I learned her habits and knew her nearly better than she knew herself.
I was a predator, and she was my prey. I smiled inwardly during one of my surveillance runs. I could see that she had a sense that she was being watched. We, humans, are the result of a long line of instincts. Some people pay attention more than others. Apparently, she did.
Not that it would save her.
I remained invisible as I stalked her, and her instincts weren’t going to save her. I was going to have her and there was nothing she could do about it, thanks to the long practice of doing what I do.
I could also see the arousal the thought of being stalked brought her. That was more proof of what I already knew, she was a whore.
I took my time, like always and I knew when she goes to the grocery, when she goes to work, and when she goes to the gym, especially the gym.
Due to her schedule, she always ends up late, and leaving even later.
She always comes out of there so tired, and not paying any attention to her surroundings. She feels safe there.
She came out, as usual, obviously tired. She’s hopped up on endorphins and I can see she’s happy about something. She’s on the phone, telling, someone, that she hit a new target of 150 pounds.
She was a little on the meatier side but I didn’t care. She had big tits, a nice face, and there was nothing about her weight that couldn’t be fixed by training…lots of training.
The parking lot has had some lighting issues, due to a little, modifying, of the wiring, by me. Nothing that would be connectable, just some loose connections that could easily be explained by faulty installation.
I’m ready to take my prize.
Sometimes she come out late because she lose track of time
She hangs up the phone and starts to put her key in the lock when her instincts kick in, again. She has just enough time to start to turn when my arm wraps tightly around her neck, and squeezes.
Almost instantly, I know she starts to feel lightheaded, somewhere in the back her mind she realizes that whoever is grabbing her is cutting off the blood to sher brain.
She instinctively tries to grab the arm and pull it away, but already she’s losing strength. She’s so disoriented she didn’t even think about screaming, not that it would have helped with my other hand over her mouth.
Just before her vision tunnels and the blackness completely overwhelms her she hears a voice, like it’s from a far distance say, “welcome to sher new life, pet.“
Consciousness comes slowly.
I can tell she’s cold, she tries to reach for something, probably the blankets, when she realizes she can’t move her hands. They’re up close to face, but she can feel the middle around them.
She instantly snaps awake, and ties to set up, I can see it when the blinding pressure and pain from her cunt and ass rips through her as she realizes there’s something stuffed in both her ass and cunt, filling her to the breaking point and beyond.
I know it’s agony. My past slaves have told me so.
Her terror mounts as she realizes her ankles are locked apart by a metal bar. Another metal bar attached to her wrists and attached to a collar around her neck. Most horrifyingly, I’m sure, she’s enduring all of this in total darkness as I’ve wrapped her head in a discipline helmet.
She screams, or at least tries to. I’m sure even she could tell that whatever was stuffed inside her mouth muffled the scream.
She screams, cries, and squirms for hours. I get hard just watching it, knowing that I’m going to be satisfying myself on her very soon. All the while feeling like she’s being torn apart. She has no sense of time; her mind is shutting down even as it plays tricks on her.
I can see the questions running through her, as I’ve heard them and seen it all before.
Where am I? Who has me? What is going to happen?
I’ve seen it all and the terror that comes with not knowing makes it all even more intoxicating for me.
Of course, there’s no doubt, given her nudity, that some of the answers are obvious, but like all the ones in the past I’m sure she’s still shying away from those answers; too scared to consciously consider the answers.
Finally, she stills and I can tell she heard something. Suddenly my hands are on her. She of course loses control completely; screaming and struggling with renewed energy, the sounds of muffled pleading and begging coming from being the gag.
I say nothing, there’s no point. She’s in no condition, mentally, to listen. She’s like a wild animal and needs to be treated like one. A show of total power and strength is all her mind will understand right now, so, with that in mind I lock on my hands around her throat, and squeeze.
I squeeze tight enough to nearly cut off all her air. For a minute she freaks out even more, but some part of her brain tells she that the only way she’s going to survive is to calm down.
By a Herculean effort, and strength she finally starts to do just that. I release my hand and then, with no words, begin to loosen the shackles around her ankles. I’m sure she has some form of hope, but I quickly quash it as I lock cuffs around her ankles attacked by a short chain. She knows, instinctively, that even if she wasn’t otherwise cuffed and could see, she still wouldn’t be able to run away.
I pull her to her feet and it’s at that moment that she realizes that while she was unconscious, I made some additions. I’m sure she probably felt some pain but hadn’t, till the moment I snapped the lead to the shiney new piercing, that I’d pierced both her nipples and her clit.
That fact caused her to scream again, and I yanked, hard, to get her moving, increasing the volume of her screams. She quickly started shuffling along and I could hear the sounds of her weeping as she realized how fully I controlled her body. Not only had I stripped her, stuffed dildos into her, and bound her, but I’d also pierced her. In her mind, she was starting to realize that there was nothing that I couldn’t do to her and it was limited only by and it was limited only by my desires.
She was also starting to realize that she had no idea, what limits I had, if any.
I forced her to walk for what had to have felt like an eternity, blind and terrified. Finally, I stopped, but her situation wasn’t going to get any better as I forced her up on a platform. I loosened the bondage around her arms and then shackled them behind her quickly, then I bound her ankles wide, using leather cuffs.
Once that was done I forced her arms to the same place her ankles were cuffed. The effect was force her into a back bend that was probably well beyond anything she’d ever done before. The pain for this position starts quickly and just gets worse. Of course, I’m going to give her something else to think about, other than some back pain.
I deflate the dildos in her holes and she almost sighs in relief. I smile at that, as I know her relief will be short lived.
Again, without word, I begin whipping her tits, ass, and pussy. Her body explodes into motion and she yanks, hard, against the restraints but it’s pointless. All she can do is squirm, wiggle, and try to avoid the blows but between her bondage, and the helmet her efforts are symbolic at best.
I know, from discussions with other prey, that she just wants to know what I want. She’s thinking that if she just knows that, then maybe she can stop some of the pain.
Of course, she has no way of knowing that it is exactly that mindset that I want. I want her to be ready to do anything. First to stop the pain, but that’s just the beginning.
She has no way of knowing that this is just the first step in a long road to changing her. Breaking her, destroying her spirit, her will, and soul.
She has no way of knowing that she’s going to be rebuilt.
For now, she just knows the snap of the cane, and agony.
After a while I switch to whipping her on her ass and cunt. I need her to know that no part of her is safe. No part of her can be shielded from the pain I wish to inflict. She continues to squirm and struggle but I can already sense the shift in her efforts.
Finally, I stop the beating, but again I ensure her relief is short-lived as I suddenly hoist her into the air.
Now, she’s hanging by her wrist and ankles, the arch of her back even worse. She tries to squirm to find some relief, and her screaming gets louder again, as I decide to give her something else to think about. With that, I grab her hips, and after lining myself up I shove my cock into her cunt and begin the first of what will be many sessions of raping her.
Her cunt is warm, moist, and tight, just like I like it.
She screams and struggles, at this invasion, but of course it does no good. She’s helpless. That helplessness feeds her terror, her anger, and her humiliation, even as it feeds my lust. The result of all that struggling is her cunt is actually squeezing me even tighter, milking me, as if her body was already embracing it’s destiny.
At the same time, her brain is shutting down again, and her struggles are almost robotic. She can’t process the overload of what’s been happening to her nad her brain is trying to cope the best way it knows how, by trying to shield itself. By trying to pull away. That’s why I keep changing what I’m doing, I’m determined to not let her brain do that. I need to keep her in the moment, so I can destroy her defenses that much quicker.
In doing so, she feels even mroe vulnerable, more violated, and I’m sure at this point she’s probably praying to God for relief, for rescue, for anything.
They all do.
Of course, if anyone is listening they don’t care anymore than I do.
After I’ve fucked her for a while, and shot the first of many loads into her cunt,I lowered her back down to the table, her weeping at this point probably making it harder for she to breathe.
I don’t care about that at the moment, I know the tubes I placed in her nose will keep her breathing, even if will be a little restricted. I release her wrists and then attach them to the top of the helmet, forcing them up between her shoulder blades. The idea is to make things progressively worse, that way her mind starts to believe that, no matter how bad things are, they can always get worse. I also like this position because it gives me unfettered access to either fuck or whip her, and her hands are completely out of the way.
When I’m done, I just look at her for a while. I take my time, touching her body as I pleased, examing it like the meat it is. She’s gorgeous and knowing she’s finally mine puts a smile on my face that nearly splits it in two.
It’s only a few moments of this before my cock is rock hard again and I go back to raping her, only this time, in keeping with the training regimine of not giving her any chance to adapt, I shove my juice lubricated cock into her ass.
Again, she screams, and tries to resist and I hold on tightly, letting her sphincter spasm around my cock. The sensation is intoxicating and my cock feels like it’s being held in a velvet vice. I could blow a load right now, if I didn’t have better control.
She gives up teh fight much quicker than she did before, collapsing in on herself as she weeps in misery, anguish, fear, and humiliation. I can also sense the surrender to her situation, meaning her mind is starting to accept that she has no control.
That’s good, that’s the most important lesson I need to teach her, and the sooner she starts to learn it the better. It’s why I anally rape them so soon, I’ve found ass raping a cunt is a great start to that most important lesson.
Once I finish I then go right back to whipping her cunt, she screams beautifully, even under the hood and it keeps her off blaance, it keeps her confused. It also begins teaching her another important lesson, and whether she learns it right now, or later, doesn’t matter, as long as she learns that she’s only good for fucking and hurting, and if she’s not excellent at one, then she’ll be made to excel as the other. She’s a set of holes, and she’s going to learn, accept, and even embrace that lesson to the very core of her being. This will help her to learn that lesson more quickly.
Quick is exactly what I want, because, the quicker she learns it, the quicker she breaks.
The quicker she breaks, the quicker she can be trained and then sold.
After all, that’s why she’s here.
Finally satisfied with this lesson I leave her there to weep. I want her to wallow in the pain and marinate in the cum that I’ve filled her holes with.
Combined with the bondage, the blindness, and the pain, it’s as good as an acid, eating away at the very foundation of who she is.
Finally, I untie her, and lead her back to her little cell by her clit leash. She follows much more reluctantly, having no idea what I have instore for her next. In time, she’ll trust and follow the leash as well as any trained animal, as that’s what she’ll be. For now, she’s skittish and wild.
I get her back and once again lock her arms to the bar around her collar and again lock her ankles to the spreader bar, and stuff the dildos back in her holes.
It’s at that point that I, finally, begin to remove the helmet. I’m sure at this point it’s not the relief that it would have been earlier as by now she’s learned that anything that might inspire hope, should be feared.
I endeavor to keep this thought process going as, once the helmet is removed, she tries to look up into my face but I swiftly slap her for the effort. She tries again and gets the same.
By the third slap she’s figured it out without me saying a word and keeps her head down.
I set a stool down in front of her, and without a word stuff my cock into her mouth.
This is a test. I know the cock in her mouth must taste revolting considering it was just in her cunt and ass. I know the desire to fight, or to even try to bite will run through her mind. She doesn’t see it, but I have an insurance policy, just in case. I’ve had a few cunts over the years, amazingly, that did try to bite.
I made sure they regretted that for a long time.
But I’d learned, and so, out of sight, I’m holding a remote to the dildoes in her holes. The first sign of teeth and she gets enough voltage thru her lower holes to light up the room, and more than enough to make her scream, and release my member before she can do any damage.
I have nothing to worry about with her, as is typical, the memory of what she’s already endured is still fresh in her mind and she begins to shudder as her mind, unwillingly, starts to conjure up what she would suffer if she attempted such defiance.
For now, her brain is locked on only one thing, survival. So she struggles for a few moments, even chokes aand gags a little, but due to my unrelenting pressure on the back of her head, and the fear running through her entire body like a drug, eventually, she starts sucking like she was born to it, and I close my eyes and just enjoy the sensation. The power I have over her is unlike any drug known to man, and I revel in the feeling of that power.
I allow my mind to wander to all the things she’s going to endure. All the games I’m going to play as I lead her down the road to her total subjugation. I was made for this, and she was made to be a victim. We’ve both found our perfect place in the world.
I finally decide to finish after another few moments, shooting my load down her throat and I, finally, speak for the first time, "swallow it all, or else.”
She startles slightly, at the sound of my voice but does as commanded, desperately sucking my cock dry in a desperate effort to avoid doing anything that would force me to fulfill the threat in my voice.
Once she’s done, I move away, sitting in the chair, and simply studying her. I’ve made a good catch, and she’ll bring a fine payment once she’s ready for sale.
She squirms under the intense perusal but she remembers to keep her eyes down, catching herself before she tries to look me in the eye.
I smile at that.
After what seems like an eternity I finally speak again, “your life as you knew it, is over. Forget about it. Forget your friends, your family, your life. It is gone. The person you were is dead. I have effectively ended that person’s existence.“
She looks at me horrified and I’m ready, with another quick slap.
I then continue, “as I said that person’s existence is gone, and in it’s place is slave. A slave that will never be called, ‘she’ or ‘I’ again. This slave is no longer an "I”. It is not a human being, not a person, not an American citizen. There are no rights here, no fairness, no equality. What is before me now, is an it. A thing. A sex-slave. A pain slut. A whore. Set of three holes for me to fuck and torture, and two tits in a pile of skin to torture as well.“
She begins to cry, “I will break it completely. Everything that it thinks it is now, will be destroyed. When I am finished it will do anything I tell it to do, regardless of what that is, without thought, or hesitation. It will do so because it will have learned that the alternative is so much worse. It will be the perfect slave.”
I then come over and grab her throat, forcing her eyes to meet mine, as I finish, “When I’m done with it, I will sell it, like a piece of property, because that’s what it is and always will be.”
She tries to hold my gaze, but falters quickly and looks down and away, the tears leaking from her eyes, “I’m going to go get some rest, I suggest it does the same, and comes to grips with the fact of its new reality. Welcome to the new life it will never escape.”
with that I stood, turned, and walked out of the room. I slammed the door shut and then quickly went to look at the camera.
She sat there in stunned silence for a moment, then lowered her head and begin to weep uncontrollably as she realized that there was nothing she could do to escape.
By now, she surely had no doubts that I would do exactly as I said I would. Her only hope, was rescue.
The problem there was that she had seen my confidence. It told she I’d, probably, done this before. If I’d not been caught then, there was a good chance I wouldn’t be caught now.
I’m sure she was trying to imagine her future, the bleakness of torture, rape, violation, humiliation, and destruction of everything she was, or, or would have been.
She was at this point, coming to grips with the harsh truth of my words: She was going to be a slave, it was a certainly that left no doubt in her mind that that was true.
As I watched her slip further into the depression all my new acquisitions initially fall into, and day turned to night I wondered if she was going to one of the ones that held onto the hope that when she was finally broken, she wouldn’t remember who she was, and what she had lost.
Sadly, for her, I always made sure that they did remembered right to the day of their sale. There was no fun if they didn’t remember what they were.
True, after they were sold and endured years of whatever further training and punishments they might endure with their new masters the slaves I had trained had most likely forgotten their old lives, if for no other reason than as a matter of survival.
While they were with me, however I wanted them to remember, it was just another layer in my sadistic nature. Making sure they endured everything, while remembering what had been stolen from them, but getting to the point that they didn’t care anymore. That was a truly broken slave.
I smiled at anticipation of that moment as I watched her try to find some comfortable position to fall asleep.
I watched until exhaustion finally overtook her and she fell into an uncomfortable sleep. I turned off the monitor and went to my own comfortable bed, looking forward to the dreams of all the things she was going to endure before I finally, and completely broke her.
She was soon going to be another one of my masterpieces.
Also on AO3 Directly follows “Deadly Sweet.”
This one did not come out as smoothly, so I’m hoping the edits made it better.
“Goodnight Maman, Papa,” Marinette called as she headed toward her room.
“Going to visit Chat?” her mother asked, knowingly.
Once her parents got to know the superhero, the teasing had changed, rather than letting up, and she hadn’t even told them about… whatever it was between them. "I’m not sure,“ she replied, trying not to let any further hints by. "I think he had something until after eight, so it depends on how tired he is.”
“If he stops by, see if you can pin down a game night,” her father asked. "I dug out some of the old classic games we talked about last time, and I think he’d like them.“
Marinette nodded. "I’ll ask him when I see him.”
“Great,” her father said. "Gotta get to know the future son-in-law somehow.“
"What!?” Marinette froze on the fourth step, turning to stare.
“Honey,” her mother said, gently chastising. "I told you she’s not ready to hear that yet.“ She patted his shoulder.
He smiled up at Marinette. "Sorry Cupcake. Just pretend I didn’t say that.” He turned back to his wife, lowering his voice, but not quite enough. "But we can talk about it, right?“
"You’d better believe it.” Her mother winked and they wandered toward their room, each with one arm around the other.
The Detective, The Writer, His Ex, and Their Darling Daughter
by mldrgrl Rating: NC-17 Summary: Continuing in the adventures of Hank and Stella, the unlikely duo spend a weekend in Connecticut…at Karen’s. Note: This will probably not make much sense without reading the rest of the stories in the series. I will add the links to each part at the end of this story.
July was probably the worst time to come to New York, but it fit into both of their schedules. Heat, humidity, summer tourists. All things both Stella and Hank would have rather avoided. They landed at JFK at 8pm EST and waited in the sweltering taxi stand for over half an hour amongst throngs of tired and impatient travelers for a ride into the city. All Stella wanted by the time they arrived at Hank’s loft, was a cool shower and a soft bed.
Stella knew that Hank was tired as well by the simple fact that he made no attempt to invade her shower. She left her hair wet, knowing it would be wild and untamed in the morning, but all she’d wanted was to get the stink of jet fuel and sweat off of her before she headed to bed. Hank had already crashed, sprawled on the bed in his underwear with the sheets kicked away. She slipped on a pair of panties and a loose, cropped camisole and joined him, falling quickly asleep to the metronomic click of the ceiling fan.
“Prongs, are you going to help me with this or not?” Sirius is scowling as he struggles with sliding the folding table out of the the van, wincing as one end lands heavily on his foot.
“I’m dealing with the inventory.” James is crouched in the back of the van, fussing with the coolers, not caring that Sirius is risking life and limb. The table falls to the pavement with a loud clatter, causing James to look back at Sirius reproachfully. “Ugh, fine. Let me help you before you break something.”
Sirius huffs as he grabs one end of the table and waits for James to make his way slowly out of the van. “Hurry up! We don’t want to keep the customers waiting.”
“The farmer’s market won’t open for another hour, Pads. You just don’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting.” James is smirking as he grabs the other end of the table and lifts, helping Sirius walk it over to the front of the van and pop out the legs.
Sirius rolls his eyes as he sets his end of the table down. “Remus is a customer, Prongs, so no, I don’t want to keep him waiting. And he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Then how’d you know I was talking about him?” James has an irritatingly smug look on his face. Sirius wants to pinch him.
“I’ve been fucking the neighbour, okay?!” Prompt in jamilton or whamilton. Thanks
It wasn’t something that came naturally to him. Cheating was one of those things that had always left the sourest of tastes in Thomas’ mouth. But month after month of nothing but the shortest of greetings and the faintest of touches left Thomas wanting.
If he couldn’t turn to his husband, where else did he have to go?
The answer was the strong arms of George Washington - the neighbor they had joked was welcome to a threesome anytime upon moving in. Washington was a quiet type. He went to work every day and came home to his dogs. Thomas suspected there had been a marriage of some sort in the past judging by the pictures of a woman and kids that were on his shelves. He didn’t ask many questions when he was riding the man’s dick and calling him daddy on the wide leather sofa that took up the majority of the living room.
Thomas stayed up for Alex, something he hadn’t done in months, intent on getting some sort of reaction out of the other man. Alexander had always been the type of hyperfocus on something for an extended period of time. For many years, that something had been Thomas, and he wasn’t above admitting he missed the attention.
Being the center of Alexander Hamilton’s world was a hell of a thing.
Alexander entered the house with practiced silence, toeing off his shoes and hanging up his coat with the upmost care.
Thomas coughed, and Alexander startled, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He watched as Alexander calmed, the smallest of smiles crossing his husband’s face. “Thomas, didn’t expect to see you.”
Alexander was relaxed. There was a familiar flow in the man’s limbs and movements Thomas hadn’t seen in months. It was the relaxed and confidant walk of a man who had just had the fuck of his life, and judging by the Alexander’s careful steps, Alexander wasn’t the one doing the fucking.
He had planned on approaching it with more care, but the realization of where Alexander had been had him spitting out the words, “I’ve been fucking the neighbor.”
Thomas continued, “okay. That’s it. That’s what I have to say. That’s why I stayed up late, waiting for you to come home. I wanted to make sure I told you, since you’ve barely looked at me. I thought you had just gotten bored of me, maybe realized that marriage wasn’t you thing. I told myself you were just neck deep in project after project, since you’re incapable of turning one down.” He took a step forward. “But no, instead you come home looking like you just had someone balls deep in your ass not ten minutes ago.”
“Is that all? Are you not going to say anything? Thomas was yelling, but he didn’t care.
“You know,” Alex stepped closer, backing him against the wall. Thomas felt a familiar stir of arousal, but he pushed it down. “Who is it? Who are you fucking?”
He took in a breath, “Washington. George. The hot one.”
This will be an on-going post where I’ll add more information as I come across it, but the point of this post is to try and define as many styles (and their names) of Hellenic veiling as possible. It’s as much for my own reference as for others. Because I’ll be adding, updating, and changing it over time everything will be kept under a cut.
Scythian Bow, Quiver and Arrows, c. 3rd-1st Century BC
This set is exceptional for both its rarity and its remarkable state of preservation. The bow, which is composed of a bamboo limb, has the typical Σ-shape profile of Scythian examples, with a slightly curved central handgrip and tips curled away from the archer for attaching the bowstring. At the tips, which had to withstand considerable stress, the wood is reinforced by a covering, probably in leather, made of a long strap tightly wrapped around the limb. A very fine and precise geometric decoration, incorporating circles, lozenges, squares, triangles, lines, etc., is engraved inside the bow, just before the tips; it is comprised of small plaques made of an unknown material (wood, leather?). The arrows each have a wooden shaft, on which is mounted a long, thin metal arrowhead in the shape of a leaf with a slender or more rounded outline; at the back of each arrow, there are still traces of the fletching (which, in the known Scythian specimens, was made of bird feathers). The quiver has a triangular section that narrows towards the bottom; it is made of pale wooden boards held by pegs and covered by a thin layer of white leather. Wide colored leather bands decorate the quiver; these bands are adorned with wild animals, among which one can identify horses and deer, alternating with geometric patterns and garlands of leaves and flowers.
The type of composition and the style are definitely related to Scythian representations. The Scythians lived in regions (a wide area ranging from the Danubian Plains to the Asian and Siberian steppes) that were characterized by a dry and very cold climate, a fact that exceptionally enabled the preservation of unusual objects made of perishable materials such as wood, fabric or, like here, painted leather. As often evidenced in Scythian iconography, activities connected to the world of weapons were the most important male occupations in the Scythian tribes; both in war and hunting scenes and in images of rest, men are always depicted with their weapons within reach. With other luxury items, weapons of course accompanied their owner in the tomb. Unlike the Greek conception of war, which was based on the close combat of phalanxes of infantrymen representing the various cities (bows were barbaric weapons to the Greeks), the bow was the key piece in the equipment of these nomadic warriors. Rather small (about 60-80 cm long), but very handy and effective, it could be used on horseback or on foot, for hunting or for long-range combat. Even in the scenes of rest, Scythians always keep their bow in the case slung from their belt or hanging from a tree nearby.
Among the most famous Scythian scenes, one should mention the relief of the electrum goblet from Kul-Oba representing a bearded man drawing his bow. Moreover, it is certainly no coincidence that in Classical Athens, the police force was made up of Scythian slaves, each always armed with a bow, a sword and/or an axe. Aside from a later set found in a tomb in the Northern Caucasus (Moschevaya Balka, 8th century AD), which includes a bow, a quiver and arrows, typologically very different and certainly less luxurious, no other ancient bow can be mentioned as a parallel to this object. In an area further north, but still in Western Asia, in the plain of the Oxus, a group of miniature votive weapons made of gold and silver was discovered in a temple in Takhti-Sangin; this treasure, dated to between the 5th and the 2nd century BC, includes many bows of the Scythian type, arrows, spears, swords, etc.
Summary: Your first meeting with Commander Ren goes just as well as you would have expected. Okay, no, that’s a lie. You expected it to go at least three times better than this.
Warnings: Kind of angsty maybe?
Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader
A/N: Yay! New chapter up! I want to see if I can do a thing where I publish chapters of my fics alternating weeks. One week, Little Bird, the next, Unprofessional Services. We’ll see! I’m feeling a lot better, recently, but I am starting a second job, so… YEAH!
Anyway, that’s my second chapter! Thanks so much for your feedback on the first one. It made me happy! <3 Love y'all.