The Lee In Yellow

|| He/They/It + Hy/Hymn/Hys || 20 || || SFW BLOG!!!!!! || Minors DNI || || Lee leaning switch :3 (Heavy on the LEE hehehehe) || || Eldritchkin Loser ||

[eldritch-giggles]

INTRODUCTION POST!!!!!

MINORS DNI

Hello all!! My name is Carcosa (but can be shortened to CC if Carcosa is too long hehehe), I am 20 years old, and I use He/They/It Pronouns along with Hy/Hymn/Hys Neos!!

More under the cut!!!

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I have been a Long Time Lurker in this community, and I'm finally brave enough to at least a little interactive with the SFW Tickling Community.

Tickling has always been somewhat prevalent in my life and I've always enjoyed the act, and I'm happy to be interacting with people who think in a similar way!! Although, I am going to be tentative to interacting with the more Kink Inclined People as I am a Sex Repulsed Asexual so sex really isn't My Thing, but I'm not gonna knock you if it's Yours. Just keep actions with me Above The Belt and I will do the same with you ::::)

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I am an Autistic Trans Masc with a love of Many a Spooky Thing, such fandoms include (Favorites in Bold, Hyperfixes in Italics ):

Hetalia [Show]

Malevolent [Podcast]

The Magnus Archives [Podcast]

Camp Here & There [Podcast]

Project Hail Mary [Book & Movie]

Homestuck [Mixed Media Web Comic]

The Amazing Digital Circus [Show]

Cookie Run Kingdom [Game]

And Many Other Things!!!!

One day I'd like to post Fics here and perhaps Art, but the day where I'm brave enough to post any has yet to come hehehe, I guess we'll have to wait and see ::::)

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Also a quick tag system to keep things sorted on here:

#Carcosa Babbles -> Personal tickle based text posts

#Carcosa Murmurs -> My text posts

#CC's Favorites -> Tag for personal favorites

#Carcosa Orbits -> Reblog tag

#Carcosa's Court -> Ask tag

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I'll add more to this as more comes up ::::)

Goodbye for now!!!

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[nightowlfowl]

someone ( @vibrantly-yours ) commented on wanting to give john a hot cocoa and tuck him into bed, and i agree wholeheartedly!! your wish has been granted~

♡ john loves his hot cocoa ♡

[only-cat-memes]

[dogpuppy]

[awkward---as---hell]

Liar Liar

Summary: Liar liar carapace on fire! Grace has known his friend Rocky for years, and thought he knew his friend inside and out. When Adrian lets slip a very interesting detail about their partner that Grace had previously thought false, he spends the next few moments getting well deserved payback.  

Words: 4223

Dynamics: SFW, Grace POV, Lee!Rocky, Ler!Adrian, Ler!Grace (Finally, I know. Butttttttt there is a bit of lee grace at the beginning but it's short!!! I just needed to tickle this guy a bit more apparently lol) 

A/N: this a request from @drgon-wings and also heavily inspired by this post from @the-sharknado. Hope you guys like this! also again, I headcanon that eridians use they/them, so thus that's what Adrian refers to Rocky as, but grace uses he/him for rocky bc that's just what he's used to.

------

A beep on my laptop pulls my focus away from the paper I’m writing. Low battery. Time to charge up. 

I glance at my watch—and gosh, is that the time? 

I’ve been working on this paper for a few hours now without even realizing it. In a few moments I’ll have to pack up to go to my meeting with Ted. 

I sigh. Oh Ted. 

I’ve been teaching my first batch of Eridian students for a little over a month now. I really missed teaching, and I think of my human students often, wondering if they’re doing okay in the midst of the astrophage crisis. I really hope they are. 

Interacting with the goofballs that are my 30 Eridian students helps dull that ache a bit, though. Every day brings something new and exciting when working with these krazy kids. So in short, it’s been great. 

Yet Ted, one of the members of the adolescent education board, has requested a meeting to check in and see how things are going. Apparently, my quick notes of ‘going good, no complaints’ don't cut it. They want a full in depth discussion. Lucky me. 

I like Ted, I really do. They clearly have a passion for this thing like I do… but they also really like to talk. Like a lot. You know those conversations that you try multiple times to end politely while slowly making your way toward the door, but the other person will add another question or comment that drags you back into it? Yeah, that’s Ted’s bread and butter. 

I glance at my watch again and drum my fingers on the table. Surely I can work for just a bit longer…

I turn back to my paper. Funnily enough, it actually is about Eridian adolescent development, so maybe talking to Ted could be helpful. Fill in some of the gaps.

I’m learning a lot about how Eridian children compare to human children from my students—and from my chats with Rocky’s old geology professor, who I’ve gotten quite close to. They never miss a chance to gush about their many grandchildren and tell stories of raising their 15 (oh, my god!) kids. I even got to meet a few of their infant grandchildren as well, and let's just say that was a very memorable day. The biologist in me was very enthralled to see what differences there are between adults and infants, while the paternal part of me was internally squealing at the little tiny babies crawling all over my lap. 

Seriously, they're so cute I think I felt my non-existent womb clench. 

I’m in the middle of a paragraph describing how the music-like speech develops in kids when my door bangs open, making me jump in my chair and almost knock over my vitamin shake. 

“Geez louise!” I say to myself. I know I keep my door unlocked, but most Eridians have the decency to at least knock first. There’s only one Eridian I know who lacks those manners…

“Grace!” Rocky shouts from my doorway. “Me and Adrian are here! Get off your ass, it’s time to go!” 

“Yeah, just give me a second, Rocky,” I call back, my eyes falling to my laptop again as the two of them make their way over to me.

Just gotta finish this paragraph. 

“Hello Grace,” Adrian says warmly, standing beside me. “We have to leave now, so we won’t be late.” 

“Uh-huh, yep...” I say, clearly distracted. My fingers still clack away at the keyboard and my eyes are glued to the screen. “I’m alllllmost done…” 

Rocky shuffles over to my other side. “Grace. It's time. To. Go.” He emphasizes each word with a hard poke to my side. 

I huff a laugh and use one of my hands to shield that side, leaning as far away from him as I can with one hand still typing away. 

“Okay okay, I hear you,” I say. “Why do you even want to go to this meeting anyway? I thought you found Ted, quote, ‘stuffy’ and ‘annoying.’”

“Mmm, I do,” Rocky hums. “I’m going so I can inevitably save you from getting talked to death. You’re welcome.” He reaches around and jabs at my unprotected other side. 

I feel a smile creeping onto my face without permission, and do an involuntary wiggle in my chair. At this point in our friendship, Rocky knows exactly what buttons to push, and loves pushing ‘em. 

“You're so kind,” I say as dryly as I can with a silly smile plastered on my face. “I swear I’m almost done, just let me finish this paragraph.” 

Rocky chirps a short laugh. “You say that often, my friend, and rarely do you mean it.” He hovers his hand threateningly over my side again. 

“Yeah, well, this time I do mean it,” I say, my fingers trying to type out the last few words while I eye Rocky’s grabby hand. “And poke me all you want, I’m just gonna ignore you.” 

Rocky trills an amused chord at that. “I don’t believe you can. You're the most ticklish human ever, remember?” He does a rougher squeeze to both of my sides to prove his point. 

And gosh darn it, I wish I could say that wasn’t true. He's never even met another human, and yet, as I let out a loud, snorty laugh, I can’t help but fear he's right. I’ve always been embarrassingly more sensitive than the Average Joe, and granted, it’s impossible to compare me to literally all of humanity… but Rocky is probably not that far off. 

“Okay fine. You win, you menace,” I huff lightheartedly, shutting the lid of my laptop and turning to stand up. “You know, if Eridians were ticklish you’d be dead meat. I’ve got years of vengeance that needs wreaking.” 

I start to head to the door when Adrian lets out one of their elegant musical laughs and says, “who told you Eridians aren’t?” 

…What? 

I whip around so fast I almost trip. 

“Uh—Rocky did. Multiple times,” I say and point to my friend, who’s gone suspiciously quiet. He's holding his two front hands and fidgeting in place, something he does when he’s nervous—oh, he’s definitely hiding something. 

“…Yeah, we talked a lot about Eridian senses on the way back to Erid,” I continue after a beat. I wrote a whole paper about the topic, actually. Eridians have receptors all over their shells that process sound waves and vibrations—that’s how they ‘see’ with their echolocation—but they do have receptors that process touch too. “Rocky said while you can feel touch sensations, you don’t feel sensations like tickling,” I finish.

“Um,” Rocky says. He fidgets more. 

Adrian laughs again. They sound very amused when they say, “They definitely lied to you, Grace.” 

“What?!” I shout at the same time Rocky cries, “Adrian!”

I turn and point an accusing finger at Rocky, like a child, but I don’t care. This is an egregious wrongdoing. “You lied to me?!” 

“Didn’t lie! I—um—! It just never came up!” Rocky stammers, and shifts back and forth on his legs in the most damning display ever. 

“It most certainly did come up, you lying liar fibber!”

Adrian starts laughing in earnest now. “I think it was a lie of self-preservation. Rocky is one of the most ticklish people I know. It’s a little funny and ironic that they use the same title for you, Grace.” 

“Ugh! Adrian, stop talking!” Rocky says in a tone that’s bordering on a whine. 

This changes everything. Eridians can be ticklish—Rocky is ticklish. Oh, the game is so on! 

“I can’t believe you kept this from me!” I say, failing to sound nearly as offended as I’d intended. I’m just too excited, and a smile worms its way onto my face. Rocky, however, looks as mortified as a being with no face can manage. 

I reach my hands towards him, eager to get revenge after years of torment. To my absolute delight, Rocky actually shies away from me, taking a few steps back and lowering his carapace protectively behind his limbs. That’s never happened before. 

“Tell me how I can tickle you,” I say, and try to reach for him again but he swats my hands away.  

“No! Stay back, leaky blob!” 

“C’monnnn” I sing playfully and try another angle, but Rocky actually grabs my probing hands this time. I try to tug free, but it’s no use. My strength will never match up to an Eridians. 

Luckily, fate is on my side today. 

Adrian moves over to where me and Rocky are locked in a stalemate. “Eridians don’t feel tickling through the touch receptors, like humans do,” they say, and sneak one of their own hands in to knock roughly against the side of Rocky’s carapace. 

Rocky legitimately squeaks, which is hilarious, and drops my hands to wiggle away. 

Ohhh. I get it now! Eridians feel tickles through vibrations, which are processed through the other receptors in their shell—the ones used to interpret soundwaves into their sonar vision. Knocking—and probably other forms of direct vibrations on their carapace—overloads those sensors to inflict laughter and panic, like touch would do for a human. 

I laugh triumphantly. Hope you enjoyed that high horse buddy, because you're getting knocked (Ha!) off it today. 

Rocky has his two front arms held in front of him now, ready to defend against another tickly attack. Hmm. That is a problem. He might be ticklish, but Rocky is still way stronger than me. Time to get creative. 

I take a step forward and cross my arms, assuming the most serious pose I can manage. “Let me tickle you for thirty seconds, with no interruptions. No grabbing my arms or running away, you just have to sit there.” 

“What? No way!” Rocky says and takes a step back. 

I follow him, taking another step forward, and can’t help my grin this time either. “Yes way! It’s only fair. You’ve had years of tickling the snot out of me, and it’s time for your comeuppance.” 

“It seems a fair deal, my love,” Adrian joins in with a teasing lilt to their words. “Thirty seconds compared to literal years is nothing. Unless… you're too sensitive to handle it?” 

Adrian is the best. 

Rocky nervously bobs his carapace back and forth, clearly debating whether to rise to the oh-so-obvious bait.

He eventually stops bobbing and holds his carapace tall, confident. Stubborn.

“Fine,” Rocky says. “Go ahead. I can take it—unlike you, Grace.” 

I grin wolfishly, and don’t even bother acknowledging that last jab. I’ve got him right where I want him. Hook, line, sinker. 

“Great,” I say in an overly sweet voice. “C’mere.” 

For all his confidence just a moment ago, he looks a lot like a lamb being led to slaughter with the way he hesitantly shuffles over to me. 

It’s time to put my plan in place. I pull out my stopwatch from my pocket (yes, I just carry one around with me. I’m a nerd, remember?), and pretend to mess with it. I specifically have it set as a stopwatch—and not a timer—meaning it will continue to count the seconds from start until I intentionally stop it myself. And I don’t intend to. 

“Alright pal, thirty seconds on the clock,” I say, and wiggle my fingers teasingly at him. “You ready?”

Rocky actually shudders—and oh, this is going to be so fun. 

He's still stubborn though, and stands in front of me with his limbs hunched in a way that looks like he's bracing for impact. 

I snicker. “Remember, no shoving me away—”

“Yes yes I know,” Rocky interrupts me. “Just go.” 

Hah, and who am I to deny his request? 

I start the stopwatch and get to work. I use my knuckles on one hand to gently knock against the middle of Rocky's carapace. I’m being gentle on purpose—I want to really rile him up first before striking hard. 

But even this gentle vibration seems to work, because Rocky hunches lower. Just a fraction lower though, and makes no laughter. Stubborn stubborn stubborn. 

I knock a bit harder, and one of Rocky's arms makes an aborted move toward me. 

“Ah! No moving!” I say, on the verge of giggles myself. Rocky lets out a high short note that's quickly cut off. Not quite laughter, not quite a real word either.

Ten seconds in, and I start to move around now, seeing what spots are more sensitive so I can get him to crack. This light, teasy, and exploratory tickling is definitely worse for him. I can see him trembling a bit now with the effort to keep his limbs to himself and not grab my hand.  

Adrian chimes out a chuckle where they stand beside me. “Wow, they’re doing much better than I thought they would.”

I smile and nod at that. 

“Does this tickle, Rocky?” I ask, trying to bait him. He doesn't take it, just remains silent while his limbs twitch occasionally with the instinct to swat me away. Fifteen seconds in now. 

“Try closer to the joints, Grace,” Adrian says, and I move my tickling there, where his arm meets his carapace. 

“No helping!” Rocky says, and oops! That seems to break the dam. The stuttery and chirpy notes that make up his giggles start to leak out against his will now. 

“There we go!” I laugh. “Doesn’t that feel better?” I bring in a second hand now and knock harder on either side of one of his joints. He lets out a sound that can only be described as a honk, and his carapace jerks. Twenty-five seconds. 

“♩H-how ♪much l-longer♫?” He asks, undeniably giggling now. He's twitching and squirming in place a lot too, but ultimately stays planted in front of me. 

I glance at my stopwatch. It shows the count at thirty-two seconds on its digital screen. Digital, meaning that Rocky can't see the numbers with his sonar vision. Perfect.

“Just a couple more seconds pal,” I say with a grin. Maybe it's a bit mean and unfair to go against the rules of this little deal, especially since Rocky is doing a good job upholding his end. 

…But do you know what else is unfair? Having five arms and the ability to tickle your friend to tears whenever you want. And he does. 

Often. 

For years.

So no, I don't feel bad. I’m actually having the time of my life, thank you very much. 

Time to up the ante and make Rocky really lose his composure. I keep one hand knocking against his carapace and bring my other down to his middle arm joint. It’s a little strange using this much blunt force on what’s basically his elbow—something that would absolutely hurt a human—but for Rocky it only feels intensely ticklish.

 “♪♫♩!” he shouts before tumbling into the hardest laughter yet. Hah, geez. The potty mouth on this guy. Guess I can’t blame him, this really gets under his skin. He can't keep it together and curls that arm up close to his body.

Adrian and I are freely giggling along with him now, and encouraged by both their reactions I decide to fully throw away my moral compass and embrace being a menace. I leave the arm Rocky has curled protectively against himself alone and switch to another. He immediately curls that one up too. So I bring my other hand into the mix and start knocking against a different arm joint at the same time. He needs at least 3 arms to keep himself balanced, so he's forced to hastily uncurl an arm lest he fall over. 

So, to be a real jerk, I just keep switching. Every time he protects one arm, I move to another. If he curls that one up too, I split my attention between two different joints, forcing him to uncurl something before he topples over. Before long he’s practically hopping in place, frantically trading one vulnerable arm for another, unable to escape the tickling no matter which way he turns.

“♩G-grace♫!” He cries, just barely getting the word out through his laughter. “♪S-surly ♫time’s up♪ n-now?” 

I glance at the stopwatch. It shows fifty-two seconds. 

I bite the inside of my cheek, doing my best to make my words sound sincere and not like I’m lying through my teeth. But it’s hopeless—I’m smiling and laughing through my words too much to keep this ruse going. I give it my best shot anyway. 

“Hah, n-not quite yet, buddy!” 

Rocky’s no dummy and doesn't fall for my scheme this time. He can clearly hear the amusement in my voice, undoing my web of lies, and can definitely tell it’s been well over thirty seconds now.

“♬Oh-ho♩you are such ♫ a l-liar♪!” He shouts and finally uses his strength to wiggle out and away from my grip. 

I laugh and try to get one last knock in as he retreats but he’s too quick for me. “Takes one to know one!” 

Suddenly, in a move I couldn’t have predicted—and honestly hadn’t planned—Adrian rushes forward and grabs Rocky before he can fully retreat. 

Rocky lets out a shriek of genuine surprise. “Adrian?!” 

“I’ve decided we’re not done with you yet, my love,” Adrian says with a tone infused with honey, if that honey was also full of live bees. Playful and just a little wicked. 

“Yeah!” I laugh and pump my fist into the air while Rocky immediately starts giggling again—more frantic than I’ve ever heard—and babbles out, “no no no!” with increasing panic as he tries to fend off Adrian. 

Have I mentioned that Adrian is the best? There’s no way I could ever tussle with Rocky the way Adrian is doing now. Rocky and Adrian’s multiple arms interlock as they push and grab at each other with massive strength. The twos back arms skid and scrape against the floor in a powerful back-and-forth before finding purchase and shoving at the other harder. It’s a little intimidating, actually—I’ve seen some of my Eridian students playfully wrestle and have even broken up a few real fights, but nothing compares to this: Two fully grown and strong as heck adult Eridians duking it out and trying to get the upper hand over each other. 

“Get ‘em, Adrian!” I cheer over the noise. Adrian is cooing a nonsensical little chord at Rocky—pure teasing rather than language—while the two of them wrestle, and they gradually sing it louder so it's heard over Rocky’s rising giggle fit. It seems to fluster him so much that it saps his strength. He's losing.

Eventually Adrian sweeps the legs out from under Rocky, making him topple onto his side and onto the floor. A few more seconds of grappling, and then Adrian finally has him pinned: One of Rocky’s legs trapped under his own body, another two trapped under Adrian where they lie on top of him, and the remaining two caught and held tight in Adrian’s grip. 

A warm, gooey feeling rushes through me; Adrian’s clearly done this before judging by the way they so thoroughly have Rocky pinned, meaning the two of them have done this silly, goofy play before and often. It’s just another reminder of how long these two have known and loved each other. 

God, they're so stinking cute. I love their love. 

“Grace!” Adrian calls from where they still battle with Rocky’s squirming, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Get the vents!” 

“No no no! Grace please!” Rocky cries out before he dissolves into panicked laughter. And I haven’t even touched him yet! 

“Oh, the vents?” I laugh, and start knocking and tapping all over said area. “Is that your tickle spot, Rocky?”

Rocky screeches and erupts into the loudest and most discordant, nonsensical chords I've ever heard him make. I think this is the Eridian equivalent of wild cackling, and it makes me smile along with him knowing we share that particular flavor of silly laughter. 

“Aw Rocky, you're the most ticklish Eridian ever, aren't you?” I tease, my smile a mile wide. Vengeance tastes oh-so-sweet and delicious. 

“♩♬♪♫!” Rocky shouts through his laughter, and I snort. That was an expletive. It loosely translates to ‘F off’, but is actually more along the lines of ‘go take a swim’. That would probably be pretty offensive to another Eridian, who all famously sink in water, but directed at me—and my buoyant body that's about sixty percent water—it just doesn't land quite the same. 

“Darling, that wasn't very nice,” Adrian teases too. They manage to sneak in a free hand and start tapping against Rocky's carapace and joints.  

More screeching and desperate squirming. This is really driving him up a wall! I truly am having a great time, and I genuinely hope Rocky is too underneath all the laughing and protesting. It’s sappy, but I really cherish moments like this, where we can be complete goofballs together—even when the laughter is a little… encouraged.

That goes for me, too. I know I’m teasing Rocky about revenge, but… I truly don’t mind it as much as I make it seem. 

But that doesn’t mean I’m not also basking in said revenge though, because I totally am. 

“Not fair! NOT FAIR!” He punches out between his discordant cackles. “♪Y-you SAID ♫thirty s-seconds♩!”

“I did say that,” I nod and grin mischievously. “But do you remember when you tickled me and made me faceplant off your xenonite ball?” I start rubbing my knuckles over his vents in what is basically the world's most ticklish noogie. Rocky’s whole body jerks and squirms harder in Adrian’s grip, desperately trying to get free from the horribly tickly feeling. 

“♫W-wait! ♪-♬N-no!” 

“Yes!” I say, laughing. The energy in the room is vibrant and electric, brimming with a giddy sort of anticipation and fun. Adrian coos more teasey sounds at Rocky over his laughter, I’ve been smiling so much my cheeks ache, and Rocky has gone almost limp now in Adrian’s grasp as he accepts his fate, laughter flowing freely.

“And there was the time you tickled me during that meeting!” I add, giving him a particularly harsh tickle on the edge of one of his vent plates. “You embarrassed me in front of the whole education board!” 

“♪G-gra♫—!” 

He can’t even get words out now at the teasing, can only laugh helplessly in Adrian’s grip. He really is extremely ticklish—I wish I knew sooner! 

But he also can't take much more, so it's time for the big finale. 

“So—for those times and allllllll the others,” I say with as much theatrics I can muster, “...you’re gonna get what's due.” 

It's the vibrations that's the trick, yeah? I stop messing with his vents so this trick can shine on its own, and take in a large, dramatic breath. Rocky doesn't know what I’m up to but can definitely tell I’m up to something. 

“Wait wait wait!”

I press my lips over Rocky's vents and—

Ppppfffttttbbbbbbb. Blow the biggest raspberry I can.

Rocky belts out another one of those honks before dissolving into hysterical laughter again. Are honks the Eridian version of a snort? Well, whatever it is, it makes Adrian fall into hearty laughter too, and it's all so infectious that I can't help but gasp out punchy giggles of my own. 

“♬EW EW♪ GRACE ♫N-NOHOHO♪!” Rocky screeches and manages to get an arm free from Adrian while they’re distracted. He tries to grab at me but I scramble away to his other side where he can't reach me, but still have access to his vents. 

I grin at him and blow another raspberry. Then another. Then one more because I’m a jerk. He gives the same wonderfully indignant screech every single time, each one followed by another fit of helpless laughter.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rocky this flustered before. Of the two of us, he's the one that’s better at keeping his cool, so seeing him like this? No longer this pillar of stubbornness and clever retorts, but instead lost in peals of uproarious laughter? It makes me feel a bit smug, actually. There’s nothing more satisfying than making your usually level-headed friend completely unravel. 

But I also don’t want to accidentally kill him. With one final tap to a vent plate I take my hands away and motion for Adrian to do the same. 

“Hah, alright pal, we’re done for real this time,” I say with a smile on my face as I watch Rocky slump over on his side—an awkward position for an Eridian, but I don’t think he cares right now. 

Adrian coos a soothing, pitying note and tries to give Rocky a gentle caress, but he weakly slaps their hand away. Adrian giggles. “I suppose that’s fair.” 

“You okay, bud?” I say with a smile. 

“...I’m going to put you on a ship back to Earth myself…” Rocky replies weakly. 

Oh is that how it is? I feign reaching for him again and smirk when Rocky squeaks and flinches back. 

That's what I thought.  

“You’re definitely late to your meeting with Ted now,” Adrian says to me and tilts their carapace in their version of a smile. 

Oh, I for sure am, but I just can't bring myself to be upset about that. 

“That’s okay,” I say. “This was so totally worth it.”

[map9810-blog]

[enodiamoon]

[ahhhhhgghgg]

*paws at you* can you tickle me *paws at you* can you tickle me *paws at you* can you tickle me *paws at you* can you tickle me *paws at you* can you tickle me *paws at you* can you tickle me *paws at you* can you tickle me *paws at you* can yo

[girldraki]

[leavethepuddle]

@sarumans

[kitkatfingers]

….leon kennedy….

[kitkatfingers]

leon saying his goofy one-liners and puns and jokes and when you don't laugh he tweaks at your sides or ribs to get a reaction like "hey im talking to you" (and then continues and says more jokes bc "you're laughing really hard so you clearly like them")

[babylon-butterfly]

[nightowlfowl]

i hate him!!!!

⁽/ᵃᶠᶠ⁾

[srungpot]

[eclipsetickles]

Presenting... 🪐🌸

My newest addition to my blog, my sona Kira (Designed by the amazing @fallofsirius ).

She's an alien with the characteristics of a highland cow, unicorn, and a luna moth, known for her soft appearance and playful energy.

She stands at about 6' 0" (182 cm).

I'm willing to answer any questions you guys have about her! Might give me a good reason to actually draw more too lol

[drops-of-universe]

don’t play it cool, be passionate and insane

[awkward---as---hell]

Cosmically Familiar

Summary: Three years into the journey back to Erid, Rocky has become familiar with all the things that once made Grace seem strange: his hands, his face, his habits, his emotions—and most of all, his laughter.

When Grace starts spiraling over his dwindling food supply, Rocky decides it is his duty as best friend and crewmate to cheer him up by any means necessary. What begins as laughter-provoking antics slowly turns into something deeper: a quiet reflection on joy, survival, and the strange ways two species can feel connected across the stars.

Words: 4445

Dynamics: Lee!Grace, Ler!Rocky

A/N: This was supposed to be a short writing exercise on how to describe laughter, but then it somehow led me to introspecting about the universe, as one does lol.

———

I don’t completely remember what was running through my mind when my ship’s cameras and the petrovascope spotted another ship in the Tau Ceti system. A ship that, by the looks of it, was alien-made. My thoughts were probably something along the lines of ‘holyshitholyshitholy–’ and ‘oh thank fuck I’m not alone anymore’.

Thinking back, it probably wasn’t wise to just assume they’d be friendly, and I didn't even consider what they would look like. I was too focused on communicating and connecting our ships so we could meet. 

All of which is to say, I was totally unprepared when we were right in front of each other, and I couldn’t help the scream that came out of me. Grace looked like nothing I had ever seen or could ever imagine. He was so tall, standing upright on his two limbs while only having two others instead of three. And his whole body was covered with flesh while the harder material was inside. It’s like if you turned an Eridian inside out. 

Don’t even get me started on his strange habits as well. Using the same orifice to talk and eat? Ugh. 

He was freaky. Well… the keyword being was. Things are different now. 

His fleshy hands aren’t strange anymore–they’re the hands that fly the Hail Mary, do complex calculations and big science, and make chains (many many chains). 

Hands that bred taumoeba. Hands that pulled me back to safety. 

And his body isn’t strange anymore either. It’s just his body, that does crazy dangerous EVAs, that has a beating heart that proves he’s alive, that shows love through a hug or friendly pat. His face and his mouth are now just his identity. A window to his emotions: a smile to show joy, eyes that tear up when sad. 

Now, when I look at Grace and all the things that make him different from me, freaky is the word furthest from my mind. The only words I have now are… that's my best friend. Three years into our return trip to Erid, all the aspects that make up Grace have become familiar to me.

Most familiar of all is his laughter.

Ironic, considering how little of it I heard during our mission. There wasn’t much time for joking around, both hyper-focused on saving our species. But now, time is all we have. 

Between keeping ourselves busy and entertained, and learning more about each other, the opportunity to hear all the different ways Grace laughs has been plentiful. I think I have each one memorized. 

His chuckles are little more than a deep rumble in his chest, a sound almost meant for only himself. Soft, fond, and relaxed, they usually appear when he's recalling a time one of his students said something clever, or when he thinks I’ve said something funny accidentally. 

When he does manage to let slip some giggles, they sound fluttery, bubbling out of him in a continuous stream before boiling over into full laughter. I think most of the time they happen because he's trying not to laugh, as he’ll often duck his head or cover his mouth to stifle them. Maybe he's embarrassed—they’re much more high-pitched than his normal speaking voice, but I always find them adorable. They're reminiscent of the flute-like voices of eridian infants.

It’s particularly funny when Grace is surprised into amusement. He lets out sharp barks of laughter, sometimes accompanied by a quick clap of his hands or slapping his knee. It’s like he's so suddenly taken by hilarity it needs more outlets. 

It’s even more funny when Grace snorts. It happens rarely, and only when he's caught completely off guard, surprised into laughter that’s so deep and hearty it comes out his nose. I think it’s hilarious, not just the sound but because Grace gets so embarrassed by it—apparently even in human culture it’s a silly sound.

Perhaps the most rewarding is when Grace finds something really funny, like a joke I made (on purpose), or our silly banter, or even a dumb scene from one of his movies. His laughter comes from his stomach, loud and boisterous, and it makes his eyes water and squeeze shut, nose scrunching too. Sometimes it overcomes him so much that he has to hold onto something to keep upright, or wrap his arms around his abdomen. It’s like for a moment he feels completely safe and unrestrained, forgetting about the Hail Mary, the beetles, and the dwindling food. Instead there’s only happiness in its purest form—and it's one of my favorite laughs of his. 

But not my all-time favorite. 

My all-time favorite is the one he's making now, when I have him pinned to the floor of the ship, one claw digging into his middle and another two scribbling under his arms. The laughter that’s pouring out of him can only be described as cackles—loud, wild things interrupted by startled screeches and utterly beyond his control. 

“ROCKY! S-STOP IT!” he shrieks. I don’t have his arms pinned, so he's torn between trying to wrench my claws out from under them and slapping at any part of my xenonite suit-covered carapace he can reach.

“Mmm,” I trill in mock contemplation. “No. I don’t think you’ve had enough penance yet.” 

His head thunks against the floor in defeat. “Ngh–aHAH!” he tries to reply but he’s laughing too hard to get any words out. I am curious what he has to say though, so I move my hands from his armpits and instead trace around what he calls a ‘belly button.’ It still tickles him a lot, but less so he can actually get words out. 

The smile on his face is stretched so wide that it shows all of his teeth. He takes in a shuddered breath and chokes out between his giggles, “P-penance for what?!”

“You were moping. No moping allowed on the Hail Mary.” 

“Wha—but it’s MY ship!” he tries to protest but more giggles interrupt his speech. “Ehehe—I can m-mope if I want to!” 

I let out a chittery laugh at that. He can be so whiny. 

“Nope. Not allowed,” I reiterate. I use my fingers to skitter up and down his sides, making sure to tweak his bottom ribs whenever I reach them. It makes Grace arch his back and then flop back down with a cackle each time. 

In truth, this isn’t made to be an actual ‘punishment’. I mean, Grace was moping, that part's true. Just before I wrestled him to the floor he was looking over the Hail Mary’s food storage, doing some calculations with his face pulled into a frown and muttering to himself. Based on his calculations, the last few months of our trip will be difficult for him. Grace is worried. 

But I hate to hear him like that, and there’s nothing more we can do about the food anyway. So naturally, it’s my job as his crewmate/best friend to take his mind off it, cheer him up a bit. And if tickling him to pieces is the quickest way to accomplish that, well, then you really can’t blame me. 

It also gives me the opportunity to hear his loudest, silliest laughs, the kind he only does when he's forced to let go of his worries and submit to this playful stupidity. As an added bonus, all that laughter sends sound waves bouncing off my carapace, giving me the clearest image of Grace yet. Hey, I gotta get something out of this too, ok? 

Grace is shoving at me with both hands now, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back in laughter. He's not strong enough to push me away even if he wasn’t laughing himself out of oxygen. 

“Gah! G-get offa me, doofus!” he manages between desperate gasps for air, each one collapsing back into laughter.

I hum a high, amused note, and pull back on the tickling a bit. I still use one hand though to poke randomly around his stomach, enough to keep him twitching. 

“Have you laughed all of your mopes out yet?” I ask teasingly. 

Grace drags in deep breaths now that he has the chance, but each one has a leftover giggle or two tacked onto the end. He flops an arm over his chest and I feel him sag into the floor. 

“Ugh…” he wheezes. “You’re… the worst…”

I dig sharply into his sides. “Answer the question.” 

He yelps and his hands fly down to grab mine. “Ah! L-let me think, dang it!”

A few beats pass before Grace comes to a verdict. He crosses his arms, and schools his face into one of defiance—or at least he tries to. There’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that gives him away. 

“I think there’s one still rattling around in there,” he says, and oh, if I know a challenge when I hear one… 

“Is that so?” I reply. I grab his wrists and start to slowly raise them over his head. That cracks his defiant facade immediately, his eyes widening and a helpless smile spreading across his face. He starts tugging fruitlessly at my hold, and I think it’s that moment he realizes the situation he put himself in. 

“Wait wait wait! Rocky no! H-hold on!” he splutters. The second his arms are firmly over his head and there to stay, frantic, high-pitched giggles begin bubbling out. 

Mhmm, I quite enjoy this part. Grace is absolutely terrible with anticipation, a fact I love to take full advantage of. With one of my arms pinning Grace's wrists, it leaves my other two open to hover threateningly over his underarms and upper ribs.

“Don’t worry,” I say, my voice laced with sticky sweetness. “I’ll help you.”

I feel Grace's whole body try to flinch away, but I’ve got a strong grip on him as well as some of my weight pinning his hips down where I sit on top of him. 

“J-just hold on a second!” he cries, his eyes unable to look away from my wiggly, xenonite-covered fingers. Laughter is on the edge of each of his words. 

Slowly, I lower my wiggling fingers closer to his body. As I do, Grace's giddy, nervous giggling gets louder and more frantic, and his squirming increases tenfold. When I reach just the edge of his clothes and brush them gently—not even technically touching him—Grace bursts out into loud, belly laughter. 

“No no NO!” he screeches, and his legs kick out helplessly behind me. “S-stahahp it!!” 

I pull my hands away, and Grace goes back to desperate, sputtering giggles.  Hah, I can’t help but laugh along with him, his reactions are over the top and hilarious. 

“Wow,” I say around my own chirpy laughter. “You are so fucking ticklish, Grace.” 

I hear the blood rush to his face at that, and he tries to hide it in his arm. It’s a very subtle sound, one I only know to listen for because Grace explained that humans' faces flush when embarrassed.

‘Definitely sold yourself out there, friend,’ I think to myself.  

“You’re the most ticklish human ever, aren’t you?” I continue to tease. Grace lets out a growly whine that trails off into more desperate giggling. He tries clenching his teeth together, but it does nothing to stop the embarrassing sounds, instead making his laughter come out in a hissy sort of way around his teeth and the wide grin he's wearing. He starts shaking his head helplessly, already accepting his demise. 

Alright, time to stop teasing and get to the real deal. I drop both my hands to scribble his underarms and massage at his top rib. The reaction is explosive; Grace cracks into laughter so loud that he's absolutely glowing in my perception, every detail of his face and the playful torture he’s experiencing crystal clear to me. He even makes enough sound waves to illuminate every small detail of the room in my vision without my need to tap a claw or click a sound. 

“No—! R-rock—! Gah-ahAHAHA!” is all he can manage between his hysterical laughter before he peters out into silence. I can tell he's still laughing though—his whole chest is shaking and I can feel his stomach muscles convulsing beneath me where I have him pinned. His mouth is stretched into a wide grin and he takes in a breath here and there too, but no audible laughter follows it. Just his feet slapping the ground occasionally behind me. 

I really enjoy this type of laughter too. It’s not my favorite, but more so I just feel real smug anytime I manage to drive him crazy enough to laugh himself fresh out of sound. He even has a few tears leaking out of his eyes, and those are rewarding too. I’d much rather he leak from overwhelming mirth and laughter than from sadness and pain.

But the tears also signal that Grace is at his limit. I pull my hands away from his tickle spots and instead rub soothingly at his sternum, chasing away the last of the tingly feelings. 

Grace does his best to melt into the floor as the lingering titters fade away. He wraps one arm around his middle and rests the other one on top of my arm that’s rubbing his chest while he catches his breath. 

“Ohoho man…” he breathes. “I’m sohoho gonna get you b-back.” 

I hum a note. “Can’t. I’m not ticklish. Not like you,” I tease. That’s totally a lie, but not one Grace is strong enough to disprove, an advantage of our anatomical differences. 

We sit for a moment while he recovers until he finally props himself up on his elbows. 

“You know, one of these days I’m gonna have Mary toss you out the airlock. See how well you can tickle me from the vacuum of space,” he says with a grin. 

My hand stills on his chest, and I tilt my carapace. “You’d toss your best friend into space?” I ask, playing along. 

“Oh, definitely,” he nods. He picks up the tool I use to weave xenonite that’s resting on the floor. I don’t use it much now, since I used almost the last of my xenonite stores to make my dexterous suit. (That probably wasn’t wise to do, but it’s worth it to be able to come into Grace's atmosphere completely and interact in this silly way.)

It also means that the tool, which I had brought to Grace's side to show him, has been sitting on the floor for a few weeks. Grace waggles the tool in front of me. “Place would be a whole lot cleaner without you leaving your stuff everywhere, don’t you think?” he teases, and draws his knee in to knock against my carapace. 

Well then. Seems the moping is gone and replaced with sass. Not quite what I was going for. 

I sing a low, jokingly offended note. 

“I see. Well, before you do that, there’s one spot I’ve never tried before. We should fix that, in the name of scientific discovery of course.” I slide off his middle and move down towards his socked feet, grabbing hold of just one ankle. 

Grace begins smiling immediately, and tries to tug his leg back. He's not using his full strength to do so, and combined with his smile I know he doesn’t actually mind this at all. We’ve never talked about it out loud, but I know we both think this silly, stupid kind of play is really fun. 

“Wait, wait! Maybe we can compromise,” he says, voice wobbly with the beginnings of laughter. “I don’t have to toss you out, just your stuff—AH!” 

He's cut off by me taking off his sock and swiping my fingers up and down the bottom of his foot. I was serious when I said I’ve never tried tickling here, and I regret that now because this is a really sensitive spot. Grace drops my xenonite weaver and falls onto his back again, laughter renewed. He's still trying to tug his leg away while the rest of his body is free to squirm now that I’m not on top of him anymore.

I only tickle him for a few seconds before stopping, given I already put him through the wringer before. When I stop, Grace throws an arm over his face while some lingering hiccupy laughs fade away. I’ve still got a hold of his ankle, though, and this time poke his largest toe. 

“Are these ticklish too?” I ask, genuinely curious. It’s already surprising he'd be ticklish in this area, since he literally walks on them every day. Humans are fascinating like that. 

Grace huffs a residual laugh and says “Maybe,” which I take as ‘Definitely yes.’

“Why are these ticklish but the ones on your hands aren’t?” 

He shrugs and looks down his body at me. “I’m not sure,” he answers honestly. “Might be evolution-based. You need your toes to walk, but you can live without fingers, so maybe it’s the body’s way of making you protect those more.” 

He pauses before adding, “I actually knew a guy once who’s missing six fingers—wha—?! H-hey!” He gets cut off by more giggles as I attempt to scribble at his toes. 

“I was talking!” he laughs. “Rude! Nahahah—ouch! Hey, careful!”  

I rip my hands away. “Sorry sorry sorry! Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, you just pinched me a bit. Your fingers are a lot bigger than human ones.” That’s true. It makes tickling this delicate area difficult. I wonder… 

I re-grip his ankle and slip my xenonite weaver over the suit-clad fingers on my other hand. The weaver is almost like a second skeleton, with braces hugging my forearm and hand. Delicate articulated prongs extend beyond each fingertip, tapering to points far finer than my own fingers could ever be so I can weave small strands of xenonite. With the tool powered down, however, they’re nothing more than slender metal finger extensions. 

Using a second hand, I grip his big toe and pull it back, stretching his foot and other toes, then hover my third hand wearing the tool over them. Grace understands immediately what I’m about to do because his eyes widen and his mouth opens to protest, but he’s too late. 

I dance the tips of the thin prongs at the base of his toes and in between them too, for good measure. This was a fantastic idea. Grace begins shrieking and yanking at his foot harder than ever before. It’s no use though, I have an iron-clad grip on him. 

“Holy—argh nohoho!” he practically screams. “T-thahat’s terrible!!” 

I chirp giggles along with him and decide to try something hopefully worse, scraping the prongs up and down the bottom of his foot in addition to his toes to see what happens. 

“FUCK!” Grace yells before being consumed by more screechy laughter. His whole body does a funny sort of roll, and his free foot starts kicking at me with surprising strength. It’s not enough to stop me, but it does actually make me stumble a bit.

I burst into laughter and it mingles in the room with his. Wow, this really makes him lose his mind if it gets him to actually curse. I’ll definitely be doing this again sometime—this is fun. 

Grace practically wails my name, the last note of it soaring to an impressive pitch. It’s time to stop. I don’t want to actually ruin the playful moment we’re having. I pull all my hands away and sit next to Grace, giving him the space to roll onto his side and pull his knees to his chest, catching his breath. 

“I ha-hate you…” he huffs weakly into his knees. Mmm, liar. 

Eventually his breathing slows and he uncurls himself. I move to sit beside his head with my legs tucked underneath my carapace. He always calls that position “loafing,” and when he cracks an eye open to glance at me, he huffs out a few chuckles. 

Feeling a sudden surge of fondness, and perhaps a tad bit of guilt, I use the weaver to stroke through Grace’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He hums a contented note and goes boneless under the touch, eyes slipping closed again.

“You done torturing me?” he asks sleepily. 

I hum a note myself, amused. “For today.” 

Grace smiles softly at that, eyes still closed. My amusement melts into something gentler. “Are you feeling better?” I ask, softer now. Sincere. 

He opens his eyes and looks at me. “Yeah…” he says, a smile still on his face. I sense some tension pulling at his brows, though. 

“It will be ok, Grace. We’ll work out a solution when we get to Erid. I promise.” 

He nods. “I know.”

We fall into a comfortable, companionable silence and stay like that for a while. Grace’s breathing returns to a slow and steady rhythm as I continue to brush the prongs through his hair, lost in my own thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?” Grace asks softly. He looks like he’s on the verge of falling asleep. 

I brush his bangs back and soothe them down. His hair is getting quite long. I like it, it makes it even more soft and fluffy. “I’m thinking about our theory.” 

“Which one? Panspermia?” 

“Mhm.” 

It’s something we talked about early on in our mission, when we discovered that the planet Adrian did indeed have life. A lot of life, actually, in the form of bacteria, amoebas, and other single-celled organisms. What are the chances of Earth, Erid, and Adrian all evolving life separately from one another? Life that uses the same basic machinery: DNA, ATP, familiar cellular structures, and, in some organisms, even mitochondria?

To me, it seems low. Possible, maybe. But low. Our three star systems are not that far apart, really. Yes, Earth and Erid are sixteen light-years apart, with Adrian somewhere between us, but that is close compared to the vastness of the galaxy. The Milky Way galaxy spans about 100,000 light-years. We’re practically roommates, if you consider the observable universe and its trillions of galaxies.

That’s where our theory comes in. Panspermia is the idea that life didn't just start all on its own on our planets. It came from somewhere else. Where? Who knows, but the theory is that billions of years ago some ancient life form “seeded” Earth, Erid, and Adrian with life by way of a comet/asteroid, or something. Then life did what it does: evolved over billions of years into different forms that seem completely different from each other, but share many similarities if you look small enough. Humans, Eridians, and astrophage. We may have done billions of years of evolution separately, but the point is that if you go far enough back on each of our branches, we’re joined by one common but ancient ancestor. 

We’re cousins. Very very very distant cousins, but family all the same. Or that’s what I like to believe. We don’t have real proof of this theory, but it makes me feel closer to humanity—closer to Grace. And it’s interesting to think about in these quiet moments of companionable space travel. 

“I used to think you were as different from me as two things can be,” I say. 

Grace smiles. “Oh? Was it the leaky space blob-ness?” 

I chuckle out a chord. “That was definitely part of it. But now…” 

“Now space feels a whole lot smaller, and we feel a whole lot closer,” he finishes for me. 

“Yeah.” 

He reaches up over his head and brushes his fingers against mine on the hand not combing through his hair, just absentminded touches. He likes to fidget while he thinks, and enjoys being close too.

“Isn’t it fascinating how both our species evolved to have laughter? I mean, that can't be a coincidence,” he says. It’s like he read my mind. That’s what I was about to bring up next. 

“It would be a huge coincidence, yes,” I say. “I think it's further evidence for our theory. That we’re connected.”

It’s not definitive proof in the slightest, barely a correlation. But I choose to believe it is. The universe can be terribly ugly, but there’s also so much beauty in it, so why couldn’t this one beautiful thing be true too? That the sounds of joy prove we’re connected, even light-years apart?

“Laughter connects the universe…” Grace says wistfully, his smile growing. “That’s a nice thought. I like it.” 

I like it too. I feel a deep warmth wash over me, a sense of happiness and belonging—and I’m still light-years from home. 

“I’m happy I evolved to meet you, Grace,” I say. “I’ve never had a friend like you before. Someone who understands me in ways I can’t explain, because I don't need to with you.” 

“And I’m so grateful I get to hear your laughter,” I add.

I hear that subtle rush again—Grace’s face flushing with shyness—and it makes me chuckle. I can’t see the color, but I trace a finger over what I know is his reddened cheek, just to let him know I’m aware of what’s happening.

Grace shoos my hand away playfully and huffs, embarrassed. 

“You're such a sap,” he says. “But… I’m happy I evolved to meet you too. I’m happy we get to laugh together.” 

———

We made it to Erid, and it’s good to be home. 

The last few months of our trip—and the first stretch of time on the ground too—were indeed difficult for Grace. His coma slurry and taumoeba shakes were enough to keep him alive while we figured out a solution. But just barely. 

Every day he slept more. His cheeks hollowed further. He smiled less. I stayed by his side through it all, diligently watching as he slept, thinking of the days where we talked about the universe and filled our ship with laughter. 

Those were dark times. But I’m so grateful they're behind us. 

Now, two years after we made it home, the scene looks quite different: My beloved Adrian and I are in Grace's biodome. It's stocked with plenty of nourishing food for him. His stomach is soft, his ribs no longer sharp beneath his skin, and his cheeks are rounded. He’s going to start teaching soon, and it’s the most excitement I’ve seen in him for a while. My Adrian says one of their dry, witty jokes, and Grace has to hold onto me to keep from falling over in laughter.

It’s a beautiful sound, and I hold it close to my hearts. I am so grateful I get to hear it again, and I know I'll hear it for years to come.

———

A/N: there we go! Hope you guys enjoyed! Here are a few questions that I'm curious what your guys answers are:

What do you think of Panspermia? It’s a real theory, that life on earth started because a life-containing asteroid crashed here. And if it happened to earth… perhaps it has happened elsewhere. 

What other completely normal human things do you think Rocky would find fascinating/horrifying?

Do we like the Rocky pov? Would we mind another one bc I have a short one in mind, same dynamics but I swear I have plans to switch that up too lol

[cloudysfluffs]

she had to find SOME way to shut him up

[tiredleekaz]

A solution to falling asleep

ler!ryland grace x ticklish!reader

synopsis: you’ve been lacking sleep so much that you have eye-bags the size of planets. ryland is determined to get you to bed even if it means using force. lucky for him, he finds an easy way to convince you.

warnings: this is a tickle fic — no use of y/n, no specified gender, just silly tickles because you’re being bad. ryland is the biggest tease and it’s unfair.

author’s note: i banged this out in like two days. this is also like my first official tickle fic in a long long time. it’s also near 3 am posting this—ryland grace where are you

word count: 2.7k

Ryland was starting to notice something about you. The days on the Hail Mary were typically long ones considering neither of you really went to bed at a regular hour. The synchronized clocks on the ship often went unnoticed as there was constantly something new to figure out about the mission. While Ryland was guilty of having a terrible sleep schedule, he couldn’t help but frown at the sight of you hunched over the lab table late into the night.

He saw the dark circles sagging beneath your eyes and each day they seemed to get more prominent. If he had to think about it, he didn’t really see you sleep that often, aside from a small nap here and there but naps weren’t enough compared to the full eight hours required to have a restful night.

Ryland could probably count the amount of hours you’ve slept on a single hand, and tonight was no different. He found you sitting at the lab table once again, scribbling down complex math equations.

“You should head to bed. You’ve been hunched over that notebook for hours,” Ryland said, standing by the archway between the corridor and laboratory.

“I will soon,” You mumbled. You didn’t even bother looking up from what you were doing.

Ryland wasn’t going to take that as an answer. He walked over, hands in his pockets as he stopped right next to you. You saw him from your peripheral and looked up.

The blueish tint of skin under your eyes formed near semicircles and the way you squinted up at him made them stand out even more. He frowned. “Your eyebags are worsening.”

You slowly blinked. “It’s fine. They’ll go away after some rest.” But he knew that some rest to you was just a thirty-minute nap at best.

Ryland crossed his arms. “When was the last time you slept more than two hours?”

There was a long pause. You stared at him before your gaze started to drift off to the side. Your lips screwed up in shapes, trying to mentally count and remember when you last properly slept.

“Uh…two…no…fffo—fi—er…” You had to resort to using your fingers to count. Ryland watched as you recounted over and over, bending your fingers up and down.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. You couldn’t even remember when you last slept a full night!

“Some time ago,” You said as if that was a solid conclusion.

“You think?” He responded in exasperation. “Okay, put the pencil down, we’re going to bed right now.”

“Huh? But I’m not done—“

“You can finish tomorrow. After a good night’s sleep. And I mean the full eight hour sleep. Not a two hour nap.” Ryland was going to make sure you go to bed no matter the cost. But you were not one to make things easy.

You stared at him. “No.”

His eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

“I said, no.” Oh you were in big trouble.

Ryland heaved a sigh through his nose. He gave you a look, the one you assumed he gave his students when they had been disruptive or said something inappropriate. You weren’t backing down. Not without a fight.

“I’m going to count to three. And if you don’t get up and walk yourself to bed, I will drag you there myself,” he said.

You didn’t break eye contact. “I dare you.”

It was like a stand off between the two of you. Ryland stood there, his arms now lowered to his sides. You remained seated on the stool. No one moved from their spots.

“One…”

You kept staring at Ryland.

“Two…”

His hands flexed.

“… two and a half…”

At this point, you turned around and went back to completing the equations. Ryland was flabbergasted by your dismissal. That always worked on the kids! They would immediately apologize after. Or if they decided to be a little snarky, he’d tell them he had to call their parents. Or tell them they would have to stay after school. That would shut them up real fast. Unfortunately, neither option was possible in this situation.

“I mean it! I’ll drag you to bed and tie you to it!” He sounded a bit more desperate, waving his arms around.

“Kinky.” Was all you said back.

That made Ryland blush red, either from frustration or the insinuation, he wasn’t sure but what he did know was that you were more stubborn than any student he’s ever dealt with.

“That does it…” He muttered under his breath. “You wanna play hardball, then I’ll play it your way.”

Ryland stepped up behind you, wrapped his arms around your middle, and pulled. It would’ve worked had you not already been gripping at the table. Ryland was a strong man, the muscles he gained during the coma were not just for show, but even he struggled trying to yank you away from the table. You had the death grip of an infant!

“Let! Go!” He huffed between each pull.

“No!” You hissed back. You even went as far as hooking your feet around the bolted legs of the stool.

His grip around you was starting to slip so he readjusted, his hands clawing into your sides to get a better grasp. Though the sudden squeak that tumbled out of your mouth startled him so much he almost let go out of reflex, worried he had hurt you.

“Shoot, did that hurt?” Ryland asked, trying to peek over your shoulder to see your face.

One of your hands had let go of the table and was slapped over your mouth. You didn’t say anything in response to Ryland’s worries, afraid that if you did, you would expose yourself right then and there. Ryland’s hands squeezed gently at your sides again, testing to see if you were hurt anywhere and if he may have agitated a bruise or something.

You flinched, folding in on yourself. Your hand was pressed against your mouth to muffle another squeak. Ryland was still very much confused by your reaction. You weren’t yelping or hitting him in distress or pain so you didn’t seem to be hurt. He squinted. The tips of your ears were red and he saw some color dust across your cheeks that were raised, as if you were smiling. He was slowly putting the pieces together.

“Wait… are you…?” Ryland whispered.

Oh no.

You shook your head before he could even finish. Ryland grinned. “Oh, you are.”

You weren’t even given a countdown this time before his fingers began wiggling into your sides. They pinched and squeezed through your clothes. Unfortunately for you, you were only wearing a thin graphic t-shirt and baggy sweats. Wearing the corduroy jumpsuit had felt too restrictive so you opted for looser and more comfortable clothing. You regret your decision now.

Your whole body folded in on itself as you twisted in Ryland’s arms. He kept one arm wrapped around your chest and used that hand to scribble underneath your exposed armpit while the other one sneakily slipped under the hem of your shirt, dragging his nails across the waistline of your pants.

You snorted, desperately trying to fight back the giggles and squeals that threatened to spill. Your free hand slapped Ryland's arm repeatedly, but he was unphased.

“Aw, what’s the matter? You did this to yourself. You could make it all stop if you just, let go.” He cooed right next to your ear. You shook your head. “No? Then I guess I’ll keep going until you change your mind.”

The hand underneath your arm shifted just a bit higher, moving up to get to the underside of your bicep. He tugged lightly at the short sleeve, worming his fingers through the opening to tease the sensitive hollow. You flapped your arm helplessly, but you couldn’t exactly squeeze it down since you were still holding onto the table.

“Snrt!” Another snort slipped out, followed by a few giggles bubbling up your throat. Your eyes were squeezed shut, brows furrowed as your lips twisted to hold back your laughter.

“C’mooon, you can’t fight it forever. I’ll just keep tickling you until you can’t take it anymore,” Ryland teased. He even went as far as rubbing his slightly grown out stubble against your neck while he danced his fingers around your stomach.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Your face was near red as a tomato, cheeks comically blown up before you broke. “BWAHA NO—!” You shrieked. Your hand slipped from the table, leaving only your legs still hooked around the stool. Your hands slapped and pulled at Ryland’s, anything to relieve the unbearable ticklish sensation spreading across your torso. “Ryhyhy! Stohop ihit!”

Ryland’s face had the biggest grin as he watched you fall apart. He wished he could turn you around and see your expressions though. “See, I knew you could do it! Now we just need those legs loose.”

He leaned forward slightly and clawed at your thigh without remorse, even going between where your thigh meets your hip. You squealed and kicked out, freeing one leg. “Now the other.” He did the same to the other side and you pleaded through your uncontrollable giggles. This was completely unfair!

With one final tug, Ryland had you suspended in his arms like a cat, arms and legs dangling as you caught your breath. You still giggled a little from the tingling sensations. He didn't make a comment about it and simply carried you to the dormitory. Both beds were ready and made thanks to Armando.

He plopped you down on yours, that stupid grin still playing on his lips. “You lost, so now it’s bedtime.”

You grumbled under your breath at his words, crossing your arms. “Cheater.”

Ryland chuckled and ruffled your hair. He grabbed one of the blankets and tossed it over your legs. “Whatever helps you sleep.”

You watched him make his way to the neighboring bunk and settle down on it. The lights of the dormitory dimmed but remained light enough to faintly make out your surroundings and Ryland’s figure just a couple feet away. You reluctantly laid down on the plush mattress.

The minutes ticked by and you still couldn’t fall asleep. You tossed and turned, pulled the blanket over your head, buried your face into the pillow—everything! Nothing was working. You huffed out openly. If you can’t sleep, might as well do something productive. You still have to map out a path towards Tau Ceti-E, calculate the rest of the Astrophage stored in the tanks and draft up a work-in-progress device with Rocky to collect samples of astrophage from the exoplanet. There was so much to do and not enough time.

You laid there in silence for a couple more minutes until your brain was screaming at you to get up and go back to work. Ryland could sleep all he wanted but you had things to do. Tossing the blanket off, you pushed yourself to sit up—and immediately you were shoved back down. You let out a startled gasp, eyes blinking in the low light until you saw the outline of Ryland’s form hovering above you. The glint of his glasses made him look like some kind of villain.

“And where do you think you’re going?” He mumbled, voice slightly gravely.

You gulped. “Uh… the bathroom?”

A few seconds of silence passed. “You are such a bad liar.” And then you felt it.

Ryland’s hands crawled under your shirt and skittered up your sides. You squealed and attempted to curl up but Ryland just pushed you back against the mattress. His fingers clawed along the underside of your back causing you to arch into the air and cackle.

“If not bed time, then tickle time.”

You could barely see anything and that made everything ten times worse. Your hands balled up into fists and pushed at Ryland’s shoulders, your head thrown back as uncontrollable giggles and squeaks filled the dormitory.

“RHylahahand!! No plehease!” You whined.

Ryland just chuckled under his breath. You felt him lean down, his weight holding you in place as you tried to twist and squirm away. His hands just followed every single one of your movements. “Liars get punished. That’s the law.” His thumbs massaged between your ribs while the rest of his fingers scribbled along the back of your ribcage.

Your torso bounced up and down as you wailed out hysterically. Your brain was overwhelmed by the unbearable ticklish sensations electrifying your nerves. Being tickled into absolute oblivion made it impossible for you to listen to any of the nagging voices in your head about going back to work.

All of a sudden Ryland pulled his hands away and raised them in the air above you. You were left giggling and confused as you peeked open your eyes. He grinned down at you, fingers wiggling in a taunt.

“One.”

Oh fuck no.

You tried to buck him off but it was futile.

“Two.”

Giggles bubbled up again, your hands held out in defense to block the upcoming threat. “Nohoho waihit! Waihit plehehease!”

Ryland paused the countdown, a shiteating smirk on his face as he saw you flinch in anticipation.

“Three.”

He dropped his hands down to your hips, his thumbs slotting themselves just below the bones and digging into that sensitive muscle. You jerked beneath, a shrill sound escaping you before you fell into deep laughter.

It was at this point that Ryland noticed you weren’t fighting back as much. One hand tugged weakly at his shirt and the other pressed into your face, half hiding half acting as some form of grounding. It was cute but he wanted to see your expressions.

He pulled your arm away from your face and pinned it above your head and—jesus, did his heart skip a beat at the sight. The dim lighting softened your features, creating an almost halo effect. Your smile was wide, cheeks raised, and flushed, just faintly visible underneath the low light. Your hair was slightly tousled, pieces falling into your face, but he could still see the way your eyes squinted into crescents from how much you were laughing. You were absolutely glowing.

Ryland’s hand eased up on its prodding, now gently tracing along the edges of your hip. Your laughter died down into hiccupy giggles, shimmying when Ryland’s nails teased a bit too inward.

“Plehehease… noho mohohore. I’m tihired…” you whimpered at Ryland, eyes teary with mirth. That wobbly smile of yours made Ryland’s heart tremble.

“Are you sure? Are you tired enough to go to bed? Because I can keep going if you’re not feeling it just yet.” He mused softly. His fingers gave a quick scribble over your hip and you squeaked, a burst of giggles tumbling from your lips. The sound was enough to make Ryland awe audibly.

“Yehes! I aHaham! I’ll go to bed! I will!” You pleaded.

Ryland finally released your wrist and removed his hand from your hip. He chuckled in amusement when you just laid there, breathing heavily and not even bothering to fix your shirt (he did it for you and grinned at the few giggles he got from doing so).

“Fihinally…” you breathed out a heavy sigh, eyes shutting as a wave of drowsiness washed over you.

Ryland could see you were telling the truth about being tired. He went to move off of you but a weak tug on his shirt stopped him. He looked down and saw you looking up at him through lidded eyes. “Stay…” you murmured out.

An arrow struck right at Ryland’s heart. He couldn’t say no to that. The cots were a bit small for two people but Ryland managed by rolling on his side and pulling you in close against his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist and you tangled your legs with his. It was undeniably the warmest and coziest Ryland’s ever felt in his entire life.

He couldn’t help but drag his fingers up your spine as a last minute tickle. You squeaked and giggled, burying your face into his chest. “Ryland!”

He laughed softly. “Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help it. I’m done, I swear.”

The two of you settled in a comfortable snuggle, arms draped over each other, your forehead pressed right against his chest. He realized after a couple minutes that you were already fast asleep. Your lips parted as you breathed out steady puffs of air. His hand cradled the back of your head as his fingers brushed through your soft locks. He gave you a little squeeze.

“Sweet dreams.”