First fic for International Crowley Angst Day. I'm hoping a second one will be a thing I have gotten done by then. I'm preparing this post and finished writing this on the 11th of March, and haven't started the second one, and I have so much other work to get done - half of which are self inflicted fanfics that I do not need to do. But still.
Anyway, I've mentioned this before but it has been a long time headcanon of mine that Crowley doesn't like and feels uncomfortable when people touch his shoulders because of childhood experiences, and this basically is just about that. So if you choose to read it, thank you in advance, and please enjoy:
Two single coins jingled in his pocket as young Crowley walked down the street, with what some would describe as a bounce in his step. His first solo mission. His first big quest he had been trusted to take care of all on his own. His mother had sent him to the market to pick up some bread. And he was going to do it right.
His mother had told him two silver coins would be more than enough to get some bread. And she had promised a special surprise just for him when he got back. Their home was a ten minute walk away from the main village area, where the market was held every fortnight. Usually, he, his parents and his siblings would go down all together as a family. But his father was currently bed-ridden with what he described as “the worst cold in human history”. His mother had rolled her eyes at him and called him dramatic, but as his father had been taken out of action, his mum and siblings had to work extra hard on the farm, meaning they couldn’t do their usual trip. Instead, Crowley had been trusted to go by himself.
“Why not Cameron?” He had asked her when she dropped the coins into his hand. “He’s older.”
“Exactly,” his mother replied sweetly. “He’s older and stronger, so I need his help with the farm. But you’re old and brave enough to go down by yourself. Just don’t dawdle. Go straight there and straight back, okay?”
He had arrived at the market now. He was always fascinated with all the things people would sell. It was mainly food, but occasionally there would be items too. They had bought one of those items once. A cloak that an elderly woman had crafted with her own two hands – and with love as she had said. His father told him because they were doing well with money at the time, and it was a special occasion—his sixth birthday—he could take his pick on what one he wanted. That had been four years ago, and the luxury to buy another item had never popped up again, but he still had the cloak and treasured it.
“Okay,” Crowley grinned, and he took off down the road.
Trying his hardest not to dawdle as his mum had put it, he avoided eyeing the other stalls and walked right to where the bread stand always was.
“Hello Mrs Everly,” he greeted the young woman handling the stall.
“Why, hello Crowley. Is it just you here today?” She had a low but gentle voice and a fun sense of humour that always made Crowley laugh. Her hair was cut shorter than most women he had seen, just above her shoulders, and she usually wore brown woollen pants with a green shirt. A couple times he had heard some men mutter words such as “undignified” and “disgraceful” when around her. He didn’t know what they meant by that, but their tones told him they weren’t the biggest fans of her, although he couldn’t figure out why. She was always so kind to him. Still, she didn’t seem too bothered by it.
“Yes,” Crowley answered her question. “Da’s sick so the others are helping on the farm. I’ve been trusted to get the bread.”
Mrs Everly’s smile turned into a look of concern. “Oh no, is he okay?”
“He says he isn’t. Ma says he’s fine. I trust her more.”
Mrs Everly laughed. “I would too. Your mother’s a very wise woman. I assume you want just one loaf, same as usual?”
Crowley nodded multiple times. “Same as usual,” he confirmed. Mrs Everly handed him one of the freshly baked loafs, and Crowley handed her one of the silver coins. “Ma said you can keep the change.”
“Are you sure? Money can be pretty hard to come by.”
“That’s why she wanted you to keep it. She wants you and Fred to be happy. And we’ve been pretty good with money lately. At least that’s what they said.”
Mrs Everly smiled warmly at him. “Well then, tell your ma I said thank you. Fred does too. I’ll see you later then.”
“See you later!” Crowley waved goodbye to her and made his way quickly back down the street, Mrs Everly watching him go. The first half of his quest was complete. Now he just had to make it back home to safety.
A few familiar stall handlers greeted the kid as he walked past, and he gave them a friendly wave back. He had just walked out of the market area and back into the wooded path leading to his home when he had the strange sense that someone was following him. Turning around, he saw he was correct. Three kids, each a couple years older than him stood behind him. Crowley held the bread closer to his chest, as if it would give him protection.
For years now, these kids had been tormenting him. He didn’t know what he had done to offend them, but when he talked to his older brother Cameron about it, he told Crowley he had done nothing. Some kids just bullied others for no reason, and that thought scared Crowley.
“Where you going, tiny?” The one in the middle demanded. This was how it always was. They were skilled in finding the things he was most insecure about and used them like arrows against him. His height, his hair, his different coloured eyes. They called him freak, weird, tiny. He had told his parents about it one time, and they had talked to the kids' parents. But it did nothing but make it worse. Crowley learnt then that if he wanted to get through the kids tormenting, he would just have to suffer in silence.
“Home,” Crowley muttered at them. He took a half step back away from them but quickly realised it was a mistake. The boy in the middle noticed.
“Oh? You scared, tiny? You scared the giants are going to hurt you?” As the kid taunted, he started to walk towards Crowley.
“I just want to go home,” Crowley said. He tried to make his voice more demanding and strong like Cameron could do, but it came out small and quiet. He could feel himself beginning to cry and he tried his hardest to keep the tears down. Crying in front of them would only make it worse.
“And we just want to talk to you,” the boy on the left said. The front boy had approached even closer now, and slapped the bread out of Crowley’s hands so it landed on the dirty floor.
“Hey!” Crowley yelled, his sudden anger overtaking his fear for a second. But only for a second. The boy shoved him hard in the chest, bowling him over to the ground.
“Hey what?” He sneered. “Hey what, tiny? What are you going to do? You can’t do anything while you’re down there.” The other two kids had come either side of Crowley now. The young boy tried to stand up as fast as he could, which as some people had told him was surprisingly fast, but as soon as he did one of the boys gripped him hard on the shoulders. Crowley almost cried out as the horrible uncomfortable feeling that always came with being touched like that flooded through his body. But he held his tongue, knowing any sigh of weakness would do nothing but fuel them.
“I think he could be tinier,” the boy gripping his shoulders said. His voice was so close to ear and it felt like a shout that rattled around Crowley’s brain. The boy began to push down hard on Crowley, ‘cutting him down to size’ as they would say.
“Stop it,” Crowley gritted out, tears getting harder to hold back. But the boy didn’t listen. Instead, he pushed down harder until Crowley’s knees buckled and he sank back down to the ground.
“That’s better,” the boy said and laughed. The third boy, who so far had done nothing but stand back and watch with a wicked smile on his face, stepped forward now. He brought his foot up high, and with a strength Crowley had always been terrified by, stamped his boot down hard on the loaf of bread, flattening it into the ground and dirtying it up even more. Crowley stared at the ruined bread, not knowing what to say, do or think. He had failed his first solo mission all because of these kids.
“Let’s go,” the first boy said. “Before he goes crying to the adults again.” The second boy finally released Crowley’s shoulders but they stayed dropped as he stared at the ruined meal.
The boys walked back down the path laughing and celebrating their successful ambush. With them out of sight, Crowley finally allowed the tears to fall. He scooped the flat bread back into his arms and dashed back home, barely seeing the path through the blurriness of the tears.
← — →
Fourteen years later:
Piles of paperwork was staked all around the commandants desk. There were half finished papers and papers that hadn’t even been started, but all were unfinished. What had he been thinking when he decided to take the role of commandant? It only had to be temporary, but for some reason he couldn’t figure out he thought it would be a good idea to stick with it, even after the corps had been reformed.
Casting his memory back to when he had finalised the decision, he remembered that he had been enjoying it at the time. That was before new papers and reports would fill up his room and his life.
He needed a break from everything. The mountains of work were only getting higher and higher, and even though he didn’t want to waste any time, he knew he should take a breather before the stress became too much. Halt was staying at the castle for the past week. He had called his friend to come and help with any troubles that were happening around the fief, just until he got used to juggling commandant work and Ranger of Araluen work. Halt had agreed, only because things around Redmont had been slow, and Crowley appreciated the extra help.
Halt was probably doing his own work in his room, but Crowley was sure he too wouldn’t mind a distraction. He tried to clean his desk up as much so that he could actually see the wood amongst the papers, but his definition of cleaning in this instance was lazily pushing everything to the edge. A few papers flew off and floated lazily to the floor, but Crowley paid them no mind. Usually, mess bothered him a big deal. He preferred his work and living spaces to be clean and organised, so that it both looked nice and was practical so that he knew where everything was. But today he just didn’t care. If he started to care, he would just work himself into trying to fix everything, and that would not help anyone but his floors. He left the mess as it was, and left his office to make his way to his friend and his stress relief.
A few servants he was friendly with waved as he walked past in the castle halls, but his mind was too preoccupied to give them an equally friendly wave back. His brain was taken up by two main thoughts: Halt, and the amount of work he was going to be faced with when he came back. Maybe he should just get to it, and reject the idea of seeing his friend. He was just about to turn back to do just that, when he looked up and noticed he had already made it to Halt’s temporary rooms.
This will be good, Crowley told himself. Before he could back himself out of it again, he knocked on the door. “It’s me,” he called out before Halt had a chance to let him in.
“It’s open,” Halt called back, and trying the door, Crowley found that it was indeed.
“Hey,” Crowley said, giving his friend a small smile that wasn’t fully there.
“What are you doing here?” Halt’s voice sounded gruff, but Crowley knew him well enough by now to know it didn’t mean anything. He was sitting at the dining table of the room, one of his own reports in hand and a mug of what was most likely coffee sitting next to him.
“I wanted a break. And I wanted to see if you wanted one too.”
Immediately Halt stood up, dropping the report onto the table. “I do,” he replied. He picked up his coffee mug and drained the last of it. “Things have been so boring. Don’t know why you needed me to help you out. You can handle things on your own here fine. I think there was more happening at Redmont, and that’s saying something.”
“Yeah, well, it’s nice to have you around anyway. Do you want to go on a walk?”
“Where?”
Crowley shrugged. “I don’t know. Just somewhere. We could just stroll around and see where we go. Get some fresh air.”
“Alright.” Halt grabbed his cloak that had been draped over one of the dining table chairs and swung it over his shoulders, pulling the cowl up over his head in practically the same movement. Crowley grinned inwardly. It was so like his friend to try and remain as inconspicuous as possible, even in the most unnecessary circumstances. He didn’t say anything however, and walked with Halt side by side out the door. Already he could feel his spirits lifting slightly.
“I wish we could have more than one ranger per fief,” Crowley said as they walked outside. “That way I could station you with me.”
“You really miss my presence that much?” Halt asked, a teasing tone in his voice, but Crowley nodded seriously.
“I do.”
They were making their way across the courtyard. The sun was shining hot and bright and children were running around and playing together. Crowley normally loved the sun. He loved the way it warmed his skin—although he didn’t love the way it would burn him after a while—and he loved the way it made the day, and his mood, so much brighter.
He would also love hearing children play. It reminded him of his own childhood, playing outside with his older and younger siblings, and distracted him from the more bad childhood memories. He loved to hear the new generation playing below his office, and while some people may have found their laughing and squealing annoying, he found it delightful. Sometimes even a little infectious.
But something was different today. The sun did not feel warm and bright, but instead scorching and blinding. He felt himself beginning to sweat under the sun's rays and his clothes felt very uncomfortable against his skin. He was half tempted to take his cloak to relieve some of the heat, but he didn’t feel like carrying it with him. For half of their walk across the courtyard, he had to keep one eye closed and a hand shielding the other to keep his eyes from streaming from the light.
And the children and their laughter weren’t delightful and infectious today, they were bothersome and piercing. Their voices were just a little too loud and Crowley’s annoyance increased every time their laughter did. He felt guilty for silently begging them to stop. They’re just children, he tried to remind himself. They have every right to be here just as I do. It didn’t help much. He just wanted to get out of here fast.
“Let’s go for a bushwalk,” he suggested, hoping Halt wouldn’t pick up on his restlessness.
“Sure. God, those kids are annoying.”
“They’re just kids, Halt,” Crowley reminded him, and himself.
“Not an excuse. I was never that annoying when I was a kid.”
Crowley doubted that. He couldn’t tell whether Halt was joking or not, and frankly didn’t want to put the effort into deciding, so he let the matter drop. They walked in silence out of the huge castle walls, Crowley wrapping his arms around himself. The woods next to the castle had a few trails weaving through them. Some lead to clearings, big and small, some looped back round and out again, some led to small streams connected to the river that ran through the fief, and some connected onto other trails. It was a huge wood, and there was always something to enjoy about it.
Halt wanted to go to one of the streams. He wanted to sit by the water and listen to it trickle through the trees, watching any ducks that might be around and tossing stones to watch the water ripple. Crowley wanted to go to one of the small clearings. He wanted to lay down on the grass and destress from the day, where no one but his best friend was around and he could listen to the tree branches gently sway and the leaves rustle in the slight breeze he could feel. He wanted the only sounds to surround him to be the sound of nature and his friends breathing, and he wanted the sun to be able to shine down on him and not be blocked out by the trees. The heat had been irritating and grating before, but he knew if he went to a calmer environment he would appreciate it. He always did.
Usually, the two friends were in silent agreement with each other. They were opposites in many ways but in many ways they were also very similar. They usually wanted and enjoyed the same things, even if they wanted and enjoyed them in different ways. Crowley supposed the biggest example of that was their dependence on coffee. They both loved the drink, but in very different ways. They were funny like that. Crowley assumed Halt would want to go to the clearing with him, and Halt assumed Crowley would want to go to the river with him. Without telling each other their ideas, they began to walk in opposite directions.
Halt realised they were leaving each other first. He turned around, seeing Crowley going the other way and walked over to him.
“Crowley, hang on,” he started. They should stop and talk about where they wanted to go first. He went to place his hand on the other ranger’s shoulder to turn him around, but the second he touched him, Crowley suddenly flinched away, his elbow almost connecting with Halt’s jaw.
“Don’t–!” Crowley started, but didn’t finish. He backed away a couple steps, as did Halt. Crowley held his shoulder, as if Halt’s touch had physically hurt him. He didn’t look angry, just panicked. Overwhelmed.
“I don’t want–” Crowley started to say again. He couldn’t form the words. He tried again. “I don’t like–” and again, “Please–” until he just stopped. He took a breath, trying to calm his heart that had begun to race. Halt watched him, concern hidden in his dark eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked him.
Crowley shook his head. “Yeah,” he replied. “I just… don’t like my shoulders being touched.” He paused. “Sorry,” he added lamely.
“It’s not your fault,” Halt said. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“It’s alright,” Crowley replied, although he didn’t feel alright. He looked around, not knowing what he wanted to look at, but just wanting to find something. “I think I might go now. I have lots of work to do. Shouldn’t have left it really.” He tried to force a smile as he said it, but it came out tortured. Without another word, he walked past Halt, his hand still resting lightly on his shoulder as he went.
← — →
The rush of relief when he finally reached the sanctuary of his room was immense. Crowley tossed his cloak off, releasing his shoulders of the weight. He didn’t bother to hang up or even put it anywhere neatly. He just let it drop to the floor before he collapsed onto his big bed, not finding the energy to even take his boots off. He grabbed one of his soft pillows and wrapped his arms around it, letting all the stress and bad energy of the day wash away as he squeezed it.
He lost track of how long he stayed lying there, though it’s not like he was counting to begin with. He loved his bed. It was so soft and cozy and always made him feel better after long and hard days. It was his favourite part of his rooms. It was so much better than the desk just next door, with stacked up piles of paper. He tried not to think too hard about those.
His mind wandered, fantasising and imagining different situations and memories of his loved ones. Halt, Pauline, his mum and dad, his siblings Charlie and Cameron. The thoughts visualised themselves in his mind, forming half dreams in his now half asleep state.
A knock at the door. Crowley opened his eyes and lifted his head from the pillow to glare at the source of the noise. Just as he was getting relaxed. But, in his line of work, the chances of it being important were pretty high, so he knew he had to answer it. Begrudgingly, he got up and walked over to the door. Opening it, he found Halt.
His friend had no emotion on his face, just his usual blank dark stare. But Crowley knew him well by this point and knew he was still worried. Halt’s first question confirmed it.
“Are you alright?”
Crowley nodded. “Yeah. Sorry about before.” He stepped aside to let Halt into the room. Halt waved away his apology.
“I told you, you don’t need to be sorry. You didn’t do anything. But what’s going on?”
Crowley shoved his hands into his pants pockets and shrugged. “I don’t know. Just stressed I guess. I’ve got a lot of work to do and today hasn’t been great. I wanted to hang with you as a sort of distraction but it didn’t work.”
“Okay,” Halt said. “That makes sense. But what’s up with your shoulders? I mean, I get it, but you’ve never mentioned it before.”
Crowley shrugged again. “It never came up before today. I’ve never really liked it. These boys that lived in the village used to press down on them to make fun of me for being smaller so I don’t like it anymore. I know that’s not what you were doing, or what anyone does anymore, but it just stuck I guess.”
“Bloody bastards,” Halt growled angrily.
“They were just kids, Halt,” Crowley tried to placate him, although he didn’t really know why. Why was he defending them?
“It wasn’t really that bad,” Crowley mumbled. “They were just putting their hands on my shoulders. Really shouldn’t have affected me as much as it did. I’m probably just overreacting. I mean, compared to what you-” he stopped himself just in time. Halt hadn’t actually ever told him about what he went through as a kid. Crowley just knew, or more accurately could tell, that it was bad. Really bad. But they had never talked about it, so Crowley wasn’t sure if bringing it up now was a good idea or not. But it was true, he thought. Halt had been through much worse than he had growing up, even if he didn’t know what it was or even had it confirmed. Who was he to complain about some kids just making fun of his height?
“That doesn’t matter,” Halt said matter of factly. “So were you, right?” Crowley nodded. “It’s a pretty messed up thing to do.”
He saw anger flare in Halt’s eyes and wasn’t sure if it was at what had already been said or what he was about to say. Was that anger directed at the boys or at him? He found out a second later.
“Don’t say that,” Halt gritted out in a low voice. “It doesn’t matter how ‘bad’ it was at the time. If it’s affected you this long then it matters and you’re not overreacting. Damn those kids!”
Crowley almost smiled at how protective Halt was being over him at the moment, how angry he was getting at those kids on his behalf. It was nice to have someone who cared this much about him.
“Thanks,” he said. He opened his arms for a hug, and Halt allowed it to happen. That’s when things went wrong again.
Crowley, because of his shoulder touch aversion, had spent his life aiming to hug people around the waist – where he liked to be hugged. Halt however, because of his touch aversion to pretty much everywhere, preferred to hug people around their shoulders, where he was okay with being held by friends. Sometimes. They both knew this about each other, but old habits die hard, and despite just talking about some of it, they forgot. The second they held each other, opposed each other with their touch, they both realised. Their arms dropped, and they stepped back from each other like they had been burnt.
Crowley looked at his friend nervously, anxious at how he would react. Why would he do that? He knew Halt hated that. He had once seen him punch a man for touching him like that, an instinct born from reflex and instant rage. But Halt didn’t look angry. He didn’t look… anything, really. For the first time in a while, Crowley had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. He felt shut off.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I forgot.”
Halt nodded, but didn’t say anything. They stood in awkward silence. The sweet, understanding mood that had been in the room just a few seconds ago was now gone, replaced with a tense, uncomfortable and unfamiliar one. Crowley was beginning to wish he had just put up with his work and got to it, never leaving his office to begin with. The silence dragged on, until finally Halt broke it.
“I should get going,” he said. There was still no detectable emotion in his voice. He left without another word.
Crowley walked numbly back to his bed. He grabbed his pillow and held it even tighter to him than he did before. He didn’t achieve the comfort he would usually get from it. Despite being back alone in his sanctuary the bad feelings did not leave him. Every stress and negative thing of the day came flooding back to him in one big rush. The work, the heat, the noise, the touch, the complicated feelings and emotions, the failed hug, and Halt leaving him, as unreadable as he had been the day they met.
Crowley curled up closer to himself, held the pillow tighter as tears started to push their way out through his closed eyelids. He tasted salt as they dripped down his face and into the corner of his mouth. Maybe tomorrow would be better, he told himself. Maybe the sun would be warm again instead of scorching, the children would be joyous again instead of dreadful, and maybe he could talk to Halt and carry on like nothing had happened. It would be easier to simply forget rather than tackle the issue. There was no issue anyway. It was as simple as they had both just misstepped and forgot, nothing they couldn’t move past.
Crowley tried to use this to calm his nerves and anxiety, repeating it to himself like a soothing mantra as he tried to go to sleep to forget.
I'm not giving him any comfort. I was thinking, 'should I end this happy?' and then I thought "No! It's International Crowley Angst Day not International Crowley Comfort Day. Maybe that can come tommorow.
Anyway, hope you liked it. This ended up being longer than I thought, but I'm okay with that. Again, like I said, I hope I've written the second one I have planned by the time the special day arrives. If not, I'll save it for next year.
Anyway, thanks for reading, and hopefully you enjoyed it.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, this is the only Ranger's Gathering 2026 prompt I'm cooking with that is not recycled from my notes app two years ago.
Welcome to the Ranger Gathering, coming June 2026!
How it works:
The Ranger Gathering will run for the entire the month of June, 2026. Each day has a prompt that participants can use to inspire works about Ranger's Apprentice, The Early Years, The Royal Ranger, or Brotherband.
Check out last year’s stuff here!
If you want to participate, tag your post with #ranger gathering 2026 so we can all find it!
A few notes on the Gathering:
You do NOT have to do all the prompts, or even most of the prompts to participate in the Gathering! The most important thing is to have fun and avoid burnout. Pick whichever prompts inspire your creativity, and ignore the rest.
The Gathering is meant to show off all forms of creativity! This means art, music, writing, memes, textpost, moodboards, playlists, or whatever else you can come up with. Don't feel like you can't participate if you're not an artist or author.
This blog is going to showcase a few posts from the tag every day of the Gathering, so make sure you support the creators with reblogs and comments.
Caitlyn O'Carrick fanart cause I felt really inspired by "The Iron Song" by NamesAreNotImportant on ao3, I also wanted to draw her since I first read it (last summer I think) but I probably forgot (I don't remember, kinda ironic lmfao)
At first I had another plan for this but I saw one reference and I thought it'd fit perfect if I drew her not showing her face (something something Halt not knowing how Cait looks like now and still picturing her as a little girl)
Anyway, I have a slight artblock now (this came out good but everything else comes out fucked up😭) but I hope I can feed this fandom with more fanart soon🙏
Link to the fanfic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50436655
if there were a brotherband movie, it would be like all those war movies where they throw 15 identical guys in uniforms at you, and you have no idea who’s who until you are halfway through the movie
[ID: Half of Horace’s face is covered with his sword. He’s shown from the shoulders up, has a sad/worried expression while looking at the sword, and has rays of the sun around his head done in a darker yellow than the background. As said in the post, it’s done with watercolor and has crisp black line art on his person. /End ID]
Here’s a link to the above inspiration post with an ID as well
The Heron’s height chart! Now that I’ve finished all of them! (If you have any questions on why I made some of them the height I did I do have some justifications for some of them)
Also, since posting Hal I have made the executive decision that he needed more freckles.
[ID: Half of Horace’s face is covered with his sword. He’s shown from the shoulders up, has a sad/worried expression while looking at the sword, and has rays of the sun around his head done in a darker yellow than the background. As said in the post, it’s done with watercolor and has crisp black line art on his person. /End ID]
Here’s a link to the above inspiration post with an ID as well
Jesper: The floor is lava!
Jesper: As you can see, We have two different kinds of couples
Ingvar: *helps Lydia onto the counter*
Stig: *kicks Hal off the sofa*
From the very first page, Ranger’s Apprentice has always meant a lot to me, and it still does now, so I’m incredibly saddened to find out our dear John Flanagan has passed away. My heart and thoughts are with his family and friends 🤍
It was my dream to meet him one day, to tell him how much his stories meant to me, but I’m going to have to resort to doing it this way, in the hopes that my words will reach the place where kind souls like his go to.
I first received one of the brotherband books as a birthday present when I was young. I had never heard of the series or the author, but I loved the characters and the story from the very first read. I was practically begging my parents to buy me every single brotherband book, and after that I devoured all of RA. It was such a joy every time a new RA or BB book came out, and I’m incredibly grateful to have been able to experience the joy and anticipation of waiting for the story to continue.
The world Flanagan has created will forever remain my favourite. I found a home in it, comfort in hard times and a place to dream away. Because of it, I met this amazing fandom. I’m a firm believer we’ll keep Flanagan’s legacy alive through our artworks and writing <3 I love you guys 🥰
Rest in peace, dear John 🤍 Thank you for bringing these stories to life 💕 We’ll take good care of them, I promise.
u/skandiagal1000 MOD: this one is currently becoming pretty heated (sort by controversial for the other guy's side) stay civil or mods will be locking this thread and banning people
germansingergirl
turnnoffyourmind
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janainaart
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snowghoul
