaking her head with a faint sigh. "Flash, seriously."

Peter chuckled softly, finally feeling a little more confident. He glanced calmly toward Flash, shrugging lightly. "Yeah, Flash. I work with him pretty regularly."

Flash sat back heavily in his chair, looking thoroughly humbled. "Wow. That's… that's really cool."

MJ smirked faintly, muttering quietly enough for only Peter and Ned to hear. "And it only took two years to get through to him."

Peter smiled shyly, shaking his head slightly. "Better late than never, right?"

Ned chuckled warmly, raising his sandwich slightly in a mock-toast. "To Peter Parker—Stark Industries intern, Spider-Man, and boyfriend of Y/N freaking Stark. Dude, your life is insane."

Peter laughed softly, feeling a content warmth spread through him as he took a bite of his sandwich. "Yeah. It definitely is."

---

The rest of lunch passed quickly, and soon Happy returned to gather the students again. He stood at the head of the table, hands on his hips, clearly eager to finish his unofficial tour guide duties.

"Alright," Happy announced gruffly, looking around impatiently at the group. "Lunch break's over. Everyone, up. We're heading up to the R&D floors next."

Ned quickly stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth, scrambling to his feet eagerly. "R&D floors? Oh, man, I can't wait to see that!"

MJ calmly put away her sketchbook, casting Peter an amused look. "Try not to pass out from excitement, Leeds."

Flash lingered quietly near the back of the group, clearly still subdued by the earlier revelations. He offered Peter a small, somewhat awkward nod of acknowledgement as he passed by, clearly at a loss for how to handle the newfound information.

Peter smiled faintly, feeling slightly bad for Flash despite everything. He offered a small, friendly nod back before following the group toward the elevators.

As they gathered around the elevator, Ned practically bounced in place. "Dude, the R&D floors must be where all the top-secret stuff happens, right? Like experimental suits and nanotech?"

Peter chuckled quietly, nodding slightly. "Yeah, Mr. Stark keeps most of his really cool inventions there."

Happy ushered them inside impatiently, quickly pressing the button for one of the upper floors. "Stay close, please. And for the love of everything, do not touch anything."

The elevator doors opened, and the class stepped out into a large, open area filled with workstations, holographic projections, and advanced machinery. Several engineers moved around busily, immersed in various tasks and experiments.

Ned stared wide-eyed, quickly glancing at Peter in excitement. "This is so freaking cool!"

MJ arched an eyebrow slightly, looking mildly impressed despite herself. "I'll admit, this actually is impressive."

Flash stayed quiet, eyes carefully scanning the room, clearly wary of embarrassing himself further.

Happy cleared his throat, motioning toward one of the larger workstations. "Here at Stark Industries, our engineers develop cutting-edge technology daily. Everything from advanced energy solutions to prototype armor upgrades are created in this very room."

From the far side of the room, Tony Stark himself suddenly appeared, clearly engrossed in conversation with a technician. The class collectively froze, whispering excitedly as they recognized him.

"Dude," Ned whispered loudly, grabbing Peter's arm excitedly. "That's literally Tony Stark. He's right there!"

Peter smiled slightly, feeling his face flush again. "Yeah, Ned. I've seen him before."

Flash watched nervously, clearly intimidated. "Wow, it's really him. Like, Iron Man himself."

MJ sighed softly, rolling her eyes. "Congratulations, Flash, you have functioning eyes."

Tony glanced up briefly, eyebrows raised slightly as he noticed the group of teenagers staring at him. His lips quirked faintly in amusement as he spotted Peter, stepping closer casually.

"Peter," Tony greeted calmly, eyes sparkling knowingly. "How's the tour going? Still alive?"

Peter smiled weakly, scratching his neck shyly. "Barely, Mr. Stark."

Flash stared wide-eyed, completely silent again, visibly stunned.

Tony turned slightly, addressing the group with an amused smirk. "Hello, Midtown students. Hope you’ve been treating Peter nicely. I’d hate to revoke your guest privileges."

Peter bit his lip nervously, quickly shaking his head. "They're fine, Mr. Stark. Really."

Tony nodded casually, glancing back at Flash knowingly. "Good. Because someone around here owes my daughter an apology."

Flash flushed brightly, quickly looking away in embarrassment.

MJ smirked faintly, clearly entertained. "Nice going, Thompson."

Tony chuckled lightly, patting Peter gently on the shoulder. "Anyway, I’ll leave you all to it. Try not to break anything expensive."

"Yes, sir," Peter murmured quietly, cheeks flushed but unable to hide a small smile.

Tony gave a casual wave, already moving back toward his workstation. "Enjoy the rest of the tour."

As Tony walked away, Flash looked toward Peter sheepishly, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Hey, um—sorry for… you know, everything."

Peter smiled faintly, shrugging lightly. "It's fine, Flash."

MJ arched a calm eyebrow, offering Peter an amused glance. "You're too nice, Parker."

Peter chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah, probably."

Happy cleared his throat impatiently, motioning toward another workstation. "Alright, moving along. Lots to see, people."

They soon made their way to the Avengers gym. Through the soundproof glass they could see Natasha practicing her shooting, Bucky cleaning his metal arm, Steve hitting a boxing bag, and Sam and Clint preparing their own weapons.

“—well, Tony supposedly improved my exploding arrows.”

“Yeah, well he also upgraded Redwing.” Sam countered.

Clint narrowed his eyes at the mention of Redwing. "Look, Wilson, we all know Tony loves his robots, but arrows take precision and skill."

Sam scoffed, checking over his wrist controls with a confident smirk. "Oh, please. You can’t even hit a target without your fancy exploding arrows."

Clint frowned, quickly grabbing an arrow and notching it firmly. "I bet I hit my mark faster than you can get that toy of yours airborne."

Sam grinned sharply, raising his wrist confidently. "Deal, Barton. Count of three?"

"You're on," Clint shot back, aiming carefully at the target. "One... two... three!"

He fired the arrow, watching proudly as it sailed perfectly into the bullseye. But nothing happened. The arrow simply embedded itself, utterly anticlimactic.

Sam laughed loudly, shaking his head. "Well done, Barton. That’s impressive."

Clint stared incredulously at his arrow. "What the—these were fine yesterday! Stark must’ve given me defective ones."

Bucky snorted softly from nearby, polishing his metal arm casually. "Pretty sure Tony doesn't make anything defective."

Clint shot him an annoyed glare. "Yeah, well, I guess today’s his first."

"Watch and learn," Sam said confidently, activating Redwing from his wrist pad. The drone immediately sprang to life, hovering briefly in the air—before suddenly sputtering out with a pitiful beep and dropping uselessly to the ground.

Bucky raised an amused eyebrow, smirking faintly. "Problem, Sam?"

Sam stared open-mouthed at Redwing, quickly fiddling with the controls in frustration. "Aw, come on, not you too! Redwing was perfectly fine this morning!"

Clint rolled his eyes, quickly grabbing another arrow from his quiver, carefully examining it with suspicion. "Maybe the lab just had a glitch or something."

Steve paused his boxing practice, turning to watch them curiously. "You sure you two aren’t doing something wrong?"

Clint scoffed, rolling his shoulders irritably. "I've literally been doing this for decades, Steve. I think I know how to shoot an arrow."

"Alright," Sam announced, tapping at his controls again with determination. "Let's try this again."

"Second time’s the charm," Clint agreed dryly, pulling back his bowstring confidently. "Ready, Wilson?"

"Do it," Sam replied sharply, flicking his wrist pad once more.

Clint released his arrow just as Sam activated Redwing again—and chaos immediately erupted.

The arrow exploded dramatically with a loud pop, showering Clint in a thick cloud of bright, glittery red powder. At precisely the same moment, Sam’s wrist pad burst open, coating him in an identical sparkling mess.

Clint yelped loudly, stumbling backward as glitter settled over his hair, clothes, and face. "What the—oh, no, no, no! What is this stuff?"

Sam sputtered furiously, shaking his wrist uselessly and only spreading glitter further across his shirt. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me—Stark!"

Bucky started laughing immediately, clutching his sides as he watched Clint frantically try to wipe the glitter off, only succeeding in smearing it deeper into his clothes. "I stand corrected. Maybe Tony does make defective gear—on purpose."

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "You two might wanna clean that up before—"

"Too late," Natasha chimed in smoothly from across the room, carefully reloading her weapon with an amused smirk. "I warned you both about letting Thor and Loki visit Y/N."

Clint stopped his frantic glitter-rubbing, eyes narrowing suspiciously at Natasha. "Wait. You knew about this?"

She shrugged innocently, lips twitching upward. "Maybe."

Sam groaned dramatically, dropping his head back in annoyance. "Great. Loki glitter."

Natasha nodded knowingly, offering a small, sympathetic smile. "Sorry, boys. But I did warn you—multiple times."

Clint threw his hands up in exasperation, sending a fresh cloud of glitter into the air. "Why do we keep trusting Y/N when Thor and Loki are involved? Have we learned nothing?"

Bucky smirked faintly, leaning back comfortably in his seat. "Apparently not."

---

Outside the soundproof glass of the gym, Peter’s entire class stared in wide-eyed disbelief, clearly stunned by the spectacle they'd just witnessed.

Ned turned slowly toward Peter, whispering in awe. "Dude, that was the single greatest thing I've ever seen."

Peter shook his head slightly, trying not to smile as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah. Definitely a Y/N special."

Flash blinked rapidly, clearly still processing everything. "Wait, hold on. Y/N did that?"

MJ raised an eyebrow calmly, clearly entertained. "If you'd ever actually met her, you'd know that's practically her signature."

Peter chuckled softly, finally relaxing slightly as he nodded. "Yeah, she’s, uh... really into glitter-based revenge."

Flash let out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head again. "This day just keeps getting weirder."

MJ smirked slightly, lips quirking upward in amusement. "Best day ever."

---

Inside the gym, Clint desperately tried wiping glitter from his face again, glaring toward the window suspiciously. "I swear, if Y/N is out there filming this—"

Bucky laughed again, shaking his head fondly. "Oh, I'm sure she’s got at least three different angles recorded by now."

Sam groaned loudly again, slumping down in defeat. "This glitter’s never coming off, is it?"

Natasha shrugged lightly, clearly unbothered. "Loki’s magic glitter? Probably not for days."

Steve smiled faintly, turning back to his boxing bag with an amused shake of his head. "Maybe next time, you'll both think twice before messing with Y/N."

Clint sighed dramatically, glaring down at his glitter-coated clothes. "Lesson officially learned. Never again."

Bucky chuckled knowingly, leaning back comfortably. "We both know that's a lie, Barton."

---

Happy turned from the gym window with an exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples tiredly. "Alright, kids, show's over. Let's move along before they decide to drag us into this glitter war."

Peter smiled faintly, glancing back once more at the glitter-covered scene inside the gym before following Ned and MJ down the hallway.

Flash walked quietly beside him, clearly still processing everything he'd witnessed. After a long moment, he finally spoke, voice hesitant. "Hey, Parker? Uh, your life is really weird."

Peter laughed softly, nodding gently. "Yeah. You have no idea."

Ned grinned broadly, nudging Peter playfully. "Best day ever, man. Best. Day. Ever."

MJ sighed dramatically, casually flipping open her sketchbook again. "Let's hope glitter removal isn't contagious."

Peter smiled warmly, finally feeling fully relaxed for the first time all day. Despite the chaos and embarrassment, he had to admit—today was definitely turning out better than he'd expected.

---

Back in your lab, you sat back happily, giggling softly as you watched the live footage on your tablet—Sam and Clint still frantically rubbing at the endless glitter.

Tony walked casually into the room, raising an eyebrow knowingly when he noticed your mischievous expression. "Let me guess—glitter?"

You grinned innocently, turning your tablet around to show him proudly. "Magic glitter. Loki’s specialty."

Tony laughed warmly, shaking his head fondly. "Nice touch, kid."

You beamed proudly, giggling again as you glanced back at the glitter-filled chaos. "Best prank yet."

Tony chuckled softly, squeezing your shoulder gently. "Just promise you'll give them a break tomorrow?"

You tilted your head thoughtfully, smirking slightly. "We'll see."

Tony smiled fondly, rolling his eyes warmly. "Alright, evil genius. I’ll leave you to it."

You grinned mischievously again, settling back comfortably in your chair. "Thanks, Dad."

As Tony walked away, you returned your attention happily to the glittery chaos on your tablet, already mentally planning your next prank. Life in Stark Tower was certainly never boring—and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[kikyoupdates]

Love Bite ⭑˚🩸⭑ 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

yandere!vampires x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, original characters, vampire!ocs x fem!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

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“I’ll have a large caramel macchiato, with light ice, soy milk, extra whipped cream, and can you please use one of the big straws? The small ones are a real pain in the ass. I asked for a big straw last time and they still didn’t give it to me, so make sure you get it right this time.”

You’re tempted to roll your eyes at her, but she seems like the type to complain to your manager. Getting fired isn’t an option right now. Not until you finish paying Johnny back, at least.

“Of course,” you say, offering a fake, sickeningly sweet smile. “I’ll get that started for you right away.”

She narrows her eyes at you, no doubt assuming that you’ll manage to fuck it up somehow. Being a barista isn’t all that bad in and of itself, but it’s dealing with annoying ass customers that really makes for a tedious experience. Well, as long as you’re getting paid, you can put up with pretty much anything. Hence the fact that you’re selling your own blood.

You whip up the woman’s order, get briefly bitched at because you apparently took ‘too long’, and when she finally walks out of the store, you sneakily flip up your middle finger.

Interactions like these are pretty standard in the service industry.

You’re working the closing shift, which means it’s late, and thankfully, not very many people are still coming in. You spend most of your time wiping the counters down and preparing to close up shop.

Just one more minute. Only one more minute, and then you can lock the doors, flip the closed sign over, and you’re finally home free.

You’re excited to go home and get some sleep. You’ve been running on fumes these past few days, even more so than usual. Having less blood in your body than normal isn’t exactly doing wonders for your physical wellbeing.

But because your luck is nonexistent, of course, of fucking course a customer decides to walk in at the very last moment.

You grit your teeth. People like this are the absolute worst. They know not the meaning of shame.

A young man has just stepped inside. He’s got soft, delicate features, and a somewhat distraught look in his eyes. He seems awfully skittish for some reason. Which is dumb, because if anyone ought to be unnerved right now, it’s you, the person whose shift just got extended.

“Um,” he calls out shakily. “You’re still open... right?”

You have half a mind to turn him away, but since he looks pretty upset, you don’t want to be the one to ruin his day even more.

“We’re still open for a little bit longer,” you concede. “Just tell me your order and I’ll make it as fast as I can.”

He exhales in relief. “Oh, th-thank you! I really appreciate it. Sorry for coming in so late. The other coffee shop I tried turned me away, so I had to go somewhere else...”

Turned him away? That doesn’t exactly sound like something that would be allowed. Turned him away on the basis of what, exactly? Poor behavior?

“Did you do something to offend the people working there?” you can’t help but frown, curious despite it not being any of your business.

He lowers his gaze to the ground. “I... guess you could say that. I made people uncomfortable just by being there. They told me I was scaring away all their customers. Even though I made sure to go in late, when not many people were around...”

He seems to be making a conscious effort not to move his mouth much as he speaks, but even so, for just a brief moment, you happen to spot them. His fangs.

Ah. He’s a vampire.

You frown. Having already met two vampires and allowed them to drink your blood, it goes without saying that the novelty has kind of worn off. Still, not long ago, you might have been in the same boat as those other people, living in perpetual fear of vampires because you didn’t know any better.

“They can’t refuse to serve you just because you’re a vampire,” you say, and his shoulders jump slightly when he hears you use the term. “That’s discrimination, and I’m pretty sure it’s illegal. You could file a complaint against that establishment.”

He furiously shakes his head. “N-No. I’m not trying to create any problems for anyone. It’s fine. I know people can’t help but be afraid. If I were in their position, I probably would be too. But... is it okay for me to be here? If you feel uncomfortable, I can leave right away.”

“Of course not,” you frown. “I would never make you leave."

“It’s just that I noticed you seemed a bit upset when I walked in...”

You let out a sigh. “That’s just because I was looking forward to going home, and you walked in right before closing hour. But now that I understand your circumstances, it makes sense. I’m not going to hold anything against you, so just try to relax, and let me know what you want me to make for you.”

His expression brightens, and if that’s all it takes to elicit a positive reaction out of him, you’re starting to gain some valuable insight as to how vampires are treated around here.

“I just want a medium black coffee,” he says.

A medium black coffee. Such a simple order, and to think that he had to jump through hoops to be able to get it.

You no longer hold any prejudice against vampires. They’re just people, like everyone else. It’s not like they chose to have to drink blood in order to survive. It’s simply the way they were born, and there’s nothing they can do to change it.

Besides, it’s all thanks to vampires that you’re able to keep up with Johnny’s payments. Vampires are quite literally saving your life.

“There you go,” you say, handing him the coffee. It was a breeze to make, and it hardly took any time either. It looks like you’ll be out of here a lot faster than you thought.

The man stares at you for a few moments, but he isn’t looking into your eyes. You don’t realize what he’s so fixated on until his lips finally curve into a smile.

“Um, thank you,” he says. “I really appreciate it... [Name].”

Ah. He must have been looking at your name tag. You smile back at him, then lean over the counter slightly.

“It was my pleasure. And if you don’t mind me asking, you are...?”

“Huh? Oh,” he blinks. “E-Elliot. My name is Elliot.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Elliot. And don’t worry. From now on, you can come to this store whenever you need some coffee. No one here will discriminate against you, and if I happen to be working a shift when you come in, maybe I can even hook you up with some free samples,” you wink.

Elliot’s smile grows even wider, and he frantically nods his head, unable to contain his excitement.

“Thank you!” he splutters. “Thank you so much!”

You can’t help but chuckle. How adorable. It upsets you that he’s being shunned, but not all humans are assholes, just like how not all vampires are bad. Hopefully he’ll meet some nice people soon, and in the meantime, you’ll happily serve him coffee whenever he wants.

Now, then. It’s time to finish cleaning up and finally go home.

You’re standing in front of an unfamiliar house, and for various reasons, you feel apprehensive.

This is the address he gave me. So, then... this is really happening.

Since you agreed to take Felix up on his offer, he’s been messaging you and trying to set up a time for you to meet. You told him that you wouldn’t be comfortable with disclosing where you live, and he agreed, saying that you were more than welcome to have these private visits at his house.

Ugh. Actually, calling them ‘private visits’ doesn’t exactly sit right with you. It makes the whole thing sound a lot dirtier than it is.

You agreed to this, but even so, you’re starting to get cold feet. Isn’t this usually how people get murdered? And you’re not referring to him being a vampire, you’re referring to being a woman and walking straight into the home of a man you barely even know.

Selling your blood to him at Plasma Inc.’s headquarters is definitely safer, but then you remember the whole reason you agreed to this in the first place.

Double pay.

Fuck. The money is calling to you, and you know just how much of a difference that amount would make.

Which is why, even though your fight-or-flight instincts are kicking off, you ignore them and ring the doorbell.

Felix greets you with a sharp, ear-splitting grin, like always.

“[Name]!” he beams. “Come in! I’m so glad you’re here. For a moment, I was actually worried you were going to stand me up, haha.”

I thought about it.

You swallow your thoughts and instead nod. “Hello. You said I could come in, right?”

“Of course! Make yourself at home.”

Felix smiles again and steps aside, granting you entry. You’re not sure what he does for a living, and what kind of jobs are even available to vampires, considering Elliot struggled to be able to buy a goddamn cup of coffee, but if his house is any indication, then he’s certainly not strapped for cash. It makes your cheap studio apartment look even worse than it actually is.

You wander off to the living room and instinctively grab a seat on the couch. You figure you’ll be sitting down while he drinks your blood, like you usually do.

“Before we start,” you suddenly say, “you’re... not going to rip me off, are you? Drink my blood and then kick me out without paying me?”

Felix’s brows skyrocket, and he lets out a gasp, visibly offended.

“I would never do that!” he insists. “I want to be able to keep drinking your blood, so why would I ruin all of that just to save money one time? I want this to be a recurring thing, not just a one-and-done.”

Well, you suppose that makes sense. If he cons you, then no way in hell will you ever meet up with him again, and he seems to really like your blood. He would basically just be shooting himself in the foot.

You’re going to get paid. That much seems to be a given. So, with all the bullshit out of the way... you suppose it’s time to get started.

Felix sits down next to you, visibly eager. He’s already reaching over to loosen the top of your shirt, but before he gets any closer, you quickly push him way.

“W-Wait,” you blurt. “I’m not trying to bitch and whine, but... is it at all possible for you to be a bit more careful? It really hurt last time. I’ll do it anyways, but if you’re able to, just please. I would really appreciate it.”

Xavier made it slightly more bearable, so surely, Felix is capable of doing the same.

Whether or not he cares enough to bother is a different matter entirely, though.

Felix smiles sweetly and rubs your shoulder. “Of course,” he says, and you’re not quite sure you like that lecherous look in his eyes. It’s as if he’s about to eat you up. Which, you suppose he is, but there’s something much more ominous than the literal sense.

You decide to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in your gut and turn away, granting him access to your neck.

“I’ll be careful this time,” Felix promises, and he wraps his arms around you before unhinging his jaw.

No matter how many times it happens, you doubt you’ll ever be able to get used to this feeling. But at least it seems like Felix is trying to be gentler than he was before. The pain isn’t anywhere near as unbearable, even though it still makes you sick to your stomach.

You close your eyes, and as always, wait for it to be over. Felix gasps for breath every so often, and you swear you hear him let out a groan of pleasure next to your ear.

It’s okay. He’ll be done soon. Any moment now.

…

Why isn’t he done yet?

“Um,” you grimace, trying to push him away. “I think that’s enough. I’m starting to feel a bit faint. Please stop now.”

But Felix doesn’t stop. Instead, he pushes you down, making your back flatten against the cushions of the couch. He’s bigger than you, and stronger too, so he’s able to hold you in place without any problems.

It’s then, as you feel the full weight of his body pressing down on you, that you realize just how fucking dangerous this is.

“Please,” you plead. The pain in your neck is sharp and unrelenting, but above all else, you’re scared. Why isn’t he letting go? He’s already taken more than enough blood. Your vision is starting to cloud over, and it feels like you’ve broken out into a cold sweat.

Felix is either so overwhelmed by his bloodthirst that he can’t hear you, or worse yet, he simply doesn’t care.

Either way, it doesn’t matter.

You scream.

“Get the fuck off me!”

You manage to knee him in the stomach, and despite the fact that vampires have strong, resilient bodies, the act still makes him double over and let out a groan of discomfort.

While he falters, you hurry to roll onto the floor, then you pick yourself up as fast as possible.

You back into the nearest wall, lightheaded and terrified. You should be running away. You should be, but...

He still hasn’t paid you yet.

“I-I’m sorry,” Felix gasps. He stands up, and when he takes a step forward, you start shaking like a leaf in the wind. Guilt creeps onto his expression. “I don’t... I’m not sure what came over me. I took things too far. I’m sorry, [Name]. I really, really am, and I promise it will never happen again.”

You use a hand to brace yourself against the wall, still shaking. Fuck. You don’t feel well. This bastard really drank too much of your blood. Any more, and it probably would’ve landed you in the hospital. Meeting up with him is way too fucking risky. Even if he says he wants to keep drinking your blood and seeing you regularly, there won’t be any blood to drink if he drains you dry.

“Give me the money you promised,” you seethe.

Felix nods hastily and pulls out a wad of bills from his wallet. He hands them to you, and you snap them up in the blink of an eye.

Then, you turn to leave.

“Wait,” Felix protests. His lips are still painted red with your blood. “You’re not... angry, are you? It was just a mistake. I got a little carried away. All you need to do is tell me to stop, alright? I promise I’ll listen. This really won’t ever happen again.”

Bullshit.

You don’t trust him. He clearly doesn’t know how to hold back, and even though this would have been a sweet deal, you’re not reckless enough to completely gamble your life away. You still have Xavier. And eventually, you’ll probably meet another vampire client.

This guy is bad fucking news, and you want nothing to do with him.

“Goodbye,” you breathe out. He tries to chase after you, but you to beat him to the door and run off into the dead of night.

“I’ll call you!” Felix cries out. “We’ll stay in touch, right?”

You don’t respond.

You managed to pay Johnny back on time again. He seemed pleased with the fact that you’ve been maintaining a diligent schedule, which is probably why he hasn’t been threatening to beat the shit out of you recently.

Thanks to selling your blood, you’ve got more money on hand than you’ve had in a very long time.

But as you will soon realize, this arrangement is far from sustainable.

“[Name], are you feeling okay? You don’t look like you’re well enough to be here...”

Your coworker, Caleb, offers you a concerned look. He’s always been considerate to a fault, and while you appreciate his kindness, you don’t exactly have a choice in the matter. Regardless of how you feel, you need the money. Selling your blood isn’t enough to pay off your debt in full. It’s only thanks to all your part-time jobs that you’re still making the cut.

“I’m fine,” you wave off, and needless to say, he doesn’t look convinced. You do your best to ignore him and throw on your apron, hobbling weakly across the steel kitchen floor. Thankfully, this is your dishwashing job, so you won’t have to interact with any customers. You really don’t have the energy for that today.

“Okay, but make sure to take breaks,” Caleb insists. “I'm worried that you might slip and get hurt if you’re not careful.”

“I promise I’ll be fine. But thanks for worrying.”

Taking breaks in the middle of your shift isn’t an option. Your boss is a real piece of shit, and he already got mad at you for taking a breather once before, when you were worn-out after pulling two all-nighters in a row. If he catches you again, odds are, you’ll be fired. The job of a dishwasher isn’t exactly difficult to fill, and he’ll readily give your spot to someone who doesn’t slack off.

So, you put on your gloves, bow your head, and get to work. Since the task is so mindless and repetitive, it allows you to drift off and think of other, more entertaining things. Plus, the sound of the water faucet helps you fall into a steady rhythm, and it’s soothing, in a way.

But today, you find yourself struggling to do something as simple as washing dishes. Your hands can’t seem to stop shaking, and white spots repeatedly fade in and out of your vision. Something feels... off. Even your breathing seems to be getting shallower by the minute.

“Caleb,” you mumble weakly. “I think... I might need to...”

You can’t finish your sentence in time. Everything blurs, your legs go wobbly behind the knees, and soon enough, your head hits the ground.

The last thing you hear is Caleb screaming out your name.

More chapters are available on Quotev and Wattpad!

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🩸 main masterlist! ♡ character appearances

[dailyanarchistposts]

In mid-August, a three year-old lawsuit charging that environmentalist groups were religious extremists comparable to some of the more violent, intolerant, ultra-orthodox Islamic sects collapsed when the attorney failed to meet a re-filing deadline with the U.S. Supreme Court.

The suit had been brought against the Forest Guardians, the Superior Wilderness Action Network, and the U.S. Forest Service by the 125 companies that make up the Associated Contract Loggers (A.C.L.) of northern Minnesota. The loggers were asking for $600,000 in damages and permission to plunder timber from the Superior National Forest.

Lawyers for the A.C.L. argued that deep ecology was actually a religion, and so by extension, environmental groups that espoused its philosophies were cults, and by outlawing timber cutting on so-called “federal land,” the Forest Service was favoring a particular set of religious doctrines and was therefore violating the guarantee of neutrality in matters of religion purportedly vouchsafed in the U.S. Constitution.

According to theological scholars at the logging company syndicate like former executive director, Larry Jones, Deep Ecology is an “earth-centered religion,” a “belief system” that holds that “trees and Man [sic] are equal.” Anti-logging activists who extol the virtues of forested spaces over industry profit and environmental degradation are spiritual zealots, and the government functionaries who are swayed by their proselytizing may turn out to be fanatical closet druids themselves.

Stephen Young, the A.C.L. lawyer and a former Republican Party senatorial candidate, explained his legal action on such esteemed venues as Rush Limbaugh’s radio show by saying that clear-cutting in national forests had been restricted by the Forest Service for no reason other than reverebce for some fringe New Age religion.

A U.S. District Court judge in Minnesota dismissed the case as “frivolous” in February 2000, but the A.C.L. petitioned the Supreme Court last year after reports that Wahabi Islamic extremists were responsible for the blitzkrieg attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.

“The doctrine of Deep Ecology is the very worldview that gave rise to eco-terrorism. We feel that after the events of September 11, it’s an obligation of the Supreme Court to keep religious fanaticism in check,” Young said. “Just as devout faith in the literal words of various Hadith of Mohammad gave the Taliban license to impose through state power harsh conditions on the women of Afghanistan, so Deep Ecology gives license to its adherents to take extreme actions against those who would live by different beliefs.”

Perhaps the less said about this sleazy episode the better, which is just as well, since it is so hard to get a firm analytic grasp on it because it is sad and sick on so many different levels. For instance, likening the plight of women in Afghanistan to that of lumber barons in northern Minnesota is staggering in its shamelessness, as it has been my experience that women living near industrial logging camps are subjected to at least the same sort of abuse, derision, and masculinist domination as women who had been living in Taliban-controlled Kandahar.

And we all know that if the U.S. government was serious about keeping homicidal religious terrorism in check, then John Ashcroft and the Army of God anti-abortionists would be in the Guantanamo Bay gulag. It was all obviously just a miserable attempt to slander and jam up anti-logging activists with legal action, and it failed.

But I can’t help thinking about the broader philosophical implications of who supported it. I have no idea as to whether or not there are Deep Ecologists involved in Forest Guardians or the Superior Wilderness Action Network (and I suspect that none are to be found among the Forest Service feds), but in demonizing Deep Ecology as an alien fanatical religious practice in this lawsuit, we can see once again how tighly Christianity is bound to capitalist exploitation and ecological destruction.

Deep ecology is not a single doctrine, but rather an ethical sensibility informed by a variety of perspectives on the relationship of hummankind to the whole of nature’s systems. We can oversimplifydeep ecology by saying that its fundamentals include a belief in the intrinsic value of all forms of life as well as the holistic diversity of those life forms. The economic, technological, and ideological beliefs that prop up Western civilization antagonistically threaten the existence and diversity of natural life systems.

Individuals who adhere to the ideas of Deep Ecology are obligated to work towards radically changing those deadly attitudes and social structures. Deep ecology challenges the long-held anthropocentrist notion which entitles humans to take advantage of and destroy wilderness at will and for private profit, a view obviously held sacred by the A.C.L. timber industrialists.

Anthropocentrism derives from core Judeo-Christian values that have been part of the settler-capitalist catechism on this continent since the early seventeenth-century. Consider, for example, the preaching of Puritan minister, John Cotton. In his popular pamphlet of the 1630’s, “God’s Promise to His Plantation,” Cotton claimed that God desired colonists to “take possesion” of land in New England, saying that whosoever “bestoweth culture and husbandry upon it” has an inviolable divine right to it.

The Native Americans, dying in large numbers from exposure to European diseases was proff that God wanted to wipe the slate clean for the Puritans and thereby better facilitate His decree in the Book of Genesis that humans aggresively “subdue” the earth. Christians were the center of the universe, exclusively licensed by Almighty God to dominate the land, eradicate wild nature, and replace it with the purity of civilization. “All the world out of the Church is as wilderness, or at best, a wild field where all manner of unclean and wild beasts live and feed,” Cotton proclaimed in 1642.

There were many others during the period who were at least as enthusiastic about Christ, colonization, and commercial cultivation as Cotton was, and these ideas, linked to distinctly Judeo-Christian models of linear (rather than seasonally cyclical) time, became ingrained in the settler psyche, especially during the era of westward expansion some two centuries later. Justified by the Calvinist capitalism of Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations — complete with its fallacious notions about the ennobling “civilizing” powers of wealth, marlets, and economic growth — the implications of Puritan repugnance for the wilderness and wildness on the North American continent becomes depressingly clear.

As inheritors of Puritan fanaticism that have erected the violent, intolerant faith of capitalism, it is individuals and organizations like the A.C.L. who hold a worldview that advances a five hundred year-old campaign of terrorism against entire bioregions and “empowers its adherents to take extreme action against those who would live by different beliefs.”

[blacktofade]

ok i combed through your blog for long enough that i think this is a safe space to do a little discussion of ccs personal lives. if not, you don't have to answer this. but: i know we are all very happy for skizz to be able to go full time with youtube and twitch but i am 99% sure i know what company he worked for — i don't think it's ever been too hard to find the info so maybe most people do? but i've never seen anyone say it directly. if it wasn't common knowledge before, this is going to make it extremely easy to find out — anyway, that company is going through fucking massive layoffs and cutbacks right now, which was announced in private to employees the same day that skizz made his announcement. i don't know how well it lined up other than the day, but the major shit he would have been in either pushed him to jump into professional youtubing and streaming even though it isn't as secure for him as people on the outside might think, or at the very least made the decision feel much better in retrospect.

the graph of the company's stock crash is painful even if you are entirely disconnected from the industry, it is historically awful. like the situation for the company as a whole is not, at this point, bankruptcy bad, but it's not-entirely-unwarranted-comparisons-to-late-90s-early-00s-era-nortel bad. which is… Very Bad. they're cutting approximately 1 out of every 7 employees (15,000 people) over the next couple of months, and in just one day wiped out $30 billion-with-a-b worth of value from the market. it's an absolute nightmare for the people working there, because nobody knows if they're going to be one of the ones getting laid off yet. the company's giving early retirement packages to push out some of higher earning workers, and even if skizz made his decision to leave after knowing the layoffs were coming, the chance he was included in that is very small. but i do hope he got a good deal, if he could.

in conclusion: it's very likely this choice was even scarier than anyone in the fandom previously thought, so… idk everyone please subscribe to skizz on twitch if possible!!!!!

This is absolutely a safe space for CC real life discussions, mostly because I know I'm way more deranged than any anon could be. I know things that would make CCs sweat.

I'm also going to name and shame the company, Intel, because Skizz has mentioned it before, so I'm not considering it a secret -- plus he's no longer there. It's also real shitty what they're doing and my heart goes out to their employees. I dealt with something similar recently and can confirm that these guys will have to wait weeks/months to find out if their job is safe and it will be the most degrading, dehumanizing experience ever.

I keep hemming and hawing about my 1000 IQ assumptions (lmfao), but he 100% knew about the layoff. Whether he heard about it and bounced or whether he took a volunteer deal is up for debate, but there's no way he didn't know it was coming. These companies are not subtle and Skizz is a smart man.

I am quietly praying he was able to take a volunteer deal though, because severance packages at those kinds of companies are WILD. Like, for some actual example numbers, a coworker of mine got 23 weeks of pay (8 weeks base + 15 weeks for years of service), which they received as a lump sum. Skizz says he's been with Intel for 20+ years so he'd be looking at base + 40 weeks. Dude would most likely get a year's salary lump sum (minus taxes), which would definitely help him going the full-time route.

Intel won't be going anywhere anytime soon, but their employees are going to be overworked and underpaid for the foreseeable future and we should be glad that Skizz is free! He's his own boss and, yes, we should all go support him to show he definitely made the right choice! He's such a delight and I will continue to be unwell and horny about him!!

[bonvoyagenoona]

Is the SO the pseudo-Yoongi???

Lol the SO is not the pseudo-Yoongi that I was posting about from a couple of years back, but I met him around the same time, and he is arguably even more Yoongi-esque!

Please forgive me, as I will take any and every opportunity to gush about this wonderful human:

He's an old soul, super gentle and very bashful.

He says he's not an audiophile, but that's just because he's humble. He knows a lot about music, recently got me new speakers, and even used to DJ!

His love language is acts of service. Especially cooking.

He's an amazing listener, and he gives me such helpful perspectives on things.

His baseline is stoic and professional unless he's getting really into a song, amped up by a video game, or playing with his/our sweet old man dog!

When we first started dating, we were in the checkout line at the grocery store, and I saw a magazine with BTS on the cover. By this point, he already knew about our beautiful fanfic bubble and my experiences writing and posting, but he didn't really know much about BTS. So I motioned to the magazine cover and asked, "Which do you think is Yoongi?" And he immediately, effortlessly, wordlessly pointed Yoongi out. I asked him how he knew, and he said, "Well, I looked at them all and just kinda picked the person I thought was most similar to me?" 🤣

Our strong compatibility makes life very easy. We've been together for nearly 2 years now. We have lived together for a year and 4 months, and we love each other very much. We're very happy. I'm very, very happy 🥹

In some ways, I feel like writing my stories manifested him? Whatever fantasies I have are more quickly brought to reality because he brings them to life. One day, we'll be entertaining Countermelody Yoongi sexy fun times 🤣😜 and another day, it's more Kittenfishing Yoongi best friend vibes, Arizona Iced Teas in hand as we stroll around and have one of our philosophical chats.

I'm also learning so many new things. I get wisps of inspiration to share more of what I'm experiencing now, in this chapter of my life. But I suspect that before I write a big project again, I need to live more of it.

The works I wrote from 2020-2022 were all these stories that had been piling up in me up until that point, like my experiences in academia, or my switch to industry, or how my experiences as a woman and as an immigrant intersect with those other life themes. So you could say that I'm almost doing another round of life research, making observations and processing new and even bigger emotions.

One really cool thing that he always does is check in with me to make sure I have creative time set aside. And he'll even build story prompts with me the way I used to. I have notes on my phone of one-liners and banter he's shared with me that I think would be particularly nice to sprinkle into a work, haha.

He cheers me on, too. Something funny or interesting will happen, and then he'll say something like, "That's a good one. You could even get pretty smutty with it. You should write it!"

Anyway lol. Thanks for indulging me and my late-night thoughts about my SO, lol. I feel very lucky. I am following where this is leading me. And I can't wait to share more of what I'm experiencing through writing again!

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

What baffles me is that all the “well 18 year olds are legally adults so they can do whatever they want including prostitution” crowd: that ok let’s accept that as true. That does not change the fact that their clients are hiring/watching them BECAUSE they are as close to children as they can legally get. Do you think a 50 year old man will sleep with a 18 year old because he things she’s a mature consenting adult that understands what she’s getting into? Her being young and vulnerable is the POINT.

I have a friend who’s 20 and works at a “café with legs”, which is basically a café where scantily dressed women serve you the drinks. Clients are almost exclusively male. They pay to have chats with the girls and they give them expensive things. She’s the most popular in the café despite starting to work there not long ago and, she’s told me multiple times, it’s because she’s the one who most of a “little girl’s face” has out of all her coworkers. Plus she always tells me how her coworkers are undocumented women who are often coerced into prostitution and going to third locations by their clients (fortunately she doesn’t have to do this because we are both law students with no immediate impending economic crisis). Many of her coworkers have told her that if they had their documents they would immediately go work somewhere else.

Man, I’m tired.

no its true thank you for sharing! this is a huge issue with these sexual „services“ that are not prostitution, that often lead to it though, in these bars with „bar girls“ and strip clubs too.

sexual „services“ are not about skill, thats why its not a job. its about being fuckable. a lot if not most women in porn and prostitution „retire“ around 25 not just due to health issues but because they start earning less with more experience and age. models do too, which is an interesting conversation to have, but obviously not the same and you actually do need some skill to be a good model, being beautiful is not enough. and what beauty is to models, fuckability is to anyone in the sex industry and adjacent grey area shit like hooters and the sorts. but ive also heard that models, especially those who do pornesque shoots, are often coerced into sex or trafficked or at least pushed into prostitution as well.

[blackfemmejeanvaljean]

like unless you do call center work office jobs usually pay better having a set schedule is better for your mental and physical health the jobs usually require some kind of degree which is a huge barrier for working class people (and the degree usually doesn't have to related to the job. when I worked at the mayor's office in high school half the people on that office didn't have poly sci degrees the office manager had a theater degree not to mention having benefits and holidays and weekends and evenings off allow you to be social and take care of yourself that's not to say you can't work in a comfortable office setting and not have a crappy experience but y'all only seem to complain about how terrible your office jobs are when you see retail/service industry people lightly vent may I suggest not punching for once if you want to pretend you're i. solidarity with the people that literally wait on you. I'm a preschool teacher I get paid less than elementary/secondary teachers and some service workers but the last 11 months of paid holidays set schedule retirement plans getting off at 5pm and always having weekends free with the exception of when I went to a conference for free having the state give me massive tax breaks and pay for my education have been better for my mental health than my 7 years in the setvice industry that doesn't mean I won't complain or that I'm no longer interested in forming a union with my fellow workings but I'm not gonna pretend like I have the same struggles I did when I worked dish or when I had to use handwarmers when I worked at a restaurant that had a host stand near the door. y'all really take for granted the "little" thing you have like a routine. having s routine and stability has been so fucking good for me I literally haven't thought about killing myself since last december. I was hospitalized 4 times because my old jobs made life so chaotic and J didn't feel like I had a way out. my old center sucked but I found I still wanted to work in this field so I just got a new job instead of thinking about ending it all idk man just maybe have some compassion fir working class

[gemistellium]

ASSORTED HEADCANONS — Milo James Thatch

When I first started writing as Milo, I wanted to pursue a holistic approach to his character that actively took into careful consideration the turbulent time period in which he lived. Here are some of the headcanons I’ve come up with him, to give y’all a better picture of my portrayal.

Growing up in GILDED AGE AMERICA had an enormous impact on Milo's character, and plays a distinct role in determining the course of his reaction to Rourke's betrayal. During this time period, "ROBBER BARONS" such as J.P. Morgan, Andrew Carnegie, and John D. Rockefeller ruled with an iron fist over their respective industries, flaunting their wealth and prioritizing profit over people in order to get ahead. Rourke's plan surely would have eerily reminded Milo of the greed exhibited by these individuals, heightening his aversion beyond the fierce desire to protect Atlantis and her people. The negative consequences of AMERICAN CAPITALISM were on full display as Milo came of age, and it is this that enables him to so clearly predict the mechanisms through which Rourke would weaponize Atlantis's material and spiritual resources.

Milo is incredibly SUPERSTITIOUS, and has been this way for the vast majority of his life. Many of these superstitions were instilled in him by his grandfather Thaddeus, but his firm belief in the concept that breaking a mirror brings bad luck comes directly from personal experience. Shortly before he was due to give a major presentation on Atlantis to the museum board, he accidentally broke a handheld mirror by dropping it on the floor — and the presentation was a failure.

Milo's grandfather, Thaddeus, was a veteran of the American Civil War. He was called to serve in the Union Army due to the Conscription Act of 1863, and subsequently joined the ranks of the men fighting alongside ULYSSES S. GRANT in Vicksburg, Mississippi. Thaddeus fought alongside Grant for the rest of the war, including APPOMATTOX. Milo grew up knowing of his grandfather's military service; however, Thaddeus rarely, if ever, spoke of his experiences on the battlefield. He once met the former General Grant at the age of five years old, but barely remembers it because of how young he was at the time. What he does remember, however, is witnessing firsthand the effects of trauma from war wrought upon his grandfather. As such, Milo has developed a profound fear of war & bloodshed and will strive to keep peace at all costs.

Thaddeus once attempted to take Milo horseback riding in the Appalachian Mountains; however, to say that this did not go well is an understatement. Milo returned home with several broken bones and a lifelong aversion to equestrian activities.

Milo exhibits numerous characteristics that, when considered collectively, would result in a modern day diagnosis of AUTISM SPECTRUM DISORDER. Milo's characterization in the film suggests that his SPECIAL INTEREST is the lost kingdom of Atlantis, and he "infodumps" to the expedition's crew numerous times throughout their journey. As exhibited by his difficulty to befriend his fellow adventurers, Milo finds social situations challenging; he is a LITERAL thinker who struggles to understand the subtle rules of etiquette that govern group dynamics. SOCIAL CUES, such as Kida's ceaseless flirting, fly right over his head, making him entirely oblivious to Kida's affections. His affliction of TIME BLINDNESS demonstrated in the very first scene of the movie and made possible by POOR TIME MANAGEMENT skills, is also evident of Autism.

Although Milo pretended otherwise — unable to stomach the fact that he was upset over the loss of friendship with a man who so callously put profit over lives — Rourke’s betrayal STUNG. For many years, lingering emotions over Rourke's status as a turncoat haunted Milo, and this tragic fact became his deepest, darkest secret. Not even Kida, who is able to read Milo like an open book, suspects that the emotional damage wrought by Rourke cuts so deeply. Milo values loyalty to friends and family above all else, and the experience with Rourke was the very first time he ever witnessed someone blatantly disregard one of his core values.

When he needs to think, Milo will take a walk on the beach at Long Island Sound. Oftentimes, this endeavor will instead lead to him getting distracted by acquiring seashells to add to his already extensive collection.

[roo-bastmoon]

Here's an idea for something positive to discuss if you'd like a thought experiment.

I think we all agree that Suchwita is EXACTLY the perfect type of show for Yoongi to host. It plays into his strengths both as a host and as someone who LOVES to give advice and perspective in his industry.

We also know that there's another member with excellent hosting skills among the Tannies...who just so happens to be the first one planned for release from military service. If Jin were to host some kind of show after his release before group activities resume, what kind of show do you see him hosting? Types of activities? Ideas of guests?

All hypothetical, of course! 💜💜💜

This is a fantastic and creative ask!

Let me think...

I know Jin loves to cook and to act, so if he wants to do something like that, I'd absolutely tune in. But he was also completely ADORKABLE on that drinking show... the one where the woman (I think Lee Youngji is her name if I'm spelling it right) interviews a guest while they get schnockered? He's so shy and funny, I'd love to see him do something with a bunch of crazy funny extroverted women, like a Say Yes to the Dress or The View or something.

He puts people at ease by being silly if they are straight-laced and the straight man if they have big personalities. An instinctive entertainer. So if he carries the Suchwita torch, he'd be good at it. But he's also great with kids and gaming.

I wonder if it would be really cute to see him do something like a camp counselor show for disadvantaged youth? It could have indoor and outdoor games, singing and dancing performances, fishing, an obstacle course like a mini-boot camp... whatever Jin would like to put the kids through.

Then again, older guys seem totally smitten with him (who can blame them?). What if he did like a cooking competition in a retirement home with celebrity guests from the residents' era? Sort of like a comeback for old actors or trot singers. It could be a show that could bridge a generational divide?

Hmm I dunno. He'd be good at so many things! What do other people think?

[haggishlyhagging]

While male prophets were devising more varieties of marriage, some of the female prophets were arguing against it altogether. There were several bases for their stance. Some, like Roxanne Dunbar, argued against marriage because revolution was a full-time occupation, leaving no time for purely personal concerns. They called upon women to leave houses, brothers, sisters, father, mother, children, land, to give single-minded dedication to their salvation. It sounds absurd. Still, how does it differ, when you come to think about it, from the same rationale for celibate religious orders?

Other radical female prophets objected to marriage not only because of what they felt it did to women but also because, like their conservative opposite numbers, they saw it as a major support of the status quo. But whereas conservatives argued for strengthening marriage because they wanted the status quo protected and preserved, the radical women argued against it because they did not. They were against marriage precisely because, as Judith Brown put it, it did shore up and support the status quo:

The institution of marriage ... is a potent instrument for maintaining the status quo in American society. It is in the family that children learn so well the dominance-submission game, by observation and participation. Each family, reflecting the perversities of the larger order and split off from the others, is powerless to force change on other institutions, let alone attack or transform its own. And this serves the Savage Society well.

Still others argued against marriage not only because it was conservative, but also because it was antirevolutionary in the sense that it deflected the righteous anger of workers against their exploiters. The wife who offered an emotional refuge to her husband from the jungle warfare of occupational competition was supporting a nonhumane system. Fran Ansley is speaking here:

Women serve as "lightning rods" for men's frustrations at other factors in their environment. This can be especially serviceable for the ruling class. Often it is the man of the family who experiences most directly the real power relationships in the society. (He sells his labor to a capitalist who then exploits him; he has a direct relation to industrial production; etc.) When wives play their traditional role as takers of shit, they often absorb their husbands' legitimate anger and frustration at their own powerlessness and oppression. With every worker provided with a sponge to soak up his possibly revolutionary ire, the bosses rest more secure. Chauvinist attitudes help to maintain this asocial system of tension-release.

But it is once more a case in which the woman pays. The mental health of men, their balance, is preserved by the ministrations of their wives, who salve the wounds inflicted on them by the outside world. The real beneficiaries in this framework are employers and exploiters of men against whom the aggression of unsoothed men would wreak itself. All is at the expense of wives, says Beverly Jones: “the inequalitarian relationships in the home are perhaps the basis of all evil. Men can commit any horror, or cowardly suffer any mutilation of their souls and retire to the home to be treated there with awe, respect, and perhaps love. Men will never face their true identity or their real problems under these circumstances, nor will we.”

Some argued against marriage because it was so oppressive for women. They translated the material presented in chapter 3 into polemics. This was how Judith Brown saw it:

The married woman knows that love is, at its best, an inadequate reward for her unnecessary and bizarre heritage of oppression. The marriage institution does not free women; it does not provide for emotional and intellectual growth; and it offers no political resources. Were it not for male-legislated discrimination in employment, it would show little economic advantage. Instead, she is locked into a relationship which is oppressive politically, exhausting physically, stereotyped emotionally and sexually, and atrophying intellectually. She teams up with an individual groomed from birth to rule, and she is equipped for revolt only with the foot-shuffling, head-scratching gesture of "feminine guile." ... Marriage ... is the atomization of a sex so as to render it politically powerless. The anachronism remains because women won't fight it, because men derive valuable benefits from it and will not give them up.

Some argued against marriage because it did not provide a suitable unit for the rearing of children. "There is," said Roxanne Dunbar, “little reality in the human relations in this society, and least of all in marriage. Ask the children what they think of the institution which supposedly exists for their upbringing, their beneft. All the love between ‘man and woman’ in the world will not make that tiny unit any less lonely, any less perverted to the child who is raised within it.”

A few, finally, fought marriage because they hated men. In reply to the "official" position against man-hating among the female prophets, one of them— Pamela Kearon—made a plea for open recognition of its existence in the displaced form of hatred of other women: "there is no dearth of hatred in the world. I agree.… People do not react to oppression with Love.... When women take their hatred out on others, those others are likely to be other women.... If hatred exists (and we know it does), let it be of a robust variety. If it is a choice between woman-hating and man-hating, let it be the latter."

It is doubtful whether these antimarriage arguments had much effect on the marriage rate. But the fact that they could be articulated, whether accepted or rejected, cannot help but affect the future of marriage. The idolatry of marriage was finally being challenged.

Jessie Bernard, The Future of Marriage

[meownotgood]

music producer! aki would be such a vibe. I’ve been thinking about this for like a week and I resigned myself to accepting that Aki would probably never be an artist but I love music sm so I will force it by any means! Anyways….

Aki is an extremely loving, devoted and kind soul but he expresses his affection through his actions/acts of service. I don’t think verbally expressing his feelings is his strength. I imagine music being the perfect medium for him to express everything that he feels within without words, utilizing the universal language to reveal the profound emotions that lay dormant within his soul.

I don’t think Aki seeks fame or notoriety so he’d be that one producer behind all your favorite songs but nobody really knows who he is… It’s the allure for me. I can so see him with an underground fanbase that zooms in on celebrity studio pics and you just see Aki’s topknot sticking out and we’re like “THAT’S OUR MAN!” and the girlies make edits of that. There’d be such a sexy mystery surrounding him and who he is. He’d serve us once in a blue moon with the hair down look. Badboy Aki knows what he’s doing FR

I envision him being really active in the underground rock, metal and rap scene. But he’d always give smaller artists a chance. He’d definitely be versatile too like don’t act like he ain’t produce ur favorite pop song. He’s just skilled like that 💋

Winter instrumental album in Hokkaido that gets sampled in every song like???? Hair down, graphic t, (key word) BOYFRIEND jeans, black converse, silver earrings and rings but without the t shirt, jeans and converse is such a lewk

Concert date, studio date, him making you songs, singing to you at night, playing guitar to you and other devious business *wink*

I rest my case.

I GET IT I SEE IIIIIITTTTTTTTTTT

I always think about what kind of music aki would listen to, I think he likes softer stuff but he's into some rock as well. he really likes anything as long as it has a good sound to it. gaaaah and aki making music to express how he feels is such a perfect idea I love it so much, I think it really does fit!!!

as a music producer, he's pretty talented and his work is really recognizable. he's been making music ever since he was younger; he got super into it because it was somewhat of a coping mechanism after he lost his family. he gets hired often and he has a hard time turning down any job because he wants to experience as much as he can. he'll make beats for any genre of music, in any sort of style, but he really likes when he gets to make something sweeter, something that's more true to himself.

when he makes the rare original song, it's instantly a hit — not in the way that it's super popular but more like it resonates with a lot of people immediately. he rarely sings or adds vocals to his music (he prefers to use other people's vocals) but when he does... whew.....

he's kind of elusive cause he doesn't go to a lot of parties or meetups and tends to keep to himself. he's well respected by everyone but no-one in the industry really knows the real him or anything about his personal life. they know some tidbits, but not enough to really call aki a friend. I'm thinking of aki who has his hair half-up and wears casual band tees and has his ears all pierced... maybe some other piercings too... perhaps lip piercing or eyebrow piercing... GAH

you see him play in person at a set once and you're just like... wow. sometimes he djs or plays guitar for local events and he rarely talks to anyone there but he's super good at what he does and always seems so focused. you're pretty intimidated by him, in all honesty, but he's actually really kind once you get the chance to talk to him. you catch him while he's having a smoke outside the building, you compliment his playing and he says thank you, he's glad you enjoyed it.

omg thinking about his social media... he definitely has a faceless pfp and literally never posts pictures of himself so the rare pictures of him are just ones that other artists have uploaded when they took selfies with him. he never posts anything personal either, his posts are just so business-y and serious lolol

boyfriend music artist aki who will turn and smile at you when you're watching him from backstage... who not-so-subtly writes songs about you... who's a little shy when it comes to his singing voice but he'll sing you to sleep any time you ask him... who will have you feature as background vocals in his latest song and make everyone wonder who's voice it was..... he's intimidating to everyone else but to you he's the absolute sweetest

[gaykarstaagforever]

Another fun editorial from my "favorite" publication, Business Insider.

This was written by the 57 year old rich man who founded it and is currently the CEO. But notice how the choice of picture tries to trick you into thinking a hot younger woman wrote it.

Which is odd, because BI can, and does!, hire hot younger women to write crap like this, all the time. Traditionally targeting Millenials. But I guess our persistent refusal to get knocked up has finally driven BI off to go harass our younger siblings. And Old Henry just couldn't contain himself around all these new young empty wombs anymore.

I read it to see why exactly, on a planet with too many people and too little affordable houses, this rich white man is so upset that people under 40 aren't breeding like they used to. He doesn't give a good reason, just something about how "giving children life" is brave. Which it isn't, by any definition of the word.

What he does take pains to do is explain why all our reasons for refusing to breed are bullshit. Well, he doesn't say it so harshly. Because obviously he's figured out that Elon Musk ordering white people to provide babies for his new crazy experiments isn't a method that's working. So Henry soft-pedals it. He admits war and climate change and political chaos are real, but not THAT real (I have no idea; you figure it out). But even if they are, and I'm paraphrasing here, don't worry, some heretofore unknown wizard or Superman shall appear and fix everything. So no worries, ladies! Be filled with seed!

What Henry doesn't seem to understand is that climate change and general violent chaos may be two of the stated reasons people have for not having kids, but aren't the only ones, or even the major ones. Most people who aren't as mostly-gay and mostly-asexual as myself are under the constant pressures of horniness and family expectations to not let the coming doom of the world at-large change their stances on condom usage.

People avoid having kids because of a perceived lack of support for their personal child-rearing, be it financial or social. If they are having issues with long-term commitment or financial security, they aren't going to sign up for 20+ years of raising another human being. And because we aren't willful idiots, we know financial security is ALSO a big reason people have problems maintaining long-term relationships.

Henry, no one under 40 is going to have kids if they know they're going to have to find a new apartment or a new job, in a new place, every 3 to 6 years. That instability is what is frosting everyone's nethers. And that isn't a philosophical problem, that is a systemic capitalism problem.

That guys like Henry caused. Because Old Henry here had to pay $4 million to the US Government back in 2003 for tricking people into investing in shitty 1990s dot-coms he knew were about to fall apart. He is banned from trading securities and working in the financial services industry anymore because of this.

People don't have babies on a roller-coaster, Henry. And you help build that roller-coaster. They aren't breeding because of YOU, you idiot. So you're hardly in a position to be lecturing anyone about how they aren't doing enough bareback.

...Also, back to the question of why old rich men like Henry Blodget are so worried about "population decline," a thing that isn't a thing. Sans him actually giving the game away, I'm free to speculate, and I will. This is probably that thing where he's worried about America's garbage social security system getting even more pointless without enough young people to steal from to pay the bills. Which is, AGAIN, only a problem because guys like Henry engineered both it and the economy in such ways that it is. They made a joke of a system that runs on bad stupid rules and now blame us for not following those rules. And one of those rules is "you (white people) all need to breed like rabbits," because every system these people make, including their religions, has that same weird rule.

Because these are weird, bad people. Who do financial crimes.

And that's why we don't listen to them.

[zalabratart]

Can you give us lore on your oc's, and why is that one diesel engine unarmed? I need to know that are the shunned or just nameless?

ok here we go just fair warning some character are more developed then others

it long you been warned

zeppelin/ experiment Z-1/6722 was an 0-6-0 tender engine build by the New York century railway in 1918 (the real photo is for reference) under 6722 who time under the nycr was not very interesting wasn’t until he was retired 1958 was when when thing started to happen zeppelin was perched by a man in 1974 who told him he was going to Bring steam back to power he didn’t think much about it at the time but now he wishes he did in 1975 the man started his rebuilt plan on Zeppelin and for 15 years they ripped pock replaced rearranged, added without green water (green water is kind of like horse tranquilizer for engines) to the point where he lost most of his memories. right at the start of the 90s his owner moved to Britain first shipping over the engine to the nearby heartfelt railway as the new mansion didn't have an engine shed but then his owner was arrested for reasons now in days zeppelin is haling trains and trying to get his rock band off the ground

Atticus/ Atticus is a stern 4-6-0 industrial class steam locomotive built in 1919 and work on the heartfelt railway in somewhere, England he was built and operated by Dalton and Sons, ship building yard or how it’s going to be known pier 32 which he is still operated by to this day over the summer he loses he’s arm and eye in the cobblestone rail explosion of 1956 where he was decommission for a good few years before pier 32 repair him and is currently in a relationship with zeppelin

Panther-panther was built in 1943 as W.D. Engine 594, in 1944 he was shipped to Central Europe to pull supplies trains for the allied powers where he stay until the war ended and afterward he was moved around from yard to yard, panther got his name from his unusual yellow eyes and black coat of paint, at the entirety of his service was pledged with ptsd causing him to become closed off from most people and engines. In 1952 he was transferred for the last time to a colliery near Northern Ireland where he met Crystal(later phoenix) who ran a name train known as the black diamond they were close friends until 1960 When Crystal was withdrawn and then in 1961 panther was withdrawn from service and had excepted his faith and be reunited with his friends until the heartfelt railway save him from scrap with him current condition worsened due to thinking he survived and she didn’t (but don’t worry they be reunited eventually 😉 )

phoenix/crystal-so phoenix is aforementioned girl she is an S&DJR class 7F steam engine built in July 1925 and spent most of of her career pulling a named coal train (the black diamond) for a shipping yard and for most of her life was spent with coal (more on him later) until 1955 an panther start at the colliery in 1960 the black Dimond was discontinued and 4 years later she was withdrawal from server she store on a siding right next to the ports station where she sat for 36 years until 1999 where she was attack by a steam hunter who destroy her side rods and her voice block acre making her paralyzes and mute and after that she was rescued by the heartfelt

Artemis-she is a BR stranded 9F steam engine an 92166 a month after her brother Murdock both they careers was spent haling heavy goods trains around Ireland until 1964 where she was sold to a private collector in Auston Texas she was told she was to leave tomorrow she said bye to her brother knowing this would the last time they see each other. she took her last train to Liverpool where she was loaded on to a ship descend for the states witch the ship made it without a hatch and made it to he ranch where she was treated a member of his family as he didn't have a wife or kids (he as secretly gay) along with all the other non faceless engine he brought they were happy Artemis even got to pull some rail excursions and started dating a diesel an Santa Fe EMD FP45 class named hawks (more on him later) but soon the old man got vary sick and so he died and will stated that ever thing was to go to the engine as they were his children but his sister (Artemis's surgent aunt) was able to have the will voided (she use plot convenient) but he had a plan for the engine, he had gotten other heritage lines to take them Artemis was suppose to be sent to a private railroad in Ohio but she couldn't levee hawks in Texas so she decided to just send her engine and buy a ranch with hawks but hawks sold her out to the steam hunter marking her for death unlike phoenix managed to get away mostly unsaved physically beside a bullet that graze her cheek that was shot by hawks but she was destroy mentally having boarded a ship being hulled to pier 32 scrapyard

Hartland point- Hartland point is an LBSC H1 class steam engine built in 1906 (making her the third oldest engine on the railway) she ran express duties until 1926 where she was reassigned to the cobblestone and harden fell branch line at this time there where three non faceless engines those benign Atticus Ham and Excalibur but mostly Excalibur Hartland and Cali hit it off immediately and soon became an unofficial couple and ran mixed traffic trains until 1960 when the harden fell Brach was close and the two lover were sent to pier 32 with at this time had a class 08 diesel locomotives the two were ready to face death together until they found out that the heartfelt railway was to reopen and they had being persevered now in day Hartland point help out with finances and her and Excalibur are now married

Excalibur- Excalibur is an LSWR N15 Class steam engine build in augest of 1918 and spend all of his career as a passengers trains until 1927 when he was transfer to the cobblestone and heartfelt branch line. despite being name after the fame sword of king Arthur he is a scarred cat especially towards faceless engine itis so bad that having to sleep in a shed with one can cause him to have sever panic attacks and the heartfelt roster at the time was made up of 5 lbsc a1 class tank engines (terriers),an lbsc L class tank engine (who was away on rebuild and replace by Excalibur), an lbsc e1 engine 120, an H1 Atlantic name Hartland Point, and ham a nelson 0-4-0 box tank engine who works at the tea plant, Atticus an 2-6-0 industrial class tank engine who work at pier 32. the last of the two are even apart of the railway and Hartland point would take night passenger train to Brighton, so his mental state was S>%t and sleep non nonexistent (me fr :D) so he turn to writing to clam himself down eventually he was move to a smaller two engine shed with Hartland point and this is when they kind of be can an unofficial couple and ran mixed traffic trains until 1960 when the harden fell Brach was close and the two lover were sent to pier 32 with at this time had a class 08 diesel locomotives the two were ready to face death together until they found out that the heartfelt railway was to reopen and they had being persevered now in days Excalibur (when ever he not pulling trains) is a fantasy writer with a diagnosed sleeping disorder and is now marred to Hartland point

ivy-Ivy is a British rail class 07 who was build in 1962 as D2990 and replace engine 32106 an E2 class tank engine (remember this ;) ), she (or at the time he🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️) ran under the name Archibald or archie for short she eventually had it put on a name plated something she come to regret doing (🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️) in the 80s she was purchase by the heartfelt a it second diesel and new maintenance engine. when she first arrived she was not the nicest engine and almost got sent away because of it (like she was repressing feeling 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️) in 1992 she finally relived that she was in fact a girl (🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️) and started to get her act together. as a maintenance engine she had a lot of free time so she took up gymnastics and acrobatics during this time coal griffin arrived on the heartfelt and she fell for him and he fell for her

griffin coal-(ok right before i started witting this i change his backstory and class and is name is subject to change his name is now griffin) is a LSWR M7 tank engine more prosaically engine 255 he was build in 1897 (making him the second oldest on the line) and was almost immediately reassign to the London necropolis railway as it main locomotive he still did shunting but multibed time a day he pull funeral trains and morbidly he enjoy these trains more then his other and was (and still is) fanatic by death and the hole in bombing process he happily continued until 1930 when he was sold to a colliery in north of England he work here by himself (beside crystal/phoenix) until 1952 when panther arrived immediately he try to make friends with little to no sasses but he evenly got him work with the colliery until 1960 when it closed and he was sold for scrap he ended up bounding between scrapyard until 1993 when he ended at the heartfelt railway and ramet panther and meet and fell for ivy and evenly ask her out (but that is a story for another day)

THE ONE YOU HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR

THE ONE

THE ONLY

🥳!!!!!! THE UNNAMED DIESEL !!!!!!!🥳

so the hole reason he was named that is not as excising he was name that case i had given him a name but now he has a story ( actual he had no story until yesterday may 29 2024) he is an BR class 28 (metro Vick type 2) he was build in 1959 a work for BR until 1964 when he as withdrawn from services for defying BR and protesting what was happing to the steam engine and was sunder by the other metro Vicks so he hide his engine on what he though was an abounded branch line and became an nomad engine traveling the world and picking up odd jobs. from time to time he pop into the heartfelt where his engine is preserved and tell fascinating stories to the other engines of his travels and he ends up spending a lot of time with royal crusader and his name is Compass the nomad engine

Riley- Riley is a GWR Hall class steam engine as engine 5973 Under the name Rolleston hall younger sister of olein hall she was build in 1937 and ran mixed traffic trains along the border of the LNER and GWR and anticized the LNER engines mostly an A4 known as sparrow hawk who ran the express in the region nothing intersecting happed in her career she was withdrawn in 1962 and was preserve in 1975. riley any chance she got was spent in libraries learning but she let the fact she book smart go to her head and boosted about it any chances she gets

Alex- Alex is a GWR 14xx tank engine build in 1933 as engine 4817 as so as he was fire up he left the works and made his way to the cobblestone and harden fell branch to work and still works to this day as the G&S tea company as it second engine he is a vary loyal and optimistic chape and a cinnamon roll who has an unhealthy obsession with reptiles

Ethan-Ethan is an E2 class tank engine build in September 1915 as LBSC engine 106 he work at Brighton until the 1950 when he and the other 8 e2 were sent to Southampton docks at Southampton was renumber 32106 (ringing any bells ;) ) and he fell off a pier he worked a Southampton until 1962 when he was sent to berry's scrapyard witch he was at for 5 years before going to a heritage railway close to London known as the pine field railway (this is not a real heritage line) he ran on this line for 8 normally around this time a little engine on sodor was making waves it was his younger brother 108 or Thomas as he was known now in 1975 he went in for a repaint and when he awoke he hear people screaming his brother name "THOMAS! THOMAS! THOMAS!" soon he started to move but not by his own strength and his was different and then he finally saw his refection he was no longer in BR black he was instead in a lite NWR Blue with red linin and a number 1 where the BR crest used to be and he lost his s*&t for a week it was nonstop children everywhere, torching everything, adults blithering him for things he didn't even do the hell he was in last two day and they put him in a small shed and lock the door all this was cause by that blue bastard he call a brother he life was this for 10 years, 10 long agonizing years until he company decided to replace him "For something the look more like Thomas the tank engine" so Ethan ran, ran as far away as possibly and was caught stealing coal from the heartfelt but instead of sending him back to the pine field they took him in and clean him up and repainted him

Ham- Ham is an nelson class 0-4-0 box tank engine build in June 1856 for the G&S tea company as engine one and is the oldest engine on the railway he a vary old kind soul

Luanne-basic run down

her basic back story is this song i was listening to in engineering class when i should have been working but instead was drawing

now the long version is that Luanne is not an engine she a ghost possession a locomotive more pacifically L&N engine 295 a K5 class steam locomotive how you may ask well (lady felt cute mite being a dead girl back to life later) for the most part Luanne has no memory of her past life 295 was build in April of 1925 and awoke in 1927 an Luanne and pull passenger trains around new Orlans to Louisville she was streamlined in 1945 and ran like that until augest of 1953 when she was retired and sent to a breaker yard she was unstreamlined and put on static display in a public park and stay there until she meet the six idiots and follow them to make sure the the didn't get f&*%$^g murdered and she went back to the heartfelt with them

sparrow hawk- sparrow hawk is a LNER A4 class steam engine build in November 1937 and ran express trains around the border of the LNER and the GWR interacting with riley who was sort of an rivel on an intellectual level (he had wisdom, she had intelligent) in 1962 riley was withdrawn from service and he throw a party at the LNER sheds and had the best year of his f#&$()g life until he was withdrawn in 1963 and was placed right next to riley it was the worst ten years for they both kept each other company but the heartfelt came to buy s sparrow hawk but he had a change of heart (no pun intended) and beg the senior director to save riley with they did and now both are good friends

the royal crusader- royal crusader is a Peppercorn A1 build in 1949 and ran express trains for the LNER and BR until 1962 when she was privately sold to a family who live out by heartfelt (this is a different family from the main family who own the Alex and ham) an there private engine with she still dose to this day

pastor- pastor is an BR stranded black five in 1954 and ran good trains on the heartfelt branch line until 1964 when he crashed in a field of a vicarage BR came and collect the tucks and cargo and left he had hope they come back for him (spoiler warning they never did) evenly the vicar took pity on the poor engine a put a tarp over him engine and invited him inside where he became part of the church and evenly is ordain as a pastor but when he found out that the heartfelt railway was reopening he went to talk to them to rescues his engine and they did, he still preachers at the church

hawks- hawks is a Stata Fe Fe EMD FP45 build in 1967 to run passage for the Santa fe railway in 1980 he stated dating an steam engine named artemins in 1987 him and artemins planed to run away together, none knows why he sold her out (ha i know but i ant telling) but he did and has regeared it everyday

a that it for now rat will be getting his own post and the other are d&d ocs and I'll put them in a another post

see ya✌️

[stardewthoughts]

Lewis

These are some ideas/headcanons/whatnot about Lewis that I’ve had. This is no end all be all, just my ideas, please share your own

To preface, I dislike Lewis, for a handful of reasons, but I will try to remain objective

firstly, Lewis doesn't know or care about like half his job. I know no 2 places are the same and often have differing roles and responsibilities and such but here are the general duties of a mayor

to be CEO (chief executive officer)

to execute and enforce the laws of the city/municipality

to hire municipal managers and employees

to preside over meetings/cast votes

to provide public services to the town and ensure they work

to give information and recommendations to the city council on improvements to be made

To serve as the official spokesperson for the city government and build a sense of community

To speak with constituents and listen to their concerns and questions

Lewis seems to only cover the easier or more enjoyable parts, he decides things for the town then has others do them, he sends information and reports into the local city/governing body, he acts as a spokesperson more to build up pelican towns name than that he actually believes half of what he says as well as speaking with the townsfolk (some more than others lol) he half-asses at public services, the town has power, water and waste management, but no public transport in a town where (as far as i remember) only 2 people have some form of vehicle, or no industries to help keep the town alive (mining, lumber and such) he's a paper mayor at best

but here's the thing, just looking around, you can tell it wasn't always like this, there is lots of decayed mining infrastructure, and with how the forest near marine's home grow's, its closer to a new regrowth forest, which could hint at a small scale logging business, as well as all the broken down or decayed infrastructure. at one point the town was thriving, likely early in Lewis's career, but now everything is broken and supposedly the town is lacking in funds. the one commonality, Lewis

now I'm not saying he was the only factor, but he holds a lot of power to change said issues, its literally in his job description to fix the town but he relies on the goodwill of a private citizen to fix and build up the town, or is willing to sell land to a megacorporation that would flatten pelican town to build a factory in a heartbeat. now for disliking Lewis I don't think its laziness or pure greed-corruption that led him to what he is today, I think somethin may have happened, early on, he may have lost a loved one, or some similar heartbreaking experience, that left him depressed or distraught, and while id say he's possibly worked to manage it, it changed him, the happy man who wanted t help his hometown became a sad man alone in a big house who couldn't make the hard choices anymore and began skimming by life.

all that doesn't change what he's done but may explain it

[joemuggs]

The Local is the Local

OK this is another unfinished article. Entirely my fault this time. I wrote it as a draft for a magazine, who asked me to rejig it (fairly in this case - it's a bit bitty), but life events stopped me doing the rewrite in time - and the longer it sat on my hard drive the more of a burden redoing it felt.... So I just need to dump it here, get it out there, and then develop the theme in a new way next year. Because it IS about something important to me (to all of us really), so hopefully having it out in the world will help me get my thoughts in order. Interesting sidetone: I had not heard of Cory Doctorow's concept of "enshittification" when I wrote it!

**********

To paraphrase Dickens, they were the shittest of times, they were the even shittierest of times. The litany of war, pestilence, impoverishment, looming destruction, failing institutions and all the rest really, really isn’t funny any more. Just shit. Even the lowest-information of punters notices the decline daily: not just when they need services like police or doctors or public transport, but in the very fabric of things. Even the relatively cosy market town where I live with my family – having moved out of South London to the New Forest in 2017 to give our two then-small kids space and fresh air – noticeably has crumbling building facades and a lot of shut-down shops, and the big towns are worse.

Our nearest cities are Southampton – which to be fair has never recovered from its PTSD from World War II anyway – and Bournemouth. Bournemouth, too, has always been a bit tatty – seedy too, the epitome of faded Victorian glamour – but nonetheless energetic, like the party town it is: a kind of Brighton minus the airs and graces. Lately, though, that energy is muted to say the very least. The city centre is eerie as anything with some of the biggest department and chain stores boarded up with nothing to replace them. It’s not quite a wasteland, but it’s not itself, either. It’s not right. It feels sad.

It’s easy to get angry about this stuff. It’s even easier to get down and defeated. A decade and a bit of neglect of… well…everything in the name of austerity has weakened everything, eroded the resilience needed to ride out the latest economic shocks. And the state of towns and cities doesn’t just symbolise this, they are the heart of the problem, the ebbing away of commerce and socialisation in them drives atomisation. Often it feels like too many people are beaten down, resigned, heading not towards riots but just towards a creeping anomie, distancing and acceptance of inevitable worsening of… well… everything.

There are oases of hope though – albeit slightly odd ones. Some of the best times I’ve had in Bournemouth lately have been at record fairs. Now, yes, I’m a middle aged man with decks and Kallax shelves in the garage, but honestly, this isn’t what you’re thinking. These aren’t just forums for people like me to jostle and hustle over dusty crates and bore on about rare pressings. They’re family affairs. They’re fun. The Eats’n’Beats fair takes over coffee roasters’ courtyards, with food, clothes and craft stalls. Re:Warm’s pop up shop is run by Balearic geezers, taking over a craft brewery taproom so people of all ages can eat, drink and socialise all day long around the music.

There’s two vital parts to this, the first being the food and drink. Food halls, stalls and fairs have maybe got a bad name lately, thanks to blanded out mall versions, price gouging at festivals and – worst – the gentrification spearhead affairs masterminded by hospitality industry wideboys to create bourgeois enclaves in big cities where almost all white attendees can sample safe packets of “ethnic” experience for £8 a recycled cardboard plateful. But step outside the metropoles and the picture is very different. People are thrilled by culinary variety, and very glad indeed to support local cooks and produce merchants. Food fairs are actual special occasions.

Back in late 2020, Covid still running amok, Owen Hatherley wrote a piece for the Guardian about high street regeneration focusing on how the people of Preston, Lancs took the initiative in what he called “craft beer social democracy, based on small trades doing interesting things.” My antennae sparked on reading it and I couldn’t get the phrase “craft beer social democracy” out of my head. If an arch Corbynist like Hatherley could find things to love in something so close to the Cameronian Big Society / Jamie Oliver Big Lunch model, odd things were afoot.

The second element in play is music, especially club music, and the culture that comes with it. The Balearic aspect in particular – laid back, anything-goes, not beholden to the doof-doof, but smart and interesting sounds – provides the perfect atmosphere to come-one-come-all daytime events. Even in a staid village, get a few people sitting around on haybales drinking craft cider and eating pizza, play “I’m Not in Love”, some Soul II Soul and some Róisín Murphy on nice speakers, and hey presto: vibes upon vibes. And just as importantly, the hypersocial, and now cross-generational, nature of club culture provides its own infrastructure to build on too – again, something easy to take for granted or write off as facile if you’re in a major hub city, but a lifeline if you’re out in the gammon-infested sticks. I already knew this thanks to my wife being a founder of the Big Fish Little Fish family rave organisation, and getting to see the joy it brings to relatively socially isolated parents, but seeing the same vibe connections seeping into genteel school fetes and pub gardens has been an eye-opener.

That linkage into subculture in turn links into a different sort of urban regeneration: the DIY venue. Last year, not that long after I’d made contact with the Bournemouth record fair crews, I got invited to write about the music scene in Tyneside and was bowled over by the sense of an area relatively overlooked by arts funding and the culture industry determined to build its own infrastructure. Venues like Cobalt, Star & Shadow, The Lubber Fiend and World Headquarters are created and maintained not just for their own scenes but with a sense of adding to the fabric of the city. Again, as with the Preston story, something that stood out was the "odd blend of hard-left politics and entrepreneurialism" that comes when communities pull together.

My weekend in the Northeast made me think again about other spaces I’ve attended, been in touch with or heard friends enthuse about. Sheffield’s Hope Works, a proper down and dirty techno dive that every year blossoms into the No Bounds arts festival across the city. Rye Wax in Peckham, the record-store-café-venue that’s been in suspended animation since Covid lockdown but is about to be reborn with an Arts Council funded youth mentorship programme in tow. Futtle brewery in Fife. Spit And Sawdust skate art cafe bar in Cardiff. Partisan, The Carlton Club and White Hotel in Manchester. The Golden Lion, Todmorden. The Cellar Arts Club in Worthing. Sneaky Pete’s in Edinburgh. Future Yard in Birkenhead. Club Uniquity in Somerleyton, Suffolk. Café Indie in Scunthorpe...

There are dozens more besides, crucially each with its own approach and character, a million miles from the sanitised O2 / Carling / Live Nation owned £7 plastic-glass-of-rat’s-piss monoculture that has taken hold of venues and festivals in this country. Some are built around dance music, but many around indie rock or noise/experimental music, or LGBTQ+ scenes, or all of the above. Often there’s radical politics behind them, but just as often you’ll find a hodge-podge: as in Hatherley’s “craft beer social democracy”, necessity makes for interesting alliances, and hard left and woolly libs, idealists and bootstrap entrepreneurs, rigorous ethical frameworks and widepersons of the blag economy, will rub along together.

But whatever their individual slant, they tend, crucially to have deep roots in some kind of subcultural history. At the time of writing I’m preparing to head up to Bristol to chair panel discussions at the Black Gold Vinyl Fair at Lost Horizon HQ. This gig/rave venue, cafe, gallery, marketplace and VR studio (!) is run by the team behind Shangri La – the successor to Lost Vagueness as Glastonbury Festival’s “naughty corner” – with an ethos eyeballs-deep in mischievous hippie/anarchist-leaning squatter history, but also the organisational nous that it takes to be part of the 21st century double-fenced Glastonbury megalopolis. That sense of subcultural history – folk culture, even – has been brought brightly to life just recently by the celebrations of what would have been the late, great Andrew Weatherall’s 60th birthday. They may have begun in superclub fabric, but they progressed through smaller venues in Belfast and Glasgow to close with a weekender in the strange, storied Golden Lion in Todmorden.

All of this – the food fairs, the vinyl and beer all dayers, the record shops with charcuterie, the little rave dives with coffee machines and yoga classes in the daytime, all of it – is sorely needed. The triple whammy of Brexit, Covid and the Cozzy Lizzy (as we must now call the economic collapse) have hit the music industry very, very hard, and gigs and festivals worst of all. Even international acts are finding it hard to tour and will do for the foreseeable future, which is going to be career ending for some – and for many of the tens of thousands of people who prop up the infrastructure. It’s hard to overstate the damage, but there are at least crumbs of comfort for young acts, local scenes and little venues held together with gaffer tape and deranged strength of will.

And our towns and cities need them, too. It’s been wild seeing the conspiratarians and antiwokers turn on the 15 Minute City as the latest target for spittle flecked ranting. But hopefully, maybe this can be a galvanising force for all the rest of us to remember that actually, yes, our neighbourhoods can be better. The craft beer and food court aspects may have got a bad rep as being bougie or gentrifying, but that is a misunderstanding and ultimately snobbery. Thankfully the subculture parts – whether it’s punk, rave, balearic, queer scenes or whatever – do still manage cut across class and other social boundaries. And ultimately, given the right welcoming atmosphere, having a drink or a cake and listening to tunes is pretty inclusive as activities go.

Oddly enough, there isn’t really any map to this territory, there’s no guidebook to where to find the truly independent happenings. Perhaps that’s because those big brand sponsored faux-popups, box parks and gentrifier vanguard food courts with their PR budgets suck up all the air of publicity, perhaps it’s because the indie spaces are too cranky, too individual, too busy just staying afloat to link up into a movement. They need each of us to seek them out.

We don’t really have a flagship community space in this bit of the south coast just yet – at least I don’t think we do: I’d love to be surprised and proved wrong. My exploration of our nearby cities has been cursory until recently, having had social life limited first by young children, then by two years of Covid disruption. Only now, with my kids hurtling into their teens, am I really finding my feet socially and musically. But between a few ramshackle bars and shiny breweries and those fun afternoons rifling through tunes and eating fancy cookies, I am finding a few glimmers of hope. And in these shittest of times hope is, of course, the most precious commodity of all.