Letâs say you wanted to glue fabric to wood, but what do you use? What about glass to paper? This to That lets you choose two things you want to glue and lists what types of glue is best. (Because people have a need to glue things to other things!)
This is one of the first websites I was told about in props. It also has information about the toxicity, adhere time, price, and other stuff about the glues.
synopsis :: peter has been working himself to the bone, but never forgets to visit his favorite bakery before it closes to see his favorite personâŠthe food is nice too ig. but what happens when his midnight loopy rambles turn into him forgetting what he said the night prior.
warnings :: fluffff (had me giggling and kicking my feet writing it my gods) peter being a cute stuttering teenager stuck in his 22 year old body
word count :: 2k
pairing :: peter parker x fem!reader
marvel masterlist
a/n :: this can be read using any pater variant btw, I just got back from watching brand new day for the third time already so obviously tom holland is itching in my brain the most currently
The bells above the bakery door chimed, a sound you usually only heard when the sun was higher and the streets were busy. You looked up from wiping down the marble counter, a greeting already on your tongue, but the words caught in your throat.
Standing in the doorway, bathed in the bright morning sunlight, was Peter.
For the past four months, Peter had been your midnight regular. He always showed up exactly ten minutes before closing, looking like he was running on nothing but sheer willpower and cheap coffee. Half the time, his hair was a wild, windblown mess, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, and he would mumble through conversations, completely forgetting what you two had talked about the very next night. You had grown used to his sleepy, charmingly loopy late-night visits, always making sure to save him a warm pastry and a listening ear.
But seeing him now, in the middle of the day, felt entirely surreal.
"Peter!" you said, a wide smile breaking across your face as you set down your towel. "Wow. It is incredibly nice to see you in the daylight. No offense, but you usually look like a zombie when you walk through that door."
Peter blinked, looking a bit startled, though a soft, tired smile tugged at his lips. He adjusted the strap of his backpack, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Yeah, uh, hi. I was just in the neighborhood and realized Iâve never actually seen what this place looks like when the sun is up. Itâs nice. Youâve got a really great setup here."
"Thanks," you chuckled, leaning against the counter. "Iâm just glad youâre awake enough to appreciate it. Though, I have to admit, I didn't expect to see you until tonight. Iâm really excited for our date, by the way."
Peter froze.
The color drained from his face, his jaw dropping slightly as his eyes widened in pure, unadulterated panic. He stared at you, his mind clearly racing, trying to dig through a foggy haze of sleep-deprived memories that simply weren't there.
"Our⊠our what?" Peter squeaked, his voice cracking slightly. "Our date? Tonight?"
You blinked, observing the utter confusion radiating off him. Then, the pieces clicked into place. The late nights. The heavy eyelids. The way he could barely remember his own name on some days.
"Oh no," you said, a soft, sympathetic laugh escaping you. "Peter, do you not remember?"
"IâI am so, so sorry," he stammered, his hands flying up in a frantic, apologetic gesture. His cheeks flushed a bright, burning red. "I swear Iâm not doing this on purpose. My brain has just been absolute mush lately, and IâI honestly don't remember asking you out. I feel like the biggest jerk on the planet right now. I am so incredibly sorry."
"Hey, hey, breathe. Itâs okay," you reassured him gently, waving off his apologies with a warm smile. "Seriously, Peter, itâs fine. You don't have to apologize. I know how exhausted you've been lately. Look, itâs totally okay if you don't remember. And honestly, itâs also totally okay if you don't actually want to go on a date with me. You can absolutely back out, no hard feelings. I get it."
"No!" Peter blurted out, a little too quickly, a little too loudly, causing the elderly lady who had just walked in to startle a little. He cleared his throat, his eyes locking onto yours with sudden, intense earnestness. "No, itâs not that at all. IâI actually would really, really like to go on a date with you. Like, a lot. I've wanted to ask you out for months." He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish, breathless grin replacing his panic. "Clearly, my subconscious had more confidence than I did. I just⊠um⊠where exactly did we say we were going?"
You let out a delighted laugh, charmed by his sudden burst of honesty. "You didn't say. You told me it was a surprise."
Peter blinked, a look of comical defeat washing over him. "Of course I did. Sleep-deprived me really set the bar high, huh?" He shook his head, a genuine, excited smile finally taking over his face. "Okay. A surprise. I can do that. I will figure something out, and I will be back to pick you up tonight."
"Actually, hold on a second," you said. You grabbed a small notepad and a pen from beside the register, quickly scribbling down a few lines. You tore the piece of paper off and handed it across the counter to him. "Just pick me up from my place instead. Iâm closing up the bakery a little early tonight to get ready."
Peter took the paper, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a spark of nervous excitement through both of you. He looked down at your address, a beaming, radiant smile spreading across his face.
"I'll be there," Peter promised, his voice soft but full of genuine excitement. "I won't forget. I promise."
"I'll hold you to it," you teased gently.
As Peter turned and walked out of the bakery, the morning sun catching the edge of his jacket, he couldn't stop the massive grin from taking over his face. For months, those late-night stops had been his only sanctuary from the chaos of his life. He adjusted his backpack strap, glancing down at the paper in his hand one more time. He couldn't believe his luck. His midnight bakery visits had somehow landed him a date with a truly beautiful woman, and for the first time in a long time, Peter Parker couldn't wait for the sun to go down.
You opened your apartment door, the words already forming on your lips to ease his anxiety, but Peter beat you to it.
"I am so, so sorry," he rushed out, standing on your welcome mat with his shoulders hunched, breathing heavily. He looked adorable in a nice button-down shirt and clean jeans, but his hair was a messy, windblown crown. "The subway was completely stalled, and then my phone died, and I justâI swear I didn't forget this time, I justâ"
"Peter, hey, look at me. It's fineâ" You cut yourself off, your eyes catching on something bright and wet at his hairline.
Just above his temple, hidden slightly beneath his brown curls, a small trickle of fresh blood was peeking out and staining his skin.
Before he could finish his next frantic sentence, you lunged forward, grabbed the collar of his jacket, and haphazardly pulled him straight into your apartment. You slammed the door shut with your foot and immediately stepped into his personal space, your hands lifting to his face.
"Oh my gosh, you're bleeding," you gasped, your fingers gently parting his hair to inspect the cut. "What happened? Did you get hit? Did you fall? Are you okay? Does your head hurt? Do you feel dizzy? Should we go to the hospital? Peter, talk to me!"
Peter blinked down at you, completely frozen by how close you were and how fast you were talking. His heart hammered against his ribs, partly from his sprint over here, but mostly because your hands felt incredibly warm against his skin. He gently took your wrists, pulling your hands down a fraction to stop your frantic inspecting.
"Hey, hey, I'm okay, I promise," he said, trying to brush it off with a casual, lopsided smile. "It's just a scratch. I, uh, I actually ran into some trouble on the way here. There was this person getting mugged in an alley near the station, and I couldn't just walk past, you know? I stepped in to help, and things got a little⊠messy. But the guy was safe! I just took a little tumble."
It wasn't entirely a lie. He had saved someone from a mugging. He just conveniently left out the part where he did it while wearing a red and blue spandex suit and swinging from a building.
You let out a long, heavy breath, the tension leaving your shoulders. "You got hurt helping someone?" You looked into his eyes, searching for any signs of a concussion, but found only genuine sincerity. "Wow. Okay. If that is the reason you're late, then it's more than okay. You're a good person, Peter Parker."
Peterâs cheeks flushed a light pink, completely caught off guard by your praise.
"Sit," you commanded gently, pointing to one of the chairs at your small kitchen table. "Don't move. I'm going to get the first aid kit."
You turned and hurried toward the bathroom, opening cabinets and rummaging through shelves. Left alone in the kitchen, Peter finally took a moment to look around.
Your apartment was lovely. It was filled with the warm, comforting scent of vanilla and sweet cinnamonâexactly like the bakery, but softer, more personal. The space was decorated with cozy lights, thriving potted plants on the windowsill, and framed art that made the whole place feel incredibly inviting. It was so much nicer and cleaner than his own cramped, drafty apartment. It looked exactly how he had pictured it would.
"Found it!" you called out, jogging back into the kitchen with a white and red plastic box.
You pulled up a chair right next to him, opening the kit and pulling out an antiseptic wipe. "Hold still. This might sting a little."
Peter sat perfectly still as you leaned in. He barely felt the sting of the wipeâhis advanced healing was already working on the cut anywayâbut he definitely felt the gentle, careful way your fingers brushed through his hair. You applied a small, neat bandage over the wound, smoothing down the edges with a satisfied nod.
"There. All patched up," you said, closing the first aid kit. You looked at his tired eyes and then out the window, where dark clouds were starting to roll in. "You know⊠considering you just fought off a mugger and look like you're about to collapse, what do you say we just stay inside tonight? We can cancel the surprise plans."
Peter blinked, a look of mild panic returning. "Wait, really? But I actually did figure something out! I have a whole plan, I promiseâ"
"And it can be saved for next time," you interrupted smoothly, offering him a warm, reassuring smile.
Peter relaxed back into his chair, his shoulders dropping as the stress fully left his body. "Yeah? Okay. Next time sounds great."
Then, a beat passed.
Peterâs brain, slow as it was from a long week of superhero things, finally fully comprehended what you had just said. He jumped slightly in his seat, his eyes locking onto yours in utter shock.
"Wait," Peter squeaked, his voice cracking again. "Next time? We're⊠we're gonna have another date?!"
You chuckled, amused by his sheer disbelief. "I mean, yeah. If you want to?"
"Are you serious?" Peter asked, leaning forward, his expression a mix of awe and confusion. "You still want to put up with me? Even after I completely forgot we had a date this morning, and then showed up to your apartment late, bleeding, and ruined your plans tonight? You still want a second date?"
You just shrugged, a playful glint in your eyes as you stood up from the table and walked over to the fridge. "Peter, you got a concussionâor, well, a cutâsaving a stranger. I think I can forgive a little lateness. Besides, I like a guy with a good heart." You pulled out some fresh pasta and ingredients from the fridge, setting them on the counter. "Now, how do you feel about homemade pasta? I'm making dinner."
Peter sat at the table, watching you move around the kitchen. His shocked, wide-eyed expression slowly melted away, replaced by a massive, beaming smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Peter knew he was exactly where he wanted to be.
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grace trusting rocky's skills so much he goes "you couldn't fix your astrophage collector?" in surprise and triggering rocky's "fail fail fail" spiral VS rocky trying to encourage grace by going "we won't give up. we're brave" and immediately triggering grace's memory of getting forced onto the mission. they just looooooove accidentally triggering each others' PTSD it's their favourite game
As if Joanne couldn't get any shittier, she misgendered and insulted a woman who called for support, all because the woman had PCOS/PMOS and "didn't sound feminine enough."
Fuck her.
Your shitty children's series isn't more important than people's lives.
All those "spend just 35 minutes doing a bunch of really hard exercises and you'll feel great forever!" videos are really discouraging. I usually end up doing like, 2 minutes of some of his while waiting for my shower to heat up, and ykw?
That's 2 minutes more than I would have done otherwise.
This guy!!
He does a lot to lower the barrier for self care; His fitness program is called "It's not exercise, it's just moving around" and he also has a food series called "It's not cooking, it's just mixing stuff"
Those are super helpful to reframe the activity to make it feel more accessible (especially if you've got the perfectionist paralysis type of executive dysfunction)
Last I came across this guy, he was only on instagram and tiktok, but apparently he's on YouTube now, so you can watch his stuff without those particular hellsites.
"But AI can't do your job. It can help you do your job, but that doesn't mean it's going to save anyone money. Take radiology: there's some evidence that AIs can sometimes identify solid-mass tumors that some radiologists miss, and look, I've got cancer. Thankfully, it's very treatable, but I've got an interest in radiology being as reliable and accurate as possible.
If my Kaiser hospital bought some AI radiology tools and told its radiologists: "Hey folks, here's the deal. Today, you're processing about 100 x-rays per day. From now on, we're going to get an instantaneous second opinion from the AI, and if the AI thinks you've missed a tumor, we want you to go back and have another look, even if that means you're only processing 98 x-rays per day. That's fine, we just care about finding all those tumors."
If that's what they said, I'd be delighted. But no one is investing hundreds of billions in AI companies because they think AI will make radiology more expensive, not even if that also makes radiology more accurate. The market's bet on AI is that an AI salesman will visit the CEO of Kaiser and make this pitch: "Look, you fire 9/10s of your radiologists, saving $20m/year, you give us $10m/year, and you net $10m/year, and the remaining radiologists' job will be to oversee the diagnoses the AI makes at superhuman speed, and somehow remain vigilant as they do so, despite the fact that the AI is usually right, except when it's catastrophically wrong.
"And if the AI misses a tumor, this will be the human radiologist's fault, because they are the 'human in the loop.' It's their signature on the diagnosis."
This is a reverse centaur, and it's a specific kind of reverse-centaur: it's what Dan Davies calls an "accountability sink." The radiologist's job isn't really to oversee the AI's work, it's to take the blame for the AI's mistakes.
This is another key to understanding â and thus deflating â the AI bubble. The AI can't do your job, but an AI salesman can convince your boss to fire you and replace you with an AI that can't do your job. This is key because it helps us build the kinds of coalitions that will be successful in the fight against the AI bubble."
- Cory Doctorow, The Reverse Centaurâs Guide to Criticizing AI
I almost fell for a phone scam today. The moral of this story is that it doesn't matter how smart you are, there is a scam out there that could very well GET YOU in the right circumstances.
For me today, those circumstances were: Several days of being underslept. Over-stressed. Forgot to take my ADHD meds this morning. Already dealing with the harried mental state of day-before-travel stress. A personal panic trigger of missing appointments because I forgot about them.
We all know by now that the IRS will not call you on the phone. The jury duty people also will not call you on the phone, and this was the crucial piece of information that I did not have cold hard confirmation of today. Here is what happened, so that you can be equipped in case these fuckers call you:
Man with an American accent tells me he's from my city's courthouse. He tells me I missed jury duty summons yesterday and that now I'm in Trouble for contempt of court and failure to appear for jury duty. I protested that I hadn't gotten a notification for jury duty, he talked over me and said scary things about getting law enforcement involved unless I went to pay some fines and talk to the judge Right Now Today. He told me that I legally wasn't allowed to hang up the phone or put it on mute. He told me that I was under a "gag order" and I couldn't tell anyone about this except law enforcement or immediate family members. He already knew my address. He had official-sounding case numbers which he made me write down and repeat back to him. He had official addresses of where I needed to go and what I needed to do: Take the cash for my "fines" to a kiosk where I would pay them and receive a "voucher" that i would then take to the courthouse where I would supposedly speak to a judge. He told me again that if I hung up the phone before I got to the courthouse, it would be taken as obstruction or failure to comply or intent to flee and he would notify the police. He told me that if I went to sort it out with the judge, it might be waived and my money would be refunded.
I have not gotten jury duty summons for a WHILE -- since before the pandemic -- and I had been idly thinking recently that maybe I was due for one. So I heard all this and my panic button about Forgetting/Missing An Appointment got hit dead-on.
I panicked, I was upset and frantic, I was not thinking clearly. This is how they fucking get you.
Honestly, thank god he wanted me to take cash to a different location instead of giving him any financial information over the phone. Thank GOD for that, because it gave my nervous system 30 minutes or so to calm down and my higher brain functions to come back online so that I could notice that there were simply too many red flags in one interaction. I did go to my bank, I did withdraw quite a lot of money in cash.
The address he gave me to go to next was for a gas station. When I expressed confusion, the scammer had smooth explanations, and before I'd even parked, he'd texted me some glossy "official" looking infographics on how to use the kiosk and why the """government""" had started doing payments this way (supposedly a COVID measure, and because the funds were 'safer' or something). The kiosk, these infographic images said, was run by a company called BTC Tech, which they claimed was "Bailing Institute & Technologies". You will notice that that does not match the acronym. The infographic was full of grammatical errors, and thank god he had me sit there in my car and read the whole thing out loud "to make sure i understood it" so that I could hear myself vocally trip over every single one of those grammatical errors and think "Wow, this is weird, it wasn't proofread?"
He sent me a QR code for the ""kiosk"" which had a familiar logo on it. He had persistently asked me for my ETA to the next location, and he was pressuring me to get out of the car and go inside to the kiosk, and it was at this point that I started lying and said, "Sure, hang on one second, i have a pebble in my shoe or something I need to fix first" while I was googling "Bitcoin logo" to verify.
Didn't really need to verify because when I went inside, the only "kiosk" looking thing was an ATM looking thing that had "BITCOIN" written on it in very loud letters. Which brings us to one of two admittedly hilarious interactions, wherein i was standing there in front of the fucking bitcoin machine with my eyes narrowed going, "This is for Bitcoin" several times while he said "No no no no it's not, it's not bitcoin, it's BTC tech" and I kept saying "Well but it says Bitcoin on it in big letters." "No no, it's just a multi-currency system, it's for the courthouse, you have to get the voucher." "Ok but it's fucking BITCOIN, this feels like a scam, I don't think the government uses BITCOIN."
I walked out. I went back to my car. I told him that I wasn't comfortable, and that I needed to call the courthouse to verify with them what the charges were, or I needed to go in person to the courthouse to check what was up. He told me if I hung up, I'd be arrested, and if I stepped foot on government property, I'd be arrested.
It was at this point that I utilized a weapon which in many cases is very dangerous and unethical to use but hey, it's perfect for situations like this: White Lady* Tears. This is exactly the situation they're MEANT for -- buying yourself time to think when a man is strongarming you into meek obedience and fear.
(* I am nonbinary but he didn't need to know that.)
Anyway I pretended to cry and told him i felt nauseous and that i was going to be sick and i was just uwu so fwightened and upset and uwu uwu uwu sob sob i felt like he was getting mad at me and it was so scawy oh woe oh no -- while this happened he texted me an arrest warrant that had one of my old roommates' names on it instead of mine, but that EPIC FUMBLE didn't even matter because the whole time I am frantically googling on my phone "jury duty scam" and finding a Reddit page from a guy who posted about the exact same thing happening to him.
I hung up. I called the courthouse, got patched through to the jury pool department, and as soon as the guy picked up, I said, "Hi, my name is Alex, I just got a call saying that I missed jury duty--" and before I could even finish the sentence, the guy said, "That was a scam, we will NEVER call you." I said thank god thank god oh fuck thank god, which brings me to the second hilarious moment of this escapade, where the jury duty guy cheerfully said, "But if you have a couple thousand dollars on you, you can come over and give them to me if you want!" which did make me burst out laughing. Thank you, jury duty guy, for that much-needed moment of levity. I hope you're having a good day.
You are not immune to social engineering. I am 36 years old, highly intelligent, educated, and VERY tech-savvy, and those fuckers STILL caught me at just the right moment and with just the right hook that it triggered panic and desperation and shame and guilt and overrode my critical thinking skills for a solid 30 minutes. If it happened to me, it could happen to you. BE FUCKING VIGILANT. THE IRS WILL NEVER CALL YOU, AND JURY DUTY WILL NEVER CALL YOU.
In hindsight, I'm actually glad that it played out the way it did. For one thing, as a life lesson, that was a pretty cheap one -- all that it cost me was about an hour of my life (including the time it took to go back to the bank and deposit the money I'd withdrawn, gossip extensively to the bank teller about what happened, and get home) and some grey hairs.
For another thing, that fucker spent all that time on the phone with me and didn't get my money. I snatched his smug asshole victory right out of his mouth at the last second and wasted his time -- time that he otherwise ould have spent scamming someone who might not have gotten over their panic in time.
I actually wish that I'd kept him on the phone longer, tbh. If I'd been less rattled, I bet I could have strung him along for another hour or two. Better he spend it with me than with someone else.
JURY DUTY WILL NOT CALL YOU ON THE PHONE.
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