It had been one of those fights. Not the big blow ups, not the dramatic, world ending, “you slept on the couch for three days” kind of fight. No, this was smaller, pettier, the kind of spat that didn’t even have a clear winner- just a steady, simmering annoyance hanging in the air.

And if there was one thing you were good at? It was swimming laps in lava when the bar was set on the Earth’s core. So while Tony Stark sulked in his lab, running his mouth to JARVIS as usual, you took your irritation straight to the system itself.

A little rewiring here, a bit of code meddling there- voilà. JARVIS was suddenly offline in three very particular places: Tony’s lab, Tony’s bedroom, and Tony’s kitchen. In other words, the holy trinity of Tony Stark real estate.

The results were immediate. “JARVIS, pull up the schematic—JARVIS?” Pause. “…JARVIS?” Longer pause. “…Great. The one time I actually need him, and he’s decided to ghost me like a bad Tinder date.”

From the kitchen “JARVIS, coffee. Two sugars, one—JARVIS?” Bang of a cupboard door. “Oh fantastic, I guess I’m living like a caveman now. Somebody call National Geographic.”

And from the bedroom, muffled through the walls, pure exasperation: “JARVIS, lights off. Lights. OFF. …Fine, I’ll just lay here in a blazing supernova of LED brilliance until I go blind. That’s fine. Totally fine.”

The best part? He knew it was you. Of course he did. And instead of storming to confront you like a rational adult, Tony leaned into the bit, narrating his suffering out loud as though he were in some grand Shakespearean tragedy, hoping you were listening.

“Somewhere out there,”

His voice echoed down the hall

“My dearest partner is laughing maniacally, enjoying my descent into madness. Congratulations, love of my life. You’ve bested a genius. Hope it was worth it.”