Azul

They/them | 19 | EN or ESP | art n other stuff currently into phm/bloodymary and HSR

[chaoticazul]

I figured I should make a pinned post so hii if anyone is even reading this or follows me, you may find that my general tone is very awkward. That’s because I haven’t touched tumblr since like 2019 and I forgot how to behave. So yeah, sorry

I kinda wanted to use this as a digital art archive since I mostly don’t post doodles anywhere

commissions are open but if you wanna commission me pls do it through ig because I don’t check tumblr super often (ig is @ chaotic_azul)

[trashfishhh]

Detroit: Become Human AU for bloodymary!

[chaoticazul]

When I’m done with finals I’ll draw them so much, it’s gonna be over for yall

[chaoticazul]

[marshmellowtea]

it's fucking insane to me how so much of the project hail mary/bloodymary fandom complaints i see are swinging at absolutely nothing. "people like grace but not stratt and that's unfair!!" most people like both! i have never seen a morally complex female character so loved by a fandom! what are you talking about! "people are infantilizing rocky and it's so ableist" i'm sure that's happening somewhere but the majority of rocky content i've seen has been more than happy to recognize him as a highly intelligent and autonomous being! hell, grace is the one who's more often infantilized out of the two of them! what the fuck are you talking about! "it's fucked up that grace is soooo aroace coded but people brought in simon just to ship him with someone!!" most bloodymary content DOES include grace being aro and/or ace in a really compelling and nuanced way! and most bloodymary fans are super chill about people not liking the ship! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!!!! this is one of the chillest fandoms ever why are we making shit up to be mad about!!!! jesus christ!!!!

[wraithillustrates]

can we please get a drawing tutorial from the bloodymary master because I struggle with making them look that recognizable (thank you in advance)

Here is a (somewhat) tutorial i made, hopefully it can be of help to any of you

tbh idk what im doing 90% of the time this was really hard to make

Tut below!

[chaoticazul]

kinda cliché but I love this trope

[chaoticazul]

This post by @the-dormant-ocean made me go insane, here’s some doodles

[chaoticazul]

6 months of drawing classes for college have really radicalized my stance of "there is no such thing as talent." In these 6 months I've seen the people who got into art school for photography/sculpting (who started not knowing how to hold the pen right and with insanely shaky lines) get into the same drawing level as the ones who went into art school for drawing or painting (who have for the most part been drawing for years). Like sure, the drawers are kinda noticeable, but currently it's mostly because we finish quicker than the non drawers. Our results are very similar. We get the same grades.

If you have a good teacher and practice, you will learn. It's not about talent, it's just dedication. Talent is fake, just learn the skills you want to learn. You'll be bad for a while and then you'll get better.

[chaoticazul]

been thinking about Simon’s hair

[idgabuck]

those mafia aus are always about the mob boss falling in love with the other or kidnapping them and etc. why not let grace fall in love with mob boss simon first, why not let him accidentally kidnap simon

You’re cooking anon! Imaging him seeing an injured Simon and taking him home to help take care of him not knowing he just kidnapped one of the biggest mob bosses there are. 😭

Grace is gonna have a heart attack when some of Simon’s men burst in pointing guns at him and Simon having to rush in and say “hey! No! Stand down! He was just helping me!”

[chaoticazul]

they make me sick

[forgetful-nerd]

“Human nature is inherently selfish”

Wrong, human nature is compelling us to write and draw multiple scenarios where a single middle-aged, middle school teacher in outer space gets more companions so he doesn’t have to be alone ever again.

[cocoa-critter]

Sit UP.

It’s me again. International bestselling writer Fawn Millz. Please bet that reference bro PLEASE.

This is just more self indulgent gobbledygook from the other day. Yall seemed to like The Agreement, so maybe yall will like this one too IDK. DON’T LOOK AT ME, STOP LOOKING AT ME.

-

🚨 TW: A little bit of panic. Not too much, but just be aware!

-

Lee!Grace (PHM) Ler!Simon (Iron Lung)

Despite constant reminders, Grace cannot seem to remember to fix his posture when he sits. Just as Simon predicts, his back starts to hurt because of it…

My posture is horrible. I know it. It’s been that way my entire adult life, and at this stage in the game, I couldn’t care less.

I had a nasty habit of rounding my back and slouching like a poorly stuffed ragdoll anytime I sat at my desk. Friends of mine told me I had “artist’s posture”, others said I sit like an old man.

One of the perks about being on an isolated spaceship, was that there was no one around who could say anything about it anymore.

…

“Sit up.” A grumbled voice commanded from behind me. I gasped, shooting into an upright position at the feeling of a quick swipe of a pencil up my spine.

“Ah-! Ugh. Thanks, you messed me up- you’re lucky I wasn’t working with chemicals.” I huffed, scribbling out the word I cluttered with a stray line.

“Well if you stopped sitting like a propped up corpse, I wouldn’t have to mess you up.” Simon walks around to the side of me, setting down a rolled up paper, and a cup filled with various writing utensils.

“What a dark simile.”

“Well, it’s the first thing that comes to mind.” Simon shrugs, unrolling his paper. “Sit straight, or your back is gonna hurt like hell.”

I ignore him, Peering over at the paper. It was a large piece of thick, graph paper. Weak at the edges and well used. There were intricately mapped points across the entirety of it, lines crossing and weaving around the various points across

“What’cha got there?

“Star chart. I’ve been mapping the trip to Erid since I woke up here.” He slides the paper towards me, pointing to a thin, precisely drawn line that started seemingly at a random point on the map, and headed in the direction of 40-Eridani.

“Wow- Simon this is really cool. You have any sort of astrocartography experience? This looks professional.” I smile, looking over at him.

He shrugged sort of sheepishly, not daring to look up from his chart to acknowledge my compliment. 

“I guess. More of a hobby than anything serious anymore.”

I hum in reply.

“Well you’re welcome to use the star charts on the cockpit nav system if you need them. For cross referencing.” I say, nodding to the cockpit behind us.

Simon shakes his head. “I don’t know how to use any of that stuff up there- I don’t wanna mess something up or knock us off course.”

I scoff. “Oh no it’s alright, you won’t mess anything up. I’ve made it this far without blowing this thing to bits, so that should be proof enough that Mary’s dummy-proof.” I chuckle.

“But, if you’d feel more comfortable, there’s also a nav interface here in the lab. It’s just a little smaller.”

“That’s alright.”

“Cool! Here, I’ll show you how to use it.” I stand up from my chair, wincing a little as a dull pain pangs through my lower back.

I can walk it off.

I lead Simon over to a computer screen suspended on a ceiling mounted arm in the corner of the room. I press a random key on the keyboard beneath it to wake the system up.

It springs to life with a black and blue Hail Mary mission patch icon perched in the center of the screen. I roll a stool over, taking a seat as I attempt to sign into the computer.

“AGH!”

Access denied.

I whirl around to see Simon holding his pencil at my back level.

“I told you to sit straight- you slouched immediately after sitting back down.”

I swipe the pencil from his hand, pointing it at him.

“Just remind me! You don’t have to reflex test me!” I hiss back. “Anyway-“

I successfully log into the computer, and launch the Astro Nav program, loading up a realtime chart of not only our flight path, but the stars and bodies that surround us.

“Here! You can scroll around, zoom in or out, click whatever. Nothing will affect the ships navigation.” I smile, rolling out of the way so that Simon can take a look for himself.

He lifts his chart up to the screen, and. It’s perfectly plotted. He smiles, noticing a few small stars scattered around the computer screen model that he hadn’t accounted for, definitely excited to plot them on his personal map.

“Well I’ll leave you to it then.” I smile, bracing myself on two nearby desks to lift myself up. Something in my back cracks

Simon looks to me, I wave him off.

-

Two long hours pass.

Simon was right… I should have taken his advice. My back hurts.

Not a cramping pain or deep injury pain like I’m used to, it was a sharp, sticking pain, which shot through my low back every time I tried to bend down, turn on my hips’ axis, or lift a leg.

The type of pain you feel when there’s a part of your back that just won’t crack, no matter what position you fold yourself into.

“Grace okay, question?”

“Hm? Yeah I’m fine, Rock. Thank you.” I nod

“Is sure? Been lying down long long time .”

Rocky tilts his carapace, looking up at me on my bed from his place on the floor.

I prop myself up on my elbows, letting out a pained groan as I do.

“H-hurt? Hurt?! Grace hurt?!”

“No! No, buddy I’m fine, lower your voice. It’s just my back. It’s bothering me.”

“Oh. Understand. Cramp, question?”

“Nothing like that.” I shake my head. “Just spinal pain. A nerve or something probably. I’ll be alright.”

Rocky taps the floor idly in thought, and I let myself fall back down into bed.

“Rocky get Simon to help Grace! Human better for this problem.”

“No- that’s not necessary- owwww-!” I spring back up to protest, aggravating my back again, and slumping over the side of the bed, groaning into the mattress.

“Get me to help with what?” Simon calls from the top of the ladder. oh good! Gang’s all here.

“Nothing.”

“Grace complains back hurts.”

“Oh, you don’t say.” Simon shoots me a look.

“Grace do say. Rocky hear.”

“Sarcasm.” Simon and I say in unison.

“And I’m perfectly fine. I don’t need any help! I’m just sore.” I sit up, despite myself, and hoist myself up into a standing position, throwing my arms up as if to say ‘see?!’.

…I Immedietly hiss in pain upon taking what could barely be described as a baby step, losing balance.

Simon watches me crumple to the ground, shaking his head disapprovingly, as I let out the most pathetic, long, whiny “owwwwwww” I’m sure any of us had ever heard.

“I got him, Rocky. You can go back upstairs if you want.”

“Good. Yes. Grace very loud and annoying. I go upstairs.”

“He’ll probably be even louder once I adjust his back, so sorry in advance.”

“ADJUST? WHAT DO YOU MEAN ADJUST.” I shout, kicking a leg out to fend Simon off.

“You want the Webster’s definition, or what?”

“You’re not giving me a chiropractic adjustment, are you insane?!”

“It’s that or old man back for the rest of the flight to Erid. Would you stop kicking at me? You’re only gonna hurt yourself more.”

“NO-! Chiropractics is pseudoscience-! A-and you’re not even a doctor!” I protest, worming away from Simon on the floor like an idiot.

“And you’re not an astronaut. Nice glass house, buddy.” Touché…

“Shut up!!”

He sighs. “This is gonna hurt, and I apologize. I’m gonna be as gentle as I can.”

“What..?!”

In a few swift motions, Simon hooks a leg between mine, spinning in a tight circle, and in turn, flipping me onto my stomach on the floor with a hollow thud.

“OOOWWWWW.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Just let me fix your stupid back and I’ll leave you alone.”

After a stunned moment, I attempt to push myself back up, but feel the cold metal of Somon’s xenonite hand coaxing me back to the ground.

I heave, tilting my head to the side.

The room around me at a nauseating, sideways angle as I’m pinned down to the floor.

Pinned down…

Pinned down…

“Simon, let me up.” My voice is quieter, colder than it had been before. The words falling out in almost a mumble

“What?”

“Get off of me. Let me up. Please, I’m serious.”

My body began to tremble. Any pain I had felt fizzled out under the commanding force of adrenaline. I tried closing my eyes to block out the light, that was becoming increasingly overwhelming, but when I did, all I saw were flashes of a blurred memory… lying in the grass…

“Ryland what is wrong?!”

“GET OFF!!” I snap, shoving Simon off of me. He falls to the side, on his good arm, thankfully, looking at me with a puzzled, shocked stare.

“I’m sorry-! I- I’m sorry- are you okay?! I- I didn’t mean to-“

Simon sits up, raising his hands where I could see them.

“Are you okay?! What is happening? Did I hurt you?” His voice dropped low. Calm and disarming.

“No, you didn’t, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Can I come closer?”

“Yes.” I nod, my gaze falling to the floor as Simon slowly scoots back over to me, reaching out to put his hands on my shoulders.

He stops short, giving me time to pull away. I don’t, so he gently takes me by the shoulders.

“You look terrified.” He furrows his brows, studying my face. “Are you about to cry-?”

“Maybe?”

“O-okay, that’s fine. Can you tell me what’s wrong before you do?”

I frown, shaking my head. Simon sighs, nodding back. “Alright, okay.”

My vision clouds with tears under my glasses, and I slump forward against Simon, who doesn’t budge from the impact. I hear the mechanical whir of his metal arm as it comes up to rest across my back.

He doesn’t speak. He just lets me tire myself out until my quiet crying deflates into sniffling,

“You’ve gotten quiet… are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, yes I’m okay. Sorry…” I suddenly feel a bit self conscious, having been more or less clinging to Simon’s shirt for the better part of fifteen minutes, so I make a move to try and sit up.

Simon gently pulls me back in. I don’t protest any further.

“Stop saying sorry. What are you even apologizing for? Crying?” He shrugs.

I shrug back. I really had no answer.

“Can you please tell me what happened? What set you off? I want to make sure I don’t trigger something like this again if I can help it.”

I sigh, twisting my body a bit so that my head more comfortably rested against Simon’s chest.

“I.. I told you that this mission wasn’t voluntary… for me.”

“Yeah, something about the uh… the science team getting into some freak accident or something. And you were next pick.”

I nod.

“Yeah. Look, I don’t wanna get too far into detail- at least not right now, but… I ran. I tried to run away from the compound, from the mission, from what I knew had to be done- but security caught me. They uh… brought me to the ground and sedated me right there.” My voice broke as I explained.

Simon nodded slowly.

“Last thing I saw was the world tilted on its side… Being held down until I stopped fighting. I guess I’ve got a lingering fear from it.”

I sniffled, pulling my cardigan sleeve over my hand, and dragging it across my face.

“Oh… I didn’t realize it was so forceful. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s uh..” my reflex is to say ‘it’s okay’, but I’m not entirely certain it is myself. Thank you.”

I readjust again, unable to quite get comfortable. I hiss in mild pain as the pang in my back hits once again. Adrenaline has worn off.

Simon perks up, looking down at me. “Right- your back.” He says softly “Will you please let me take a look at it? I promise I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I stay quiet for quite a while.

“Okay. Sure, just-“

“You can lie down on the bed. I won’t hold you down. I won’t do anything to make you feel trapped. I promise.” He says sternly, giving my shoulders another squeeze.

I nod, a weak smile on my lips. “Alright.”

Simon gave me a firm pat, guiding me upright. “Alright, come on- careful careful.”

He helped me into a standing position, and guided me over to the bed, at which point he backed away, allowing me to assume whatever position I was most comfortable in.

I chose face down, with my arms folded under my pillow.

“…You sure-?” Simon chuckles “you’re not gonna suffocate?”

“No, I’m fine. I sleep like this a lot.”

“That… can’t possibly be safe. Alright then.” I hear Simon’s heavy boots approach the side of the bed.

“Good?”

“Good.”

“Tell me where.” I feel two starkly different hands, one metal, one flesh, gently rest on the middle of my back. They l press and prod at my back, slowly walking down my spine.

“Y’alright?” Simon asks, probably noticing my body shuddering under his hands.

“Y-yeheah, I’m fine.” My voice is muffled by the pillow.

Simon hums, pressing his thumbs just a little harder into the muscle. I gasp, my arms shooting down reflexively to pin against my sides.

“Woah- ticklish?” He chuckles. “Sorry, sorry. How about you tell me where the pain is then?”

“L-2, lumbar spine.” I mutter back

“Uh…”

“Small of my back.” I try again.

“Got it. Here?”

“Ow- yes.” I flinch ahen Simon gently jabs my spine with two fibers.

“Ok… breathe in and hold it.”

I can’t deny, I was a bit nervous, but I did as instructed.

Crack!

I groan, letting out the breath.

The pain… was gone.

“Better?”

“How did you doooo thaaaat…” I mutter.

Simon lifts his hands away from my back, chuckling softly.

“You’d be mad at me if I said I don’t know, so I’m saying nothing. But see? I told you you’d feel better.”

“Wait, you’re done?” Jeez Ryland, could you sound any more pathetic?

“Well- yeah, I am. Why, is there something else you need?”

“…no.” I reply, face still buried in my pillow.

“That wasn’t convincing at all.” Simon snorts. “C’mon ‘Mr. Grace’, you keep reminding me you’re a teacher, so show me some vocabulary words. Whaddya want?”

“Oh come on.” I scoff. “Don’t do that.” I prop myself up on my elbows, holding my head and chest up, looking over me shoulder.

“Speak up, or I’m going back upstairs to work on my star chart.”

I groan, dropping my head.

“Fine, yes, please can you- …y’know.” I shrug,

“Why would I ask you to clarify if I-“

“Tickle me? …Please?” I say with an exasperated sigh. “It would make me feel better, and I would really prefer you didn’t let this hand in the air for a long time before you respond or do something, I hate it when you dOHOHHO THAHAJAT-! AHAHAHA-!”

Simon shot his hands under my arms, scribbling aggressively through the fabric of my cardigan.

I collapse back down on my face, shouting and laughing into the pillow like a smothered hyena.

“Well since you asked so nicely.” Simon purrs, raking his fingers up and down my ribs. The sharper, metallic digits on the prosthetic hand were WAY more effective, making my body curl up like an isopod ok my side.

“Oh- wait.” Simon lifts his hands away. “I’m sorry, is this too aggressive? I should have checked.”

“N-no, it’s fine… thanks for checking..” I confirm with a goofy smile on my face.

Simon smiles, reaching down and removing my glasses, placing them safely off to the side.

“Good enough.” Without missing a beat, he lunges at me again, pulling me so that I rolled onto my back, before latching onto my stomach with both hands, squeezing, kneading, pinching, and skittering over the area.

“AH- AH-! AHAHA- oH GOHOHOD!”

“Still good?”

“Y-YEAHAHAH”

“You cackle like a supervillain, you know that?”

“W-WHAT??! WHAHHAT’S THAT EVEN MEAN?”

“Or maybe a witch. Listen.” Simon suddenly digs both thumbs into my hips, vibrating feverishly.

I hate to say it- but he’s right….

“AAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAA-!!” I throw my head back, screaming with high pitched laughter that kinda really did sound like a cartoon villain.

“See?”

“SHUT UHUHUJUP-!”

“Oooh that’s not very nice. I’m doing this because you asked me to, remember?” Simon tutted. “C’mere.” Simon took a seat on the bed, and dragged me by the shoulders so that my torso laid over his lap.

I didn’t protest, I did ask for it, anyway.

“Much better!” He nodded, resuming his attack. One hand found its way back to my stomach, making a claw, and moving in a strumming motion.

“AHAHAHA-! AAH! E-ENOUGH WITH THE STOMACH!!”

“Alright then where?” Simon stops again, folding his arms.

…Well I wasn’t expecting to be given a choice…

“Clearly you have something else in mind if you want me to switch spots and not stop completely. So?”

“I- uhuhm…”

“Oh come on.” Simon laughs down at me. “Here I’ll make it easier. You’ve got weird spots all over. You freaked out when a loose piece of string touched your wrist lathe other day. Gimme one of those.”

I couldn’t tell if it was because I was lying down, or because I was being called out, but my face was burning.

“Uhm, I don’t know-“ I looked to the side.

“Look at me.” I can’t stand this guy.

“Shh- s-stop talking!” I reach up, swatting at Simon’s face, turning it away from me.

He catches my arm, holding it up in the air.

“Never mind. You don’t get to pick.” He hooks my arm around his neck, holding my wrist over his shoulder with the steady grip of the xenonite, lwavinf enough slack for me to pull away if I wanted to.

“WaHAHAHAHAIT!!”

With his unoccupied hand, Simon digs at the hollow under my arm, moving back and forth from there to the back of my shoulder.

“SIGIHIMON!!!”

“Don’t reach at me like that. Especially not at my scars.” He says sternly.

“OKAY!! OKAHAHAY IM SORRY!! IM SO SORRY I SWEAR!” I shout, wriggling in place.

“Are you?” He purrs, shifting his hand up to my neck, resting it just below my haorline.

I freeze, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Simon-!”

“Ten seconds.”

“Five.”

“Eight.”

“…Fine.”

Simon grins. “Deal.”

He pinches the back of my neck gently, holding the position. Genuinely, I assure you, That’s all he does.

“AAAAH-! AHAHA- CH-CHRISTMAS EHEHEVE-!”

“You’re allowed to swear like a grown man, Gracie.

“AHAHA-! DON’T CAHAHALL ME THAT!” I protest. I was just being difficult, I’m not sure I hate that nickname. “AND NOHOHO I CAN’T-! AHAHA- IM A TEACH- SHIHIHIT-!!” Simon squeezes harder just a few times, at the speed of a heartbeat. I think he was following my pulse.

I shriek… naturally…

“AAAAAAAAHAHAHA!! SIMON!!”

“There it is… 3… 2… and…”

He quickly leans down, blowing a raspberry on the side of my neck. The vibration and the gentle scratch of his sharp teeth on my skin send me careening over the edge.

“AAAAAAAH OKAHAY OKAY!! STOP/! MAHAHARY! ROCKY!! PLEASE-!”

Simon pulls back, laughing as I fight for air, still laid across his lap.

“It seems like you are having a dispute.” Mary’s voice echoes through the room from the ship’s speakers.

“No no Mary, we’re alright, thank you.” Simon calls back with his stupid annoying calm voice.

“You’re welcome, Simon.”

I sit up off of Simon’s lap, not without his assistance, and right myself up next to him, letting out one last heavy sigh.

“You alright?”

“Yeah…”

“Feel better?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

“Have fun?”

“Is this like, a survey? Is there a skip option?”

I roll my eyes.

“Oh- sorry about uh- pushing your fave like that. I hope I didn’t hurt you.” I say softly.

“What? Oh, no I don’t really care. It doesn’t hurt. Most of my nerves there are shot to hell anyway.”

“…You’re absolutely unbelievable.” I sneer at him. “I actually thought I hurt you!”

Simon chuckles. “I figured that would work How’s your back?”

I sit up straight, lean forward, twist from side to side, and smile. “Good! Doesn’t hurt anymore!” I say, a quiet crack following from somewhere else in my back as I lean back again.

Simon grimaces.

“No no, that’s normal. I’m like a bowl of Rice Krispies.” I chuckle, making a fist and cracking my knuckles into my other hand.

“Eugh.”

I snicker, dropping my head to the side, prompting two rather loud pops from my neck.

Simon shudders, leaning away. “God-! Stop that!”

“What?! You just cracked my back!”

“Yeah, but that was out of necessity!”

“I can do my jaw too.”

“I believe you. Don’t demonstrate.” Simon stands up.

“It’s just nitrogen bubbles popping- it’s not actually bone, y’know.” I place a hand under my jaw, Simon grabs my wrist.

“Thank you, Professor. I know.”

I laugh, lowering my hand. “Okay! Okay, o won’t do it.”

“It’s a miracle all your bones don’t hurt.” Simon mutters as I stand up as well, the two of us heading for the laddder out of the dorm.

“The gravity on the ship is weaker than it is on earth, so-“

“Rhetorical, Gracie.”

I pause, rolling my eyes, despite my face warming up a little.

“You like that name.” Simon says it like a fact, shooting me a look, a thin half smile on his face.

“I don’t hate it. Whatever.” I wave him off.

“You never let me explain stuff to you. You always cut me off.” I huff.

“Well why don’t you come explain some of these stars I’ve never seen on the charts upstairs to me then? You can give me the origins of their names and everything.”

I couldn’t quite tell if he was being facetious or not, so I chose to believe he wasn’t.

“With pleasure!” I smiled wide, hurrying up the ladder, practically racing Simon to the lab computer.

I take a seat on my stool again, waking the screen with a shake of the mouse.

“Oh my god, sit UP.”Simon growled, jabbing me in the back as I once again slouched over the keyboard.

“uuUUUGH.”

[brinnybee]

oops more streamer/teacher AU for @idgabuck, this wisdom tooth ask really got me

under the cut because i can't be brief for the life of me

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Mister Grace?”

Ryland perks up immediately at his name, phone hastily returned to his pocket like he’s somehow ashamed of being caught poking around on it. As though there aren’t four other people in the waiting room doing exactly the same thing. He’s on his feet in a moment but blinking mute question at the young woman in scrubs that’s just stepped into the room, keeping the door open behind her with a splayed hand. She’s all smiles (which seems fitting, he supposes) as she beckons him along. “Simon’s all through and awake now, everything went just fine,” she explains, giving him another smile as she leads him down the white-tiled hall. Past an operatory on the left, now empty, and to a recovery room a couple doors down. Despite this being a fully normal, extremely routine procedure, Ryland feels a knot of quiet worry untie itself somewhere just south of his ribs. “Great, thanks,” he says with real gratitude. He feels a little bad he can’t remember the name this nice lady had given him during the pre-op, but he’ll blame it on the nerves. 

Unbothered, she carries on down the hall and stops outside a closed door, one hand on the knob as the other counts off on her fingers what he’s sure is a checklist in her head. “No concerns on our end, no unexpected bumps in the procedure, but we need to have everyone hang around for a bit while the anesthesia wears off. Maybe half an hour and then he’ll have his sea legs back so you won’t have to carry him to the car.”

Ryland nods along, and the woman knocks on the door and then opens it to step inside. “Hey, Simon, it’s me again,” she calls, cheery as she lets them into the recovery room. “How are you feeling?” Ryland moves just through the threshold behind her and waits, feeling the door close against his back as a very rumpled voice answers with a, “Hm, m’fine.” 

Simon’s mostly reclined in a slick-but-plush chair that seems standard fare for these sorts of things. Cushioned, but easily cleaned. He’s looking bleary, barely awake, hair a little mussed. More than usual, anyways. 

The lady steps across the room to the desk on the opposite wall and starts tapping away at the computer there, charting. “I brought a friend this time,” she says to Simon, and beckons Ryland further into the room with another smile and a helpful flick of her head towards the bench seat below the window. Just next to where Simon’s seated. “He’s going to wait with you until the doctor’s ready to send you home.”

Sufficiently introduced, Ryland makes for the bench and plops down, leaning forward to rest elbows on his knees. It angles him a bit more into Simon’s space, letting him catch the other man’s drowsy gaze. “Hey, you,” he greets, unable to hide his grin at just how… rumpled Simon looks. He might even qualify as skrunkly. “They gave you the good stuff, huh?”

It’s a treat to watch the neurons in Simon’s brain fire in slow-motion. And almost embarrassingly sweet, too, to watch recognition and immediate affection bloom across his face like a flower suddenly finding the sun. 

“Baby,” Simon sighs out happily, lifting a hand and immediately reaching for Ryland. And, jeez, what choice does Ryland have but to take that hand in both of his own after apparently being worthy of that sort of greeting. He ducks his head to huff a soft laugh towards the tile floor, rubbing Simon’s knuckles. And buying himself a second to deal with the brief overwhelm of unguarded affection Simon just hit him with. 

Simon’s fingers curl around his, and Rylan’s halfway through getting his heart wrangled back into place when Simon speaks again. But not to him. No, he’s got his face angled towards the assistant finishing up with the chart notes. “This is him,” Simon’s announcing happily at her, and Ryland should know something’s up by the way he sees the woman trying very hard not to smile from the corner of his eye. But he’s pretty well distracted when Simon turns back to him and he’s suddenly the center of all Simon’s formidable, if presently sleepy, attention. 

And, gosh, are his eyes always so soft?

“This is the one I was telling you about,” Simon continues, still half gone on anaesthetics but more than happy to carry on the conversation. “He’s my favorite. I’m definitely going to marry him.”

Ryland wheezes out a breath like a dying chew toy, and drops his head to stare at the tiles again for a moment because he might actually combust if he has to stare down all that obvious affection writ plain on Simon’s face and then act so normal about it in an oral surgery center. 

He’s giddy. And mortified. (A little voice in the depths of his brain helpfully pipes in that he should figure out what kind of rings he likes.) That might have been the cutest dang thing he’s ever heard but also he’s developing sudden acute tachycardia. 

He’s still holding Simon’s hand in both his own, though. He’s not a monster. 

He squeezes. Simon squeezes back.

------

They’re given the go-ahead to get Simon home about thirty minutes later, when Simon proves he can ambulate without turning into a puddle. Ryland takes charge of the mandatory goodie bag and the informative packet of Do’s and Don’t’s and sets about getting them out the building and into the car. Simon’s a little wobbly, but he’s mobile. He’s really choosing not to be, though, and opting instead to lean bodily on Ryland, a hand in his back pocket, as they try and make their way down the hall to the checkout desk. 

In the forty feet they need to cover, Simon informs his oral surgeon, a second dental assistant, and three innocent people in the lobby of his matrimonial intentions for his partner. Ryland has never felt more loved or more ready for the ground to swallow him up. Good golly, the horrors of being publicly adored. 

In the parking lot, Simon’s about to make a proclamation to a family exiting their own vehicle two spaces down, and Ryland hiccups a half-manic laugh and quiets him with a peck on the cheek. It’s a decent distraction, at least. “C’mon, bug, let’s get you home.” 

Simon’s about as ungainly as a newborn fawn and presently made of velcro, but they get him into the passenger seat. Ryland hurries around and slips into the driver’s side. Soon as he settles, there’s a hand grabbing gently onto the loose fabric of his sleeve. Simon’s got an arm propped on the center console, fingers curled into the soft of his sweater, easy as coming home. There’s nobody else he’d rather drive home from appointments, pick up prescriptions for. It’s so easy, and Ryland’s heart gives another squeeze. 

“Can we get smoothies?” Simon asks, and the juxtaposition hauls a sudden laugh up from Ryland’s chest.”

“I think it’d be best to get you home and comfy,” he says, patting Simon’s hand before fishing the car keys from his pocket. “You’re going to want to sleep all this off as soon as the rest of that truth juice wears off. I think something bland’s best for your stomach right now, too. I’ll go get you a smoothie tomorrow though if you still want one.”

Simon’s quiet for so long that it pulls Ryland’s attention over, hand stalling at the ignition as he finds Simon to be just… staring. Half melted back against the little corner formed by the passenger seat and the car door, his brows furrowed and eyes wet. It has Ryland’s overworked heart in his throat for a moment, and he fumbles the car keys in his haste to reach over and put a reassuring hand on Simon’s leg, thumb tracing the bend of his knee. “Whoah, hey, hon, you okay?”

It makes Ryland’s heart give a great rabbit-kick thump that he feels resonate against the back of his sternum. He can see Simon’s ears gone pink where they peek out from the dark waves of his hair and feels his own burn in kind.

“You’re gonna hang out with me tomorrow, too?” Simon wonders aloud, totally awestruck. Completely twitterpated, his heart not even on his own sleeve but somehow all the way over on Ryland’s. Tangled up in the fibers around Simon’s fingers. His voice is rough and hushed, words cotton-clumsied around the gauze he’s still dutifully biting but there’s a reverence in his tone while he stares at Ryland like he hung the moon. And Ryland feels like he could laugh or cry, like his joy’s too big at the moment for his body to really know what to do with. 

… Mostly he wants to kiss Simon, but that’s probably off the table for a few days. 

Ryland settles for fishing the keys off the floor, getting the car pointed towards home, and then offering his hand to his partner to hold right there near the gearshift. “Yeah, yep. Definitely going to hang out with you tomorrow. And like every day after that.”

He does.

It’s easy. 

[wraithillustrates]

I like to imagine Simon’s favorite hobby is asking Grace whatever random question pops into his head whenever Grace is at his most vulnerable, solely for the amusement of watching him get increasingly flustered until he can’t get another word out.

[moghedien]

One like nitpick thing that drives me crazy is when people call Blue Whales the largest whales or the largest living mammals or some shit like that

Because yes that is true. But when you frame it like that you are completely disregarding the absolutely batshit reality that Blue Whales are the largest animals that have ever existed on earth through the entire history of the planet and they are alive right now today