#thank you v much for this ask!

[riding-palominos-every-day]

Hello! Any thoughts on mr Jack Kelly himself

YES OKAY SO-

Jack is a character who whilst I don't actually think about him much, I connect to him so so strongly.

Jack is a foil to so many characters. He's the street-savvy to Davey's book-smart, the dreamer to Crutchie's realist. The brother who looks out for everyone and solves his problems with words to the Delanceys who solve theirs with fists and can only look out for themselves. The youngster screwed over by the system to Pulitzer's older generation who benefits from said system.

I don't think Jack actually wants to go to Santa Fe as it is. Santa Fe in Jack's mind is a place where he'd be safe and loved, financially stable, where his brother's incurable condition can be cured. Deep down, he knows the real Santa Fe won't be these things. But he needs a dream to cling onto because he'll crumble otherwise. His love of Santa Fe comes from dime novels. The romanticised aesthetic of the West is what drew him to it; he probably doesn't know much about the city itself, but the vision of it in his head is all he needs.

The Jack Kelly I love the most is the one from Paper Mill Playhouse. He explains his frustrations with New York to Crutchie by way of how the city's horses are broken and beaten, with no life in their eyes ("if this city done that to a horse, what d'you think it's doing to us?" he asks Crutchie rhetorically). He feels some attraction to Katherine, and feels safe around her, but struggles to bring himself past the initial flirting stage (Then I See You Again is not a love song and I will write an essay if I have to-). He even points out that after the strike, there's a good chance they might never see each other again. He wants a relationship with her, but the reality of his situation makes it hard for him to commit to the idea.

Jack isn't my favourite character or the one I think about the most, but bar perhaps Crutchie he's the character I relate to and connect with the most. Granted I want a small life in a big city rather than a big life in a small town, but the want is what I connect with with Jack. I can't wait to start fresh somewhere else.

[nightwonder7]

I love your Norton and Ithaqua's beefs so much XD thank you for making those!!!!! Your artstyle is so expressive and moveable, the comics are a joy to read! :D

Aww thank you so much!! ;//W//; I'm so glad to hear! How this beef came to be was actually so random cause it's such an unlikely duo. But they are fun to draw, and I love it whenever people are referencing the comic where it all started XD

[soundlessroom]

what did gale do to propose?

It was less a "what he did" and more "when he did it" Let’s say both were under time pressure. But so was the person betrothing them.

Cannot believe this ask actually made me finally draw this joke I have in my mind since forever. As a Magistrate of course it would be Astarion who has to bethroth them.

They are best friends. ♥

(I assume this is about the one Comic? =>)

[cloudsofteeth]

uhhhhhhh wet beast satan?

(there was very intense sudden rain and he’s completely soaked. i have chibi in mind, but obv you can do what you want)

^w^ Wet bastard kitten

[ir-dr]

Day 3561 - 29 October 2023

🎻

.//projectTiGER

[shakingparadigm]

what is the theory that ivan manipulated the event where till and mizi met the wagyein?

It's not a theory, actually! It's confirmed that Ivan orchestrated the whole event. The true reason as to why however is still unknown. The information provides more context to this scene, though:

During the earlier times of ALNST the most rational explanation for this scene was that Till ran after a flower crown (presumably Mizi's) and Ivan followed him in out of curiosity. Now we know that Ivan was conveniently just standing there because he was waiting.

Side note, I find it heartbreaking (and maybe a little funny, sorry) that Till most likely didn't notice Ivan in this scene. That's just like him, isn't it. Always too busy running after Mizi while Ivan trails behind, an ever-present shadow.

I'm not sure how Ivan manipulated the circumstances for both of them to end up there, but it is confirmed that everything was intentional. What strikes me most is how they describe this particular scene:

I can't copy down what they said word-for-word (Patreon info), but they described Ivan watching "creepily" as Till and Mizi are faced with danger. We know that Ivan was familiar with the Cerberus wagyein beforehand, enough to touch its teeth and even to rest himself inside its maw. To Ivan, the wagyein is not dangerous, but to Till and Mizi, it could be. Ivan prepared the wagyein, led them there, and watched "creepily" from afar as Till fell on his knees, seemingly injured.

The closest I can get to making sense of Ivan's "scheme" is that he wanted to see how other children would react in a dangerous situation. Ivan's always been an observer, after all, and he's learned to survive by copying the more "normal" behaviors of his peers. This situation occured when Ivan was still young and had not yet developed his more charming mask, so perhaps he staged this encounter to study a situational response, to learn and mimic the emotion of fear. And what better subjects for the experiment than two of the most expressive and reactive humans of their batch? It helps that he was already fixated on Till beforehand, too. I think Ivan became irreversibly obssessed after this incident, especially since it's framed as a turning point in Ivan's life, comparing Till to the stars.

This is just my attempt at an interpretation, though. It could very well be for another reason. He most likely chose Till and Mizi specifically for personal reasons, not just for reaction. I'm still not sure on the purpose behind the whole thing.

The team wanted to capture Ivan's "dark emotions" through the shot of his stalking, which could relate to his more sinister intentions. His gaze can be read in a few different ways, though. Curiosity, interest, fear, etc. Maybe that's why they decided to redraw the shot in ROUND 6.

I think this better sells the feeling they were trying to convey.

[an-albino-pinetree]

I really like doppelgänger Jax

The idea is so creative and I’d feel more comforted by him instead of scared <33 /vpos

That’s good, cuz he sure doesn’t look like he wants to leave that corner of your room!

[scatterbrainedbot]

Hello :D

You're so cool

Anyway have you thought that in your rat sons au Splinter might outlive the boys?

You're very cool :D love your stuff dude

(tw for some blood, light gore, implied overdose (kinda??))

hi copper!!! this is a fantastic question!

so obviously typical irl rats have far shorter lifespans than the average irl tortoise. according to google (yes, be awed by my spectacularly in-depth wealth of research) the average pet rat lives between 2-4 years ish, and the oldest on record lived to be about 7. meanwhile, an African spurred tortoise (Splinter's species) averages more around a 50ish year lifespan in captivity, tho is suspected to possibly exceed 75 or more in the wild.

Now, the mutation does give us a lot of wiggle room for playing with these numbers. For the rat sons boys, id say their natural lifespan probably clocks in at about 45-55 years old? definitely not old by human standards, but not young young either. (though, its also important to note that the boys were exposed to the mutagen just days after being born.)

For Splinter, meanwhile, aging is slightly more complicated. He lived the vast majority of his life as a regular normal African spurred tortoise (well, non-mutated at least. there were perhaps some shenanigans of a more mystical variety going on before he was mutated, but thats a separate matter) He was about 70ish i think? when the boys were born and they were all exposed to the mutagen. so he is already distinctly an old man turtle papa. id guess he'd probably still have another eh lets say 25-30 years after his mutation. he could probably push it a little farther even with some mystic nonsense, but when push comes to shove id say his 'natural' post-mutation lifespan would put his death like a solid decade or two before his sons.

of course, the tricky part of the matter is that theres no way for Splinter to know any of this. theres no way for him to know how the mutation affected them all, or if it even affected them all in the same way. especially since the boys dont show many physical signs of mutation for the first few years, and just kinda look like normal rats, (albeit with a more human sort of intelligence) — what sort of health standard do you hold them to? what if they simply dont show external signs of sickness or old age anymore? how do you actually know if something is wrong?

for a while there Splinter is very worried that one of his babies will just essentially reach the end of their normal rat lifespan, fall and not get up again.

so mostly, he just tries to live in the moment, enjoying whatever time he does have with his little ones, taking each day as a gift <3

still,

that fear

never

really

goes

away.....

[ruporas]

Love Ur art!! The way u do vashwood just BRINGS ME LIFE!

AW THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! please have some eepers

[prince-liest]

More questions on the topic of Trans Vox (hopefully ur not sick of them by now lol :p)

Does he take testosterone in your 666 series?? If he did, would he have to figure out a way to make it himself or do you think there’s another reliable way to access that kind of thing in hell? How would taking T interact with his half human/ half machine body?? Did he just figure out how to lower his voice, get a dick, and call it a day w/out having to even think of any of this? I guess he probably wouldn’t have thought of this originally considering his time period haha.

Sorry if this is overwhelming. Feel free to ignore me, I’m just intensely excited about your series and wanna absorb as much knowledge as I can about the characters.

Personally, I'm fucking in love with biomechanical character concepts, so I'm fully and utterly on team "Vox's biology is extremely customizable and he went hog wild with it." I am SO glad you asked because this is a very fun subject to me! <3

In the headcanon of 666, he's a really uncanny amalgamation of man and machine. There are obviously limits to what can be done or what kind of invasiveness is required to do certain things, but they're less inherent to the human condition and more, just... kind of random! Thanks, hell!

He has lungs! They help him breathe and are also part of his ventilation system and vent partly out from his sides. His voice is a speaker that doesn't depend on his ability to breathe. Despite these things, both his breathing and his speaking are affected by his feelings and each other because his psychosomatics are coded into his hardware.

So when it comes to Vox being trans in 666 and whether he's on T: That depends on what you count as "taking" hormones! He does not give himself a weekly shot of exogenous hormones. He does, however, have parts of his endocrine and autonomic nervous systems accessible as literal code, which has long been modified to behave appropriately to his preferences as far as hormonal regulation is concerned, kind of like changing your own DNA! This isn't something he can just adjust on the fly, and even adjusting it at all is like fucking with a computer's base code. He might end up with hyperthyroid disregulation or just plain brick himself if he fucks up. I also imagine that doing something like that also didn't occur to him for quite a while, long after he'd modified the more accessible physical stuff.

Ironically, what would be surgical in real life is easier for Vox in comparison. He's had to swap out his entire head at least once in the past to upgrade: replacing his vocal speaker and swapping his primary sexual characteristics is easier than what amounts to brain surgery.

[virescent-v]

I’ve always wanted to see a fic surrounding this: the aftermath of Emily’s rescue from Mr Scratch. Maybe a fluffy bath moment at home or sweet smut vibes?

Aftermath

A/N: Bestie! I loved this idea. Tbh, I had to watch that ep first because I had no idea who Mr Scratch was. I'm only on s5 of my watch through hahaha. But I watched it, and wrote this! I hope it does it some justice. I think this is really my first take at a hurt/comfort fic.

Word Count: 1.6k (I broke my less than 1k word challenge, oops) Warnings: honeslty, not too much. There is some slight smut tho.

You were told to wait at home. But the wait was excruciating. 

You hadn’t gotten many details from Penelope other than Emily had been kidnapped, drugged, and had gotten rescued. She was otherwise unharmed. You only knew that she was chasing a high profile psychopath; someone that had even Hotchner running into WITSEC. 

So, you were waiting. Impatiently. For your girlfriend to come home. So you could check her over yourself, especially since you knew she wasn’t going to be responsible and go to the hospital. 

You were broken out of your inner anxious ramblings by Emily stumbling through the front door, all but dropping her bags at her feet and practically running right to you. 

“Em,” you whispered, gathering her in your arms. You could feel her slightly shaking, the adrenaline of everything finally crashing on her. “You’re home, baby, and safe. You’re safe now,” you said, continuing to whisper sweet words to her, rubbing your hands on her back, helping to wear off some of the epinephrine coursing through her. 

You tried to pull away, so you could look at her, really look at her, but her arms shot out and grabbed you around your waist, pulling you even closer to her. Like she was trying to burrow into you. 

“Not yet,” she whispered, her nose dragging up the side of your neck, breathing in your perfume. 

“Okay, okay.” 

It takes a couple of minutes; you can feel Emily mouthing something against your skin, as if she’s trying to ground herself, reminding herself that she’s not with him anymore. Eventually, though, she loosens her grip on you, allowing you to look at her face for the first real time since she got home. 

When your eyes connect, you can see the tears shining in hers. You can feel the weight of her stare, silently communicating between the two of you. 

I almost died. 

But you didn’t, love. You’re home. 

You trail your hand up her arm, across her shoulder, and over her heart. 

You’re alive. You’re safe. 

As you tap your pointer finger on her chest in time with her heartbeat, she takes a shuddering breath, a few tears finally making their way down her cheek. She blinks a few times, not trying to hide the emotion escaping her, before taking a deep breath that seems to use all of her remaining energy. 

“Can- can we take a bath?” She asks, timidly. As if you would ever deny her anything. 

You don’t say anything. You just grasp her hand in yours and lead her to your bathroom. You sit her on the toilet, tucking some of her stray hair behind her ears. You reach over to your oversized tub, turning the water to just on the side of scalding. The temperature Emily prefers. 

As the tub fills, you watch Emily, rubbing your hands on her knees. She’s still occasionally shaking, but not as badly as when she came in. Her gaze isn’t focused on anything, worrying you that she might start receding back to memories from earlier. You know she’ll be hit with nightmares later, something you’ve dealt with before and know how to handle. You just want to prevent that for right now. 

Once the tub is full, you add some bath water oils, a eucalyptus smell. You’ve found that it’s better for keeping Emily calm over lavender or vanilla smells. 

You start to strip, placing your clothes in the hamper. Emily still isn’t focusing on anything, her eyes settled on her hands on her lap. She isn’t even registering that the bath is ready, so you approach her quietly. 

“Em, baby, the bath is ready. You need to get undressed.” 

Her eyes tracked up your body, but there wasn’t her normal heat in her gaze. Only as if she was making sure that it was really you. 

When your eyes connected, you had to stop yourself from gasping. Her eyes were turning red from trying not to cry, almost overflowing with unshed tears. 

You crouched down in front of her, your nude form not even a worry. You rubbed your thumbs across her cheeks, trying to get her to release her emotions. You’d take them from her if you could. 

Emily feels your thumbs rubbing back and forth, letting your love for her ground her to this moment. Eventually, she closes her eyes tight, all of the tears breaking free, and she starts to sob. She collapses into you, burrowing into your neck again. This time, you can hear her mumbling, wheels up, I’m home, wheels up, I’m home over and over again. A mantra. 

You give her a few minutes, letting her get out most of the current wave of emotion. You know it’ll hit her again later, likely many times, and you know you’ll take them all in stride. Anything for her. 

Another deep breath, another slow release from you. You reach over and grab some toilet paper, wiping at her teary, snotty face. You can tell she almost cracks a smile at the noise her nose makes when she blows it into the tissue; she’s slowly coming back to herself. 

After you toss the tissue in the trash, you grab the hem of her shirt. Tugging on it, Emily raises her arms, allowing you to undress her. There’s no sexual charge to your movements; this is purely emotional, intimate connection between you and your girl. 

You get in the tub first, spreading your legs so Emily can settle between them. Usually, she’s behind you, always pampering you. It’s only on rare occasions do you get to be the one caring for her, so you take pride in your movements, your ability to calm her when she most needs it. 

As she settles in front of you, you feel the last of her energy leave her. The hot water around you soothing sore muscles, easing her overworked nervous system. Her heart rate starts to slow, her breaths becoming deeper, slower, longer. 

While you know that her body is physically relaxing, you know that her mind is not. 

You never get the details of the case. She never wants to burden you with the gruesomeness of her job, doesn’t want you to worry more than you already do. Emily’s a profiler, can read anyone in the room and pinpoint their motives. But you’ve become an expert in Emily. 

You help her through the aftermath as best as you can, providing her with the space to unwind in whatever what she deems necessary - or whatever way her body deems necessary. Sometimes it’s a hot bath and a good meal, sometimes it’s body-wracking sobs on the couch, and sometimes it’s taking her to the local gym to spar with someone and let her anger out. 

You see sides of your girlfriend that you know no one else has or ever will. She’s a strong, independent person with walls taller than Everest. Somehow, you’ve managed to climb them, repel down them, and settle in. Emily let you settle in, let you unwind the barb wire around her heart. You’d protect it with your life. 

You start rubbing a soft cloth with your body wash across Emily’s body; she’s always taken comfort in your smell after a bad case. You make sure to go slow, not knowing what happened to her, not wanting to trigger anything unknowingly. 

As you reach her bent knees, you feel her flinch a little. You stop immediately, trying to check in with her again. She’s mouthing the same mantra: Wheels up, I’m home, wheels up…

“Em? Do your legs hurt?” 

A slight shake of her head. No pain, which likely means it’s something mentally. 

You continue slowly, letting her feel the cloth on her legs. “Open your eyes, Em. Your legs are okay.” 

You watch the side of her face, watch as her eyes blink open, watch as her eyes track your hands up and down her leg. 

Another deep, shuddering breath as you feel her relax back into you. She continues to watch your movements, her eyes growing more focused as they move back up her torso. 

“I need,” a whisper, caught in the dryness of her throat; she clears it before trying again. “I need you to touch me.” 

You release the cloth, notice it float away to the end of the tub. Your hands wrap around her, settling lower on her belly, resting there. You watch the side of her face again. “You sure?” 

You would never take advantage of her, not while she’s vulnerable. You’ve had this conversation before, about how sometimes after certain cases she just needs to feel connected to you, feel intertwined with something that is real.  

She turns to look at you, her nose brushing against yours as she whispers a strong, steady, “love me,” against your lips.  

She trails her hand to yours, interlocks your fingers, before bringing both of them down to her core. Interconnected, simultaneously, you start rubbing slow, steady circles on her clit, working her up easily, lovingly. 

Each brush of your fingers against her has her twitching, rolling her hips into your hands. Her head thrown back against your shoulder, you can see her feeling you, feeling your love for her. The only thing on her mind now is her, you, and the way that you make her feel. Each stroke of your fingers is a promise, a vow to protect her, keep her safe, love her. It’s a love letter of all of the things you wish you could voice, of all of the ways you care for her. 

As she nears her peak, your lips find her ear as you whisper over and over I love you, you’re home, I love you… 

Her back arches against you, her hips pressing more fully into your hand. You help her ride through the waves, gathering her in your arms as she settles back down. Your lips brush light kisses around her temple and cheek as she catches her breath. 

“I love you,” she says. “I’m home.”

[lumibye]

⸻ helloo , it might be my birthday todayy 🎉

i don't really have much to say as i've never been the biggest fan of my birthday but i get to celebrate with him so yayy 🫶 🩵 💙

art : ai.itaii - ( vgen )

[moeblob]

son boy raccoon trash can man suffering in a dnd au as a cleric bc his warlock will not stop committing murders and he has to keep coming up with reasons murder is valid to convince the gm its fine and under control

[ghostcashewart]

Hi I just wanted to say that I love your design for murderbot-- it's like you crystalized a vague idea I had about the characters into visual form. Your art is beautiful and I hope you have a good day!

thank you so much!! 😄 i'm so glad my designs for them resonate with you!

i had vague ideas while reading that i spent some time working out before i started posting anything (mostly with a lot of citations and rough diagrams lol) there's been development since this, but here's a sheet of my initial work on figuring out what my version of secunit looks like!

[yuri-is-online]

Hi Yuri! I hope you are doing well<333 I really enjoy reading your writing and I am always more fond of reading the little octatrio fish gang! I dont really know how this usually works because I never send in any asks at all nor do I see your rules list or anything but if you dont mind I would like to make a request<3

A mc who finds an out of tune and old piano and fondly remembers that they used to play piano back in their world. And perhaps Azul hears in on this and despite the piano being old and out of tune, it is rather beautiful how you play it because of how imperfect the notes are being played out. (SORRY I WAS LISTENING TO FALLEN DOWN AND THE FEELINGS WERE JUST SURGING AND THE BRAINROT WAS TOO MUCH)

You dont have to force yourself or anything! Please take care and dont feel too pressured! <3

The Most Romantic of All Arts (Azul Ashengrotto x Yuu)

Hello dear friend and I am doing quite well thank you! I'm pleased you like my writing; the octotrio is what finally cracked my resolve to check out Twisted Wonderland and put FGO on the back burner so I suppose I shouldn't beat myself up too much for writing about them so much. I am sorry I caused you stress with my lack of rules, I don't usually send requests or asks myself, so I felt really bad to have frightened you. Not too sure if this will end up being what you had in mind, it got away from me a bit.

Also when you say Fallen Down, you do mean the Undertale soundtrack piece right? It's a soothing song I listened to it while I was plotting this to try and get into a similar headspace.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, header taken from the painting Spirit by George Roux (1885) which I found on this wordpres blog article I took the title from, it's a neat painting, Azul learning to find beauty and love in imperfections is important to me ok? Other works can be found on my masterlist here.

Sometimes you wonder if Ramshakle is sentient. The old building has more rooms than you know what to do with, and lovely as the ghosts are they don't fully remember what they were used for, if they remembered in the first place. But still there was something about those rooms that seemed to love you; he guest room almost built itself up around you, the kitchen had only needed some basic repairs before it was ready to help play host again, and no matter where a fire place was found it was always eager to burst to life and warm you and Grim.

It does not have the same love for Azul, he'd complained as much when you talked about just what it was he wanted with the building after the events of his overblot had cooled between you.

"It's got a graveyard in front of it, though?" That really had been the crux of your whole argument. It was hard to be annoyed with his laugh when it sounded so nice, the genuine amusement a refreshing difference to his previous performitive indifference.

"Yes," he muses, sipping at his real before he continues, "I'm not bothered by that much, ghosts and grave ships aren't uncommon sights under the sea, but I always forget how unusual humans think they are."

"There's a lot of superstitions about places where people are buried." You mean it as an explanation, but it brings an odd look to Azul's face, like there's an emotion bubbling beneath his surface he doesn't want to acknowledge but is too strong to suppress. It settles over you both, as you try to focus on drinking your tea while your host seems content to let his grow cold.

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing that ruin isn't really sentient." He sounds almost bitter, disappointed in how long he has let his drink cool you decide as he reaches for the pot and warms it with some fresh tea. "Otherwise, I'd accuse it of trying to keep you."

It's a silly thought, but the sight of this latest discovery really does have you wondering. You are supposed to be in that wonderfully accommodating kitchen making snacks for when Azul decides to "coincidentally drop by" later this evening to "go over the Lounge's expenses" in your guest room. On a Tuesday. When it was almost guaranteed business would be slow enough to keep anyone from wondering too hard about where he'd gone or the twins from being too upset about running things. But instead of "just wanting to try" a new recipe, you are here, tucked in a room just a bit further down the hall from the guest room watching Grim give his best impression of Ace after completing a magic trick. Because stars know he has never seen any other magicians.

"TA-DA!" He puts both of his paws out to really sell the piano at the window. "See, I told you I had a great surprise!"

"I'm sorry for not believing you." You say and try not to laugh with just how much more proud that seems to make him. "But where did you find this? Or how I guess, unless you moved it?"

"Nah." He shakes his head before remembering he's supposed to be the "great" Grim. "I mean I could have! But I'm just so cool I managed to find a piano here already, so all I had to do was clean it up instead! You're welcome henchuman." You scratch just behind his ears and politely ignore his purrs as you examine the piano and its bench. They're old, likely just as ancient as everything else in the dormitory and likely extremely, achingly out of tune. But the mere sight of it makes your fingers itch, and Grim barely has to whine "Well ain't you gonna play somethin'?" Before you're at the bench, experimentally pressing the keys to try and sound out something.

Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are-

You hum it rather than sing, irrationally worried Grim will somehow figure out it's a lullaby and complain that you're babying him instead of cutely dancing along with the music like it's one of the cassettes Deuce let you borrow. He cheers for another, and you oblige, letting your muscle memory carry you as far as it can as you try searching your brain for just what it was you wanted most to hear from yourself after all this time being unable to play.

And missing the click of a heavy door down the hall in the effort.

Azul hears nothing at first, and though it does disappoint, it does not bother him. He's had a long day, one about to be made longer still by the grey zone already draping itself around his thoughts as he shrugs his blazer off to his shoulders while en route to the Ramshackle guest room. He pauses, for what he tells himself is only going to be second, at the kitchen door and is left unrewarded for his detour.

You aren't there: and that does bother him somewhat, even if it should not if his pretext is to be believed. These visits were too commonplace to be random, but maybe you'd made plans, deciding not to look past his excuses for the evening. Maybe you were asleep, tired of the day or just plain tired of him. But there is a kettle sat on it's base, mercifully not on just yet, but two mugs and the pour over cone set next to as if it was expecting company. The nerves remain knotted in his stomach, though the cause shifts towards something more welcome.

So you do have a mug purposefully set aside and designated just for him, and is that a little recpie card with notes on coffee taped to that tin? These things should worry him, the picture he snaps and immediately hides in a folder should be for a purpose. But it's separate from those ones, labeled something inane and barely full with how careful he is to have his longing remain unseen. He wonders, briefly if it would be an intrusion to make the drinks himself. If it would reveal to much to show outright he knows the way you take yours instead of just saying it in time with your order, but knows that would not be the exact issue here. He is a guest, and guests limit themselves to the halls and that room he forces himself, with haste that would be noticeable if you were there to see it, back down the hall and back towards the guest room. Azul has work to do, he can content himself with the warmth the mental image the cups on the counter produces until something forces him to pause at a door once more. The piano is old, droning out a tune that is unpolished and rusty from the player's lack of practice but filled with such a specific sort of joy it has him actually running towards it.

You sit at the bench, a serious look of determination on your face so unlike the usual Yuu it can't help but be cute. Grim sleeps contentedly on your lap as you continue searching for the threads of melody still trapped inside your head from years of only occasionally reluctant practice. It's an unfamiliar tune in composition, but not in feel. There's words to this song, maybe not in the form of lyrics, but there all the same for him to stumble even closer to as he comes to a halting stop just behind you and the music ends in a surprised crash as you whip your head around to see him.

"Azul!"

"Very sorry to interrupt." He holds up both hands in surrender, composure only just maintained as you check to see Grim still asleep and laugh nervously. "I didn't know you could play."

"Can't really." You say somewhat bitterly and more confidence comes to Azul as a slight plan froms in his mind. "I'm really out of practice ugh. I know it shouldn't annoy me! But with how everything's been since I showed up, it's just not been on my mi- Oh hello?"

Azul fully removes his jacket and sets it on a side table close to where he had been satanding, moving to sit on the bench next to you. He has enough mercy not to loosen his tie or do anything else scandalous, but the close examination he gives to the keys could have fooled you. "Pity it's so out of tune, this is a nice piano."

"I know right! I'm really happy Grim found it." You resist the urge to poke his cheeks some and Azul lightly, trying not to too openly relish in your surprise reaches one arm around your back to place his hands into a similar position as you had been earlier, tucking you close to his side.

"May I?" He's smug. Too smug it's robbing you of sanity.

"What's it going to cost?" You try too hard not to sound like you're flailing as you look to see your question hasn't even phased him at all.

"Oh normally I wouldn't dream of charging for a performance," he clearly lies "but it's been such a long day I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee." And he's off, music only marred by the off key of the piano in a clearly purposeful display of talent meant to sear itself into your mind enough that you don't think about his request too long. You and he are from two different worlds, but he knows that music has a way of gapping that if the stories of the mermaid princess told him anything at all. So when he purposefully slows the song at its end, he knows you know, that tricky smile he swore once he'd always hate kicking his heartbeat up again as you lean fully against his shoulder.

"Beautiful." You say, not bothering to give the compliment direction as he can't help but agree. "We should play together next time."

"I-" You pick yourself up and what he wants to say slows when you pick up his jacket for him and hold out a hand. Later, he all to easily decides. Later, without Grim and with specific time set purposefully aside so you know just how much it matters. "I would like that. You'll have to show me the songs that you can remember from your world." And he takes your hand just to soothe some of the ache, trying and failing not to show just how happy he is when you keep it.

[spacebubblehomebase]

Your stargazer au has taken my interest and I love the idea??? I'm excited to see more!

Thank you! I can't wait to make more of it so I can finally get others to freak out about the AU with me! XD Being alone in my delusions is driving me CRAZY lololol -Bubbly💙