#sort of angsty?

[two-cell-appless]

Kind of angsty Dreamtale comic!

I got burnt out towards the end

My own fault for starting so late-

Bonus on nightmare

[loxleyo7]

not a lot of people talk about the guilt dust probably feels working for nightmare . killing everyone in your own timeline for them is one thing , but killing people *outside* of it for your aus personal gain ? that is a different selfish .

i wanted the comic to go in a different direction but got lazy does this count as angst

the watcher is also here i guess ( belongs to @beaboep )

[fae-of-prey]

my peter parker is always one bad day away from ending lives bc he’ll be damned if he loses another loved one<3

[kiichikonoes]

space wife

[lilithofpenandbook]

Sometimes Severus comes up to Minerva. Right up behind her when she's busy. He'll stand there for a good minute as she works on marking assignments and cursing the boy's youthful energy and brilliant eyes- both of which directly responsible for his finishing his work in half the time it takes her.

"What is it, Severus?" Minerva sighs. Might as well get the obligatory nonsense over and done with, she was due a dose of Severus's antics by now (Merlin forbid he go more than three days without bothering her with nonsensical questions or infuriating wit).

"Am I ugly, Minerva?" he asked. Never there was a being with such innocence in their voice.

Minerva took a moment to take in a breath and silently call on all her patience and all her strength. "Yes, very." Her tone was blunter than the knives used to decorate at Halloween- an incident with some particularly idiotic third years had them ban anything sharper than the corners of a book during the Halloween celebrations.

Severus gasped as if stabbed. "What? Minerva, I thought we were friends!"

Minerva snorted. "Any time we interact, it's completely against my will."

"Minerva! you lie so shamelessly it shocks me." Severus made as if to swoon, a hand clutching the right of his chest.

"You must be shocked; your heart isn't where it should be."

Honestly, Minerva had to admire the fact that the insolent little kitten did not falter in his dramatics with her pointing out the key flaw in his act. If anything, he seemed to be encouraged.

"Ay! The pain of the shock, it has spread throughout my chest! Ah, I cannot breathe!" Severus swayed on his feet, leaning against the chair that Minerva was sitting in. "Oh, how your lie shocks me!"

"Well, then, you had better tell me what exactly I lied about," Minerva said briskly, "before you gasp all the air out of your skinny little lungs, laddie."

"You said," the boy said, a sudden glint in his eye and none of the apparent weakness, standing to face her and one of those long, delicate fingers pointed straight at her, "you said, that our interactions are without your will."

"That is no lie, what part of this looks like it's my will?" Minerva replied, knowing full well she wasn't going to appreciate the cheeky answer Severus had prepared for her.

"Why, the part where you remain for my company, mother," Severus replied, his voice light. "Surely, if you didn't want this, you would have, in your infinite wisdom, simply have employed your great power and assumed your famous feline form and just walked away from me."

Minerva fought her smile. His cheek was infuriating while his logic impeccable. "Perhaps I am simply conversing my energy, you arrogant wee rascal."

"You? Too lazy to avoid a nuisance?" Severus scoffed. "Minerva, you wound me. Don't you know how I know you? You've done much more to avoid the mildest of annoyances, do you truly think I believe that you are here against your will merely to converse your energy?"

Minerva let him see the flicker of a smile disgusted as a smirk, letting the bothersome raven have a little treat for his cleverness, hinting to him that he had essentially won this particular argument. "At my age you no longer have the patience to waste on annoyances. You learn to value your peace. You will understand that some day, I hope, little one."

"And if I die, my hair still black and my skin still smooth?"

Merlin, did the child have a turn towards the morbid. Minerva ignored the voice in her that told her that this would have been a retort of her own had she been in a similar conversation.

"Then you'll die a fool."

"A fool, perhaps, but my funeral will be the biggest," he replied, moving to sit on her desk and grabbing the biscuit jar. Minerva intercepted, lifting it from his grip and replacing it with a towel. His protests died in his confusion at the towel, and Minerva huffed and began to wipe his hands as if he was a child. She did not trust him to correctly clean his hands after handling goodness knows what when experimenting with his potions and she didn't care if he knew it.

"Aye, and how did you figure that?" she asked.

"Surely if I die young, I shall be the first. Therefore you all will be part of the funeral-"

"What makes you think I would want to attend your funeral, you little rascal?" She let go of his hands, almost satisfied that they weren't contaminated.

Severus ignored her and instead took a biscuit from the jar. "You will all be there, therefore I will have the biggest funeral. If I die old, you all shall be gone, so my funeral will be the smallest."

Minerva tried not to think of how depressing that sounded, how lonely it seemed. For a brief moment she felt guilty for being so old and he so young. She involuntarily could see him in her mind's eye, going through their funerals until he stood alone. She and the others- Rolanda, Pomona, Poppy, even Fillus and Hagrid- they were all of an age, weren't they? They could expect their lives to reach the end around the same time, surely? Severus was but a child next to them, he'd stand alone one day.

Minerva tried to ignore the ache in her chest at the thought of him standing alone. Merlin, no. He was far too young. No.

"You truly are besotted with the morbid and the miserable, you melanchonic masochist," she said, her tone just a trifle too sharp to be a simple retort.

Severus paused, swallowing the biscuit. Then he answered. "Ah, but the morbid is much more fascinating, the forbidden has a certain thrill, dear mother." His voice was a little softer, and his fingers, slightly coated in crumbs, were gentle when he tapped her forehead. He was sorry he upset her.

"You and your thrills," Minerva scolded, "yet you cannot even eat a biscuit without making a mess of yourself." Yet even as she spoke, the hand that she used to swipe the crumbs away, was gentle, almost tender, in its movement. She had quite forgiven him.

How could she remain angry? At this boy who looked at her with a scowl of indignation yet whose deep, dark eyes twinkled with mischief and cleverness and brilliance, who stood taller than her, yes, yet was far more delicate in his build than she had ever been, whose hair was as dark as hers had been in her youth, carelessly falling across his forehead. No, she could not remain angry.

If only he had been in Gryffindor, perhaps then she would have noticed him sooner. Or rather, if only her eyes didn't only open for her Gryffindors. How this boy could ever look at her without resentment and anger, she didn't know. Then again, he had been so incredibly isolated and lonely, was it any wonder he let go of his rightful grudges and instead accepted her friendship?

Minerva blinked as if soot from the fireplace got in her eyes. She didn't want him to notice the tears that almost inevitably formed whenever she thought about him. Who would have thought that she'd cry so much for the little devil?

"I'll leave you to your work, dear mother," Severus said cheerfully, hopping off her desk.

"Aye, after you've cleared out my biscuit jar, you villain" Minerva grumbled, looking into the empty jar. Severus shrugged.

"You ought to see it as a compliment towards your taste, really," Severus said. "But I see I have taken the last of your patience"- for indeed, Minerva looked ready to strangle him- "so I shall take my leave. Good night, my good Headmistress, and may you have peace in the silver embrace of the moon!"

And with a laughing twinkle in his eye and a boyish bow, Severus Snape left the room.

Minerva sighed. She wasn't sure if it was out of relief, or because she may have felt some sorrow at his departure.

The door opened again, and a rather meek Severus poked his head in.

"Er, Minerva?" he asked.

"Yes, Severus?"

"Er." Severus stepped in, looking away from her, walking with the awkward gait of a newborn foal, and the nervousness of a deer. "Er, Minerva?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Am I really ugly, mother?" His voice was a whisper. His raven hair curtained his face, hiding his shame at asking such a pathetic question, and his fingers picked at one of the cuticles of a nail.

Minerva smiled, and walked to him. Softly she brushed the boy's hair out of his face and gently tucked it behind his ear.

"Only as long as you let yourself believe it, dear heart."

[joaniejustwokeup]

DPxDC Prompt:

The next blow sent the human tumbling into the wall. It wheezed and spat up a gob of blood, pulling itself up on trembling arms and legs.

Pathetic.

“So this is the mortal who captured our young king’s attention. The so-called warrior who he trusted with the sacred duty of guarding his core.”

A shadowed hand pinned it to the wall and it uselessly pawed at the blade-like claws pressed against its fragile throat.

“How a weakling like you seduced High King Phantom, I’ll never know.”

The human squeezed its eyes shut. I’m sorry Danny, it mouthed with cracked and bleeding lips.

The impudence.

Slammed into the ruined bricks once more, the human let out a breathless cry.

“You dare address him like that. You dare to call upon his living name!” Dagger sharp teeth dripped shadowy ectoplasm inches from the mortal’s flesh.

“I’m doing him a favor, disposing of you.”

There was silence.

Then.

The human looked up with glowing green eyes.

A wave of unearthly force erupted from its body.

A dual layered voice echoed out from its miserable throat.

“Oh you just made a BIG mistake.”

[lost-in-fandoms]

Max and Daniel meet at a club and have a one-night stand. That's the plot. Not as much smut as one would think.

cw: not too graphic sexual content and mentions of alcohol (but neither of them is drunk)

Daniel watches from the bed as the guy comes out of the bathroom and starts pulling his clothes back on. He almost stumbles while slipping into his skinny jeans, and it should be funny, or maybe awkward, how clumsy he is with it, but Daniel can't help feeling a little bit charmed. Just as he had been charmed by his blunt advances in the club, and the way he had laughed too loud at Daniel's bad joke in the car.

He wasn't supposed to be charmed.

Well, to be honest, he wasn't supposed to be in this situation at all. He doesn't usually go to clubs alone, he isn't that young and horny anymore, but he had needed to feel the bass in his lungs and the alcohol in his veins after a few long, awful days, so he had chucked on a shirt and some pants and found his way somewhere he was hoping he wouldn't get recognised. He had ended up in a small club on the other side of the city, and it had taken him a sparkly drink and two dance offers to realise he maybe still was young enough to have fun.

It had taken Max to make him think that maybe he was also horny enough.

Max had slid behind him on the dance floor, large palm against his hipbones, turning him around to throw him a wide smile, eyes crinkling and sparkling in the low lights.

Daniel wasn't planning on going home with someone, but Max had guided him to grind against him while they were dancing, and then kissed him wet and open right there in the middle of the crowd, and Daniel had lost his mind a little.

Daniel had thought about asking him to go to Max's place, he didn't like inviting strangers into his house, but Max had slipped a hand under his shirt to touch his sweaty skin and asked "take me home?" and Daniel had.

Max had chatted and laughed in the car, a hand firmly planted high up on Daniel's thigh, until Daniel had stopped pretending he was following whatever he was talking about and tugged him into a kiss. He didn't like kissing people, kissing men, somewhere he could be seen so easily, but Max's lips had been red and full and Daniel had wanted it.

Max had taken his shoes off at the door and Daniel had felt a tug somewhere too high up and on the left to be his gut. Max had kissed him like he wanted to eat Daniel whole, but touched him like Daniel had been something precious. He had taken him apart more easily than a one-night stand was supposed to.

Daniel never bottomed with strangers, but Max had been hovering over him, eyes so bright and intense, hands playing with the band of Daniel's underwear, and Daniel had let his legs fall open before Max could even ask what he wanted.

Max had still asked and Daniel should have known he was making a mistake. Because when he had come, Max's hand around him, Max's dick inside him, something had been rearranged inside him, something had dramatically shifted. Or maybe it had happened earlier, when Max had pressed a kiss against his stomach while opening him up. Or when he had closed his teeth on Daniel's bottom lip in the car. Or earlier still, in the club, when Max had told him "you look pretty, Daniel", voice rounding his name weirdly.

And now he is watching Max getting ready to leave, feeling like his world was tilting, and he was supposed to learn how to live with that.

He watches as Max shrugs his black t-shirt back on, trying uselessly to smooth out his hair a little, hoping he doesn't look as desperate as he feels to ask him to stay.

Finally, Max pats his pockets to check for his phone and wallet, and then looks up, smiling at Daniel with the same lips that had been pressed against his pulse point not twenty minutes ago.

How did Daniel end up like this?

"That was fun," he says, smile too practiced to look fake. Hopefully.

Max's eyes seem to soften and he nods, crossing the space to the bed again to press a kiss against Daniel's cheek.

"It was good, Daniel." He says it like it's not just Daniel's name, but like it means something more, something Daniel doesn't know yet. Something he'll probably never know, now.

Daniel is expecting him to leave then, is ready to curl up in bed and go to sleep without even showering, disgusting as it is, just to keep their smells together a little longer, a pathetic thought to have about a one-night stand, but one nobody will have to know. And yet, Max hesitates, a hand coming up to rub at his neck, tug at his hair.

Something scarily close to hope starts to fill Daniel's lungs.

"I don't want to, uh, be that person," Max starts, stilted and awkward, ears red. It's the first time Daniel seems him embarrassed, and he wants to lick the blush right off his cheeks. "Could I maybe give you my number?"

Daniel is looking for his phone even before Max has closed his mouth, ignores him as he giggles when Daniel lunges out of bed to grab his abandoned pants, raising his phone in the air like a trophy. Max is fully laughing by the time Daniel hands it to him, but Daniel doesn't care anymore. He already can't wait to call.

[lotuslate]

I did @pakhnokh’s challenge from twitter to draw this in your style! Here’s the original !

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[panicsimss]

Old friend

[next]

[flwrkid14]

Buried Beneath The Laughter They Ignored

Tim is totally fine. Ridiculously fine, actually.

It didn’t matter that he woke up feeling this bubbling, manic laughter in his chest, like everything was suddenly so fucking funny. It didn’t matter that he’d woken up from another nightmare last night, crying, calling for his mama—not the mother he lost, but the mother he gained, Harley Quinn. And it didn’t matter that most days, he felt more like Joker Junior than he did Tim Drake.

It didn’t matter that no one else seemed to fucking care.

He shoved down every bit of laughter clawing up his throat, because he knew if he let even one chuckle slip, they’d all give him that look. The one they always did. Disapproval masked as concern. They didn’t like Junior. They didn’t want to believe Junior was still in there, clawing his way up every time Tim breathed.

It didn’t matter that no one ever asked him how he was doing. They didn’t want to talk about it. Because talking about it would make it real, and they preferred pretending it wasn’t. They expected him to be fine, to push it down, to carry on like nothing happened. If he tried to bring it up, they’d say he was being insensitive—insensitive to Jason's trauma. What fucking irony, he thought bitterly. As if it wasn’t insensitive to be stepping all over his by not letting him speak.

It didn’t matter that he caught them glancing at him sometimes, like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to snap, waiting for Junior to come out again. But they never asked. No one asked what was going on in his head. No one fucking asked.

It didn’t matter that when he finally snapped, when he finally screamed at them, sick and tired of pretending, they had the nerve to act clueless. As if they didn’t know.

It didn’t matter that Dick, of all people, screamed back. Yelling like he was being unreasonable. Like he was the problem. He screamed at Tim, demanding answers, to ask what the hell he meant by Joker Junior, as if—

As if they didn’t know.

They didn’t fucking know.

This whole time, they hadn’t known.

They didn’t know Tim had been taken. They didn’t know Tim had been missing. They didn’t know Tim had been held prisoner at the hand of the Joker for months, tearing him apart, piece by piece, until Junior was the only thing left of him. They didn’t know he had screamed for them, begged for someone to find him, but no one ever did.

They didn’t know how much he had suffered. Alone. They didn’t know how much he had changed. They didn’t know that every time he woke up now, it felt like he was still Joker Junior, just wearing Tim’s skin.

And they didn’t know how much it hurt—how much it broke him—to realize that they had never known.

Tim wasn’t fucking okay. And it mattered—oh, it mattered—that they didn’t fucking know.

Because if they didn’t know, it meant no one ever bothered to look. It meant no one ever cared enough to notice.

[yuri-is-online]

Ace friend zoning himself is funny, especially since he's tried getting Yuu to share a bed with him before.

OK listen Ace does make some effort. He asks Yuu to share a bed not once, but TWICE, he goes over alone without Deuce to watch horror movies with them, and I still can't get over his line about leveling up making it easier to protect "a certain magicless someone :p"

But like. He could just be a really touchy, whiny friend. He's not an idiot, he knows he's just some guy and your... yuu. You mean everything to him but it's not like he means everything to you. In his mind he's competing with Malleus, your home world, all the other freshmen, and people he hasn't even met yet so why would you choose him? Sure he'd vote for himself in a heartbeat but... he isn't you. And as well as you know someone there's always room for error, what scares Ace more than seeing you with someone else is losing you completely.

So yeah. He's friendzoning himself. Because the person he is best at lying to has always been himself.

[interstellarlyinlove]

Mutual pining (May 12th)

Word count: 700

@wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius screams into his pillow. James startles, knocking the pot of ink on the desk all over his admittedly horrible essay. 

“Godric! What the hell?” James and Sirius are the only ones in their dorm room and Sirius has apparently gone crazy.

“Why won’t he talk to me?” Sirius asks, throwing the pillow on the floor. “Why won’t he just talk to me?”

“Remus literally talks to you all the time,” James says, and he doesn’t need to ask who Sirius is referring to because who else would it be? “And pick up that pillow. This room barely fits all of us when it is tidy.”

“But no, he doesn’t. James, he doesn’t. Not about the things that matter, anyway.” Sirius doesn’t say anything about the pillow but he does pick it up.

“What are the things that matter, again?” James asks, turning his chair around to look at Sirius. 

Sirius blinks. “I just mean that–”

“What is the last thing you two talked about?”

“How peeling an orange is the epitome of love, apparently,” Sirius says. And he doesn’t even say it to be funny. He’s completely earnest.

James truly cannot believe that Remus and Sirius don’t know that they’re already dating. “You talked about– how did that conversation start?”

“I’m not really sure. But, see? I want to talk to Remus about things that matter. And things that don’t matter, as well, like love oranges. It was a really lovely conversation, James. Easy flowing and funny and–”

“Love oranges are funny?”

“Well, Remus is funny, so yeah.”

James nods. He doesn’t want to point out the obvious and tell Sirius to just ask Remus to marry him already if only to see how long it takes Sirius to figure out that Remus is obsessed with him as well.

“Can you help me make a list?”

“Sure,” James says. He tilts his head. “Of what?”

“Of like, conversation starters.”

“You need conversation prompts to talk with Remus?” James raises an eyebrow. Remus and Sirius literally don’t shut up.

“I need conversation prompts to talk about deep things with Remus.”

James starts laughing, and he can’t stop. “Deep things?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Remus doesn’t sleep well the week before the full moon. James doesn’t sleep well, ever. They snuck out into the Forbidden Forest after Remus broke more quills than James could justify during their late-night library study session. 

“What do you think my animagus would be?” Remus asks as they are walking. “And don’t say a wolf because I will gouge your eyes out.”

James laughs. “I wasn’t going to. An eagle.”

“That’s cool.”

James shrugs. “You’re cool. It makes sense.”

“Sometimes I feel that it’s unfair to Sirius that I like him,” Remus says, and James knows that is what Remus wanted to say in the first place. “That’s a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry.”

James flicks Remus’ head. “Don’t apologize, you twat.”

Remus smiles. “You’re the twat.”

“And it is a stupid thing to say. How is it unfair?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. At all.” James shakes his head. He hates that Remus thinks that. If only he could put his two friends in a room and force them to say these things to each other. “Sirius is lucky that you like him. I wish you liked me instead. Screw that guy, come make out with me.”

Remus laughs. “I would totally make out with you. But the heart wants what it wants." Remus pauses. "The heart is a bitch.”

“Is it the hair?” James asks. “I can totally grow my hair out if you want. Did you know my dad has this whole hair business empire thing? And if it’s the eyes there are spells for that! It definitely isn't the music talent, right? He’s the worst person in the choir. And I’m better at Quidditch.”

Remus whistles. “You really are the whole package, Jamie.”

“Damn right!”

“It's the Sirius,” Remus says, then he groans. “Wow. That’s humiliating. I can’t believe I actually said that.”

James pats Remus’ back. “It happens in the best of families, I’m afraid.” Remus chuckles and James really hopes Remus and Sirius figure it out soon.

[snailsrneat]

Okay but can we as a community start talking about Yuu snapping? Because like, I know every twst fan has thought about that moment.

That moment where everything, every single mask, every unfulfilled promise, every bridge made, everything. Is burnt to the ground by our hands, and we're left to stand in the middle of it all. Like being in the eye of a hurricane. Everything around you is destroyed, but you're left unscathed. For now, that is.

I also wanna talk about other characters reaction to the snap. We all know the first years, including Sebek who has his reservations, would be heartbroken and distraught at the sight of Yuu in a blind rage. Destroying all that comes close.

I think that's also what could cause Grim to overblot, he tries stopping Yuu or protecting them from the onslaught of other students magic and in turn he snaps too. Turning into an angry beast eager to destroy just like his master.

But also think about the people Yuu helped through their overblots. While Yuu isn't the closest to the overblot boys, I can't help but imagine that all of them held Yuu in high regard. So seeing Yuu snap like thats makes them think that all the work they did, all they progress they made, all the times they tried to change, it was for nothing. Because if someone as good as Yuu was unable to save themselves from a snap, who are they?

I could just be picking straws, but I think if Yuu ever actually snapped, it be a chain reaction if events that would lead the future of N.R.C. six feet under.

Just a thought...

[perksofbeingpoet]

other couples leave hickeys to sort of visibly claim their partner as "theirs"?

angsty anderperry leave bite marks and bruises. violence is the only acceptable output of love. scratches on skin, the sharp hiss of pain the only way to mark territory.

they'll lick the blood from the other's lips (mine mine mine) and smile at each other when people ask where that bruise on their leg is from.

look me in the eyes when you lie.

[phoenixcatch7]

Loz fandom stop being angsty and give the daydreaming kids on big fun adventures with a cool glowing sword some actual whimsy and joy challenge