𝒶𝓉𝒾 ✭

Abby has only been your cellmate for a couple of days. At first she seemed agitated and argumentative. You'd learnt to only speak when spoken to, but something about Abby made you desperate to know more.

She gave short responses, likely not wanting to get tangled in any drama. But yesterday she'd opened up and you had talked for over two hours. Conversation drifted from the prison's worst meals to inmate gossip, and, unexpectedly to both of you, it settled on your lives before prison.

You'd told your past first, describing how you'd fallen in with the wrong crowd and done things you deeply regretted.

Abby listened with a deep intimacy. She caught every hesitation, every name that snagged your tongue, every memory you skimmed over before it dragged you back into a whirlwind of emotions.

Conversation eventually moved to her. She detailed how she'd tried to sneak a younger boy over the boarder. The boy, Lev, was in an unsafe household.

Her eyes shone for a moment before she glanced up at the ceiling, blinking the tears away.

"I don't regret helping him," she sputtered, "I just wish he'd made it somewhere safe."

You'd both gone to sleep after that. Or well, you fell asleep.

Abby lay awake, staring at the underside of the bunk above as she listened to your uneven breathing and the faint, incoherent mumbles that slipped from your sleep.

She cycled her memories of Lev, the image of the boy's face when they got caught burnt into her eyelids. Light tears traced the scar carved across her cheek before falling and tinting her pillow. She didn't wipe them away when no one was watching.

Abby's shoulders shimmer with a thin layer of sweat, her skin flush with exertion. A bead breaks free, tracing a slow path down the curvature of her arm before disappearing beneath the fabric of her orange tank top. The damp material clings to her back, moulding itself to the faint outline of her sports bra underneath.

You pretend to read another sentence. It doesn't process.

She drops from the doorframe and twists her body just enough to lock eyes with you.

It's obvious you've been gawking. Abby had felt the weight of your gaze prickling across her shoulders. Still, she didn't stop, didn't acknowledge it. She kept going, letting your eyes linger if they wished.

You break the eye contact almost immediately, heat flooding your cheeks as you force your attention back to the page.

Abby wipes her moist forehead with the hem of her top, revealing the sculpted stomach and soft blond happy trail beneath.

"Jane Austen," she blurts, making you jump.

"Pride and Prejudice is a classic, who's your favourite?"

Her question shakes around in your empty skull. You couldn't name one character.

Your eyes frantically search the page for a clue, settling on the first name you see.

"Jane is sweet," the shake in your voice surprises you.

"Yeah, she is. Might be cliché, but I've always loved Elizabeth best." Abby deepens her voice, "She trusts herself, her opinions and judgments. And she doesn't settle for less than she's worth. I… admire that."

Abby drops her top and you allow yourself to lock eyes with her.

"She reminds me of you," Abby mumbles, turning her focus to the apparently incredibly interesting floor.

"A bit," she follows up in an embarrassed plea to reverse her words.

"Really?" your smile once holding embarrassment twists into mischief. “So you admire me,"

"No," Abby snickers before pausing. She stares deep into your soul, seriousness coating over her features.

"You're not Elizabeth. You're definitely Mr. Collins."

You stare her down.

Who the fuck is Mr. Collins?

"I don't…" you pause, "know whether that's a good thing."

Abby lets out a weary chuckle, reaching back to massage the base of her neck that she's been whining about. "That just proves my point. Keep reading."

Embarrassment stains your cheeks.

Page 1. You've been rereading the same first paragraphs for the last couple of days.

You're both interrupted by the screeching sound of metal scraping against metal as the hatch of the food tray door slams open. Two trays of stale bread with an abnormally thick and cold soup slides through the hatch.

Another five-star fucking meal. Be lucky if I don't die from vitamin deficiency in here.

You try to force the soup down your throat, but the twist in your stomach rejects it. The bread is much more manageable.

You stuff the remaining bread in your mouth and enthusiastically toss the tray holding the soup across the floor.

The tray clatters loudly before coming to a stop beside Abby's foot.

She glances at the tray, then you.

"May I?" she asks.

"Be my guest," you say, resorting to playing with your fingers to pass the time.

Abby snatches the tray, sliding it to her side and dunking her bread into the thick soup. She guards the tray like a hungry lion, not that you'd want it back anyway.

"How do you eat that stuff?" you question, almost laughing out loud at her animalistic eating.

Abby gulps down her mouthful. "Reminds me of something my Dad used to make." She was already preparing her next bite.

"Wow, your Dad must've been a chef," a smirk tugs at your mouth.

Abby looks up at you with an unamused glare, but beneath it, pain flickers in her irises.

"No," is all she responds, her expression changing back so quickly you almost miss it entirely.

The smirk melts off your face in an instant, swallowed by the heavy silence consuming the cramped room.

You sit up from the floor and climb up to your bed, lying there until lights-out.

Abby savours every last bite with a delicate patience before crawling into her bed mere seconds before it switches black.

The cold evening air and pitch-black silence wraps around you. It should be the perfect sleeping conditions, but you can't get comfortable.

The bed creaks as you shift your weight from the left, to the right, to the middle, then back to the right.

Your toes wriggle, itching for movement.

You’re contemplating getting up and running laps around the tiny cell until you're exhausted, but your thoughts wander back to Abby.

Her arms curled, slick with her bodily oils. Her soft grunts and whimpers of athletic struggle.

The thoughts bundle and flow downward, settling in your lower abdomen.

You roll onto your back, earning another whine from the bed frame, and quietly slip your hand underneath your thin prison sweats. You’re especially careful not to slap the band of your underwear.

You press your lips together, repressing a whimper as your hand reaches your heat. You spread yourself open, your ring and middle finger already drenched in slick.

Your hand begins performing lazy, wide circles over your clit; the bed creaking as you raise your hips. You try to control your breathing, but soft moans and uneven breaths still escape your lips.

The circles turn more desperate, Abby's body flashing in between waves of pleasure.

You wonder if she's asleep or if you've woken her up.

You wish she would pop her head up over the ladder and climb onto the thin, firm mattress. She'd kiss down your stomach, looping her tongue around your clit. Her strong arms holding your thighs apart, even when you're squirming as your eyes flicker with stars. Her movements gentle yet vigorous with desire. Desire for you. To hold you, please you, worship you.

Your fingers slide into your cunt, but you imagine they're Abby's.

Your walls clench at the base of your fingers. You want so desperately to call out Abby's name, to bring the fantasy into reality.

You begin to find a rhythm, fingers curling at the perfect spot. Sweet noises are at the tip of your tongue, pleading to be released. You force your free hand over your mouth, muffling the whimpers.

Your breathing builds, your heart pounding out of your chest as you murmur broken pleas through your hushed lips.

The corners of your vision start to blur and crackle. Your eyes roll back as the pleasure consumes your body. The orgasm thrashes over you, your whole body convulsing and your limbs tingling.

You slowly come down from the high, your spine lowering back onto the bed.

You steadily remove your hand and gather yourself as you roll over for the final time before finally falling asleep.

As sleep begins to pull you under, your mind lingers on one thought:

How much did she hear… if she heard anything at all? What would she think if she did? Why do I even care?

Abby lay below, eyes wide.

She'd heard everything. The whimpers, the muffled moans, the slick sounds. She'd watched your bed frame move with every thrust and wave. She'd noticed what noises you made with the depth and rhythm of the thrust. How you'd worked yourself up and how you'd calmed yourself down.

Her legs are crossed, thighs impatiently grinding together.

She waits longer than you did. Long enough to be certain that you're asleep, deeply asleep. Then, and only then, she allows herself to take care of her desires.

She only rubs her heat for a couple of minutes before throwing her head back in a bliss. The thought of you, your release, it makes her crazy.

Abby didn't manage any sleep. She lies with her arms folded across her chest, her eyes wandering aimlessly around the cell, searching for anything that might distract her from the ache she refused to acknowledge.

You awake to the sound of the food trays being delivered through the door.

Abby has already been moving about, but she's waiting for you to start her workout. She could go to the courtyard and use the gym equipment, but it'd be no fun without you. The equipment is old and shitty anyway.

You climb out of bed, hair dishevelled and fingers still smelling of last night.

Abby's eyes stay on you for a beat too long. No greeting, just a stare.

Oh, she knows. She definitely knows. Fuck it, let her know.

You gulp down the thought, breaking eye contact first.

This morning you eat the shitty provided breakfast. Not because it tastes good, but because you're famished.

Abby throws you awkward glances, clearly disturbed by your hunger. She slides her tray over to you far more gracefully than you managed last night.

You look up at her over your full cheeks.

"I owe you anyway," is all Abby offers in explanation. You accept it.

Abby watches with a slight smirk as you devour both plates.

"What?" you ask teasingly, with an undertone of annoyance.

"Nothing," she represses her smile, "keep enjoying it, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

Heat flows up your neck. You don't hate it, but she can't know that.

She waits until you finish the food before starting her pull-ups.

You don't try to hide your wandering eyes today. She knows you're watching, admiring. It's becoming an unspoken routine.

Abby's top rides up every time she lowers herself and her grunts increase with each rep. Her arms begin to glisten with sweat, flexing with each motion.

Your stomach flips, the breakfast threatening to come back up. You almost need to chain yourself down to not go over there and ride her top up to explore all of her.

Once Abby finishes and sits by the wall, you climb back up to your bed.

You read for hours. Actually reading this time.

You comb through 137 pages of Pride and Prejudice. You now understood who Mr. Collins is, sparing a glance in Abby's direction before chuckling and rolling your eyes.

It's an intimate story about finding love, or what love meant to women in the early 1900s who needed to marry to survive.

It didn't strike you as Abby's taste; suppose she never fails to surprise you.

Another meal that you slid over to Abby and it was lights out again.

But you don't wait 15 minutes this time. Or more you can't.

Almost instantly after the lights flicker off, your hand is back where it needs to be.

Truthfully, you've been waiting for this release since you finished last night. Your slick has been staining your panties all day.

The thought of Abby's body makes you want to crawl on your knees begging for touch. Pathetically feral.

This time, you don't conceal your moans. You allow your free hand to play with your nipple under your bra, causing more choked moans to escape your lips.

The noises of your slick and the shake of the bed fill the room more prominently tonight.

Your pants are annoying you, limiting the angle you desperately need to reach. You slip them down and off your ankles, leaving your legs over the thin blanket.

You're pleasure is already building when you notice a different noise between your whimpers.

It's a softer voice that sounds as though it's holding back its natural volume. You also recognise familiar wet noises that aren't your own.

You abruptly stop masturbating but the noises continue from below.

"Abby—"

The noises stop, the cell falling silent. The air is polluted with warmth and sex.

There is no point lying or pretending nothing happened. You both know what each other was doing and why they were doing it.

You take a deep breath, "would you want to… come up here?"

Abby goes silent. She stiffens up, not knowing how to react.

Without her saying a word, you hear her slowly move off her bed and climb the short ladder up to the top bunk.

She stands at the top of the ladder. Her prison pants sit loose around her hips, stretching where her hand was just moments before. The crotch of her pants is vaguely damp.

She looks at you with a dazed glow. Her eyes meet yours, her pupils widening as they explore the flecks of colour swirling through your irises. Her gaze then wanders around your body, first landing on your tits that are outlined underneath your bright orange top. They then find your parted legs, your slick staining your underwear. Her gaze drifts back up to your lips, studying their shape and soft curves.

She slips into the bed, bracing herself above you with her arms planted on either side of your head. Then she leans down until her plush lips meet yours.

The kiss starts slow and delicate. Then it becomes messy. Abby tangles her tongue with yours, a soft moan echoing between your mouths.

One of Abby's hands starts exploring your waist, following the curvature and petting over your tummy.

Abby's mouth eventually shifts downward, never pulling away. The soft kisses move down your chin and jaw, stopping at your neck.

A choked exhale exits your throat as Abby sucks, hard. You feel Abby's mouth warp into a smirk as the skin starts to stain a flush fuchsia.

Abby pulls herself away, her plushy pink lips looking down at you. Her eyes glaze over your body, landing on your top.

"I don't like this," she exclaimes, stretching the fabric between her fingers before slapping it back down.

You sit up just enough to force the shirt and bra over your head, quickly examining the fabric before tossing it onto the floor below.

When you look back at Abby, her eyes are black. Her pupils are blown wide, her blue iris barely visible as she examines your soft perks.

"Better?" you tease.

Abby doesn't reply. She brings her hand up, cupping the bottom of your breast as her thumb starts to work your nipple.

You lay back down, adjusting yourself into a comfortable position on the bed. You want to absorb every moment of touch. The touch you'd been waiting so desperately for.

Abby begins to move herself lower, her legs hanging off the bed as she kisses down your stomach.

"Is this okay?" she asks.

"Mhm… mm," is all you can manage with your lungs that have seemingly forgotten how to perform their sole function.

Abby stops with her head above your stomach but her hand keeps travelling down. Her fingertips snake underneath the band of your underwear, reaching your unkempt hair. She parts the tangled mess and explores between your lips, rewarding her a soft hum. Her fingers are already damp with her own slick.

Abby lets out a low moan as she finds your entrance. She begins by slipping in one finger. Your walls desperately clutch around it, begging for more, deeper, faster. She does none of those, she begins a painfully slow and shallow rhythm.

"Ab—Abby," you break through, "more please."

Abby lets out a low chuckle.

"Not yet, sweetheart. You're too precious for me to rush through this."

You let out soft gasps and chokes. You're too desperate for this speed, your body is screaming for all of Abby.

Abby's eyes never leave yours, even when you squeeze them shut.

After what felt like an eternity, she slips in a second finger, keeping the slow pace but inching in slightly deeper.

Your body responds instantly, walls closing around Abby, back arching, and palms digging into the thin sheet.

You can feel your body beginning to match Abby's pace, your breath hitching more often and harder.

As your body starts to relish in the feeling, Abby pauses and slips in a third finger.

Your pussy stretches to match her length, a soft cry slipping through your lips.

You can feel Abby’s forearm muscles contracting with each thrust. Abby towers over you, her silhouette shadowing over you, even in the darkness.

"Just like that," she whispers.

Abby's words cause it to all flood over you. A wave of warmth and tension spreads from between your legs, absorbing every last inch of composure you held. You throw your neck backward, your moan of unadulterated pleasure fills the room.

Abby works you through every wave that thrashes over you. Holding you up.

Your body begins to slow down with each flush of pleasure. It eventually stops responding, only twitching and oversensitive.

Abby gently removes her fingers and scoots over to lie down next to you.

She wraps her big arm around you, softly stroking your now matted and frizzy hair away from your eyes. The tips of her fingers brush over your jawline, still warm with your sex.

"You okay?" she asks in a soft raspy voice, like she's the one who's just been screaming.

You nod softly, tingles spread through you at the movement. You're still so sensitive.

She reaches for the blanket, now lying in a crumpled heap against the wall, and drapes it over you.

"I've been wanting to do that since I got here," Abby whispers along your ear.

"Me too," you mumble, your voice little more than mush.

Abby swings a leg over you, her hand never leaving the corners of your face.

The rest of the evening is a jumble of Abby's breathing, the cold, and the bed's desperate creaks under the weight of two people.

You fell asleep like the flick of a light switch. The horny waves had worked like melatonin.

Abby sleeps through the night for the first time in weeks. She watched as you drifted off, admiring your untangled beauty. The warmth radiating from your body gently lulled her eyes shut.

You awake the next morning to find her staring.

You offer her a sleepy smile, her constant eye contact flipping your stomach.

The moment is broken by the arrival of your 'breakfast'.

If the staff saw you two like this or, god forbid, found out about last night…

You force your aching hips up. Light red spots tint your neck. Evidence.

"They'll separate us if they find out," you state the obvious to Abby.

"Mhm," the husky mumble causes your heart to skip a beat. "It'll be our little secret, then."

𝑎/𝑛: you have no idea how tempted i was to make abby fall off the bed in the end. and no, i don’t know any other exercises apart from pull ups. also, i haven’t read pride and prejudice in ages so sorry for how vague that part is. i feel like i'm starting to understand what i need to improve on (e.g. showing the emotions not telling them: immersion). i think i like my first fic better than this one so i appreciate any feedback :)

She had doodled through the entire lecture, covering the back of her notepad—the notepad she was supposed to be taking notes on—with a mess of stars, ringed planets, and comets. But the amount of procrastinated work that she had piling up was a problem for later. For now, all that mattered was the inked movie in her comic.

The surrounding streets disappeared into a background hum. Every second of her attention was dedicated to the chaos unfolding on the pages.

Then, someone slammed into her shoulder.

The force spun her sideways. Her comic flew from her clutch, fluttering into a dishevelled pile on the pavement. Her coffee burst from the cup, splattering across the other woman's chest.

Ellie let out a choked gasp.

Coffee dripped from the hem of the woman's shirt, the soaked fabric sticking to her skin.

Ellie could only form pathetic stutters and mumbles.

"Uh—"

"I…"

"Sorry—"

Ellie stepped back and took a better look at the woman. She towered over her. Baggy gym clothes now clung to her, revealing the lean, sculpted muscle beneath. Her hair had been tightly braided against her head, leaving no stray strands.

Ellie's shoulder had already started to ache. She could feel the spectacularly large bruise forming. However, the injury made sense, the woman was built like a brick wall.

Ellie forced herself to move her eyes to the woman's face. Her brows were furrowed, her mouth shaped in a down-turned 'O'. A faint blush warmed a scar crossing her cheek.

Ellie couldn't quite pinpoint the woman's emotions.

At last, Ellie mustered up a coherent sentence, "At least it's iced, otherwise it would be burning real bad."

Fucks sake, Ellie. Really? First the lecture, now I'm gonna get beaten up by this beast of a woman.

The woman stared at her for a moment, clearly surprised by the odd response.

Then she let out a slight chuckle, "Yeah, that makes me feel so much better about this."

"S-sorry. So sorry about that," Ellie choked out whilst tripping over her own shoe, practically falling over to retrieve her comic. It was now dripping with mud and wet dirt. Ellie pinched it and held it with an extended arm, both disappointed and disgusted.

"Might wanna read that while sitting next time," the woman mockingly cooed, now using her jumper to dab herself off.

"Yee," was Ellie's pathetic attempt at saying yeah.

She was admittedly distracted by the woman's demeanour. She carried herself with a confidence that Ellie admired.

Ellie felt a familiar hot flush swim up her neck.

She apologised again and again while awkwardly stumbling away, wanting the interaction to end as quickly as possible.

Ellie threw the comic away on the walk home, complaining profusely to Dina later in the afternoon.

Dina found it funny, teasing her about how unlucky she is when it comes to 'her type'. An exaggerated eye roll was all Ellie gave her snarky comments.

The morning sun kissed Ellie's cheek, warming the grouchy expression she held.

She didn't have any classes today, but she decided to go to the corner cafe anyway, hoping a coffee would shake off the irritable mood she'd woken up with.

She'd accidentally pulled an all-nighter by staring at the ceiling being angry with herself.

Social interaction made her feel so stupid. She couldn't even figure out how to apologise for spilling her own coffee on somebody. It's just her luck that that somebody actually seemed really kind and approachable. And pretty.

Ellie entered the small, cozy building. Warm air wrapped around her the moment she stepped inside, chipping away at her attitude. Better yet, the shop is almost always empty at this hour.

The baristas recognised her, offering a familiar smile before starting on her regular order.

Ellie set her bag down and was prepared to sit at a small single table by the window when she heard the clink of a cup.

She reflexively glanced over and immediately wished she hadn't.

There she was.

The woman from yesterday.

A messy jumble of thoughts crackled in Ellie's head like popcorn kernels on a hot stove.

Fuck. Great, this is great. Can I just avoid her? Or maybe apologise again? Shit. Or just leave.

She steadied herself, silently sitting down as to not notify the other woman of her presence.

The woman was sitting at a table near the back of the cafe. She wore a soft beige tank top and cargo pants, accessorised with elegant jewellery on her wrists and neck. Her hair wasn't in the militaristic braid from yesterday. It was held in a low ponytail with a spiral hair tie, some front strands left astray to outline her face. A thick book was carefully held between her ring and pointer finger. The morning light caught the edge of the woman's face. It framed her perfectly, almost like she'd walked out of a painting.

For one embarrassing second, Ellie forgot how to blink. She had to mentally slap herself to rip her eyes away.

Ellie fumbled with her pockets, forgetting which one held her phone.

Ellie: dina, hrlp. woman i ledt covered in coffe yesterfay is here. sos

Dina: really!! omg go get her ellie

Ellie: no, i cant. shes probavly still pissed. imma chug this coffee and lesve

Dina: dont you fucking dare

Dina: im not letting you back in the dorm if you dont come back with her or at least a story. get your pathetic ass over there and make a joke or smth. figure it out. i need the goss, and for you to not be single forever

Ellie: idk….. it was a bad start. i shoulf move on

Dina: please. just try, come on. for me and for the sake of you having a roof over your head tonight

Ellie sighed.

Ellie: i will kill you if thjs is a mistake

Dina: keep me posted!!!! remember all of the details please

The woman could probably hear Ellie's heart beating from across the cafe.

Ellie let out a shaky exhale. She tried to move her feet one in front of the other but it came out in more of a zigzag pattern.

She picked up the coffee the barista had set down on the table and forced her body towards the other woman's table. Her anxiety was the force of a black hole, dragging her towards the door.

Somehow, she was standing in front of the woman before she'd properly processed she was walking over.

The woman still didn't look up, her eyes scanning her book with intense focus.

"Hi—" Ellie said too loud and abrupt, lengthening the vowel more than normal.

The woman lazily twisted her head towards her.

"Oh… You"

Ellie hadn't made note of how feminine and smooth her voice was. It made her feel slightly more welcome.

"Be careful with that," the woman warned, glancing towards the coffee that was now shaking with Ellie's unstable grip.

Ellie let out a clumsy chuckle that shook with her nerves.

"I'm Ellie"

"Abby"

Abby.

A name for the mysterious crush Ellie had formed. A fitting one at that.

"I—" Ellie started, "Can I sit?"

Abby gave her a nod. She slid a bookmark into her book, closing it and stuffing it into her bag.

Ellie crawled into the opposite chair, placing down her coffee with an unintended force.

She didn't know what to do with her limbs. Her arms felt like inflatable noodle mascots in heavy winds.

On the table? No, table manners and fancy stuff. Don't wanna give her the ick already. In my lap?

She resorted to sipping her coffee, being sure to hold the glass with two hands this time. Knowing her luck, she'll still manage to spill it all the way over the table and onto Abby's face.

"Whatcha reading? You seemed really into it," she almost apologised for disturbing her, but Dina had been training her to stop saying sorry so much.

"Dostoevsky," she replied, "The Raw Youth. It's my favourite of his."

"Nice."

Ellie felt so pathetic. She couldn't focus on her responses, all she could see was her. Abby was unfairly pretty. It made Ellie's heart momentarily forget how to beat. With jealousy, of course. Ellie could feel her cheeks turning redder than a tomato.

She instinctively looked down at her converse, hiding her face.

Abby clicked her tongue, "What were you reading yesterday? Sorry about it getting destroyed…"

"It was a sci-fi comic thing, don't think it's really… your speed", Ellie tried to ignore her apology, it was her own fault the comic was ruined.

"Maybe not, but I can appreciate some sci-fi classics."

Ellie looked her in the eyes then. The deep carolina blue irises pulled her in. Ellie watched as Abby's pupils dilated, spinning the shades of blue and caramel.

Their conversation flowed seamlessly after that. The topic moved from favourite movies, to fitness routines, to study, to funny childhood stories and on and on.

Ellie's real smile came out and Abby's features softened to Ellie's pathetic dad jokes.

They talked for nearly half an hour before Ellie took the last sip of her iced americano. She'd been nursing the drink as an excuse to stay.

"I've got a lecture soon, but it's been nice getting to know you when you aren't spilling coffee all over me," Abby joked.

A pause followed, both of them wondering how to say goodbye.

Abby pulled out a small crumpled-up receipt from her pocket and began scribbling on it.

"If you ever wanna meet up and I can introduce you to some of my favourite sci-fi classics, then just let me know," Abby slid the receipt over to Ellie, now covered with ten hastily written digits.

She gave Ellie a soft smile.

"See you, Ellie"

Even after Abby had left her cheeks were burning. She punched the numbers into her phone and labelled the contact. She still kept the receipt. At the time she told herself it was for security, in case she somehow lost the number. She ended up putting it in her journal surrounded by pathetic confessions of affection and doodles of Abby.

Ellie pulled up Dina's contact.

Ellie: you won't believe who got her number

Dina: good on you!!!! i knew she'd fold for your nerdy ass

Ellie left the cafe still giddy, her original crabby mood completely gone. She kept checking the contact, repeatedly drafting how to text Abby without being too weird.

Abby didn't end up listening to a word of her lecture.

Not out of boredom.

But because she couldn't take her mind off the soft flutter building in her core when she thought of the girl who spilled coffee on her.

𝑎/𝑛: everyone has to start somewhere, right… this is most definitely not perfect so any feedback is much appreciated