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cassiefromhell · 9 months

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Unexpected (pt. 5)

Part One Part Four Part Six

Fanbase: acotar

Eris x Reader x Azriel

Summary: You've healed nicely from your nasty encounter with your least favorite bitchy creature, but what now? You've missed your own mating ceremony... where do you go from here?

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: smut! fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (and mention of a lot of it!) dirty talk

A/N: Requests are OPEN! Check my pinned message for details on what I'll write <3. Thank you so, so much for the notes on this lil series! I read all comments and reblogs. The poll I had last week ended up juuuust barely going in favor of longer chapters on Unexpected, so that's what further updates will mainly be.

It only took three more days for me to gain the strength to go back to our room, and I took that opportunity immediately.

Azriel was in and out of the medical room, visiting as much as he could.

I won’t lie and say it wasn’t awkward at times, when Eris was there. But Azriel was good at finding the fleeting moments when Eris was in a meeting, or (heaven forbid!) on a short trip to another court. My first mate was never gone for more than an hour or two, but Azriel seemed to slide in each moment that the High Lord was gone.

I liked having company. Eris focused more on making sure I was comfortable, having me walk around — with his arm for balance, of course — and keeping my pillows properly fluffed, blankets perfectly tucked. He brought me books and town newspapers, and told me jokes and funny things about his day.

Azriel was far more reserved, but still he came. He brought me more things than I could think possible in three short days. More books, which made me wonder if his shadows had seen Eris bring me those and he followed after (he also mentioned some odd thing about a house recommending books?) He brought me food, and asked what I liked, and then brought me croissants and macarons every day forward. He gifted me a few boxes of Night Court attire — flowing dresses and jumpsuits of deep violet and navy blue.

But the thing I loved most?

He brought me a blueprint. Of a knife.

A blacksmith’s plan for a knife that Azriel had commissioned for me, the matching sister of Truth Teller.

I had nearly cried when I saw the beauty of just the sketch.

But now, I’m sitting in bed, curled up with a book. This is my second day back in the room, and I’ve finally convinced Eris to resume his normal daily schedule.

Which leaves me here alone. But I don’t particularly mind. I’m happy to have some time with just me and a romance novel.

At least, alone for a few hours.

Because footsteps are coming down the hall, and with a glance at the clock, I discover that it’s Eris’s lunch hour.

Of course he’s coming to eat with me.

I grin, putting my book to the side. I adjust the pillows around me, making room for my mate. I do sometimes find myself missing him, his red hair and sarcasm and the little nicknames he has for me.

The door swings open by force of magic, and my lover is quickly in the doorway. I’m taken aback by what he has in his hands: a massive tray filled to the brim with food. Sandwiches, salads, pastries and soups and desserts.

I squeal, opening my arms for him. Eris places the tray on my lap and crawls into bed beside me, showering my neck and face with kisses.

“See? I knew you’d love this. The way to your heart is food.”

I laugh, catching his face in my hands and giving him a long kiss. “You know me better than anyone, High Lord.”

“Ohh, don’t go High Lord-ing me, missy,” he shoves a finger sandwich in my mouth. “You have me in the palm of your hand and you know it.”

Giggling, I chew and swallow my sandwich, leaning against him. He wraps an arm around me, half of the time feeding himself and the other hand feeding me with both food and kisses and little sweet whisperings against my ear.

And I’m happy here.

I eat my macaron — which, of course he brought me those — with a smile, until my eyes catch on a certain sandwich that I know is Eris’s favorite.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, eyes trained on my suddenly downcast expression.

“I’m thinking,” I whisper, taking that sandwich and holding it between my fingers.

He tenses. “…Shit. You hate it. What did I do wrong? Here, let me—” he moves to take away the tray, but I stop him with a hand on his wrist.

“Hold on. Let me consider.”

I stare at that little finger sandwich intently. It’s Eris’s very favorite, and I’m sitting next to this man who I love so much and who is my mate and I still have not officially accepted as such.

So I turn to face him, pulling my legs in and getting up on my knees. Once I do that, he’s at eye level, and I can really see the concern glimmering in his gaze.

I stroke his cheek, and then begin to murmur the Autumn Court vows. “Eris Vanserra, prince of fire and High Lord of the leaves…”

Eris’s eyes widen, and he looks down to the sandwich in my hands. His jaw falls, and his lips are parted, leaving him with an utterly flabbergasted expression. “But— but you wanted the whole—”

I cover his mouth gently. “Yes, I wanted the whole disgustingly lavish ceremony. But I think the gods have said that’s a bad idea. Now let me do the whole vows thing,” I command, and he nods eagerly. “Eris Vanserra, prince of fire and High Lord of the leaves, you have taken my heart in your grasp and I trust you with it. You are the other half of my soul, and I am prepared to give you all of mine. I accept you as my mate.”

I hold out the sandwich, lowering my hand from his mouth. Eris takes the food with a shaking hand. He chews his bottom lip, tilting his hair forward, and little strands of red hair fall across his forehead.

“…Are you sure…?” he asks, his voice hardly a whisper. “I don’t… want you to regret this.”

I offer a soft smile, sinking back to sit on my heels. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes glisten, and he nods, flipping the sandwich in his fingers. “I don’t remember my part of the vows, as embarrassing as it is..”

Laughing, I nudge his hand. “That’s alright. The eating is the important part.”

He takes a bite, and then another, and then he’s scarfing it down.

“Slow down. You’ll choke.”

“You can’t blame me for being speedy, I want to be choking on your cunt.”

I flush, but lean forward anyway, kissing his throat as he eats.

The bond begins to solidify, shifting from a fraying thread into a sturdy rope, golden and shimmering and lovely.

Eris finishes his sandwich, and with a snap of his fingers, the tray is teleported across the room. He sweeps me into his arms, laying me down onto the blankets and pillows.

“How are you feeling today, love?” he murmurs, pausing before doing anything serious.

“Oh, fuck me already, Eris.”

He just gives a low chuckle in response, kissing me. Our tongues and teeth clash, dancing around each other. His hands make quick work of my dress, sliding it up and off of me.

Okay, he’s a little needy.

“Aw, poor Eris had to go a week and a half without me?” I tease, reaching up to run my hands through his hair.

He growls as a reply, mouth dipping down… and then down some more. He kisses down my throat, unclasping my bra with deft fingers and sliding it off. His tongue makes circles over my breasts, and then again, never quite hitting the nipple.

“Eris,” I whine, and that’s all it takes.

Eris kisses each of my nipples, gently biting the raised buds. My whimpers seem to egg him on, and he’s quickly sliding a hand down my body, pulling off my panties.

“Eri—”

His full name doesn’t even get the chance to escape my mouth, because it’s cut off by a long moan. His thumb has found my clit, and is gently, teasingly, circling it.

A moment later, and his head is down there too, his tongue licking a stripe along my folds.

I nearly cry.

Eris has never been one for long teasery — well, he tries, but he always gives in with a glance at my face. He’s certainly too eager for even trying to hold out on me now, having been abstinent for longer than either of our likings.

His tongue laps at me, hands pushing my knees apart. I throw the covers off of us so that I can see him, see his red hair tied back at the base of his neck, see his mouth feasting on me like a man starved, and— his eyes. He’s looking up at me, relentlessly, and he doesn’t break his gaze as a finger enters me.

I whimper softly at the sensation, my back arching up, off of the mattress. The waves of pleasure creeping up my spine are intense, amplified by the amount of time it’s been since I’ve climaxed, found that incredible cliff that I am now approaching.

“You’re sensitive today,” he murmurs, voice rumbling against me. “I can feel it.”

He adds a second finger, and I nearly come just from his soft growl.

But just as I find myself on the edge, whining and gripping his hair, biting the pillow, he completely stops, sliding up my body.

“Shit,” I moan softly, having a terrible feeling that he’s going to edge me. For a long time.

But instead, he gives me a long kiss, letting me taste myself on his tongue. And in the middle of it all, his fingers start to move again, his thumb circling my clit once more.

He pulls away, just enough to speak against my mouth. “Fuck, sweetheart. Look at how well you’re doing, all pent up like this.”

Then his thumb centers on my clit, rubbing it with soft strokes, and it sends me plummeting over the edge. Stars form behind my eyelids, unintelligible whimpers spilling from my lips, and Eris coaxes me through it all, stimulating my oversensitive nerves and giving me praise.

When I’m calmed from my high, gazing up at him with a lazy smile, I whisper. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“And you are gorgeous. I could not ask the Mother for a better mate,” he purred, shifting to kiss me once more.

He presses his clothed hips to my bare ones, showing me exactly how much he wants me.

I laugh against his mouth, my hands trailing down. “Why is it,” I murmur into his lips, “that I’m naked and you’re still fully clothed.”

“It’s because you never undressed me.”

“Aye, don’t point fingers.”

We both laugh, and I have my hand on the first button of his shirt when a sharp, piercing tug comes on the mating bond.

I flinch.

Eris frowns, tilting his head and brushing a kiss to my cheek. “What’s wrong?”

Sighing heavily, I zero in on the mating bond connecting me to Azriel. “Give me just a second. Shadow Boy is tugging.”

Are you alright? I ask the thread.

Physically, yes. Why wouldn’t I be. His response is flat, and is more of a statement where a question should be instead.

You tugged. Hard. It kind of hurt.

You know I can feel all of your emotions, right? You have no mental shields up.

Okay, so? But my response is a little distracted, because Eris has sat up, straddling my thighs. He unbuttons his shirt, slowly, teasingly.

My breath catches in my throat when he flexed his hips upward, showing off the bulge in his pants. I palm it gently as Azriel’s response comes.

I’d rather not know what you’re feeling.

It takes me a moment, and then I remember the arousal and pleasure that has been flooding my mind for the last few minutes, and it clicks.

I laugh, running a finger down the seam of Eris’s pants. “He can sense my emotions and feelings. He’s asking for me to stop subjecting him to my sex life.”

Jealous? I ask down the bond, grinning as Eris hurries his undressing. Unfortunately, he was in a council meeting earlier, so he’s sporting a uniform with a bajillion clasps and buttons and buckles.

No reply comes.

Are you a little, tiny bit envious of Eris right now? Because he gets to fuck the shit out of me.

And preparing to fuck the shit out of me he is, as Eris is hovering over me now, mostly undressed. He frees himself, pulling out his long, thick cock. I like the little curve it has, and I trace the vein on the underside with my index finger.

Maybe you should stop teasing me, or I’ll show up and put your fun to an end.

Alright, alright. Shutting up. I’ll try to keep my emotions to myself.

The bond goes silent.

“He’s gone,” I whisper.

Immediately, Eris is positioning himself between my legs, capturing me in a kiss once more. His thumb grazes my clit, and I feel the telltale pressure against my entrance.

Instinctually, I spread my legs. I whimper as he pushes in, just slightly, stretching me wide. It hurts, just a bit — I thought I would be used to him by now, but I guess not after a week without this, without him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, trailing kisses down my neck. “You’re so fucking tight.”

He sinks in further, and I find my hands rooted in his hair, holding his head close. I leave breathy kisses against his ear and throat, murmuring strings of praises. “Gods, you feel good… mother save me… start moving, I need you.”

He pulls his hips back slowly, hissing as my body grips him. Then, he snaps back in, just barely managing to brush that one spot deep in me.

My back arcs, and a whimper escapes me as his free hand grabs both of mine, pinning them above my head — his other still teasing my clit.

He begins a steady pace, until the lingering pain at my core subsides, and is replaced with more slick, and need, and burning pleasure.

“Fuck,” I whisper, lifting my hips to add to the friction. “Harder— harder, please…”

A grin spreads across my High Lord’s face, and he kisses my shoulder, picking up into a brutal pace, the sounds of skin on skin filling the room.

The pleasure is immense. Each time his thumb brushes my clit, or his cock hits that one spot, I see stars. My abdomen begins to tense, and my noises become more frequent.

Eris shifts to have his head directly above me, watching my expression closely. The eye contact alone pushes me that much closer to the edge, and fast.

“Coming already?” He croons, putting our foreheads together. “Needy, needy little creature, aren’t you?”

I nod against him, our noses brushing. “Please.”

And he silently obliges me (as silent as he gets during sex, still panting and making little pleased noises) by pressing the heel of his hand against my clit.

The result is instant. Stars bloom and explode behind my eyelids, and I chant his name like a prayer, whimpering and moaning and whining as his pace stays relentless, coaxing me through my crashing orgasm.

His pace does not grow sloppier; he’s never gotten sloppy before he cums, if anything he just gets more rigid, pace growing faster and harder but never sloppy. He tilts his head down to rest on my shoulder, groaning as his cock twitches inside me. “Such a good girl for me, hmm?”

I squeeze his hand with one of mine, grinning when his words come out breathless. “Give it to me. Fill me.”

And he does, nearly immediately. He gives one last snapping thrust into me, burying himself deep inside. I can tell he’s cumming by the moans and unintelligible mumbles leaking from his throat, combined with the slight increase in warmth at my pelvis.

“What a good mate you are,” I purr, working one hand out of his grip to stroke his hair. “Filling me up with your seed. Such a good boy—”

Eris shuts me up with a long kiss, and he remains buried in me, carefully pulling me onto his lap as he sits up.

Pulling away slowly, he speaks softly. “I need to cancel my meetings for the next few days — at least. You know what they say about the whole newly-mated male thing, so the council hopefully won’t fight too much. I’m sure they’d rather have my absence than a volatile male.”

“Youuu can do that later,” I grumble, catching his bottom lip between my teeth. That fiery need is building between my legs once more, creeping up my spine and peaking my nipples. “Fuck now. Lord business later.”

He has no qualms — at least, he speaks none — about my decision, and he captures my mouth in his. His hands slide up, one to my jaw, the other to my hair, locking me into the kiss. As he does, I catch the slight scent of magic in my nose, and I crack an eye open to see a letter writing itself on the desk. I can’t read it from here, but it’s short, and slid under the door in a blur.

He pulls back, smirking as he takes me in. “I’ve hardly touched you and you’re all flushed and messy.”

“Hardly— hardly touched?” I ask, incredulous. “You’re buried in me, to the hilt.”

His smirk breaks into a toothy grin, flashing me his canines. “Yes, and I’ve done much worse. Now, tell me, where would you next like to be made a mess?”

I’ve decided to both thank and curse the mother for the mating frenzy.

For the last three days, Eris and I have been relentless. It’s pathetic, really, the way we can’t even manage a good night’s sleep. By the time we’re able to fuck eachother senseless enough to slip into sleep, one of us wakes up with that fiery need again after no more than an hour.

Mercifully, the staff in the palace understands. They bring us food and leave it outside the door, and other than that they leave us alone.

Even now, as I sit in the bath with Eris, the soreness in all of my limbs lingers. I sigh softly, nestling myself safely in Eris’s arms as the warm water seeps into my tired bones.

“We should probably get some actual cleaning done, before it comes back,” he murmurs, running his fingers through my damp hair. “We made a deal to get in the bath and cleanse ourselves, and instead we’ve just fucked. Twice.”

I giggle, pressing my face to the center of his chest. “Yeah, well… it was fun.”

“That it was,” he hums, removing one arm from me. He starts to run soap over my body, and I’m content to let him do that while I lay here limp. “You’re so beautiful, love.”

I bite his shoulder gently, to which he replies with a smack to my ass under the water. Laughing, I pull his face down, peppering it with kisses.

“You are not helpful,” he growls, taking my shoulders and turning me around. “Hold still and let me do your hair.”

I shift myself to turn and face him once more, but go still when his fingers start working shampoo into my hair. I practically purr at the massage, melting into his touch.

This,

This is bliss.

It takes two more days for the frenzy to slow, and Eris and I come to the decision that we can go without each other for a few hours.

So, I sit in the center of the music hall, which is completely empty each day until two, when the musicians come to practice. It’s nearly noon now, and I’m just out of the room to get away from the overwhelming scent of sex, and to get a little practice in.

The harp that leans on my shoulder is playing a song that I wrote on my own. I hum along with it as my fingers pluck the long strings, leaning into the deep vibrations.

I’ve played the harp since I was young. I was allowed to learn one instrument as a child, and little, tiny, adolescent me chose the harp. Looking back on it, perhaps a piano or guitar would have been more practical, but the time for choosing an instrument to learn has long since passed.

The music glides from my hands like an ice skater on a frozen lake, making graceful circles and figure eights, going fast and then so, so very slow.

My alone time is broken around an hour into my practice. The shadows contort in the room, and then there’s an undeniable presence behind me. I don’t even need to look to know who he is.

“Congratulations,” Azriel says, followed by the soft shuffle of wings being adjusted. “On your mating.”

“Thank you,” I reply, finally halting my music to glance over at him. “I hope you aren’t too bothered by it.”

He gives a noncommittal shrug, walking over and standing beside me. His arms cross over his chest as he speaks, “It was expected. You’ve known Eris for far longer than me. I didn’t know you played the harp.”

Smooth topic change.

“I can’t remember a time when I didn’t.”

“You would love the musician’s quarter, in Velaris. It’s always filled with the most magnificent sound. I could show you, if you come to visit.”

I turn back to the strings in front of me, running my thumb along the golden shoulder of the instrument. “I’ve already told you that I would visit at some point. Have you come here to remind me?”

Azriel shifts on his feet slightly — and something tells me that he isn’t typically one for nervous habits, so maybe I make him exceptionally anxious. “Not really.”

“Then why, exactly, are you here?”

“Do I need a reason?”

I raise a brow, plucking a few strings absentmindedly. “When Eris is in full mated-male protective mode?” Azriel tenses. “Perhaps you should have an excuse for being in his palace.”

“Then I’m here because I was bringing you this,” he replies, holding out a velvet box.

Turning to face him, I take the box gingerly. Pulling the cover up reveals something exquisite, and I snap it shut.

“I… I cannot accept this,” I stumble over my words, blinking as he opens the box again. “It’s too— holy mother.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and carefully picking up the necklace. It’s a double layered chain; the shorter, closer to my neck layer is thin and a shimmering silver unlike anything I’ve laid eyes on before, and topped off with a delicate dagger pendant, encrusted in a blue stone like his siphons; the longer layer is a sharp gold, glittering in the sunlight and almost giving the appearance of being on fire, and hanging from it is a leaf with — well, I don’t know if my eyes are playing tricks on me, but it seems to have a little orb inside holding actual fire.

“I’ve had it custom made for you. It would be horrible manners to not accept it.”

I feel blood brush the skin on the back of my neck, and then dance across my ears. “Then, uhm, I suppose I’ll have to take it, hm?” I take it from his grasp, holding it to my neck. “Help me clasp it, since you’re intent on me having it.”

Azriel steps behind me, his calloused fingers brushing my nape as he clips the chains together. His hand linger possibly a little longer than is necessary, but I didn’t complain.

To think of it, I’ve never actually gotten a particularly good view of his hands. They were often hidden in the fabric of his clothing, or gloved, or moving too fast to be seen. I’ve always liked hands — are they scarred, or smooth? Long or short nails? Wrinkled, or baby-skinned?

But as I reach for his hands to bring them forward, they suddenly retract. In fact, turning around reveals that Azriel has taken three steps back.

“What’s wrong?” I frown, eyes flicking to his arms, which have expertly, subtly, hidden his wrists behind his back.

“Nothing,” he replies in a smooth, reassuring tone, “you look stunning. I had a feeling that the necklace would glow on you.”

“It disappoints me that you think you can evade my questioning. I’m your mate, you don’t need to hide anything from me.”

A ghost of a smile crosses his lips.

“What?” I scowl, standing and striding over to him.

He continues to retreat backwards, until I know for certain that this has somehow become some sort of a game for him by the growing amusement on his features.

And I have the feeling that he’s competitive.

I feign a stop, and then lunge at him, angling myself to send him sprawling to the ground. I’ve slipped into my assassin skill set.

But Azriel has tricks up his own sleeve, because the sidesteps and twists his leg, aiming to knock me over. His maneuver fails, and before I know it, we’ve essentially engaged in combat.

Except he refuses to use his hands.

We twist and spin, dancing across the music hall. None of my attempts to grab him work, but he’s also unsuccessful in taking me down without his hands. I’m sure his shadows could help, but he’s not using them — and I have the feeling that he’s trying to be gentle with me.

“Are you going easy on me?” I accuse, my hand snapping out and finally making contact, managing to grab his bicep… but his hand stays firmly behind his back.

“Perhaps. But I have a distinct advantage — height, wings, and shadows.”

“Yeah, well, I have fire and I’d just rather not burn you.”

And there it is — he flinches.

But he recovers quickly, and I’m too busy processing his flinch to dodge when his wing comes at me. The muscle under its velvet skin swivels me around with ease, and suddenly my hands are pinned behind my shoulder blades, by Azriel’s own hand.

I find myself unable to turn around. Why? Because my back is pressed completely up against Azriel’s chest, his head dipped down to be on the same level as my own. My hands and his are trapped between us, guaranteeing that I won’t be able to catch a glimpse.

“I win,” he murmurs, his lips against my ear.

“That you did. But you flinched,” I murmur back, turning my head just enough to be able to see his face. It’s completely neutral again, if not a little amused. No hint of the flinching boy that had flashed in front of me.

“You mentioned having fire, and I realized that if I let our little match go on for much longer, you might get a little too hot for comfort,” he replies, maybe too slowly.

His tone is so believable that I nearly let it go. But as he speaks, the darkness pooled at our feet recoils from him, tendrils of it wrapping up my ankles and stroking my skin.

“Your shadows don’t like it when you lie to me,” I tilt my head to the void building on my legs.

Azriel narrows his eyes but says nothing; the shadows scatter.

Softening my tone, I tilt my head back against his shoulder and try again. “Why can’t I see your hands, Azriel?”

He sighs the heaviest sigh imaginable, nearly breaking my heart in the process. But he releases my hands, and waits.

I don’t step away, gazing up at him expectantly.

We end up just staring at each other for a few moments. His eyes tell a story that I know will hurt to hear when it is vocalized. But I want to know his tales. I find myself a bit infatuated with this other mate — who is Azriel Shadowsinger?

But nevertheless, there’s a shifting behind me as his hands move, and he brings them to be in front of me.

I have to stifle a gasp at the sight.

Azriel’s hands are covered in burn scars. Not an inch of the skin spanning his fingertips to his forearm is untouched. The skin is raised and rigid, and parts of it are a darkened brown or red.

Biting my lip, I carefully run a fingertip over one of the ridges. The skin is surprisingly smooth itself, just with raised bumps and dips along the surface. His abdomen tenses against my lower back as I touch his hand, but he doesn’t object.

“I don’t think they’re ugly, if that’s what you were afraid of,” I murmur, taking one of his hands in mine and continuing to trace along the other. “I’ve always liked hands. They’re the most useful parts of the body, for the most part — capable of so many things. And the marks just tell stories.” I flip my own hand over, showing the scars littering my palms. “My hands weave the tale of an assassin, an expert at her craft. Yours tell the story of a warrior with a backstory worth sharing to loved ones. And that history needn’t be retold today.”

Then, completely unexpectedly, he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of my neck.

“Thank you,” he whispered with lips brushing my skin.

We stand there for a few seconds or moments or minutes, I cannot tell. But I’ve grown to like the feeling of his mouth on my neck, his hands almost feeling familiar under my touch.

“While we’re asking questions,” I start, shifting myself forward slightly. “You smiled earlier, just before this whole spontaneous sparring spree began. Why?”

Suddenly, he grips both of my wrists, pinning them between us like he had before. He grins, picking up that competitive gleam in his gaze once more. “Just because.”

“Because why,” I scowl, now trying to shimmy out of his grip.

“You’re a moody one, you know.”

“Me, moody? You look like you’ve just stepped out of a portal to a gothic land of spiders and shadows — Cauldron, you have shadows that follow you,” I feign outrage, which makes him chuckle darkly.

“I smiled because you called me your mate. Out loud and to my face.”

I pause, and then try to whirl, grinning now. “Let me go, and maybe I’ll do it again.”

“You’ll have to win your way out of my grasp. And may I mention, you pack some solid muscle for how small you are—“

“Small?” I shout, trying to elbow him — but he keeps his hold on me. I struggle, while he laughs, and I find a part of myself quite amused as well — and the other part of me, well, I too am competitive.

There’s a creak from the other side of the room that I barely register, but Azriel’s shadows spin like crazy, swirling at our feet like a warning bell.

But Azriel just holds me tighter, ignoring the shadows. I land a kick to his shin that makes him lose his balance — but he drags me when we stumble, growling as I try to break free, and—

And, of course, that is when the door swings open—

Eris Vanserra stares at us, with eyes that start with shock.

And then shift to indescribable rage.

Part Six

Tags: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @5moremin @azriels-mate123 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @nightless @the-sweet-psycho @mali22 @bubybubsters @hannzoaks @menagerofmischief

To be added to the tag list, comment and ask! And if you saw this without the tag list before I took it down and reposted after a good panic of realizing I didn't do tags, then no, you didn't see anything... *distant sobbing*

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