Aliens are too often depicted as very human-like.
Bilateral symmetry, main sensory organs on the head, dexterous hands on
arm-like appendages, etc. Even size is relatively close or averages to around
human size. But when you look at our own world, humans are giants. Relatively few
animals have mass comparable to or greater than humans. Our height is
particularly astounding since we evolved bipedalism and adopted a vertical
stance rather than one that’s more horizontal, which you see even in other
bipedal animals like birds.
So what if the same holds true for humanity compared
to aliens? There are many advantages to having a smaller body, after all: fewer
necessary resources to live and grow, more stable stances if they walk on three
or more legs, better adaptability to cataclysmic events, and many others. If
the species comes from a world with higher gravity especially, being lower to
the ground is far more preferable rather than spending a lot of energy fighting
the higher gravity.
So when humanity arrives
on the interstellar scene, how would a universe filled with (generally) smaller
sentients react to the new giants?
Warnings: If you like happy endings, this fic isn’t for you.
There were many things in life you hadn’t planned for. For starters you’d never planned to move to DC. It had been an impulse decision when you felt suffocated in your own state, and it was there, and it was welcoming. You’d never planned to rent out the apartment next to a certain FBI agent. You could barely afford the rent but after looking for a cheaper place and seeing the safety risks, you’d decided to take the one bedroom apartment.
You hadn’t planned on having your purse stolen on your way home one night. You had dragged your feet on your way home afterwards, a mix of anger and disappointment with humanity filling you. You groaned when you realized the landlord was still out and wouldn’t be available to open your door that night. Instead you simply took a seat on the hard floor and hoped fate would send something, anything, good your way. Much to your surprise, fate’s idea of a good thing was a tall gorgeous brunette.
“Are you ok?” Spencer asked as he saw you leaning against your door, utterly defeated by the long day you’d just endured. He himself had just gotten in from a case and was surprised to find someone in the hallway so late at night.
“I don’t have my keys,” you sighed deeply, “I won’t be able to get into my apartment until the morning when I can ask the landlord for a spare.”
He looked you over as if assessing if you were telling the truth and whether or not you’d be any danger to him. You weren’t offended by it. The city was a dangerous place and it wasn’t uncommon to be wary of even your neighbors.
“You can sleep on my couch if you want. It’ll be more comfortable than the floor,” he offered as he opened the door to his own place.
“You promise you won’t kill me?” you asked jokingly. He chuckled, finding the question more amusing than you expected him to.
“Trust me, I’m not a killer,” he assured. He smiled and motioned for you to follow him. “Come on. It’s only a night.”
You hadn’t planned to spend the night on his couch, and you definitely hadn’t planned on falling in love with him either. That just sort of happened on its own due to the way the two of you clicked, your conversations flowing effortlessly. Simple conversations turned into coffee dates. Coffee dates turned into dinner dates. Dinner dates turned into dates that lasted well into the night, and even bled over into the next day until the sunrise shining through the windows let Spencer know it was time to get up for work. Spencer himself hadn’t expected to fall in love either, but soon enough he found himself in your bed most nights with a joyous grin on his face and you in his arms.
You hadn’t planned on many things, and being pregnant was one of them.
Spencer was in shock when you told him, just as you had been. You had been on birth control. He had used protection. The possibilities of getting pregnant had been minuscule, so tiny that the idea had never crossed his mind. It’d never even crossed yours until your period didn’t come. Even then you had been doubtful. You’d missed periods before due to side effects of being on the pill, but you had decided to take a test just to reassure yourself that you weren’t pregnant but the reassurance never came.
That one positive test turned into four after you rushed to the store in a desperate need for it to be negative. One after the other, they all read the same.
Both of you had sat in complete silence that night. You sat in front of the television, the sound muted the second you had announced that you had something important to share. Your mind was clouded and you were unable to formulate a single plan. All you could feel was fear. You were young. Unlike Spencer, you didn’t make enough money to be able to care for a child. Hell, you could barely afford your home. All of it simply made your stomach turn in nerves. Meanwhile, Spencer’s mind was spinning with new thoughts. He would have to take time off. He would have to find a way to be at home more often. As much as he adored both Hotch and JJ, he was aware of how often they left their children behind and he wasn’t willing to do the same.
“We’ll be ok,” Spencer finally spoke as he leaned back into the sofa. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, his hand giving you a gentle but reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be ok.”
Within a month Spencer’s worried outlook had completely changed. He was excited, eager to become a father. He had kept the news a secret from the rest of the team simply because he wanted to enjoy something by himself for a moment. He figured he would let them know when your stomach had grown into a tiny bump, a physical proof of the life growing inside.
You’d gone to the doctor and had been told to try to rest as much as possible. A weak cervix. That’s what he had said. You instantly thought back to the distant memory of your own mother losing a child. You were just a kid, but you remembered the way your mother had cried. That sort of grief would be burned in your memory no matter how hard you tried to get rid of it. The revelation instantly made you nervous and so you decided to keep the news of the pregnancy to yourself.
Spencer had since then done his best to tend to your every need. Every moment he wasn’t on a case was spent by your side. He was attentive, obsessive even as he lectured you on what you could and couldn’t do in your state. You’d roll your eyes when he’d refuse to even let you stand at times.
“I have to pee, Spence,” you laughed when he tried to push you back into bed. He grinned sheepishly, aware that he had been just a tad too overbearing the past weeks.
“Just don’t take too long. You need to lay down,” he replied.
“I’m allowed to walk. I just can’t do heavy lifting or strenuous exercise. If I don’t get up from bed I’ll lose all my muscle,” you frowned.
“Just take care of yourself. Please,” he begged.
Life, it turned out, had its own plans.
It came out of nowhere while you showered one morning. A sharp pain that begun in your stomach and stretched to your back. You gasped, unsure of what had caused it until you saw the blood begin to flow down your legs only to be washed down the drain with the rest of the water. You watched the red droplets turn pink and be gone in an instant.
You went still as the pain worsened, leaning onto the shower wall as the blood turned into clots. You watched in horror as your body cleaned itself out. The blood clots come out thicker, some made of tissue and not disintegrating as quickly down the drain. You could feel the life leave your body and crumpled into yourself.
You didn’t know how long you sat there, curled up into the bathtub as the shower overhead continued to run. Your body shook with your sobbing, so loud even the tenant beneath you wondered what was happening. You cried until you couldn’t cry anymore. The warm water turned ice cold as the hours passed, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. In that moment you had lost all the will to live as your child had been lost. You remained silent, as if you had lost your voice along with any happiness you had felt that day.
Spencer found you like that. He had been away for a week on a difficult case and had thought of you the entire time. He had let himself in with a bright smile on his face that quickly vanished. When he walked into an empty bedroom with only the sound of water running, he had immediately been struck him with a gut wrenching feeling.
He felt himself lose his breath at the sight of you. Your skin was raised in goosebumps from the freezing water and your hair stuck to your face, concealing bloodshot eyes. You looked so fragile as you laid against the bathtub, your eyes dead of any emotion. He hurriedly rushed over to turn the shower off, his eyes widening when he saw the small amount of blood that still trickled out of you.
“Y/N, what did you do?”
You couldn’t answer. A choked sob left your throat at his question, at his accusation. As if you had done something. As if you had purposely caused this.
“I don’t understand,” he said again as he took a step back. His hands flew into his hair, grabbing at it in an odd desperation. He thought back to the various pictures you’d sent while he was out and recalled the conversations about your mother visiting and the activities she wanted to do. “I told you not to eat unhealthy food! I told you to stay in bed when your mother wanted to go for walks!”
You cringed as his voice rose with anger. A painful shiver shot through you at the cold air hitting your skin, but it wasn’t as hurtful as the words that were spewing from Spencer’s mouth. His words burned through you, the venom seeping straight into your heart and causing it to ache.
“I’m gone for one week! One week!” he cried, his emotions overflowing at the thought of the loss. “One week and you can’t take care of yourself! God, why are you so irresponsible! You knew this!”
“Go away,” you finally managed to say, your voice just above a whisper. You hugged yourself and curled up tighter in the porcelain bathtub. You couldn’t bear to hear his words. You couldn’t handle the fact he blamed you for this.
“Y/N, I just don’t get it. Why would you-”
“Go away!” you yelled as hot tears streaked down your face. Your vision blurred as your breathing became erratic. You shut your eyes, not wanting to exist anymore.
“No. Look at you. You’re still bleeding, you have to go to a hospital. You have to explain what you-”
“I don’t want you here,” you snapped, your anger rising at his constant blame. How dare he. How could someone who you loved, who claimed to love you, ever speak so ill of you in such a hard time. Where was the compassion? Instead all you got were harsh words and blame. "I don’t want you anymore! Go!“
Spencer’s heart felt as if it had been ripped out when he heard the anger and grief rip through your voice. In an instant the overwhelming waves of emotions inside him calmed and he realized what he had done.
He had blamed you. He had blamed you for something he logically knew wasn’t actually your fault. His own anguish at losing a child had clouded his mind and made him forget that you were the one who had physically lost a baby. You had felt the life inside you leave and it had left you broken. And here he was, screaming at you.
“Y/N…” he whispered, instantly filling with regret. He bent down and reached for you, noticing for the first time how cold your skin was and how alarmingly weak you appeared to be.
“Don’t touch me,” you whispered as you flinched away from his fingertips. His heart shattered as he watched your eyes stare blankly at the drain, the tub lightly stained pink from all the blood you had lost.
“I…,” he couldn’t speak. You took one look at him and he knew. He saw it on your face. You wouldn’t ever want him back after his outburst and the accusations he had so carelessly thrown around. He saw the heartbreak in your eyes that he would never be able to mend.
And so he left, the image of you broken forever burned into his mind.
spiteful soulmate (one) - college!tom x soulmate au
pairing: College!Tom x reader - Soulmate AU
summary: College!Tom and Soulmate AU - Part One
Soulmate’s bring vivid wonders of colors and love one’s once vacant and dull life, but when Tom parades into your life, a once seemingly beginning to a blissful, adoration-filled romance sparks your heart, he sweeps right under your feet and turns those sweet, enchanting glances to a fiery sensation of hatred within no time.
warnings: language, that’s about it lol
a/n: Part one to this little mini-series!! hope you all enjoy lovelies!!<333</b>
The concept of having a soulmate was always foreign to you. Not physically having one, but just the idea of it. Your exterior world since birth consisted of a dull, lifeless, colorless view that trailed you everywhere.
Walking around on a hot, sunny day in the middle of July and all you see is the dim color of the humid sky, the sun no where near the type of beautiful, earthy shining your parents told you about your whole life.
The most ghastly part of it was that you had no clue what you looked like. Well, you knew your familiar features, but the glorious coloring cascading all down your figure was vacant. Your parents had described the coloring along your body numerous times, but not knowing how they defined you in such a distinct way made it sort of pointless.
The rules were, once you muttered those three little words to your soulmate, I love you, your world would suddenly turn vividly wonderful, every color as far the eye can see would ignite into your eyes and you would then be able to see everything for what it truly was.
The only rule was, your words had to have a heartfelt meaning behind them. One could not blankly mutter the words to numerous people, hoping color would soon be present in their life. It had to be the right person, and somehow, the heavens knew when your heart truly meant the phrase that rolled off your tongue and into your life forever.
There were cases when you thought you truly loved one person, but no color sprouted after the phrase, meaning no soulmate. You had to move on until you found the true person you were meant to live in color with.
That wasn’t the case for you, though.
You hadn’t found your soulmate yet. And being in college made it even more difficult due to the fact the average age to find your soulmate is sixteen. But, you didn’t mind. Living your life independently and getting to do the things you’ve always wanted to accomplish was successful, but the whole ‘no color’ ordeal was the downside.
You never really felt within you so strongly that you had truly found your one and only. Well, your naive, eighteen year old brain had once wandered at the thought of one person being yours forever.
God, the name brings such animosity to pump through your veins.
Freshmen year of college, you saw those playful, bright eyes hit your widening gaze and you swore, your heart skipped a couple beats. You made your way to sit down in Calculus, biting your lip nervously as you felt his gaze follow you to your seat. Your cheeks heated with nervousness as you situated yourself slowly before daring to peek through your eyelashes to meet his stare once more.
His lips form a small smile as you lock eyes with him, the air in the room thickening as you feel your entire body light up with a burning sensation, your mind wracking for any kind of situation as to where a boy, as beautiful as him, would ever give this much attention in one period.
Throughout the class, you witnessed his sweet gaze turn around to look back at you every couple of minutes, glossy eyes scaling your facial features sneakily. You would continue to send sweet, innocent smiles back before he finally mouthed, “Hi”.
You felt your heart wrack against your chest as you processed what to do or say next, never being in this type of situation before. Blocking out your nerves, mustering a sudden wave of unbeknownst confidence, you peek down at your papers slightly before slowly gazing back up, shooting him your shyest yet sneaky smile you could form, mouthing back, “Hi”.
But not all is what it seems. A sweet start to a seemingly blissful romance was all it seemed to be as the beginning stages of budding relationship began to take flight.
Months went on and your vivid feelings never faltered for a second. Sweet, sneaky glances soon turned into a thread of long walks around the campus, laugh being shared between the two of you and innocent flirting back and forth day by day. Your heart was soon pulsing as thoughts of him raced around your clouded conscience all the time.
Your inner conscience began to click in the impression of color as Tom’s charming, gentle smile made its way onto his thin lips, his smooth voice carrying itself softly to your ears as his slightly curled hair was laced through his muscular hands as he raked his fingers through it.
Your mind would sit for hours and just drift off into a endless daydream of Tom, pondering the types of colors you could just sense you would one day be able to see across his features, the beautiful light hitting his captivating gray orbs in such a way your heart would flutter and your veins would flush with nerves. Even though you saw no color, your body just knew what type of vivid imagery this beautiful could radiate.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N,” he spoke, seeing his dorm room feet away from your stopping point. You smiled and waved goodbye as he bounced off, your emotions wracking your body intensely.
You were content. You were sappy, yet you were comfortable and head over heels for this boy. His soft words would send you into a frenzy as his intelligence and personality contrasted, causing him to become even more flawless than before.
You were falling hard for Tom Holland, and soon enough, you knew you had to confirm those new, glowing colors that would soon become apart of your world.
Something in your heart clasped at the thought that he may reciprocate those similar igniting feelings, you were sure of it.
Or maybe not.
“Mate, who’s that chick that’s constantly trailing your ass twenty-four-seven?” you heard from around the corner of the hallway, ears perking at the familiar sound of someone’s voice.
You turn slightly away from the way, peeking over your shoulder to see the group of boys chuckling about twenty feet from you. Your eyes scan the small crowd and land on a familiar head of hair, heart instinctively pumping at the sight of him.
Fuck, can you chill for like a second?
Each boy seems to be laughing at something, heads rolling backwards and Tom’s eyes are cast downward, toned arms crossed over his chest as he diffuses a demeanor of cockiness in some odd sort of manner. You turn your head to the side in confusion as you continue to watch quietly, keeping your figure hidden from sight.
Tom sighs heavily and looks back up, pursing his lips presumptuously as his pretty gray eyes squint slightly, “She’s nothing, I fucking swear,” he responds, waving his watch-clad wrist quickly as if he’s waving off the ridiculous set of scenarios they’re setting before him.
“Doesn’t seem like nothing, Holland. What is she, like a five?” one of them mutters, receiving chuckles from the rest of the group. Your heart begins to race a you wonder who these assholes were talking about, and why in the hell Tom was hanging out with them.
“Five? Is she naked? I give her a four.”
Who in the hell are these dickbags?
Tom then moves himself to the center of the small crowd and throws his arms up in defense as they start to push on him, shoving him against the others in a swift motion, “Look, look, look! Y/N ’s fucking in love with me and that’s that. Too bad all she’s getting is a two from me,” Tom hollers, earning hoots from the rest of the boys surrounding him, slapping him left and right.
All you felt was numb.
Your eyes dropped slowly as your breath hitched in the back of your throat, heart suddenly dropping to your stomach and ripping itself to pieces. Mindless thoughts began to rake your brain for answers as you felt your legs become weak and your eyes slightly shut with tears pooling in the corners of them.
Nothing was supposed to hurt his much, and nothing was supposed to matter as much as this did right now.
Your vacant, boring, colorless life had just redeemed itself once again, the continuation of pain pulsing through your veins.
Tom Holland was a fucking asshole who deserved no part in attempting to bring your vivid dreams to life.
You hated him.
God, no we’re going this way,” you quickly reached over, yanking Daya’s arm from its previous position to flip in the opposing direction, leading her down the long corridor.
She flips her head over to you and shoots you a look of annoyance as you begin to drag her long body down the hallway, “What? Why?” she groaned, the thought of having to trape around the entire campus just to get to English causing her body to immediately weaken.
You rolled your eyes hastily and continued to pull on her, her body limping at the abrasive contact, “Because,’ you continue, hugging your books closer to your chest as you checked your phone for the time. Daya flips her head around curiously, wondering as to why you forced her a certain way, “My sight to color could have been down that hallway, Y/N! My soulmate could’ve been around the corner,” she whines, her body lagging behind.
Her eyes squint as her ears perk at the whispers and loud, deep chuckles emit from the end of hallway, carrying themselves lightly to the two of you. Her eyes, responding cockily to the sight that fucked your entire daily schedule, roll to the back of her head and emits a sigh deep within herself, turning back around to your forceful pull, “Ahh, I now understand why you allowed Fuckhead One and Fuckhead Two screw us over and add six minutes to our schedule!” she hollered, throwing her free arm up in the air and dropping is heavily by her side, proving to make a point.
You stay silent and continue your trek, not daring to utter a response, knowing how much hell you would receive for answering honestly to the situation. You finally release her hand but refuse to turn around and have your eyes hit her “are-you-fucking-serious” stare, developing an entire new problem to the already longing, annoying, and ridiculous situation.
“No, actually, I don’t!” she screeched, bothered by your presence of complete silence to her question. Your eyes shut tightly, responding to her hollers of pointless activity before forming a fist with your right hand, heaving a deep sigh, and finally turning around to quicken these next few painstakingly slow minutes to English.
Eyes shooting open once you have faced her, her arms folded slyly over her chest as her pink lips formed a pursed look, her flannel hanging loosely on the right side of her hip, and her bright brown eyes wavering between “can you just please explain” and “you can talk to me”.
You release one loud groan before stomping your boot heavily against the chalky tile of the Math Building, every feeling of animosity pumping through your veins as your brain replays every situation that you’ve potentially avoided that thing, and how much anger one person can bring you, causing you to carry your lazy friend all the way around the building to get to class.
“It’s just- I can’t- UGH!” you grumbled, eyes rolling once more as you began to realize you were now stuck in the immediate position of telling Zendaya why you always do this.
She stares at you, still looking as brazen as ever, you mutter, “Z, you know why, okay?”
You witness her shoulders lighten slightly and her arms unfold as she soaks in your now downplayed demeanor, weakness casting glumly through your usual happy orbs as you speak about the one thing ignites your veins with such a fiery sensation of hatred. You glance nervously around the empty hallway, your voice strained with spite, “I just can’t hear it from him twelve times a day! He has made it his goddamn mission to piss me off since Freshman year and I honestly don’t think i can take it much longer!” you scream, arms flailing up in the air as Zendaya stares guiltily at your tired figure, the vacant hallway air growing thick with unbeknownst tension.
“I don’t know why, how, I could have ever looked into his eyes and seen anything but detestation but, I did. And that is the last thing I want to recall,” you sigh heavily, shoulders heaving down as you feel a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. She tilts her head slightly to the side and gives you a guilty yet warming smile as she comes towards you, arms open wide for you fall into.
You shoot her a similar look and wrap your comforting arms around her, squeezing tightly as her small frame radiated a buzz of kindness towards you. Zendaya’ s chin places itself firmly on your shoulder as she speaks jokingly, “God, do I feel sorry for the girl that has to be that asshole’s soulmate.”
You chuckle, pulling away her tight grasp, “Fucking tell me about it.”
so i have this thing i do to reduce anxiety where i pay attention to what other people are saying to try and see if they say anything funny. these are mostly people i don’t even know, just fyi. i write these down when i hear them and i’m digging them up for this purpose!
entj: “hey at least i don’t have a made-up religion like peter’s where it’s against his religion to take notes in class”
intj: “all i do at home is sit and study minor scales”
enfj: “i’m not saying genocide should be legal, i just think that cockroaches all need to go to hell”
infj: “oh my god…i don’t have a shoe on…i must have dropped my shoe in the hallway…wait i haven’t had two shoes since like third hour…shit…”
entp: “why the fuck did you try and clap your butt cheeks against an oscillating fan?!”
intp: “dude she’s a no-go, she doesn’t even have a mustache”
enfp: “fyi i am the toast god”
infp: “this baked potato symbolizes my life”
estj: “internet trolls are very important to the socioeconomic stance of the united states”
istj: “german numbers make no sense, this is why they don’t win wars”
estp: “huckleberry finn is an anagram for mussolini”
istp: “is salty an emotion?”
esfj: “i have this friend and he says he’s asian but he’s not. he’s from vietnam”
isfj: “hey leslie i haven’t seen you since like 1923!!!”
esfp: “they didn’t have lamborghinis to drive on stage, man!”
isfp: “who wrote the third act of romeo and juliet?? shakespeare’s friend jeff??” (this was because it didn’t have a prologue like the other acts)
Peter was more exhausted than he had been in weeks. He had been so good about sleep lately–he had even made a schedule to keep himself from having another falling-asleep-during-an-acid-lab incident–but this week had decided to be a serious dick to him.
So he found it perfectly understandable to skip his last class of the day (which was advanced mechanical engineering, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t catch up later) in favor of going home and napping. Because he had almost used his phone as a coffee stirrer an hour ago, and that seemed to make it clear the coffee wouldn’t really cover only having six hours of sleep in the past two nights combined.
Peter yawned for about the millionth time that day and scrubbed a hand over his face as he walked up to his apartment door. He started to lazily pat at his pockets for his keys with his other hand–and came up empty.
He frowned and patted himself down again. No jingle. No pointy key-ends. Frowning harder, he dropped his backpack and started to paw through it, even though he rarely kept his keys anywhere but his pockets (they’d been stolen from his backpack once and he still wasn’t over it). Unsurprisingly and unfortunately, he came up with nothing.
Peter briefly felt the urge to cry. All he wanted was a nap. He thought back through his day. He didn’t take them out when he was in the coffee shop–he didn’t even sit down. From what he could recall, he didn’t take them out in class either (because why would he?). Which left him with one, horribly stupid option–they were still sitting on his kitchen counter.
Inside his apartment. Because he was an idiot.
“Great. Perfect. Nice. Fuck this.” he snapped at the door.
Despite being a functional adult who could deal with this problem in a rational way, Peter was very tired. So he did a rather petty thing and kicked his door, hard.
Crying was seeming like an increasingly appealing option. Peter’s landlord already didn’t like him. He didn’t need to give him another reason to think he was a bad tenant (which, to be fair, he was, because with his superhero agenda–and his superhero friends–his apartment had been through a lot) by saying he’d lost his keys…again.
Peter sighed and sat down, leaning against his door and throwing his backpack next to him. He honestly didn’t think he had the energy to suit up and climb up to his window. He wasn’t even sure he would be able to find his window.
But he still needed to get in his apartment. Maybe he could magically learn how to pick locks without any effort. Or he could see if any of his neighbors would pick his lock for him–
Wait. I know someone who can pick locks.
Peter was both suddenly grateful and suddenly dreading what he knew he had to do. He sighed very hard and pulled out his phone and for the first time EVER dialed a number he never thought he would need to.
After two rings, he got an answer.
“Deadpool speaking.” Wade’s voice growled at him.
“Wade? It’s–Spider-man.” Peter awkwardly finished, almost just saying ‘Peter’.
The change in Wade’s tone was instant. “Yo, Spidey!” he screeched.
Peter winced and immediately regretted his decision. “Hi, Wade. I need a favor.”
“…Is it a murder-y favor? Because I’ve been trying not to do that so much and–”
“It’s not a job, Wade. I’m locked out of my apartment and I need you to pick my lock.”
There was a pause, and Peter swears he heard a snicker. “Did you web your keys to the wall or something?” Wade joked, then started to poorly cover up a laugh.
“I’m hanging up.” Peter snapped, and started to.
“Wait, wait!” Wade shouted, and Peter didn’t hang up. “I’ll help you, Spidey. Can you text me the address?”
“Yeah. Please show up before I have to sleep in my hallway.” Peter requested, then hung up. He typed out his address and sent it to Wade, who responded with a thumbs-up emoji, a winking-tongue-face emoji that Peter never understood, and informed him he’d be there in fifteen minutes.
Peter sighed and pulled out his Spider-man mask from his backpack. He really didn’t want to put it on, but Wade didn’t know his identity and Peter didn’t really think trusting him with it was a good idea.
Then again, he had just given him his address. That was almost worse, in a way. Wade was unarguably the most unstable man he knew, and he was coming over to pick Peter’s lock for him.
Peter briefly wondered if this was how he was destined to die. Not by some super-villain, but by letting a crazy person know his address.
I’m literally letting an axe-murderer into my house. Oh my god, this is how I die.
Peter was still busy imaging scenarios of Wade brutally murdering him when Wade showed up and raised an eyebrow at Peter’s sad scene. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie, which was surprising, though he still had both his mask and gloves on.
“Spidey?” he asked, then it clicked why Wade was looking at him funny.
Peter had forgotten to ever put his mask on.
“Uh, yeah. Hi, Wade.”
Wade suddenly slapped a hand over his eyes. “You forgot your mask.”
Peter sighed. “I guess I did. But I also gave you my address, so I figured if you were gonna murder me I couldn’t stop you.”
“Never mind. I’m tired. Please break into my apartment so I can sleep.” Peter said, gesturing at the door handle by his head.
Wade chuckled and walked over. He knelt down next to Peter and started to work on the lock with a bunch of tools that looked like torture devices. “So, not that I’m complaining, but why did you call me for this? You’ve never even used my number before.”
“Long story short, my landlord hates me already and everyone else would never let me live down leaving my keys in my apartment and not realizing it until now.”
“That’s fair.” Wade shrugged, then the door made a click and Wade turned the handle, and to Peter’s sleepy amazement, it opened. “Ta-da. All better.”
Peter gaped at how fast Wade had done that. After a second of chuckling at him, Wade offered him a hand. Peter took it and was heaved to his feet. He grabbed his backpack and entered, expecting Wade to follow.
But he didn’t. Wade stayed in the doorway, rocking back and forth on his feet.
Peter turned back and looked at him. He looked like a lost puppy. Well, a lost puppy who was trying to see as much as he possibly could from a doorway. Peter sighed. “Just come in.”
Wade giggled and ran in, immediately going everywhere. “I’m in Spider-man’s apartment!”
Peter slowly followed him, eventually ended up in his bedroom, where Wade was fiddling with things on his desk. “Don’t break anything.” he ordered, then promptly collapsed onto his bed face-down.
After a moment, he felt a weight on the other side of the bed. “Aw, is Spidey sleepy?” Wade cooed.
“Fuck off.” Peter snapped, and Wade laughed.
“That’s fair. I like your apartment, by the way. Tasteful.”
Peter snorted. “Does it accurately show off my college student budget?”
“Impeccably.” Wade said, flopping down on the bed next to him. “Dude, how old is this mattress?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it witnessed JFK’s murder, to be honest.”
Wade laughed, then they fell into silence. Peter was honestly half-asleep before Wade broke the silence again, and even then he didn’t really wake up. “Should I go?”
“Hmm?” Peter asked, turning to look at him.
“Should I leave? You seem about two seconds away from hibernation.”
Peter shrugged. “Probably. I’m gonna sleep for about fifty hours now.”
Wade smiled at him and sat up. “That’s fair. See you on your next patrol?”
“Considering you know where I live, I don’t think I can stop you from showing up to all of them.”
“Probably not. Sleep well, Spidey.”
Peter just hummed an answer and snuggled deeper into his pillow, listening to Wade’s footsteps get fainter–then get louder again.
Wade poked his head back into Peter’s room. “For the record, I like your face.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Go home, Wade.”
“It’s a nice face. Excellent face. That hair is killer. Do you condition?”
“Right, right. I’m going. Call me if you need a number for an actual locksmith, baby boy.” Wade chuckled, then left for real.
Peter threw his cover onto himself, rolled over into the spot Wade had made surprisingly warm in his short time there, and slept better than he had in what felt like years.
I just had a piece of cheesecake and it sparked a thought about sitting on the kitchen floor at 3 AM and sharing a cheesecake with Harry at the early stages of the relationship, sharing thoughts about life and what we'd want it to be. Talking about the idea of having a future together and what kind of wedding we'll have or names for the kids but all in hypothetical sense so we end up laughing and kissing with the sweet taste of the cheesecake still in our mouths.
He’s always loved her kitchen.
It’s small and fitting to her tiny flat and it joins on to her living room and it’s not large and it didn’t make him feel lonely, like his would do at 3 in the morning. It’s full of trinkets and it looks like it belongs on a page on Pinterest and it follows a scheme of red and white, with a few blacks thrown in, and there isn’t a hint of a dirty dish, except the plate they were sneaking pieces of cheesecake off, or a used glass, all but the tea mugs they were sipping out of, in sight. It’s warm, too, and he doesn’t feel the need to wrap up in a thick blanket or grab the black hoodie he’d thrown over the back of one of her dining table chairs upon his arrival the previous morning. The tiles don’t numb his bum to the point where he can’t feel it and his toes don’t feel like they’re going to fall off into chunks of ice and there isn’t a single goosebump appearing anywhere on his skin.
It wasn’t where he expected them to be, at 3 in the morning, but he had no complaints. Devouring a homemade Millionaire’s Shortbread cheesecake between themselves, one that was made for a party that had been cancelled last minute, chocolate ganache clinging to their lips and crumbs, from the biscuit base, falling to the floor. He’s know her for 6 months, bagged her as his own just a little under 3 weeks ago… and she’s never looked more beautiful to him. Her hair stuck up in one of the messiest ponytails he’d ever seen, her body clad in a pair of white sleep shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt that was a too large on her torso, and she had a face free of make-up. And even with chocolate beginning to clump at the corners of her lips, he was even more infatuated with her.
“Did I do good? Would Adie have liked this cheesecake?”
“She’d have been asking for more,” Harry grins, his teeth a little stained with the thick chocolate that hadn’t quite been devoured and introduced to his tastebuds, “it’s delicious. I never knew you were quite the baker.”
“You’re not the only one who used to be a baker, Styles,” she teases, nudging her foot against his with a smirk residing her lips. Only just being visible to his eyes.
“Ah-ah. Correction. I was the cashier of a bakery, I’ll have you know. I did pretty good. Gained a talent of slipping money from the tray,” he snickers, “I’m not all good voice and better looks. I have a talent for slipping the correct change out of a cash register and handing it over. You, my dear, are the baker between the two of us. A bloody good baker, if I do say so myself.”
Her cheeks flush pink and she couldn’t be more thankful for the darkened room around her. The minimal light being enough to hide the heat that flowed around her face.
“I didn’t do any baking for this though. It’s just mixing, pouring, spreading and using the fridge.”
“Well, Adie’s missing out on a lot,” he digs his fork into the circular edge of the cheesecake and pulls a piece free, the chocolate stringy and sticking to his chin as he wrapped his lips around the metal cutlery, “it’s so good. You’ll be on dessert duty whenever we have house parties or whenever we’re invited to mum’s for the weekend. If you can make a Christmas pudding, then, to my mum, we’re practically married.”
There’s a silence that swallows the room. Comfortable and relaxing rather than uncomfortable and wishing the ground would swallow them whole. The occasional scrape of forks against the china as they took more mouthfuls of the cheesecake that had slowly gone from a whole circle to a semi-circle with chunks taken out of everywhere.
There’s soft giggles that erupt from within them as he pushes the plate of cheesecake to the side and shuffles towards her, taking up the space beside her and resting back against the cupboard. A knee bent up as his other straightened out, warm toes curling around hers as her head lulls to his shoulder.
“You first,” she whispers, slipping the fork back between her lips to lick the remnants of the dessert left behind, “you can go first.”
“Do you maybe, uh, do you maybe want to spend Christmas with me this year? I know it’s a bit early to think about, or even agree to, considering we’ve only really been together for 3 weeks but I’d really like to spend it with you,” his head tilts to the side, his cheek pressed against her head as her hand came to rest upon his thigh, “granted we’re together then. We could do two Christmases, if you really wanted to. We could spend Christmas with my family and then we could do New Years with yours. Or the other way around. I mean, no one has really made any plans because it’s only July and December isn’t for another 5 months but it’s good to get early planning in, right? Or we cou-”
“Shut up,” she giggles, lifting her head up to look at him, “if it’s okay with your family, and if there’s some space at the dining table, and enough to go around, then I’d really like that. My parents are always away for the Christmas holidays and I originally go to Adie’s place because we usually have Christmas dinner together.”
“That works out then,” he looks down at her, “what did you want to say?”
She shakes her head and presses a kiss to his cheek.
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“No, come on. Tell me,” she feels a nudge to her side and a sheepish smile appears on her lips, “tell me, love. Never know what I’ll say if you don’t tell me.”
“It’s nothing now. I promise,” she hides her face in his neck and shakes her head, “I was just going to tell you how I feel right now. How this feels so right and how I wouldn’t want to be doing this with anyone else. I don’t have any guy just come in here and sit with me in my kitchen and eat some of the cheesecake I made for a cancelled dinner-party,” she feels an arm snake around her shoulders and she cosies up closer into his side, throwing a leg over his thighs, “I just wanted you to know that. I think you’re the first guy who’s stayed the night. The first guy I’ve ever had, I suppose. Unless you count male friends. But that’s never for anything. Jus-”
“Hey, shut up,” he mocks, his lips pressing against her forehead, “I’m honoured. I plan on being the only guy you ever bring back here, you know that, yeah? Excluding your male friends, of course.”
“I wouldn’t want that any other way,” she hums in content and clenches her toes, “the right side of my bed? I want it to be your side. I want your body dent in my mattress. I want your smell on the pillow. The bedside table on that side? That’s yours to fill with whatever. I want boxes of condoms in the draw and an extra charger because you’ll always forget that and a bottle of your cologne on the top because you know it’s my favourite scent of yours,” she pulls her head from his neck and looks at him, “I want you to pick a favourite coffee cup and claim it as yours for whenever you stay over and I want you to leave clothes here, or boots in my hallway cupboard, so that you never have to leave to get more.”
“I want to leave a bottle of my shampoo in your shower, maybe some body-wash of mine, and get a toothbrush for when I stay here, because I can’t keep using yours, no matter how many times you say it’s okay,” he snickers, his nose nudging hers softly, “I want to ‘accidentally’ leave my favourite hoodie here, or leave my gym trainers here, so that I have to come here, to knock on your front door, to get them and to see you before I get busy with my day.”
Her nose pinches in disgust.
“And leave my hallway cupboard with the smell of your stinky shoes? No thank you.”
“My shoes don’t smell, you nutter.”
She snickers and pushes up from the floor, straddling his lap as she perched on his thighs, hands held tightly in his as she laced her fingers through his slender digits.
“I want to do this more often, you know? I want you to stay over more, and I want to stay over at your place, and I want to cuddle because you make me feel less lonely when I don’t have anyone around,” she admits, “I want us to watch reruns of Friends on a Sunday or your favourite rom-coms because you hate not watching the unexpected and like knowing what’s coming. I want to wake up to your pretty face in the morning and say goodbye to you when you have to leave me for work.”
He smiles and nods into the darkness.
“Think that sounds absolutely perfect. Life sounds so good when you’re involved,” he squeezes her hands, “god bless the day you spilt coffee all over my new boots.”
“Guys My Age” Jeff Hardy – the reader has been flirting and playing games with Jeff Hardy for months, but Jeff has always had just enough hesitancy about the age difference between the two to actually act on it, but will that change?
a/n: listen to the song “guys my age” by hey violet when you read this, I promise it’ll make the experience a thousand times better. also it’s a long one, so buckle up for he ride and enjoy
WARNINGS: language, spanking, smut, lap dance, etc.
I sat in catering with my girls, leftover food and drinks scattering the table in front of us. We were all laughing and catching each other up on our lives and then some. Renee was currently dishing the details of her and Dean’s fun, spur-of-the-moment marriage, but I was only partially listening to the story (that I already heard on the phone the night it happened) because I could feel his eyes on me.
“And that was it; it was perfect. It was exactly who me and Dean are and I’m… I’m just so happy,” Renee gushed. She was met with a chorus of “Aw’s” from the girls around us, but I just rolled my eyes.
Ok, so this idea popped into my head almost fully formed and I just had to write it down. Inspired by a conversation I was having with @authordreaming13, heres a little.. i dont know. A little story I wish i had come up with before Halloween. I hope you all enjoy it.
Logan sat at his desk,
his arms crossed in frustration. He was stuck in this situation through no
fault of his own and there was nothing he could do to remedy it. But because of
a mishap between Roman and the infamous Dragon Witch combined with the unfortunate
timing of Patton opening Roman’s bedroom door… The four sides had been
transformed into different classic monsters.
Logan reached up and
itched at the bolts sticking out of his neck. Of course he was a Frankenstein’s
monster.. Just of course. He glanced down at his fingers, finding them the same tinged
green just they had been since last night. He had random
suture scars all over his body, which he found extremely unbecoming. Even his
clothes had become tattered and stitched in spots, almost similar to Virgil’s
style. Roman assured him this would last around 24 hours at most, and seeing as
this was magic, Logan
couldn’t do much about it. He sighed and scratched once more, these bolts were
He stood to
move away from his desk, none of his books offered him much information about
magic and dragon witches anyway, when he heard a knock at his door. He moved
and swiftly opened it, finding Roman in the hallway. The royal looked moderately
distressed standing just outside his doorway.
“What is it Roman?” Logan asked the figure
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He asked, gesturing
into the logical one’s room.
“Sure.” Logan spun on his heel and walked back into
his room. He expected to feel Roman’s presence behind him but when he turned,
the creative was still in the hallway, looking annoyed. Logan sighed audibly.
“Roman, you have my permission to enter my room.” He said, annoyed.
Roman swooped inside and closed the door behind him.
“Hey its not my
fault!” The regal vampire said exasperatedly. If you had asked Logan two days ago to
choose classic movie monsters to embody his counterparts, he would have
instantly assigned the role of vampire to Virgil. Something about his dark room
and overall aesthetic just made sense. But looking before him at Roman, he
realized the royal side before him embodied the regal style of the monster much
moreso. He stood in what was mostly his usual prince getup, but there was a lot more of a Victorian era flare. He also had a stunning cape that trailed behind him and
the classic vampire look: his skin was much paler than usual, he had a pair of
glinting fangs, and his irises were blood red.
course it isn’t, Roman. Now what did you need to talk to me about?“ The
stitched together trait asked, once again scratching his neck bolts. “Two
things, mainly. First… Do I look ok? How’s my hair?” he asked,
uncharacteristically unsure of himself. Logan
rolled his eyes once again, Roman had asked him this about a million times
since he realized he no longer had a reflection.
“You look like you
normally do, Roman. Well… Given the circumstances. What is the second order of
business?” The regal vampire rolled his red eyes.
wante-” he began but what was cut off by another knock at the door. Roman
instantly swooped to hide behind where the door would open and put his finger
over his lips. Logan was unsure what
that was about but ignored Roman’s antics and moved to the door. Opening it, he
“Heya Logan! Can I borrow your puzzlebook?” He
cheerfully asked. Logan
nodded and handed it to him from the bookshelf near the door. “Thanks Logan! I’ll be in the
living room if you want it back!” He smiled and wandered off. Logan closed the door,
revealing Roman. Logan
simply raised an eyebrow at the strange creature of the night.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about!” he
eyebrow remained raised.
“Patton! He isn’t a monster!” Roman exclaimed. Logan hadn’t even
noticed. But now thinking about.. Patton didn’t look out of the ordinary at
“Oh… You are right. He didn’t seem at all affected like
we do…” Logan
trailed off, he had just looked right at Patton. Nothing about him seemed
changed. “It’s possible it didn’t impact him?”
“He was the one who opened the door and let the spell
escape, he was right there… I feel like it must have done something!”
“Hmm… Well I was in the living room and you were in
your room. Maybe Patton was blocked by the door. We have no evidence it would
have affected anyone who may have been shielded.” Logan pondered aloud. Both their eyes widened
words and they both whispered in unison.
them had seen the anxious trait since this had occurred last night. He had been
in his room when the spell escaped the previous night and hadn’t been seen yet
that day. They both ran from Logan’s
room over to Virgil’s. Logan
knocked on the door and reached for the handle.
“WAIT!” They heard
Virgil from inside the door and what sounded like quick scrambling around. “Ok,
you can come in.” The amalgamation and the night creature shared a worried
glance before pushing open the door and walking into the room.
sitting up on his bed with his hood up, dark sunglasses on his face, leaning
against his headboard.
“Sup?” He asked, completely nonchalantly. The
room was completely dark, as was usual, beside the lamp on his bedside table so
his sunglasses didn’t seem to make sense.
“Um, Virgil? Are you alright?
Why are you wearing sunglasses in the dark? Is… Something unusual going on with
asked, realizing Virgil probably could barely see them.
“I'm… Uhh.. Fine.
Why?” He seemed nervous.
“Oh lets just get on with this!” Roman
stamped his foot impatiently. The royal reached behind him and switched on the
bright ceiling light, illuminating all three of them.
trait gasped in surprise, finally able to see the two monstrous traits in front
of him. “Oh… That is comforting.” He said very quietly.
“Comforting?” Logan was surprised at his reaction.
“Well, yeah… I thought this was just another cruel
anxiety thing I had developed. Like.. this is a much better thing than what I
had thought.” Virgil explained.
Roman stepped forward. “You thought.. what was?”
He asked, curiously. Virgil sighed and reached up, slowly removing his hood.
Where his hair should have been, there was a mass of writing snakes. He
continued to remove his hoodie entirely, revealing a faint scale pattern down
his neck and arms.
“I’m.. a Gorgon.”
It certainly explains the sunglasses.“ Logan finally said. Virgil chuckled darkly.
They then took a moment to explain to Virgil the entire situation. Everything
from the Dragon Witch to Patton mysteriously not being impacted like they were.
Virgil took it in and thought for a moment.
"I bet you twenty bucks I can
figure out what Patton is and prove it to you in less than a minute.” He
finally said, smirking from behind his dark glasses.
“What?! How can you
be that confident?!” Roman angrily shouted.
“I know monsters.” He said, even more
Roman began to shout another
outburst but was cut off by Logan who held out his hand to Virgil to shake.
“I’ll take that bet.”
The three of them traveled back
downstairs, Virgil leading them now with his jacket back on and the hood back
up. They found Patton, joyously laying on the floor playing with Logan’s puzzlebook.
Patton, would you come here for a second?” Virgil asked, stepping off the
landing of the steps and leaving the other two behind him.
Virgil!” He popped up off the floor and bounded over to him. “What is
it, Kiddo? Those are some cool shades by the way!” He beamed.
Virgil looked at Patton for about
2 seconds before turning behind him and mouthing to Logan, /Better get out your wallet./ He turned
back to the emotional side and said.
“I just wanted to tell you… I’m
worthless and I hate myself.” He said simply, shrugging his shoulders.
Patton stared at him for a moment,
suddenly his eyes turned red and his hands balled into fists.
“What did I
say… ABOUT TALKING BAD ABOUT YOURSELF?! YOU ARE PERFECT AND SPECIAL!” He
suddenly yelled, his voice sounding amplified and much larger than his small
frame. He dropped to his knees and curled into a ball. They watched as
he began to grow larger, his shirt ripping revealing his body underneath to be…
coated in hair. His hands and feet also grew to be large, hairy, and clawed
while his face elongated into a wolf’s snout.
Virgil crossed his arms in triumph
as Patton stood, a massive werewolf in a tattered polo and a cardigan around
his neck that somehow managed to stay on.
“Sorry dad, I didn’t mean to
upset you. Let me make it up to you.” Virgil reached behind the wolf’s ear
and began to scratch, effectively turning Patton into a happy puppy, pressing himself against the anxious side to give him better access to his new
favorite scratch spot. Princey simply stood with his mouth hanging open, while Logan stood shocked next
to him. He did, however, still manage to place a crisp twenty dollar bill into
So, I love space. Do you all remember when Kate Upton did that zero g photoshoot? I wanna do that. In space. I wanna be the first trans model to strike a cute pose with the earth as my backdrop! Alas, that will probably never happen. So we’ll have to settle for my hallway again :p
it’s funny tho bc i used to spend SO much time busting into abandoned houses and Actually Trespassing while wearing overalls and just generally being a ratty 16 year old instead of just like….standing outside of them in my bellevue biz-cas clothes. i’ve never been caught/yelled at ever until today
i would just like…hang out in them w my friends in high school for hours, and never even THOUGHT about encountering another human in one of them. and we’d take stuff, the huge mural i have in my hallway was pried off the wall of the house i have tattooed on my arm. 2 springs ago 3 friends and i went into an abandoned house in redmond and we were running all over it taking pictures and stuff and just hanging out for prob 15 minutes until we went upstairs and were poking around the finished attic bedroom. after we had been in there a solid two minutes someone looked at the closet/crawl space and there was a goddamn human foot attached to a human leg sticking out of it. we ran out of there SO FAST and stood in the front yard waiting for someone to poke their head out and watch us and/or murder us but no one ever did.
this is the first part of an upcoming series of posts about studying with ADHD
disclaimer: as a student who has primarily inattentive type ADHD, these are some things that help me. i know that ADHD affects different people in different ways, and what works for me might be counterproductive for others.
if you can, talk to your teachers about the fact that you have ADHD
if you don’t want to / can’t tell them you have ADHD, you can just say that you have trouble focusing
a lot of my teachers have been willing to let me work in the hallway when it’s too loud inside for me to focus, for example
i know a lot of kids who will just raise their hand to take a break / get water, the teacher will nod at them, and they can step outside the classroom for a minute without it being a big deal
remember, it’s in your teacher’s best interests to let you do what you need to learn as well as possible
sitting in the front row can help force you to keep focused and alert
if you have something quiet like silly putty to play with under your desk, or you have gum to chew, things like that are good ways to fidget that won’t distract other people
if you need to bounce your leg, do it in such a way that it isn’t hitting the desk, and if you tap your fingers on your leg or something it’s a lot quieter than tapping them on the desk
if your teachers let you snack in class, baby carrots are crunchy and satisying and a fun thing to do with your mouth
lunch and free periods are your best friends
this is a good time to do work, since it can be hard to focus at home sometimes
if your school has a quiet study area in the library or something similar, use it!! those places are a godsend
lunch is also a really good time to get out your excess energy. taking a walk around the block, goofing off with your friends, whatever you need to do before you get back into focus mode
After an unfortunate incident at work, you take a couple of days for yourself, planning on staying at the nice restaurant at the edge of town. There you meet a handsome green eyed man who comes to your rescue when you’re visited by a ghost.
You didn’t pay any attention to the fact that you were loosely wrapped up in a towel, it being the only thing covering you up from Dean’s view. You were too busy launching yourself into his arms, your heart still pounding from your scare.
You hastily noticed he was still dressed in the same jeans and flannel, before you pressed your head tightly to his chest, relieved to feel his arms tighten around you. You felt his head move back and forth, before he whispered into your ear. “Sweetheart, not that I mind having you wet and almost naked in my arms, but maybe the hallway isn’t the best place.”
that time i, as a dumb 13 year old white kid, said “what is a [insert racial slur]” out loud because i had never heard that particular one before
the other time where the exact same thing happened again for the exact same reason
the third time that that happened, where I adopted the policy that if i had never heard of the word before, i should automatically assume that it was a racial slur and that i should look it up later at home
getting screamed at by my AP History teacher for slipping a sex joke in to one of my history essays and barely escaping suspension by blaming it on my AP lit teacher
getting told by the school paper the next day that the AP History teacher personally recommended me as a comedy writer because he laughed at my history essay
that one time where two of my classmates started having sex in the hallway outside of the drama room right next to where I was sitting playing video games and goofing off. in plain sight of me, in front of god and everybody. i packed up and left them to their business, and later one of them caught up with me and thanked me sincerely for leaving.
that one time one of my teachers came back from a two-day leave on official School Business and I jokingly asked him if he met any cute girls while he was away, to which he responded by getting VERY SUSPICIOUSLY DEFENSIVE and asking me if i was accusing him of having an affair with a student
that one time that one of the seven-foot-tall basketball players started dating a four foot tall girl and everyone just kinda agreed not to talk about it
the entire semester i spent seeing the same group of five friends every day and i never learned any of their names. by the time i realized that i didn’t know any of their names it had already been a month and it was far, FAR too late to ask.
that time when a pretty hot girl with knockers bigger than her head
asked me if i wanted a blowjob in the middle of class and I panicked and
told her “no” and she frowned, turned to the dude next to me, and asked him the same question. he said “yes” and the next day they were dating. she spent the rest of the year passive-aggressively hitting on me in front of him and asking me if I was gay because I doubled down on declining her requests for sex because I figured I had to commit to that initial denial to keep my pride intact. i was like 15 or 16. gimme a break.
i can’t think of any more at the moment. enjoy the list.