GotSIS Ch.38: The God Butcher (Patreon)

14th December 2008

Asgard

The wind billowed through Sif’s hair as she galloped, her steed’s hooves ringing over the rainbow bridge, her heart pounding with every step. The golden observatory loomed in front of her, growing in size, and she spotted the figure in golden armor who stood outside, a sword in his hand.

She nearly smiled, bringing her horse to a stop and disembarking, striding toward her brother.

“I saw you coming,” Heimdall spoke, his baritone voice almost comforting. “What brings you here?”

Sif rolled her eyes, squashing the worry she felt. “You know what brings me here. How is he? Is he faring well on Midgard?”

“He is, and he isn’t. The prince… Thor struggles with his new reality, but has begun to adjust to it. He has found friends too, in the realm, including a fair maiden.”

Something ugly reared itself in her heart. “A maiden?”

“Yes. But not everyone there is happy with him, particularly my own friend, who is finding his presence rather inconvenient.”

Sif raised an eyebrow. “Your friend?”

“A sorcerer of Midgard. A kind, brave young man with wisdom far beyond his years. He finds his presence to be a danger and a threat to Midgard.”

Sif scoffed. “Danger? Thor would never harm someone who doesn’t deserve it! What would a mortal know?”

Heimdall shot her a look that almost bordered on a glare, taking Sif by surprise. “The sorcerer is the one who slayed the Elder on Midgard not many moons ago. You may have heard of him.” Sif’s eyes widened. “And he finds Thor’s presence as a threat, not Thor himself. He is afraid of what it means for Midgard and how we’d react if something were to happen to him while he was there. The Sorcerers are Midgard’s protectors first and foremost, Sif.”

“Oh,” Sif breathed. “So— so, do you think you can send me there? Or bring him here?”

“King Loki has ordered the Bifrost closed, and if any use it, it’d be considered Treason, both on my part and theirs. And the peace with Jotunheim is conditional upon Thor’s exile, as you well know.”

Sif nodded, looking away. “And there’s no way around that.”

“I’m afraid not. But Prince Thor will find a way, as he always does. You should believe in him.”

“You think he’ll become worthy again? Become… better than he always is?”

“I have—” Heimdall froze, and his eyes widened. “The sorcerer was right. A threat just came to Midgard, very close to the prince. Go, fetch the warriors three and prepare for battle!”

“Who is it?” Sif demanded, watching the color drain from Heimdall’s face. “Send me there now!”

“No, the Sorcerer is there and is preparing for the fight. And yes, you must go to help him, but not alone. Alone, you will perish against the threat. The only way you may survive is with the help of the Sorcerer and the Warriors Three. Go!” His fists clenched. “This isn’t good. No, not good at all, with the prince and his hammer down there. Asgard must prepare if you fail.” 

Sif felt her heart leap into her throat. “Tell me who, Heimdall!”

His grave answer made her blood freeze to ice.

“It’s the God Butcher.”

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14th December 2008

New Mexico

The cold desert air seemed chilling to Harry, whose eyes stared at the figure with dawning horror, while the man’s lips twisted into a crooked, cruel smile as he stopped where he was, staring at Harry. 

The Soul Stone warmed against his chest, ‘Gorr, chosen of the All-Black, the God Butcher.’

Harry nearly shuddered. Even the Soul Stone did not recognize this man as a person, but only by the title of the God Butcher. 

“Hello, there,” Harry said loudly. Gorr stayed still in his place, his gaze locked onto him. “Late for a stroll, innit?”

Gorr tilted his head, and his eyes flashed a disturbing orange. Darkness peeled off the blade in writhing sheets, pouring onto the sand and spreading outward in a crawling tide. Harry felt the hair on his neck stand, feeling the malevolent magic thrum through the ground beneath his feet. The moonlit above dimmed, and shadows around them elongated and bubbled. 

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, pouring all the magic into his shield, watching shadowy tendrils burst toward him. 

Golden power flared brightly, and a gong rang through the desert as the tendrils met his shield and crumbled to motes of darkness, while the light of the armor-spell blazed around Harry. Gorr flicked his fingers, and long legs erupted out of the sand, and dark spiders, bigger than even Aragog, clawed out of the ground.

‘Ron would’ve been terrified had he been here right now.’ Harry moved his fingers in a practiced pattern, his gaze fixed on the spiders skittering toward him, followed by different types of creatures, some of which he had never seen.

Magic gathered in his palm, blazing like a miniature star, and Harry raised his hand to the sky before slamming it into the desert sand, intoning, “By the seven suns of Cinnibus!”

Blinding sunlight erupted around him, illuminating the world around him like a sunny afternoon. Screeches rattled the air, and the constructs burst into dark ashes. Harry winced, his ears ringing while he blinked spots out of his vision and got back to his feet.

“Are you going to keep standing there, sending minions at me?” Harry yelled as another spider emerged from the ground, only to be cut down by his Sectumsempra. 

Cold, beady black eyes stared at him. The blade spun, turning the air colder, and in the blink of an eye, Gorr stood closer to him, his hands at his side, clutching the necrosword. 

“You have the blood of gods on your hands,” Gorr rasped, a hint of interest gleaming in his eyes. He ran his fingers over the black blade, caressing it. “The blade says you’re a mortal wielding divinity, bargaining with the gods to get their powers and channel them as your own. A… sorcerer?”

“I am indeed. And you are the God Butcher, the wielder of the All-black necrosword. The latest one, anyway,” Harry replied, and Gorr inclined his head slightly, almost dipping into a bow. “Is this your first time here, on Earth?”

“Me? Yes, yes. Not the sword’s, though.” He frowned, his face creasing vividly, casting shadows over his face. He ran his bony fingers over his bald head. “It says the gods fled in fear when it was last here.”

“They did. I know this story,” Harry said casually, drawing on power and pouring it into his shield. 

One of the first things he had learned when studying for his mastery in Mystic Arts was the ways one could harm or kill the divine because most of what they faced came from divine or pseudo-divine origins. And of the worst, perhaps most desperate ways to deal with them, were the Necro-weapons— relics made with terrible dark powers for the very purpose of countering divinity. 

And of them, the most powerful and terrible was the All-Black, a relic forged at the dawn of time, with the cosmic energies of a dead celestial, by the god-king, Knull. The blade was so powerful that it could fade gods from existence by drinking their very power, and had slaughtered through entire pantheons of gods, including one on Earth.

The blade was said to corrupt all it chose, turning them into naught but a tool for its purpose— to wipe out divinity from existence. In some, it was stated to be the counter-balance of divinity in the Universe, and the tool of fates to ensure divinity didn’t grow into an infestation.

Whatever its story was, Harry knew that it was an incredibly powerful and dangerous weapon for any to face, god or otherwise. In the wrong hands, as it often did, it wreaked havoc across entire civilizations. And if he were to stand a fighting chance against its wielder, he had to ensure that the blade never touched his body. Because if it did, he wasn’t very sure if even the Soul Stone could save his life.

And for that, he needed time.

“It happened a little over a millennium ago,” Harry continued, keeping Gorr’s attention. Behind his back, he discreetly traced runes in the palm of his hand, ensuring Gorr didn’t see them. “You, or well, the god butcher at that time, wiped out a small Scandinavian Pantheon and a few other gods. The massacre led to the gods closing down the Omnipotence City to all outsiders forever and withdrawing completely from the mortal plane. What little they did then, they stopped doing entirely, bar a very select few.”

“They must have.” Gorr gave a bitter chuckle. “Gods always leave mortals to fend for themselves. They look out for nothing but their own self-interests. They don’t care for us, do they? This planet… Terra has one of the largest divine councils of the Universe. And yet they have done nothing for their worshippers, have they? They don’t care whether we live, die, suffer, or prosper.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Is that what happened to you?”

Gorr paused, and something flickered in the black eyes. The oppressive cold dwindled as Gorr knelt, crouching on the desert sand. 

“Yes. I was born on a nameless planet forsaken by the gods. Everyone I had… died to famine, to calamity… to the gods’ indifference. We prayed, and we prayed, but they never listened. I held my daughter in my arms as she died, praying for the gods to help us. For rain, for food. It never came.” Harry winced with sympathy, his ears ringing with Gorr’s rasping, mad laugh. “My daughter perished at the indifference of the gods.”

“That’s awful,” Harry whispered.

“As I lost all hope, the sword called to me,” Gorr continued. “I found my god, relishing in a feast, in an evergreen land, celebrating the death of the sword’s last wielder. When I told him of my daughter, he said… suffering for your gods is your only purpose. And that’s when I made a vow.” Gorr rose to his feet, his grasp on his sword tightening, and his eyes flashed a dark orange. “All gods will die.”

Harry felt a chill crawl up his spine as the words echoed through the dunes and the moonlight waned, thunder muttering in the clouds above.

“Well, I’m no god, nor will you find any here, in the mortal plane, since they all fled to the divine realms that connect to Omnipotence City.” Harry cleared his throat. “So, why are you here?”

Gorr cocked his head slightly, studying him. “I am here for the key to open the city of gods so that I may finally serve the justice awaiting them, sorcerer. The key that the Allfather, Odin, the mightiest of Terra’s gods, used to close the city of the gods. The key that he now so carelessly has tossed here.”

He glanced past Harry’s shoulder in the direction of the crater, and Harry felt cold flood his veins. 

“Mjolnir,” he whispered, and Gorr shrugged.

“If that’s what it is called,” Gorr replied. “Now, you are a mortal and a fellow god-slayer. Powers of gods or not, we have no quarrel.” 

Harry thought of Coulson and all the innocent SHIELD agents around the hammer and grimaced. “I’m afraid we do. You see? As you said, I am a sorcerer, and we are the protectors of Earth— of Terra. Now, personally, I won’t give a shit if you kill some gods. Heck, I could point you in the right direction for some of them. But killing all of them? I can’t allow it.”

Gorr’s face twisted. “What have the gods ever done for you that you protect them?”

“Oh, nothing. But it is more of what their presence represents for Earth,” Harry told him. “Their numbers and power serve to be a deterrent to most threats, including celestial ones. Not to mention, some of the better gods have lent their powers to the World Shield that protects us from horrific threats. Now, if you kill all gods… we mortals would die too. And I cannot allow that.”

“So be it—”

“Of course,” Harry continued, holding up his hand, allowing the magic to subtly drift around him and curve down his sleeve, thrumming in his bones. “This is all considering you can even lift Mjolnir by being worthy. No one can lift it at the moment, and I severely doubt that you could either, Necrosword or not.”

Gorr’s lips curved into a disturbing grin of blackened, sharp teeth, and he let out a high laugh, reminding Harry eerily of Voldemort. “Divine constraints can only apply until power overwhelms them. The power of gods drunk by the sword through ages, with the Odinson's essence, shall be enough for me to take the key and use it to kick open the doors to the city of gods.” 

“You intend to kill Thor.” Harry let out a sigh, his breath misting in the frigid air. “Yeah, no, that can’t happen. Asgard will overrun us if its crown prince dies here, even if it is at your hands.”

Gorr’s smile sharpened. “That’s what I am counting on.” 

Harry frowned before his eyes widened. “They don’t live in Omnipotence city but in Asgard and serve as the guardians of the Nine Realms by being one of the most powerful divine Pantheons and military species in the Universe. You cannot go there, I’m guessing, so you’ll have them come to Earth.”

“And when they do, I shall kill them and do Terra a service. Once I get the hammer, no power would stop me from wiping away Terra’s gods. I shall free this world of false hope, which you, too, regrettably bear.” He drifted closer, and Harry tensed. “Heed me when I tell you, when the time comes, your gods will not help you. They never do.”

“Maybe,” Harry said. “But this is not about the gods. I cannot allow you to do what you’re here for. It’s nothing personal, but it’ll be in your best interest to return and hunt gods other than those of Earth first.” 

“Is that it?”

“No. If you want to get to the hammer, you’ll have to go through me. And—”

Gorr blurred forward before Harry could finish, and Harry barely had time to thrust his hand out as the sword rose high above Gorr’s head like an executioner’s blade. In the next moment, golden magic exploded outward in a blinding lattice of sigils, runes, and energies, each locking and melding with the others.

The shockwave of magic sent the god butcher stumbling back, and the sigils and runes dragged him away from Harry. The magic churned, making a sound like shattering glass, curving around Gorr while Harry’s hand blurred through the air, conducting the magic like an orchestra. 

“By the Rings of Raggador and the Scarlet Sphere of Cyttorak!” Harry intoned, and a crimson bubble formed around the man, as dark purple rings spun around it, joining the runes and sigils that blazed in the night. “Bind him!”

The spell snapped into place with a sharp snap, and energies crystallized into a dome around Gorr, trapping him within. With a snap of Harry’s finger, chains of crimson and purple wrapped around him like a snake while Gorr observed the magic get to work with a hint of fascination.

Harry nearly smiled as the spell completed, and the dome solidified, immobilizing the god butcher within it. Instead, he waved his hand again, sending golden ropes of energy to wrap around the crystal dome. More and more runes flared on its surface while Gorr tested his chains before his high chuckle rang through the desert.

A moment later, he let go of his sword, which rose on its own, hanging in the air in front of him, igniting with dark magic, and the colors of the energies around Gorr seemed to dim.

“You’re trapped now, Gorr,” Harry said. “Give up and—”

The sword whizzed around Gorr in a blur of shadow, and the chains shattered into wisps of energy that the sword drank in, slamming back into its master’s hand. Gorr looked straight at him, and his eyes met with Harry’s before he raised his sword. 

Harry physically felt the force as the necrosword crashed against the barrier, sending him skidding backward, his boots carving furrows into the sand. The raw force drove into his arms, and pain lanced up his shoulders, his teeth rattling in his skull. The impact rang across the desert like a struck bell, and the dunes rippled around him like a stone had been dropped into water.

“What the fuck?” Harry whispered, glancing up to see black cracks spiderweb across the crystal dome. 

The golden energy that Harry had just layered on the dome withered away, and the runes vanished, consumed by the black tendrils. 

As Harry pushed back, layering magic to stop the barrier from breaking, Gorr didn’t relent either. He leaned into the strike, face split by a rapturous grin. The shadows bled from the blade and crawled up Harry’s barrier with a strange, acidic hiss, and the magic began to dissolve faster than Harry could save it.

‘If only I could use the Stone,’ Harry glanced down where the amulet rested on his chest, the warmth of the stone thrumming within it, waiting to be used. ‘But if I do, it’ll cause more trouble. The Ancient One warned me of it. I need alternatives.’

A loud bang rocked across the desert as the dome shattered and the wisps of shadows surged, drinking in the magic greedily before returning to Gorr, who relished in them like a feast.

Without wasting time, Harry crossed his hands, drawing his spell in thin, violet wisps, and he thrust his arm forward. “Bolts of Bedevilment! Whip of Faltine!”

Violet bolts of magic tore across the night, splitting into a dozen screaming arcs which slammed into Gorr’s chest and limbs, followed by the whip of fire that snapped through the air like a cannon. The desert lit up in strobing flashes with every strike of the bolts and the whip, each impact howling like a living being trying to incinerate into flesh and shadow alike.

Gorr barely flinched.

The bolts and flames skidded across his skin and the blade alike, dragged into the necrosword as if pulled by a tide. Shadows wrapped around the lightning, swallowing it in gulps until nothing remained but drifting sparks that winked out against the sand.

Harry’s heart dropped. Either of the spells would’ve gotten some reaction out of any monster or God if they had been stuck. 

Instead, the god butcher stepped forward through the fading haze, unharmed, the sword humming in his grasp, seeming pleased. The darkness around him thickened, spreading like ink through water, and the temperature plunged another notch.

“Your tenacity is admirable, Sorcerer. But you use the power of the gods. The divine are but a feast for the All Black.” Gorr told him. “You cannot win.”

Harry frowned at that before his lips curled into a smirk. Not all his powers were borrowed from the gods, after all. “Thank you for that,” he said. “Expelliarmus!”

The beam soared through the air, crashing into the Necrosword and ripping it out of Gorr’s hands, sending him stumbling. Surprise twisted on his face as he looked at the sword, which flew back into his hands in the next second, and he curved out of the way of a blasting curse.

“What is this?” He whispered, sidestepping a Sectumsempra curse in an almost panicked blur.

Around him, shadows rose, taking vaguely draconic shapes that seemed taller than even Hagrid was. Seeing them form, the ridges and spikes on their spines reminded Harry of the Hungarian Horntail he had faced all those years ago.

‘At least these are smaller.’ He thought as the horde of dragons charged at him, their teeth bared. ‘And constructs.’

Harry’s body moved on its own, his hand snapping forward. “Bolts of Balthakk.”

Lightning tore the nearest monsters into shreds of writhing black ash, the crack of thunder drowning their screams. The thunderclap rolled across the desert, echoing off the dunes as the remaining dragons veered, circling Harry like predators reassessing wounded prey.

Harry didn’t give them the chance. He twisted his wrist, runes flaring along his forearm, and slammed his foot down. “Crimson Bands of Cyttorak!”

Scarlet energy burst from the ground in a web of snapping arcs, slamming into two of the dragons, mid-lunge and pinning them to the sand. They screeched, their bodies unraveling as the magic crushed them into nothingness.

The others surged forward in a coordinated rush.

Harry vanished and reappeared to the left with a crack. Sand exploded where he’d stood moments before as shadowy jaws snapped shut on empty air. 

“CONFRINGO!” He yelled, and the curse tore through the remaining dragons, their screeches ringing in the night.

He barely had time to revel in it before the Soul Stone screamed in his mind, and he raised the Dragon shield on instinct, covering himself just in time.

The necrosword came down like a falling star.

The impact slammed into the Dragon Shield with titanic force, the armor spell flaring around Harry as protective runes blazed on the shield’s handle. The collision rang through the desert like a cathedral bell struck by a god’s fist, and Harry was driven to one knee, sand blasting outward in a shockwave. The shield groaned, fractures of golden light racing along its scales as shadows chewed at its edges.

Harry gritted his teeth, his arms trembling while the taste of copper washed over his tongue. “By the might of Mokar.”

Magic rushed, embracing his limbs, and the force seemed to lighten. With a grunt, he pushed back and rolled away, the blade cleaving through the air where he had been. Shadows lunged, trying to wrap around him, but Harry apparated away with a crack, appearing several feet away, behind Gorr.

Steadying himself, he weaved a spell, pouring magic into the ground around Gorr, who spun around, and shadows surged. With a sharp gesture, the ground around Gorr’s feet erupted into massive hands made of sand, which clamped around him.

In the next second, the shadows wrapped around Harry, solidifying into vines, only to be burned away as runes flared on his shield, golden sparks raining from the metal as if the shield was bleeding.

“Bloody hell. The bastard damaged my shield.” Harry scowled, willing the magic to tighten around Gorr and transfiguring the sand to metal. “Escape this now, you—”

The hands detonated like a grenade, and Harry erected a shield on instinct, watching metal fragments bounce off the translucent barrier, leaving faint whorls in their wake.

“Fuck,” he whispered, sliding on the Crimson Knuckles. “I gotta get him away and stay away.”

He thrust his hand forward, and a crimson fist blazed across the desert toward the God Butcher, who emerged from the crater of metal and looked at it almost lazily. The necrosword rose and cleaved through the spell like a knife through butter.

Crimson wisps of magic writhed around him, gathering on the edge of the All Black. Gorr examined it, a smile curving on his face, and Harry felt his heart drop as Gorr raised the sword and slammed it on the ground. 

Harry barely had time to prepare himself as a massive shockwave of dark crimson magic erupted, ripping through the dunes and tearing through his shield, hitting him like a truck. The ground around him exploded as Harry redirected it around him to save himself.

The world spun, and the wind whipped around him while golden sparks flew in a frenzy, his armor crumbling before pain assaulted him.

Then and only then, did he remember to scream.

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14th December 2008

New Mexico

Jane Foster woke up with a start as a loud, distant explosion shook the van, her shoulder crashing into Thor’s bicep, sending a flare of pain up her shoulder. The man, beside her, who claimed to be a god— an ex-god, was upright, his eyes fixed on something in the distance.

A moment later, she saw it too, as multi-colored light flashed in the distance, followed by another explosion.

“Something’s happening,” Thor whispered, bouncing to his feet and picking up his shirt. “Something not of the mortal realm. Get dressed, please, Lady Jane. It may not be safe here.”

“What’s going on?” She asked, scrambling for her clothes, just as the van’s door slammed open and Darcy stumbled out, her panicked eyes darting between the two of them while Jane pulled on her clothes.

“Jane—” Darcy began, but Thor held up his hand, his eyes darting in another direction.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered, putting himself in front of her, and Jane peered over his massive bicep to see a man running toward them, a bow slung over his shoulder. “Identify yourself!”

The man skidded to a halt in front of them, and Thor tensed, but Jane recognized the symbol on the purple-black Uniform. 

“He’s from SHIELD,” she whispered, and the man nodded.

“I am. Agent Clint Barton,” the man introduced himself. “And I’m a friend of Potter’s— Emrys. Whatever name he gave you.”

“The Sorcerer,” Thor breathed, his eyes darting to the distance as another explosion lit up the sky. “Is he—”

“Yes, he’s there and I don’t think it’s safe for you here,” Barton said briskly. “I need you to get you to safety, preferably far away from here. He said you must stay alive, which is what I’m going to ensure.” He glanced between Thor and her. “And it’ll be best if you come too, Dr. Foster.”

“What’s going on?” Darcy demanded. “The sensors in the van are going crazy. Hell, a couple of them just burned!”

Barton grabbed Thor’s arm and led him to the van, and Jane followed. “I’ll try to explain. I don’t know myself, but what I know is that we need to get away from whatever Agent Emrys is stopping. From a distance, it looked like a man with a black sword.”

“Black sword?” Thor asked, then paled, just as Clint and he boarded the van, and another explosion shook it. “Oh, by Odin, no. Not him.”

“Do you—”

“SEATBELTS, NOW! CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR!” Barton yelled, getting into the driver’s seat, and snatched the keys from the dashboard. “We’re leaving.”

Jane lunged, pulling Darcy inside, and slammed the door shut, hearing the engine roar to life. Then, the vehicle van raced, and she nearly stumbled, only for Thor to catch her while she watched something else light up in the distance, followed by a thunderclap so loud that it rattled her eardrums. 

“What’s happening, Thor? Who is… SHIELD’s guy fighting? And why are we running?” Jane asked as Thor helped her into the seat and held on to its edge himself, while Barton veered the van sharply. 

Beside her, Darcy nodded. “Yeah, can we get some fucking answers? Hey, bow guy!”

Instead of Barton, Thor answered with a heavy sigh. “If the description is correct, the black sword can only mean one thing. Certain doom.”

“Is this black sword something like the hammer you’ve been talking about?” Jane asked, a bubble of skepticism rising in her chest. “Magic weapon?”

“Worse. Mjolnir was forged by the great dwarves of Nidavellir. This weapon… is called the All Black. It is a weapon of legend, whispered amongst all gods like— like a scary tale. The scariest tale.”

Darcy snorted. “Like Baba Yaga?”

Thor frowned, and Jane shot her a glare. “Forget it. What…” her voice trailed off. What could she even ask?

“Agent Emrys seemed to engage some… dark, almost black creatures. Like these massive spiders and stuff and destroyed them,” Barton said from the driver’s seat, his eyes fixed on the road. “Then they began to talk, but I think it went south, and they engaged in a fight. That’s when I left.”

Thor’s face drained of color, and he nodded slowly. “If the sorcerer engaged him, he is indeed very brave. Is he your friend, Archer?”

“Sorcerer?” Darcy asked.

“You can call me Clint. And yeah, I suppose. He owes me a drink.” He glanced at them through the rear-view mirror. “Do you have a place in the town to lay low?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. We’re going there. We can’t go to SHIELD right now, because both bases are in the opposite direction of where we are going, and I don’t think we should turn around. We have to get as far away from the fight as we can and quickly. That guy moves faster than anything I’ve seen.”

Thor nodded almost grimly. “Even if I had my powers, this would be a fight I’d be reluctant to go into. For all our sakes, I hope the Sorcerer succeeds. And lives.”

“Okay, time out—” Darcy began, but the next moment, the ground shook, and Jane felt weightless, the windows around her shattered in a dark red flash.

Thor shielded her as the van spun, landing with a hard bump that sent pain up Jane’s spine before her head hit something hard.

The last thing she heard was Darcy’s scream, before she knew no more.

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AND… DONE! Hope you all liked the chapter!

So, yes, you all were correct. It is indeed Gorr, the God Butcher, and ooh, the stakes couldn’t be higher. And it is going to be a tough, long fight.

Sorry for the delay. I intended to publish this two days ago, but I didn’t like the fight as it was going on and basically had to reconstruct it to scale it appropriately, alongside a good part of the writing. I can give you all a behind-the-scenes on discord, if you want. (Which reminds me, JOIN THE DISCORD SERVER IF YOU HAVEN’T!!)

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Stay Happy! Stay Safe! Keep Smiling! Keep Reading!

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