Requests Closed!

•it/he/they• •• this is my sfw tickle blog I probably will post art maybe -w-

[cacoonedmoonworm]

Sea Monster (Giant Mer!Simon Fic YAY!)

𖥔 First off, EVERYONE give their thank-yous and love to the AMAZING and TALENTED @awkward---as---hell for beta-reading this fic! They had to deal with the horrid length and my disgusting grammar and spelling issues, but they made a hell of a difference! Please give them so much love, check out their blog, and read their fics as well; they're written so nicely and yummy, and I personally love them so much<3 Second, It's based on THESE and THIS drawing I did, and the ideas kinda branched off from there! Third, I'm sorry about the length; idk what happened. I feel like I blacked out and woke up, and all these words were just suddenly there. Also sorry about the lackluster ending; I couldn't really think of anything, and if I reread this fic one more time imma scream or get bored and never post it heh! 𖥔

𖥔 NOTE PLZ READ: This has a lot of exposition ideas for an AU, so the beginning is a little slow! If you're not into that or just aren't interested, I would recommend skipping this one just bc I don't want to waste y'all's time with the length. If you're here just for tickles, I won't be offended hehe! 𖥔

𖥔 Slight spoilers for both movies and book! 𖥔

Summary: takes place after Grace and Rocky crash-land on an unknown planet after following a distress signal! Grace while alone and stranded, starts talking to a local fish creature he can’t quite seem to get a good look at!

Switch!Grace / Switch!Simon / Switch!Rocky

Word count: 11,402

“Why don’t you come out?~"

The only answer I get is another soft wave rolling onto the black sand.

“Come on,” I continue, leaning back against a warm rock. “I've only caught, like… three whole glimpses of you and I’d love to see more…”

Silence.

“Rude.”

I shrug at no one and take another bite of the fish. Well… fish-ish. It's sort of like fish. I think. It's definitely aquatic.

…

It's an alien that lives in water, and I cooked it, and I’m eating it. No, I don't care; I’m actually gaining weight back now. Surprisingly, it tastes a lot better than the Taumoeba slurry, though I think anything would at this point.

I gaze at the ocean as it stretches endlessly before me, impossibly teal beneath the pale sky. Even after months here, I catch myself staring. Every so often, sunlight catches the planet's enormous rings. Turning them into ribbons of white and lavender that seem to kiss the ocean's waves at the horizon.

It's so similar to Earth but so different all the same. Like if I squint, I'm at a normal beach on a normal day on normal Earth.

I catch the brief glimpse of a dark silhouette before it disappears beneath the water again.

“...I saw that.”

Rocky thinks I'm encouraging it, but personally, I think it's been encouraging me, if anything. It's hard to say who's stalking whom at this point. It surfaces just far enough away that I can’t make out its features except for its sheer size, and it almost feels like it’s on purpose at this point.

Every morning I come out here, and every morning I catch that same dark shape watching from just beyond where the ocean floor suddenly drops away. Sometimes I look over my shoulder, and it's gone. I swear I catch something ducking behind the cliffs on this little island, which admittedly is difficult to do when you are apparently several stories tall. Assuming I'm not hallucinating.

Gosh, Ryland, you really must be losing it, talking to alien fish creatures on some random planet. None of this would have happened if not for one measly little pipe.

The Hail Mary recycles almost every drop of water onboard—sweat, breath, and yep, even my own urine. Somewhere between Tau Ceti and Erid, one crucial pipe decided it had enough. Because of the pressure behind said pipe, SEVERAL liters of my precious water instantly flashed into vapor. Then, the ship dumped all the excess contaminated steam into space. Thank the lord for NASA engineers—let me tell you, Mary was fitted with automatic safety valves that isolated the damaged section and quickly stopped the leak.

Rocky fixed the pipe in less than a day, which is fantastic, but now our water reserve, which was in the low nineties to high eighties, is now at a whopping twenty-eight percent. Not as fantastic.

I shift my gaze from the water that brought us down to the surface of this planet to the sky. This planet not only had those wonderful rings but also three large moons. One is grayish white, one is an icy blue, and one is a rusty red. All are pretty in their own right, but my favorite is the red. It burns through the night sky, almost tearing through the soft pale rings as it passes. But…during the day, it looks pink, soft and hazy.

I kept running calculations after the leak. The machine was fixed, but our little water problem wasn't. You might think, well, that’s fine because it's a closed system, right? Wrong. Yes, a closed system, but the recycler doesn’t make water. They aren't magic. Every day you lose a little more. Normally this is fine… unless more than half your water has now been blown out into the void of space.

But…we intercepted a distress signal, which in hindsight may have been a really bad sign. Maybe a distress signal going dead after only a day in deep space is actually an amazing sign to run the other direction, but I met and befriended an alien before; what’s one more? Also, I was going to die at this point anyway, so why not the pit stop? And IF other aliens were here, maybe they would have some water to spare for me too?

When we got here, a beautiful teal-ish blue oceanic planet stood…but no ship or technology, and no aliens- well, no intelligent ones, from what I could tell.

Huffing at the memory, I take another bite of…this thing.

I glide my hand through the black sand, feeling the grains between my fingers. It's strange. It's finer than Earth's beaches, almost like warm volcanic ash. Every handful leaves my fingers glistening with tiny flakes of volcanic glass before the wind sweeps them away. Stranger still is the lavender sand that sits on the opposite side of the island. I know of pink beaches on earth, but purple is definitely unusual.

I have a theory that the island we're on isn't technically an island in the regular sense. The odd crescent moon shape and the absence of any other visible island-type masses make me think that Mary, Rocky, and I are currently setting up residence on a volcano overtaken by the sea. The hole in the middle, full of water, is the cavity of a volcano, and the crescent is the rim, and every day I pray it's dead or, at the very least, dormant.

I nibble a piece off as my eyes float right, and as my head turns, I'm greeted with one of the most amazing features this planet has to offer.

Instead of other islands or flat landmasses, you can see two colossal volcanoes side by side, which may have also supported my previous hypothesis. It's hard to gauge how big they actually are from a distance, but they seem bigger than anything Earth or even our solar system has ever seen, even rivaling Olympus Mons on Mars. 

One is dark and short—but also wide and definitely spills lava, while the other is white and tall. I think it shoots out heated water and steam rather than magma like its counterpart. A charcoal mound sits next to a crystal white peak, and man, what a view I get to see.

I guess it really is the little things that matter when you are stuck on an alien planet.

I’m getting to the last bits of my… whatever this is, and I start to shift to my feet. “Okay, Big Guy. Keep your secret—”

Tink

I flinch at the sound and glance towards where I think it came from—

“—OW!” My butt falls back to the sand, and I jerk a hand up to the top of my head, wincing as a sharp bloom of pain pulses there. “Tssss…” I hiss through my teeth, rubbing the sore spot. My eyes flutter open to find a…full shell a few feet away. That was definitely not there a moment ago.

A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. So that's what happened. It must have overshot on its first throw, the sound being another shell flying off somewhere in the distance. I guess even alien fish have trouble aiming, apparently.

The pain seems to immediately fade as my interest in the object grows. I crawl over, pushing up my glasses, and rotate the shell in my hands. Well—Earth's approximation of a shell, anyway.

Sure, little fragments of ‘shells’ make their way to the beach, but the strong and unpredictable tide tends to keep it relatively clean. The only time I've been able to scavenge any particularly intriguing specimens is during the short periods of low tide and with a little digging.

This one's different.

It's whole. Heavy. I'm actually kind of surprised it didn't break skin. It's much bigger than my hand by a long shot, with the smooth, curved shape of an abalone shell and a pearlescent lavender interior that flashes blue, pink, and green when I tilt it toward the light. The shape, however, isn't really what you usually expect; less flat than an abalone, more like a miter shell, almost as if two of them had been fused together side by side. It spirals up at both ends, and the hole leading inside is huge. I can't imagine the creature that lives inside this thing.

My head snaps in the direction of the splash, anxious to finally see what my gift giver looks like, but once again I only see a small shadow as it shifts behind the cliffs of the island before disappearing beneath the surface.

“Tha—THANK YOU!” I excitedly shout in its direction, even though it almost definitely does not speak human English. I hope it somehow understands I'm very pleased with my present. It would have been nice just to come and hand it to me and not chuck it at the back of my head, but hey. Progress is progress. This is the first time it’s actually interacted with me instead of just lurking offshore while I ramble at the sand like a lunatic. 

My eyes wander back to the object, and I pick myself up. I gingerly walk across the warm onyx sand into the Hail Mary and head straight for the lab, murmuring under my breath. Maybe I should get Big Guy a gift in return; that's the polite thing to do, right? 

“What Grace have, question?” The computer voice rings out through Mary as I step inside and start to grab some equipment and sprawl it across a table.

Rocky's been working nonstop on the ships' damages. I wish I could help him more, but he insists that I would get in the way, though I don't think he means it in a mean way. I'm not an engineer; the most I could provide is some ideas and extra hands, to which he said he already had more hands than me anyway.

"Oh, you know; my very own FULL shell from the beach,” I answer a little smugly. Although he is busy, he has been fascinated by alien life and the cycles of this planet too, so I'm sure he'll be jealous of my amazing specimen. He doesn't respond, but I hear the heavy thumping of him making his way to the lab with me. I'm glad he's taking a break; it's been increasingly difficult to get him to do that more and more lately.

He rarely leaves the ship, sure, because of all the stuff that needs to be fixed, but we are surrounded by a ton of water. And well—if he were to fall in or get swept away by the unpredictable tide, he would probably sink…like a rock. Pun intended. If that were to happen, I probably wouldn't be able to do much; he weighs way too much for me to be able to lift or swim with him.

Rocky would eventually starve, run out of ammonia, or his suit would burst under the insane pressure of water, and I would be stuck on this planet with a broken ship until I croaked too. So I’m a little happy he’s too busy to be out exploring as I can.

He scuttles up beside me and reaches out for the shell in my hand. "Where Grace get, question?"

Shrugging, I respond, "Umm-I just found it.” Rocky isn't too pleased with me talking and attempting to interact with our rather large friend in the ocean. With a chuckle, I lift it out of his reach as he tries to swipe the shell from me.

He stops his grabby claws, instead pointing accusing digits at me. “Grace lie to Rocky. Tell truth.” His leg stomps against the floor as I roll my eyes. Why did I have to get stuck with a human lie detector?

“Okay, okay.” I rub the back of my neck, already regretting how much he's going to hate my answer. “Well, Big Guy gave it to me,” I answer meekly.

Rocky goes rigid. “Grace! Rocky say bad bad bad idea to interact with it! Creature come out of water and give?! Could hurt! Very big!” He stomps more vigorously, and I swear I see some steam start to billow from him.

"Well, it actually threw it at the back of my head; I didn't get a chance to see what it looked—.”

"Creature THROW object at Grace, question?! Grace not interact anymore! Hurt on purpose! Grace being stupid, statement!”

I shove the shell at Rocky, hoping it will distract him from his anger towards me. "Oh, come on, Rock. If he actually wanted to do anything, he would have. He's literally as big as Mary, if not bigger.” I mean, I haven't actually seen the end of its tail yet, so overall size is to be determined.

He snatches the object from my hands as a low rumble vibrates out of him, clearly still fuming over the situation. I closely observe as he taps against the shell a few times, then immediately shoves it into my stomach with a sharp squeak. My hands latch on and hold the heavy thing to my chest, making sure it doesn't drop or shatter.

“Hey! Rock—”

“Grace! Something alive in there!” and just like he said, a large slimy slug but also definitely not a slug-creature starts wriggling out right by my face. A very manly screech rips from my throat, and I drop it against the table, pushing it far from the edge and far from me.

“Grace did not check!?!?!” Rocky squeals out, moving several feet away from the table. A surprisingly long tail unfurls from the creature while two antennae-looking appendages slowly grow up and out from what I think is its head.

“NO! Grace obviously did NOT check!” Why would I check?! My bad for assuming; most of the time when you're gifted a shell, it's empty, okay?!

My eyes widen as I watch the thing crawl slowly across the table with multiple fleshy legs, bodily fluids now oozing out of its shell. Rocky's the lucky one. The thick wet smell coming from this thing is potent in a way I can't even describe.

It's as if a snail and a blobfish had a child and then subjected it to a series of deeply unethical experiments. 

Although I'm very intrigued, I'm thoroughly disgusted. (Comment: Not sure if you're an anime nerd, but I very loosely based the snail after Ventricous's slug form from Houseki no Kuni as a nod to more sentient rock characters lol, so if you want a loose visual, look them up!)

“Rocky done. Can not handle liquid. Handle Grace leaking enough. Grace fix.” Squeaky, high-pitched trills, accompanied by chords of disgust humming beneath them, fill the corridor as he quickly scuttles away, the two claws that held the creature raised in repulsion.

Mmm. Thanks a lot, Rocky.

I guess it's technically my fault, though, so I might as well take some notes. I decide to take a few pictures and videos, holding my breath as much as I can because even the thin blue face mask I put on isn't helping with the stench. After a few swab samples and some measurements of the little guy, I scoop the little guy up and place him in a large tub. I don't want to touch this thing as much as possible, even with gloves on, although he’s growing a little bit on me. He’s just a little…gross, is all.

This isn't my first time finding little creatures alive, but…this one looks like it came from a very deep part of the ocean, not the little crab and sea mite-looking things from up here. Without the water to support his blobby body, he appears kinda…squashed.

I take the tub back toward the beach, planning to let it go. My mind wanders as I walk. I'm honestly a little sad I wasn't able to keep that shell; it was beautiful.

Wait.

Did Big Guy want me to eat it and that's why it was still alive? Is it rude for me to throw it back if it's a gift? Will it get mad if I do this, as if it were some peace offering I'm quite literally throwing away into the ocean?

I frantically scan the shoreline and, unfortunately, catch a glimpse of a dark blob under the teal water to my right. 

Fudge, it’s out there.

“What are we going to do with you?” I peer down at the little slug thing and huff. I don't actually believe the creature out there will do anything; at any point it could have grabbed me, but it continues to just stare and listen. 

With one arm wrapped around the tub, I use my other to pull off my shirt, throwing it to the sand. I tumble slightly, kicking off my shoes and tugging off my socks, then start my way to the water.

I might as well bite the bullet. We can NOT keep this thing in the ship, and I don’t have the heart to kill it. Sorry, Big Guy, your gift was nice before the slug woke up.

Eyeing the dark shadow, I cautiously walk in, around waist-deep. I tip the tub and watch the little thing float off and then sink below the water with some bubbles. I turn to trudge back, but my foot catches on something hidden beneath the water, and I stumble forward, crashing onto the tub and dropping to my knees. 

I quickly squeeze my eyes closed and hold my breath as the sudden large wave rolls over me. As the water pushes forward, I feel myself slowly sinking into the sand. I scramble and claw up on my knees, trying to find the surface above.

The thing about this planet is that the tides are VERY unpredictable and VERY strong. Those three moons I mentioned constantly push and pull at the huge oceans. Tides can change drastically in just a few hours, if not less, even if the water looks calm.

The water pulls back hard, knocking me off balance, my knees slipping out from under me, and I feel myself being tugged into the ocean. Suddenly, I don't feel sand under me anymore, just the abyss of the giant planet beneath.

Okay, Ryalnd…don't panic. This is fine. Everything is fine. You know how to swim; just calm down. Just—

Screw calming down, I need oxygen. Now.

I flail against the ocean, trying to open my eyes despite the salt. My sinus burns as it’s flooded with water, and I feel myself sink. Cold water fills my ears, muffling the sounds of the crashing waves. 

The initial wave knocked the wind out of me, leaving no air in my lungs to keep me buoyant. I can feel myself sinking lower, the water stacking heavier on top of me. While trying to push myself upwards, I feel a firm pressure against my side.

I go still, and then everything seems to stand still with me. I pry my eyes open, and I can finally see that… It has fingers. Five of them even. All wrapped around me with impossible care as if I'm something fragile and not drowning idiot. They end in sharp black claws. Attached to them was an arm. Arms belong to people, to human people. Fish aren't supposed to have arms. Fish definitely are NOT supposed to look like this.

A cluster of large silver bubbles floats from the front of its face as its eyes narrow at me, just staring for a few moments like it's taking in what I look like too, its hand cupping around me softly. I stare in awe, trying to make out its features through the water and without my glasses.

A low growling noise comes from it that I can feel ripple through the water, earning a flinch from me in response. Its hand flips under me and pushes my body up toward the much-needed oxygen. I feel the surface tension break around me, allowing myself to take in a giant inhale but immediately regret it as I start coughing up water, though I can’t bring myself to care. Air. Air is all I can think about.

I don't feel it below me anymore, and when I look down, its hand is gone. My eyes frantically search the water below for movement of any kind through tears but see none. I peer out to the horizon while coughing and twist desperately, searching for our little island.

Oh no.

I have to be a few hundred meters out. My eyes sting as I once again try not to panic; the surface is rough, the waves snapping and twisting under the wind. Another swell slams into my side, and I duck under it with a terrified gasp. 

I flinch and try to swim, shooting my head up to keep myself from swallowing any more water as I feel something brush my feet, and then—

Am I sitting?

Coughing more, eyes screwed shut, I let my hands carefully feel around the area, and it's…soft? My eyes slowly open, and I find myself in its palm again. I look over my shoulder and catch its sharp eyes as it creeps its head above the water.

So very human.

For a few seconds, it stares deep into me with unreadable, piercing eyes, its large size casting a shadow over me. More water fights its way out of my lungs, and another coughing fit starts, though I keep my eyes fixed on it, turning around to face it completely. Its head cocks to the side as I wheeze more. 

I jolt, feeling something press into my right shoulder, nudging at me. His fingertip presses my shoulder with all the care of someone trying not to crush an insect.

Without thinking, I quickly twist and grab tightly onto that finger, holding for dear life as the waves push up and onto its hand.

“Aha—t-thank you! Uh, *huff*, could—can you h-help me b-back?!” Almost begging this creature, I'm on the verge of tears, desperately trying to will them back. Oh gosh, not right now, Ryland. Cry about your near-death experience later.

Silence fills the air, only the sound of water lapping against it. Its gaze looks out to the island, then back to me. It starts to lower again, and I panic. Again.

“NO! No no no! Wait—plea—!!!” But it stays right below the surface, its black hair floating in curly wisps around it, and I feel myself move. The salty wind softly brushes against my face as I'm pushed toward our little island.

I-it's actually helping me back!

Tears start to roll down my face as relief and exhaustion set in; so much for crying later.

After a few very nerve-wracking minutes, we're back to the island. To my shock, it starts to beach itself on its stomach, flinging mist into the air. The sudden high tide seems to be helping to compensate for the lack of a second arm. It goes impossibly still, then lowers me to the ground. I ache all over, lungs and sinuses burning. My legs feel like jelly as I try and fail to lift myself, falling back down in the puddle of water cupped in his palm with me.

“Sorry,” I manage weakly because apparently my first instinct after almost drowning is to apologize. It can't even understand me anyway. “I-I…the adrenaline—I'm trying.” I hope it doesn't suddenly get upset at my lack of movement.

I contemplate calling Rocky, even though I know I will be ruthlessly scolded if he finds me in the palm of this sea creature. He might not let me leave the ship ever again if he finds me like this.

Before I get the chance to decide my fate, large fingers are cupping around me, blocking out the sun. A squeak rips from my throat as I grip at its hand. We shift for a few moments, and then it and I are still again, and I'm lowered. He tilts his hand, and I brace as it opens its fingers, but once again I'm sitting on a soft surface.

He's flipped himself and dropped me onto his stomach as he leans back against the beach, a large sigh escaping him, his stomach rising and falling beneath me.

“O-oh. Thank you.” My voice quivers as I sit as still as possible. His skin is cool and feels very human other than the lack of heat. I look forward towards the ocean and see a long, fish-like tail making ripples in the water, lined with fins and many, many sharp teeth. That’s definitely an…odd feature.

Cautiously, I finally let myself look at him. His chin rested against his chest, long black curls plastered to his face in damp waves. Water droplets slide off the ends of them, tracing lines down his skin. The slits that were its irises were now dilated, fixated entirely on me—as if I were its prey—making me all the more tense.

If I were to tell anyone back on Earth that I had found an AT LEAST twenty-foot-tall fishman who looked almost perfectly human, I would have to explain how I got back to Earth. Then I would probably be swiftly institutionalized. How would human life even make it out here? It’s impossible. He had to have evolved just to look similar, right?

But it’s uncanny. Too human. Not a little off, well, other than the aquatic features, but his top half is a complete copy of human anatomy. The shape of his face, his hands, even just his posture. The way he looks at me like he understands more than he should. 

I squint my eyes, scanning his body, trying to get a better look.

Its eyes open slightly at me, then its head rolls back, and its mouth opens. I withdraw as its long, prehensile tongue unfurls. It has teeth running up the left side of it, matching the long teeth along its cheek. Surely, that can’t be comfortable for him, pressing into his gums? Why evolve to have teeth on only one side of your tongue? Why teeth on tongue in general? Actually, why are there so many teeth all over him?

His arm lifts over me, blocking out the sun for a moment, and he plucks something small from the inside, then reaches forward with it pinched between his fingers.

He holds it out in front of me, water dripping from his wrist, then freezes, with an expectant look.

“Oh, is this for me?” I open my palms up, making a little cup, and he delicately drops another gift.

…they're my glasses.

Although a little slimy, they're shockingly not damaged. I thought they would be long gone, stolen by the waves or broken with his size, but he seemed to have taken careful care of them.

"T-thank you," I whisper once more while wiping them against my damp shorts.

He huffs in response, looking away with a blank look. I don't think he was quite ready to reveal himself to me yet; a pang of guilt fills my chest, even if all this was an accident.

Waaaait. He responded. I mean, kinda, but he reciprocated my sound. AND it helped when I asked earlier! Now was it out of just pure pity, and did he have no idea what I was talking about? Maybe!—But I’m definitely gonna find out!

"Look, I know I'm going to sound crazy, but…can you understand me?" My eyes shift back to his face, now framed by his black curls.

His eyes blink slowly for a moment, water droplets resting on his lashes, and then he nods.

I feel my chest tighten at the revelation. He can understand me AND knows human body language! Holy crap. Is he human? Not just some weirdly specific, human-looking evolved creature?

My glasses now dry, I place them on my face with an eager look, my hands gesturing out in front of me with anticipation and excitement.

“Holy crap, holy crap! You can understand me?!” I move to sit crisscross on his stomach while running a hand through my damp hair in shock.

He quirks an eyebrow but nods casually again, like that was the obvious answer.

“Oh my gosh, I have sooo many questions! Okay, okay, how did you get here? Well wait, hold on. I guess I should ask if you're human first. But how would a human get here anyway? Wait—how long have you been here—?” His face develops a worried and slightly overwhelmed expression, and I quickly stop my rambling.

Maybe it…can’t understand me?

He sits up slightly, then opens his lips. I can see its tongue folded together and large canines peeking through. Nothing other than a wheeze comes from him as he tries and fails to use said tongue to talk.

He furrows his brows, looking like he’s trying hard to concentrate. “Ahhghnn f-fehh…bahnm—.” He growls in what I think is frustration as he brings his hand up to his throat, and I hear his tail flick at the water behind, splashing water.

Umm. Okay. I hold up my hand, and it stops its next attempt, waiting for me. “So, I’m just taking a guess here: all the stuff going on in and around your mouth has affected your ability to speak? Is that correct?” I think I gotta stick to yes-or-no questions.

It nods again, with a grimace, flashing me those large teeth again.

YES! Good! Progress.

It holds its large hand up, and it's my turn to wait. This whole interaction reminds me of when I first met Rocky.

He shifts his hand out, palm down but hovering over his chest, then wiggles his fingers like he's drumming them on something. After that, he makes a mouth motion with his hand, opening and closing his fingers and thumb together, looking at me for a reaction.

Ah! Computer! …that talks? … Rocky’s translator!

Suddenly, with the strength I had been missing earlier, I scramble to my feet and slide off his tummy; I all but sprint to Hail Mary. He flinches and closely watches as I run away.

I snatch Rocky’s translator and turn back out, almost tripping in the process. He turns over to me, and I hold the device up in the air.

“Is this *huff* what you *huff* meant?” I wheeze, jogging back to him.

This time, a toothy smile crosses his face as he nods.

I come back over to him, toss the laptop onto him, then try to hoist myself back onto his torso. He squirms and quickly pushes me the rest of the way, much to my appreciation.

“Okay…soooo how are you going to make this work?” It's only calibrated for the Eridian language.

He closes his eyes as his chest puffs up, and then I hear it. He makes noises reminiscent of whale calls but maybe a bit deeper. Nothing shows up on the screen, but I stay silent. He furrows his brows again, then a deep tone bellows from his chest, this time with clicks like a dolphin. The translator doesn't speak what was said but only spells it on the screen.

<G-R-A-C>

It’s spelled out more than a fluent word, and it’s missing the silent 'E' indication, but it is clean enough Eridian for the translator to pick up.

He goes quiet, shifting uncomfortably, I'm assuming at the lack of expected response from the device. His eyes never leave my face; he looks almost nervous.

"You…you've learned my name?”

My name. Out of every sound Rocky and I made over the past few months…that was the one he decided was worth learning.

I'm not going to lie, I find it very endearing. He could have spent time learning many other words, more useful ones for communication. Although Rocky doesn't visit outside much, God knows he's a talker. I'm sure he could have picked up on others…but he decided to practice my name.

The thought of how long he spent worms its way into my brain. Days, maybe weeks of listening and then trying. He learned and practiced so that the first word he could ever say to me was my own name. I'm making this out to be more than it is, but I can't seem to help it. Maybe it's the loneliness.

His face seems to soften at the acknowledgment that he managed to get the words out through the translator. A relieved sigh pushes its way out of him, and he rolls his head back slightly as his whole body seems to relax.

“Well, aren’t you smart, Big Guy? Been practicing?” A gleeful smile washes over my face at how remarkably smart he is. He looks away quickly and nods again, his hair falling around his eyes.

“Can you do any other words?” He shakes his head with a clearly frustrated frown, and I notice how his hand clenches to a loose fist. I don’t blame him, though. The Eridian language is complicated, with many layers of sounds and cords. I am thoroughly impressed he was able to replicate my name with no prior knowledge about it whatsoever.

Rocky has not been outside much, so he must have been studying him as much as he could, picking out the repeating notes of my name as we talked and practiced the chords he was able to mimic. I’m sure to Rocky, Simon sounds off, like a robot— flat with no tone indication— but that’s all we need right now.

“You did amazing.” I praise his effort with a grin, gazing back up at him. He completely freezes in response as I pat his skin softly. He blinks a few times, and his body seems to loosen. He ducks his face behind his hair that's still dripping seawater, like he's embarrassed, but I catch a tiny smile anyway. He seems to melt into the sand, his body sinking in at his hard work being recognized, making me all the more happy myself. I giggle and add, “I’ll ask Rocky to help with ‘yes’ and ‘no’ next. Those will be the most useful.”

Right. Rocky. Getting him on board will be a challenge. He’s already wary and doesn’t trust him. My theory is that it’s more than likely Big Guy here could do some real damage to Rocky (and me) if he wanted, and technically, he's still unpredictable even if I trust him.

I lean back on my hands and look him up and down once more, now with a clearer mind and my heart rate at a normal speed. Missing an arm, but the stump is covered in teeth, much like the rest of his body. He’s got fins where humans' ears would be and is covered in scars and what looks like mutations of the sort.

Actually, I guess if he is human, all of these things are mutations, and I’m assuming his size is too.

His left eye is a deep crimson color like a ruby, while the other is dark brown. He’s got long, wavy black hair and sharp nails with webs between some of his fingers. Two large sets of three gills are on either side of his ribs, while another two sets sit on either side of his neck.

But I really notice how exhausted he looks. His eyes look so worn out with bags under them. The few smiles I’ve gotten seemed weak, almost pitiful. It's the kind of exhaustion that doesn't just come from missing a night's sleep. He's covered in scars and bruises, and some look fresh, a deep purple that hasn't yet turned yellow. 

He cocks his head to the side again at my silent stare, raising an eyebrow. I decide to ignore that for now and shift to look back at his tail. It’s long, very long. I can’t see the end; the water gradually obscures it, but it glistens as the seawater evaporates. He’s got a long line of teeth that trails down from below his belly button, behind me, to the tail too. The teeth are interlocked, making me wonder if it’s a mouth of some sort.

“Hmmm. We should probably give you a nickname until you can let us know if or what your actual name is.” I state, turning my gaze to him again. “How aboooout…Mermaid!"

Mermaid’s eyes open in shock and are quickly replaced with annoyance. A scowl and exaggerated frown cross his face.

“What? Don't like it? I think it's pretty fitting," I tease. “At least I gave you a name after a beautiful ocean creature and not literally just a rock as I did with Rocky. You should give me some credit for my amazing creativity.” Rocky is still not over that, by the way.

Mermaid glares, some wavy strands of hair falling over his face, but I notice the corners of his mouth turned up slightly in amusement. Rolling his eyes, he tilts over and starts lazily drawing lines into the sand.

“S-I-M-O-N” is spelled in chunky letters across the dark beach. Why didn't I think of that?

Hold on…he can spell too! Spell human English!

Excitement sparks so suddenly in my chest that I almost laugh out loud. My gaze flicks from the name scratched into the sand back to his face, and I have to force my reaction down, smoothing my expression into something casual. 

“Oh, yeah, that works too!” I say, though my voice comes out a little too high and a little too fast. “Simon. What a lovely name. Fun fact: that name means ‘to pay attention or listen’ in Hebrew and Greek origins.” His face morphs into a blank, almost worried look as he starts to fidget with his hand, the atmosphere around him changing slightly. 

I smile awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck, sensing I may have said something he didn't like. “Which is kinda funny since that's what you've been doing this entire time we've been here, listening to me and Rocky talk and all buuuut I think we should keep the nickname anyway!” He shoots another glare back, settling in his original spot.

His hand moves up to rest across his chest, and I can't help but stare at the mutated limb. There is webbing between his pinky, ring, and middle fingers, but not between his pointer and thumb. Maybe this is to keep his grip more flexible and tactile?

I can't help myself. "Uhm, could I have a look?” I request, pointing to his hand. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, obviously! You're just very…different—not in a bad way, though!” I reassure him, and more awkward laughter spills from my lips. He seems reluctant but carefully picks it up, pushing it my way.

Simon doesn't lay it out for me but instead holds a fingertip out and hesitates a foot away from my head. I wonder if he's asking for my permission. I don't move. Only after a few tense seconds does he gently brush at my hair, just barely. As though I would break if he used any more pressure at all.

I freeze up and close my eyes, trying to relax into the first human affection I've felt in years. It drifted lower, following the curve of my temple before nudging my glasses crooked before softly pressing into my cheek. It's like he can’t believe I'm real, checking to make sure, which, to be fair, is kinda what I'm doing too.

I cup the big claw on his finger and rub it with my palm. He stops abruptly, and I blink my eyes open. Simon’s got a frazzled expression, like he just realized what he was doing. He pulls away and rests his hand out flat, palm down, in front of me, which I think is an invitation to touch.

Crawling forward, I push his ring and middle finger apart and grab at the webbed membrane in between. He jumps slightly but makes no other movements or sounds. Tracing down it, I can see the blood vessel flowing beneath the skin. I watch as visible goosebumps run up his arm at my touch, and then he shivers, shaking me off balance a little.

I glance up. "Sorry. That didn't hurt, right?”

Simon shakes his head but pulls his hand back. Guess he thought that was enough, though; he doesn’t try to move me off or retreat to the water.

I reach down and curl my fingers into his skin, giving it a light squeeze and tug, feeling the muscles twitch underneath. It's pretty cool but not as cold as before. Maybe he's one of those creatures that soaks up heat from the sun to regulate his temperature.

Then I swipe both hands across his stomach again, trying to brush off the sand I tracked up here and get a better feel for the texture, but the moment I do, his whole body jerks to the side. I tumble to the right as I feel him squirm. When I look back up to his face, I freeze.

He's smiling. Not the tiny grins I've caught before but a full, clumsy, lopsided smile. It looks a little awkward on him, and he bites his lip as if trying to keep it from slipping any wider.

No way.

“Are you ticklish?” I laugh a little, astonished.

Simon’s eyes go wide. His arm comes up fast, almost defensively, to slap over his smile as his cheeks warm to a rosy red color in response. He shakes his head vigorously in response, making the wet strands of hair shift across his face. He's not a very good liar, is he?

I scoot forward onto my knees and place my hands on his lower stomach, pressing in and leaning my body weight into it. His whole body jolts beneath me with a startled squeak. His eyes screw shut while his shoulders tremble.

I pull back and try a different approach, dragging my fingertips in broad, teasing strokes over his skin. That gets me a stronger reaction immediately—his head starts shaking, and he wiggles his hips side to side as if he were trying to escape the sensation without actually moving away.

“Oh my gosh,” I tease, grinning up at him, “The big scary sea monster is ticklish?” I watch as his blush deepens, creeping down the sides of his neck, disappearing beneath the nearest set of gills. Silent giggles shake through his shoulders, visible even when he tries to swallow them down.

I crawl farther up his torso a little, meaning to keep testing this newly found sensitivity and find his belly button but…

I freeze.

Hold on.

I'm kneeling…on him. It’s weirdly intimate, like I'm sitting on someone's lap except somehow so much worse because he's also a giant beautiful ocean creature and I'm very aware of every inch of contact. How did we even get here? My face warms slightly as the sudden very weird closeness hits.

Simon seems to focus back down on me, noticing my sudden lack of movement. His face falters, searching my own for a reaction.

“Oh uh,” I say, trying and failing to sound casual. “This situation is kind of…weird, isn’t it?" I timidly laugh, gazing back up at him.

He goes still for a moment, just staring at me. Then he actually laughs out loud, his hand slipping from his mouth, crinkles forming around his eyes. I guess he finds it just as ridiculous as I do, and to be honest, my awkwardness evaporates at the sound of Simon’s laughter.

It's rough and broken. Almost wheezy, but it's laughter. Maybe a little strained, like he hasn't laughed in a while. I guess there wouldn't be much to laugh at while stranded on a planet, mutated beyond anything any human has ever seen.

His laughter slows when I realize I don't want it to stop. Human laughter, not played in a movie or video. Laughter I can feel. I hadn't realized how much I missed it until now. It's been so long since I've heard another actual human person laugh, so long since I've been able to touch another human, and I'm not going to let my nervousness get in the way now.

So I grin and lean back in, place my hand on either side of his navel and scratch roughly at his skin, like I'm digging for more of that amazing laughter.

“EEHAHahah p-phehehah—AH!!” The bright laughter pours out of him in frantic, breathy bursts as he starts to squirm. I see his arm jerk upward and then falter, as if he's fighting the instinct to swat me away, which I greatly appreciate. I buzz into his flesh as he arches up in response, making me lurch forward with a yelp, and one of my hands slips forward into his belly button. He lets out a startled screech and jerks harder, while he bucks up.

“HIHIHEHEHAH *SNRK* OHAhahheh kahah-MEHEHEE!” Frantic laughter spills from his lips, and it almost sounds like he's still trying to speak, albeit through his giggles. I wonder if he’s meaning to do that or if it’s just out of instinct.

Cautiously, I watch as his arm flies down to me, stops halfway, and then flies back up to grip his messy hair tightly, likely trying to anchor himself for my sake. As I pull away and sit back up, I can't help but laugh along with him, a little stunned at how contagious his laughter is.

“Wow Big Guy, I didn’t expect—“

“What Grace doing, question?!” Rocky yelps from the beach below.

Oh shoot.

His laugh was loud, so it's not surprising that Rocky heard him. He jumps at Rocky’s sudden appearance, a lopsided smile still on his face as he looks at the alien. Much to my surprise, he doesn’t actually seem all that concerned with him, which I am VERY relieved by. Rocky, on the other hand, sounds absolutely horrified. And Angry. Probably at me.

"Um…well, I was just finally being introduced to—“

“No! Grace come back now! Dangerous! Monster could eat Grace! Kill Grace!” He scurries over while holding a leg over his carapace like a scorpion, as if he could fight Simon himself. “Grace stupid stupid stupid!”

“Rocky! Hold on. It’s fine—he wasn’t doing anything.” I try to reassure him, but more furious clicking and a low rumble like a growl erupt from his carapace as he creeps closer to Simon’s side.

Simon turns over at Rocky and holds out his hand, seemingly inviting him on too, and Rocky, the alien that always has something to say, for once in his life, seems to be at a loss for words at the gesture.

“See? He’s okay. He hasn't done anything." Rocky steps onto Simon’s palm with obvious reluctance, and Simon lowers him beside me on his stomach. I breathe out, a little shakily. “...actually, um, I think he just saved my life.” 

“How…monster save Grace life, question? What Grace doing that dangerous, question?! Grace need babysitter, question?!” Bombarding me, he starts grabbing and twisting me in his hold, looking for injuries. Maybe I should have left that part out.

“No, no, sorry. The tide just swept me away—BUT Mermaid saved me. Brought me right back here.” I glance up at Simon, then back to Rocky. “Doesn’t he look insanely human? I'm pretty sure he is.” 

His claws finally let go of me as I change the subject, seemingly relaxing after hearing I’m okay.

“Yes. Very human.” He says almost in awe, clicking to get a better view. “Word is name, question?”

"Nickname I gave him; his actual name is Simon. Mermaids are technically sea monsters, half human, half fish. Lots of folklore and mythology around them. They are usually depicted as very beautiful and are very popular in human media," I clarify, gesturing to the long shiny tail behind us. “What do you think, Rock? Good nickname?”

“Yes. Creature very pretty. Half fish. Good name, statement.” Simon gets noticeably flustered at Rocky's compliment, looking to me like it was my fault he said it. Not sure it was intentional, but it is high praise coming from Rocky. He's got a LOT of opinions on how humans look and function.

“He already understands English and human body language. OH—Rocky, oh my gosh, he’s even ticklish like humans.” I feel his abs tense up under us as I mention the word, making me smirk back up at him. "Isn't that right, Big Guy?”

Although his face has gone back to the same stoic look, it starts getting noticeably more red again, and he shakes his head frantically while holding his hand up in defense. His breath hitches, and his lips start to tremble into a smile.

“Oh, you can't lie around here, bud; Rocky can hear your heartbeat. We'll know." The corners of his mouth twitch upwards more, his eyes darting from me to Rocky, while gnawing at his lip again, trying to fight that lovely smile once more.

I turn to Rocky, waiting for an answer but only see him raise three claws above himself, then slam them down hard into his flesh. Simon barks out another laugh. It’s louder this time but clearer, like he’s finally getting used to his own laughter.

“Pfft-hehehmhm—AH-ACKAHAHAHEhehe—!!”

“Hm. Is true. Interesting.” I kneel back down and scratch at his skin, poking in hard here and there. We bob up and down as he sucks his stomach in at every laugh. “Does not speak, question?”

“Nope. He can't. He has a prehensile tongue with teeth growing along its side, as well as teeth on that side of his mouth and cheek." I hear his tail start to wiggle in the water behind me, splashing against the tide. “But those things don’t get in the way of laughing, do they, Simon?”

“FahAHEHehe b-behehe! AH–NAHAHhahaa!” He starts to hide his giddy expression in the crook of his arm, turning his head to the side, hiding the bright smile he clearly can't suppress. Despite his size, he’s kinda adorable.

“Why translator here, question?” I stop my clawing and pull the translator into my lap, eager to share.

“He was able to mimic your Eridian language to say my name, well, mostly. He can make sounds like some animals on Earth! They have a different vocal range than humans, so that's why he was able to manage it.” Opening another tab, I play back the sound he made for Rocky.

He waits a moment, then reaches over and hits a button, letting the sounds play once more.

“Hm...very smart creature!” And to emphasize his point, he suddenly digs his claws in, rubbing and scratching harder at Simon's belly with enthusiastic force. “Good!”

“EEEHAHAHehehe n-nahaha *snrk* pfft-hehahaHAHAHAHAH-EH—!!!” He flinches at the new and much rougher sensation, throwing his head back as his hand shoots down to the beach below, grabbing fistfuls of sand.

His laughter turns pitchy and frantic, so loud I can feel it reverberate through me. He tries to curl inward, but his arm seems not to be cooperating with him as he flops back down, squirming helplessly under Rocky's touch.

“Are you giving him tummy rubs?” I ask, chuckling.

“Yes!” Rocky sounds pleased with himself. “For good work! Very smart. This affection tickle reward.” Simon’s tail starts slapping loudly at the water behind us in clear distress, sending little sprays of seawater up around the sand. “Also save Grace. Bring my Grace back to Rocky. Extra good! Extra tickles!”

“I don't know if he sees it that way, Rock.” I smile, looking up to his beet-red face and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Although he still looks a little worn out, his face looks bright, actually full of life now, in a way it hadn't before.

“Why question? Grace like tickle tummy rub.” 

My own face goes hot at that, and I sputter, half-embarrassed and half-offended. Why would he say that out loud in front of the only other human here? I hope Simon is too distracted to understand Rocky’s commentary on my personal interests.

“Wha-no I don’t…” mumbling, I force an offended look on my face. “Well, either way, you can’t just assume that every human likes that.” I try to explain as Simon squirms about under us.

This is the downside to being the only human an alien knows. Every little thing you may like is now the standard for any and all humans to them. Even if it’s weird or niche, that’s what the whole human race is into. Although the alien can’t judge you because it has nothing to compare you to, so if you look at it that way, it’s not so bad.

“Mammal like pets. Grace creature mammal. Creature like tummy pets.” He states it like it’s obvious. Great, now he's comparing us to cats and dogs. “Could move away. Very big. Strong. Stay here for pets!” He emphasizes by inching closer to his hip, claws squeezing in, pulling more loud and frantic snorts from Simon.

“He could just be worried about hurting us, Rock. That's not really an indication he likes it.” I know I’m arguing about not tickling the snot out of this human creature; deep down I don’t want Rocky to stop. His laughter rings out between the three of us, making me feel just as giddy as Simon looks.

"Creature been alone for how long, question?” Rocky shoots back, “Is starving for touch. Is good and healthy for human creature. Like Grace." He actually sounds like he's arguing his points now, debating me on the subject.

I go quiet.

I haven't really thought about how long he could have been alone this whole time. Like me without any human interaction. Months, maybe years? I wonder if he gave up on ever finding anyone ever again, succumbing to this planet and its isolation. I reach a hand down, just softly rubbing at his skin, soothingly. It’s been so long for me too.

I frown. “Okay, yes, that was something I struggled with, and you were able to help, but you still need to ask for permission, Rocky. It's rude." My other hand quickly shoots down to stabilize me as Simon starts to twist more, his defenses crumbling apart with every laugh.

“Grace ask creature first, question?” His chords are laced with knowing amusement.

And, annoyingly, he’s got me.

I didn’t. Not really. I asked to look at his hand. Then got swept up in everything else. 

"Well, n-no, but that's not the point—”

“Is point! Creature allow Grace tickle with no permission. Rocky can tickle with no permission.” My eyes widen as I watch Rocky make his way up Simon’s left side and start poking at the gills that rest there. Arching up with a squeal, Simon starts to roll over onto that side, clawing weakly against the sand.

I quickly grab the translator, holding it above in the air, and scramble to my feet. “Wait! The laptop can't get sand in it!" I yelp, trying to move with his body so I don't fall. He manages to steel himself for a moment so that I can balance myself, but then Rocky's claws must have hit a sensitive spot, and he breaks into fresh, frantic cackles.

I scramble to balance myself on his back, as he flops onto his stomach completely, shaking his head against the beach. He wiggles in the sand, his arm reaching under him, gripping at his opposite side.

“Rocky, you all good?” I ask, looking to the back of Simon’s head, silky locks flowing down his back.

“Yes! <Mermaid> have vents, like Rocky,” he answers, popping out from under his arm. He crawls his way up so he's level but immediately starts grabbing at the part of his gills that wrap around to his back, making them close defensively as loud shrieking laughter breaks out from Simon’s mouth.

I glance to my left and spot the huge spines running down his back and into his tail. I reach out in awe and slide my hand over them. They’re enormous. Ridge upon ridge of sharp finlike spines, different from the webbing between his fingers—more delicate-looking, but still rigid beneath the skin. The volcanic sand clings to him and catches the sunlight, making his back glimmer warm black beneath us. 

“GAHAhahehe! HmhmheHAHA—!!!” He rolls back and forth; uncontrollable giggles escape from his lips. His hand feebly reaches behind, feeling for Rocky and me. Unfortunately, I think this is our sign to stop.

“Okay, okay, Rocky, no more; we don't want to kill him.” I reluctantly pull away from the spines, even though I would love to get a better look at them, and turn to get off.

“Will not kill. Grace dramatic, statement.” Though he does, with no other comments, rolling off the side with a thunk as he hits the sand below. 

Simon gives a twitchy little flinch, drawing in on himself as I slide down his side, soft squeaks leaking out of him in nervous bursts. I hurry over to Simon’s face, Rocky trailing close behind me. 

“You okay, Mermaid?” I chuckle, seeing his face smooshed into the sand, taking in deep, unsteady breaths. He nods, his bright red face melting into the beach.

“Good.” I sigh, leaning against his arm slightly.

After a few heavy breaths, he pushes himself up onto one elbow. Then his expression shifts so quickly that my stomach drops. His gaze sharpens, locking onto Rocky and me, and I’m abruptly reminded that I absolutely did NOT ask permission and that he may, in fact, be just a tad upset with us.

He flings his arm out slightly, knocking me off of him. Although Rocky doesn't move, I stagger back as his hand comes at me.

“Uhh, sorry—please don’t hurt us—!!” I squeak, the words tumbling out in panic as he presses me down into the sand with one finger and knocks the laptop from my hands. So much for keeping sand out of it. “L-look, we’re sorry! I really didn’t mean anything bad—EEAH!” 

His finger presses into my stomach and starts rubbing there in slow, lazy circles, then scrapes lightly back and forth, the sensation electrifying my nerves.

“Nohoho wahAHAIT!” I squeal, kicking up sand as laughter bursts out of me. His fingertip presses in a little more, seemingly testing the pressure. 

“NAHahaha Rohohocky heheHEHELP!” I gasp, twisting helplessly beneath him, breathless pleas tumbling from my mouth.

My head flings over at him through the haze of giggles, and he only seems to settle into the warm beach. “Is Grace fault for not asking first,” he states simply. What a traitor! He was the one who was scared Somon would attack me this entire time, and the moment it happens, he’s just sitting there, enjoying the show!

I immediately focus my attention back up at the giant currently reducing me to a wigging puddle in the sand. His eyes narrow slightly, his pupils dilating more, and the intensity of his stare makes me feel even smaller, even more exposed. Heat floods my face in embarrassment, and I try to hide it while also fighting his finger at the same time, which is not remotely a winning strategy. 

“MERHEHER-maid p-plehehease—EHIHEHAHAHHA—!!!” I shriek as a sharp claw drags slowly up my side and settles under my arm, scratching there with maddening delicacy. I try to bring my elbow down, but his strength allows him to push right past, worming his nail into the sensitive spot. The feather-light touch is somehow worse than anything rougher would be. 

He frowns with a huff at the nickname. Guess he's still not a fan.

His fingers pause, and for a brief second I think I might be spared. I take the chance to twist onto my stomach, pulling my arms in tight beneath me in a defensive curl. I flop face-first into the sand with a breathless giggle, and then freeze all over again as the same claw traces slowly down my spine.

The touch is impossibly gentle, every inch of it deliberate. The tip drags in a thin, maddening line that makes my back arch before I can stop it. My whole body jerks in response, and I let out a squeaky, helpless sound as I try to twist away, kicking frantically at the sand. 

“NAHOHOhohoo nohaht theHEHERER—OHOHO GOHOSH!!!” I hear light squeaky chuckles at my expense from Rocky behind me as Simon’s nail shifts again, climbing back up and stopping right between my shoulder blades, where it nudges and teases just enough to keep me squirming without ever letting up. 

“SIHIHIMON NAHohoho *snrk* mohohore!! I-I dihihiDN'T MEHEAN—ACKAHAHEHEhehe—!!!” I yelp into the sand as he starts poking at my side again, sending tingly jolts up my side.

Then, ever so gently, he pushes me back over onto my back, and his finger squishes into my stomach again, rubbing my skin softly. The irritation in his face softens, and a small smile finally takes over his features.

…Oh my gosh. He’s tickling and giving belly rubs back. 

I thought he was too distracted even to hear what we were talking about! Rocky is sooo gonna get it when we get back to Mary, I swear- embarrassing me in front of the only other human I’ll probably ever meet again, and I just know Rocky is absolutely never going to let me live this down either.

But…some embarrassingly soft part of me realizes that it feels nice too — warm, affectionate, oddly careful, like he’s not trying to overwhelm me, just to get me squirming.

Though, I would never, ever admit it.

My face practically ignites with embarrassment, scrambling to latch onto his finger and push it away. He lifts it back slightly, then presses the tip of his nail back down, maddeningly swiping back and forth.

“AH-NAHAhaha I-I’m sohoHOHORY—HEHAHAHAH—!!!” I gasp, laughter cutting through my apology.

Then, apparently taking some pity on me, he moves his finger to my head instead and pets through my hair. He ruffles it up, then smooths it back down with surprising care before trailing his finger under my chin. He’s much more touchy than I expected, especially after stalking us for months. Maybe Rocky was right; maybe he's been craving physical touch just as much as I have.

“SIMOhohon! Nohoho *snrk* mohohore!” Yanking my shoulders to my ears, I slap weakly at his claw. He traces softly up around my ear then back down under my chin, pulling helpless giggles from me.

I glance up, still flushed and breathless, and see the fond smile on his face as he rubs lightly at my neck. Thank goodness he isn’t mad. His eyes flick to Rocky, and with one last teasing scratch beneath my chin, he finally lets go. 

Simon reaches that same finger down, startling Rocky, and an alarmed whistle escapes him. He starts slow, petting along Rocky’s carapace, but the only reaction he gets is pleased purring and a few happy chirps in return.

With a disappointed hum, Simon tilts his head to the side with a raised brow, giving me a quick look.

“You gotta get his joints,” I smirk as Rocky jolts up at my voice. He immediately pushes his claw back down, tracing along where one of his legs and body meet.

“GRAHACE?!? Nohoho!” Rocky squirms beneath Simon’s fingertips, squeaky trills spilling out of him in frantic bursts as he tries to struggle free. 

“Yes~ You didn’t want to help me, so I decided to help Simon here get some revenge.” And revenge for embarrassing me. I chuckle with amusement evident in my voice, sitting back up and wiping sand off of my face and glasses. “It's Rocky's fault for tickling him more,” I tease, using his own words against him.

Simon looks awfully happy with himself, a pleased grin beaming down at Rocky. He looks so much happier than he did before. His head shifts closer, getting a clear look at the little alien in his grasp. Rocky pushes back, scrambling against the sand, away from his prodding touches.

“Grahahace! Hehehelp *chrip* Rohocky! CreHEHEAture attahahacking R-ROHOHOCKY!” I roll my eyes. If anyone here is dramatic, it’s him. 

I observe the scene as Simon easily flips the 300+ lb alien like he weighs nothing at all, then drags a finger along the side of his carapace and forces his legs upward with another teasing scratch underneath his joints. Rocky’s arms straightened out, his little claws grabbing helplessly at the air. Simon snickers, pulling more squeaky trills and pleas from him as a hiss of steam comes from Rocky in return.

I grab the laptop, brushing the fine sand away. I pray a quick clean will be enough. I can get by without it for Rocky after all this time; now that Simon's here and proven he can use it, I need it up and running properly. 

A sudden squeal pulls my attention back. I look up and see Rocky has latched tightly onto Simon’s finger, clinging to it kinda like a koala. 

Simon shakes his hand slightly, but Rocky doesn’t budge, just residual giggly trills escaping him with puffs of steam curling in the air. He stares for a moment, blinking a few times when a sly smile comes to his face. He opens his mouth slowly, bringing Rocky closer. 

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rocky move faster in my life. With a startled squeal, he scrambles into Simon’s palm and disappears beneath his closed fingers. 

Simon lets out a snort and flips his palm over, rubbing his thumb against Rocky’s carapace in a soothing manner, as if he were petting a baby mouse in his hand.

“Creature mean to Rocky. Pretend to eat.” He huffs, but more low purrs come from the attention when clearly leaning into his delicate touch, undermining any anger in his chords. He really took a one-eighty on Simon, from yelling at me this morning to quite literally melting in his hand.

I smile and ease myself down into the sand, letting the warm grains shift beneath me as I glance over at the two of them. It feels good to laugh, and even better to hear someone laugh because of me.

We’ve been sitting here, stranded, while Rocky stays busy with the ship, and I’ve had too much time alone with my own thoughts.

But now there’s another person—I have another human now. My chest flickers warm at the thought, a bright excitement spreading through me as I imagine the future. I’m almost eager to be stranded if it means I get to talk with Simon all day the way I have since we crashed, only this time, I’m hoping he responds. 

Simon sets Rocky back down beside me, then leans his head into his arm as a cushion, a soft, content smile lingering on his mouth as he watches us. Rocky settles deeper into the sand, tucking three of his arms beneath himself while the other two fidget in the grains. From Simon's direction, a low purr begins to rise, faint at first, then steady and warm, and despite everything, I can feel my own mouth twitch into a smile.

My gaze drifts to the horizon as I push my glasses to the bridge of my nose, to the rings and the moon hanging there in pale light, and the sight is accompanied by the soft sounds of waves crashing on the shoreline.

Everything seems so okay—good even…then a thought comes, quiet and merciless. 

He's human. Conscious. Aware of me, of Rocky, of the fact that we’re stranded here with no one coming to save us. He knows we're repairing the ship; he's had to hear us talking about it by now. He understands enough to know we're leaving, if we can, that is. He understands what leaving means.

…

That there's no way to bring him with us.

His size—he's just too large. The realization twists through me, ruining this lovely moment.

We—no, I would be abandoning the only other human I’ll ever see again on this horrid planet, leaving him behind to spend the rest of his life alone. 

It almost feels cruel that we crashed here, giving him a taste of human interaction, maybe even hope, before ripping it from his hands once again. Cruel is how I would describe everything.

𖥔 I really do hope you all like it!! I'm thinking of doing some other fics in this AU that should be canonically connected hehe also, another thanks to ❤︎⁠ @awkward---as---hell ❤︎⁠ for being such a wonderful person and helping me with this!!! 𖥔

[blitzzeri]

colt takes note to make him laugh more

[tyrant-tales]

Have Some Respect, Grace

A/N: Okay! Tis done! It was originally supposed to go with @thecheesiestler's AU, but every time I tried to write the angst, I genuinely could not stop crying. Idk why I'm so emotionally lately, but at least it didn't end in me breaking y'all's hearts this time! This is still based on Leigh's art (go check them out, they're genuinely one of the most talented people in this community), so all credit to her! Also this was extremely flustering to write so... im sorry if it's bad I tried so hard to power through but oh my godsss. Thank you! Lee: Grace Ler: Ilyukhina and Yao Word Count: 1.1k (ik it's short but this is my first fic in this fandom, give me some grace/j)(im so funny) Warnings: tickles, mentions of amnesia, and some swearing!

⌂~~~⌂~~~⌂

“You wanna try that again, Dr. Grace?”

Ryland slapped a hand over his mouth as Ilyukhina flipped over and stifled giggles in her pillow. He considered going back on his playful insult about Yao’s baldness, but something in his amnesia-racked brain was too giddy to let him do that. “Hm… I think I’m good, Yao.”

Said man raised an eyebrow at the cockiness. “Really? You’re going to say that to your commander?”

“I mean, it’s not like I’m wrong. From what I remember, it’s not a result of the coma,” he doubled down, further sealing his fate. Ilyukhina snorted and sat up.

Yao balked, making a face at the woman. “He can’t remember his name on his own, but he can remember the state of my hair before we left?”

“Ryland Grace, master of ragebait. Even with amnesia,” Olesya joked, finally bringing down her laughter. 

He immediately recognized the word, his students having used it to describe him many times. He shrugged slyly. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised, that’s exactly like you,” the captain confirmed. “You jerk.”

Grace smirked. “I’d rather be a jerk than balding.”

Ilyukhina barked out a cackle, pointing at her captain and managing to say, “Ohhhh shit! Thahat is rough, man!”

Yao lunged at the scientist, who shrieked and dropped to the floor against the wall. He landed next to Ryland on his knees, shoving his hands into his ribs and drilling. “This disrespect will not be tolerated, doctor.”

Grace yelped, grabbing at his hands with much more urgency than he would’ve back on Earth. “Wahait! What is thihis?”

Li-Jie reared back, retracting his hands in confusion. “Do you… not remember what tickling is?”

The bewildered face answered his question. 

“No fucking way!” The engineer threw in her two cents, jumping up and making her way over to the pair. “This is gold! We have to reteach him.”

A grin overcame both of their features, while a face of faux fear took over Ryland’s. He had a vague feeling of ‘run the fudge away’, but his own curiosity doomed him. “W-what? I mean- it sounds familiar but- AH! No!”

Olesya had sat next to him, poking his side experimentally. “I would hope it sounds familiar, this used to be Carl’s favorite thing to do.”

Grace shook his head while trying to inch away from her hands, which were threatening to grab his sides. Yao put a stop to this by planting himself on his other side, sending a hand into his neck to scribble. He got some giggles from the action. (see this post, third picture <3)

“Noho! Ihi’m juhust an amnesiac, cuhut me sohome slahack!”

“Oh, we have got a poet over here. I thought you majored in biology, not English?” Ilyukhina teased, grabbing one of his arms and pulling it over her shoulder and out of her way. She then clawed into his underarm, earning a short yell and cackling. 

“Thihis ihisn’t fahair! Cohome ohon! Wihill yohouhu at leheast explahain it first?”

Ilyukhina halted and nodded, which Yao took as a sign to do the same. “Okay, sure,” she started. “Tickling is defense mechanism – or at least that is how you described it – which evolved most likely from the need to identify when bugs or plants were touching you. Eventually, it just turned into something we do not need as much, so it is now more of a social action. A type of play. Got that?”

He nodded, signaling her to continue explaining. 

“Different types of touch can produce reactions from people who are ticklish, like you. You happen to be very bad, so very small touches make you laugh – like this!” She softly dragged her nails across his stomach, eliciting a bout of giggles and a snort. She kept going, having no more explaining to do. “However, I do not remember you having that reaction.”

Yao had one of his rare, soft smiles as he stared at his crew, resuming his scribbling on his neck. “You seem to be more sensitive now than before. Any theories on why, Dr. Grace?”

“Ihi aham NOHOT dohoing thihis wihith you!”

“But you are a scientist, no? What happened to your experiment brain?” Yao seemed to realize what he’d said immediately after he finished. He puffed out his cheeks and looked away, hoping neither of them had clocked it.

“Ahamnehesiaha! Yohouhu buhully!” Grace yelled, playfully whacking his arm with his free hand. Olesya leaned on his shoulder and joined him in laughing. 

Yao nodded, closing his eyes. “That was fair. Apologies, bad phrasing.” 

“Noho, thahat wahas SOHO ohon puhurpohose!”

“I can assure you it was not, but if you need this to fuel the victim mentality in this situation, be my guest.”

The engineer found this to be the funniest thing in the universe, and she certainly let them know this fact with the boisterous laughter that followed. “о боже,” she managed.

“WHAHAT? Thahat’s nohot whahat this ihis!” Grace squawked. “Whahat hahappened to mahatuhurity?”

“You tell me. I did not start this,” he said, trying to sound flat, but the amusement was not concealed well in his tone. He distracted him from it by pinching his hip – a well known, much worse spot.

Grace nearly screamed, his free hand shooting down to hold Yao’s. “WHY IHIS THAHAT WOHORSE?”

He snickered at the question. “Right, teaching. I do not know the exact science, but I’ll try my best,” he stated, going back to pinching despite Ryland trying to stop him. “Obviously, touching someone in certain places – do not make that weird, Olesya! – causes them to laugh. People have different places that they’re ticklish, like how Olseya’s sides are really bad-”

“Hey! You cannot mention me without mentioning you!”

He rolled his eyes and continued with an extreme amount of sass,  “Yes, of course. Like my knees. Happy now?”

She nodded smugly. “Yes.”

“Anyway, you just happen to be bad all over. But especially right here,” another pinch to his hips, “here,” a quick squeeze to the top of his kneecap, “and here,” a skitter over his back. 

“OHOKAHAY! IHI GEHET IHIT!” Grace hollered, giving up on fending off the captain in favor of hiding his face.

Ilyukhina beamed. “And now he hides his face. Everytime.”

“Like clockwork.”

Grace blushed. “HOHOW OHOFTEHEN DIHID THIHIS HAHAPPEN?” He paused to think about what he asked. “Doho nohot ahansweher thahat!”

“Often,” Yao replied, ignoring the second statement.

“Ihi shahid dohon’t!” Grace wheezed, shoving at his hand with more urgency. “Ohohokay! Ihit’s beehen ahawhihile, ehenohough!”

The other two backed off immediately. Olesya repositioned to give him a hug, which he reciprocated. “We are so doing that again. Just warning.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less.”

[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.”

[cacoonedmoonworm]

Big fan of your PHM work, holllly shit!! :) I love the way you narrate through a character's perspective through your writing, and I adore how you portray the shifting dynamic between Grace and Simon so much!! I love writers. Thank you so much for taking the time to share something you personally worked on in your own time <3

That last fic (a fucking BANGER as always) had me thinking about how sweet it would be to read about one of the two trying to work up to admitting that more intense/rougher tkls maybe wouldn't exactly be off the table 👀🫪 like, my mind has been racing with thoughts on emotional dialogue abt how it could be therapeutic and cathartic, how it gives them agency and control, and how it's almost therapeutic with the way it can grant you a joyful emotional outlet <3 If you ever wanted to write a fic about that, I would worship the ground u walk on dawg. Run with the idea if you like it! And stay cool :)

More...Rough?

𖥔 AWAHH! Thank you SO much! I'm so happy you like my fics! I PRAY I was able to do your idea justice; I admit I'm not the best at more emotional writing and dialogue, and I actually think I may have leaned a bit TOOOO emotional compared to your idea! I got carried away hehe sry about that! But always feel free to send another request if you were looking for something different; in my very humble, not-at-all-biased opinion, there can NOT be too many phm/iron lung tickle fics! I'll always write more as long as I got ideas! 𖥔

𖥔 Slight spoilers for both movies and book! 𖥔

Summary: Grace is worried about asking for more rough tickles and what Simon will think!

Lee!Grace / Ler!Simon

Word count: 5,113

“Sihimon!” I squeak, squirming under him.

“Shhh, I’m trying to watch the movie. It’s rude to talk during movies, Ryland.” The smirk is evident in his voice.

We’re lying on one of the beds, watching a movie on one of the many laptops around the ship. Simon is sprawled across me, his head resting on my chest, purring loudly. His fingers start to worm their way under my shirt, tracing so softly over my skin.

I melt into the touch, fighting the giggles trying to break free from my lips. He’s always been so gentle with me, like I might break if he pushes just a little harder. Goosebumps race across my skin, and I shiver in his hold as he teases my middle.

“It’s nohot my fahahault!” I squirm, pulling my elbow toward the side he’s lightly scratching. He just hums in response, staring at the laptop like nothing’s happening, though I catch his tail flicking back and forth in contentment.

Even though I’d never admit it, I do find the tickling nice—almost relaxing. After pretty much giving up on the idea of seeing, let alone touching, another human, Simon showed up in my life. It took some time at first, but he quickly became a cuddle bug. Always leaning, touching, cuddling, and the tickling. 

He made quick work of my touch-starvation problems, like I’d never struggled with them at all, but…he was always so gentle. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing, of course.

His nails trace, barely touching my skin from my hip up to my bottom rib. So light it almost itches, irritating my nerves. I bite my lip, trying to keep myself still and quiet. My eyes drift back to the screen, trying to block out the sensation fanning through my body.

Simon’s finger stops for a moment, and I breathe out. I hadn’t even noticed I was holding my breath. Nervously, I glance down at the top of his head, then follow his arm to the hand resting comfortably against my side. My body starts to tremble against my will as I feel his hand slide lower, just barely gripping my hip.

“Sihihimon,” I whine, my ears warming with embarrassment.

There’s something I’ve been keeping from him. I like the touching, the way his fingertips trail delicately over my skin, but lately I’ve been yearning for him to just dig in. To claw and scratch at my flesh, letting that giddy feeling wash over my brain.

It eats away at me, the words stuck on the tip of my tongue. I worry he’ll think I’m weird. What he does can still be seen as normal—just affectionate, cuddling with the side effect of pulling laughter from me. What I want is different: to be a laughing mess on the floor. It’s a step beyond the norm, and I just…I don’t know how he’ll feel about it.

Gosh, Ryland. Really? You’re stressing yourself out over asking for more tickling, something he already does?

Those feelings bubble up in me right now as I squeeze my eyes shut. His hand presses softly into my hip bone, his thumb sinking into the dip there. I flinch with an embarrassing yelp. My hand flies up and covers my mouth, trying to stop my giggles—and those thoughts—from spilling out as his light touch electrifies my nerves.

I feel his head shift, and I glance down to see him staring intently at me, which only makes my face burn hotter. His eyes seem to search my expression, checking whether I’m still okay, and all I want is to grab him by the shoulders and tell him I’m more than okay— that I want more.

“Stohop!” is what I giggle instead, snickering as he rubs small circles into the bone. And much to my dismay, he does. He gives me a warm smile, almost proud he could make me look and feel so happy. Then he snuggles back into me, the warmth of his hand leaving my skin as he pulls it out from under my shirt. That yearning feeling only grows as he readjusts my shirt.

I slouch a little at the sudden lack of touch; my skin still tingles where his hand had been. Which is…probably part of the problem. The wobbly smile on my face fades into a small, disappointed frown.

My hand reaches up to rest on his head, running my fingers through his wavy hair, trying to make up for the touch I already miss. I feel the familiar rumble of his purr as he melts against my torso with a sigh.

…I should just tell him. What’s the worst that can happen? He says no?

…

No. The worst that can happen is that I make it awkward, and he stops altogether. I make him uncomfortable. Maybe he won’t even want to cuddle like normal after. I-I…is the risk of losing the only other human being I’ll ever see again worth this silly little thing I want? Logically, no, it isn’t.

I try to shove it out of my mind and think of anything else. Why can’t humans read minds? It would make my life so much easier—

“Ryland? You good?” he asks, pulling me from my thoughts. I realize I’ve stopped looking at the screen, staring off into the distance while my mind spirals. My hand has drifted away from his head without me noticing and I see his head try and chase my hand for more affection. His face has shifted into a skeptical but worried expression, one brow raised.

I clear my throat. “Oh, uh, yes,” I reply, bringing my hand back to his head and carding through his hair while refocusing on the movie, twirling a lock around one of my fingers. I don’t even know what’s happening anymore, too lost in thought to follow the story—something about a man stuck on Mars, I think.

“Okay. What’s wrong?” Simon grumbles with a frown, shifting from his side onto his stomach and staring back up at me. He flicks his head up, a sign for me to withdraw my hand, then settles his chin on my sternum.

“What? Nothing, nothing.” I wave that hand dismissively. “Just…thinking. You know…” Awkwardly, I break eye contact, letting my sentence trail off as I look back at the movie and hope he’ll do the same.

“Do I know?” He stares up at me through his eyebrows, frowning slightly.

“Um…yes?” That comes out much less confident than I want.

“Well, clearly I don’t fucking know, or I wouldn’t be asking.” I glance back down, and he’s got this intense look on his face like he’s trying to look through me. “But what I DO know is that you’ve been acting weird lately.”

Fudge. Had I really been that obvious? I thought I was acting the same as always. Though I guess he did just catch me daydreaming about the worst possible scenarios. Oh gosh, how often has he noticed me doing that without my realizing?

“Whaaaat? No I haven't." I state simply, turning my face away from his. End of conversation.

“Riiiight.” As I refuse to look back over, he shifts on top of me again, pulling his face closer to mine. “Is it the touching? Is it too much?” Concern laces his voice, and suddenly the hand resting on my side is gone, placed next to me on the bed instead. It’s clearly a sign of respecting my space, but it just makes me feel empty.

“No!” He startles a little at my outburst as my head snaps back toward him. Uh…no. No, it’s not that.” How am I going backward? Now he thinks the little he touches me is too much? I’m somehow losing progress by saying nothing. How is that even possible? I finally relent, convincing myself that this—what I have now—is good enough, and within minutes he’s withdrawing that same touch.

Simon sighs. “Look, I won’t make you tell me if you don’t want to, but…I’m worried I’m doing something wrong. I’m new at this,” he murmurs, cocking his head to the side. My face heats more as I consider my next move.

Okay, Ryland. Just tell him. It’s fine. He’s scared he’s upsetting you, and you can fix it right here and now by just telling him.

Taking a deep breath, I stare into his eyes, taking in the dark brown and crimson colors of each one. Although his face is stoic, his eyebrows are turned down slightly in worry, and all my confidence drains away.

“Um…I-I just…” I stutter, my face suddenly burning. A stunned expression crosses his face, and his hand slowly comes up to cup my reddening cheek.

“Ryland. It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me,” he whispers, always so soft. For some reason, those few words make my eyes sting. I’m making a big deal out of this, why do I feel so emotional?

“I-I want to. I do.” I try to steel myself, blinking away the tears threatening to spill past my eyelashes. “I just don’t want things to change—in a bad way.” That’s all I manage to squeeze out, and he gives me a worried smile; I’m sure he’s trying to make me feel better.

Simon pulls his hand away and pushes himself upright instead, sitting very close in front of me, between my legs, with his own stretched out on either side of me, resting on top of mine. For some reason, that makes me feel worse. I can’t meet his gaze, looking away in…shame? I guess that’s the word I’d use.

I flinch as his arm wraps around my back and pulls me into a tight embrace. He buries his face in my neck while rubbing soft circles between my shoulder blades.

“There’s nothing that could ever change my opinion of you. You saved me. Ryland…you did more than save me; you made me feel…safe and complete,” he murmurs into my skin, his voice confident and low.

Fudge. Why did he have to say that? The tears come back, stronger than before, prickling at the corners of my eyes. I peer down at the bed, trying to focus on Simon but not too much, because he keeps saying such sweet things and it’s making my brain feel like goo.

He leans back, and I realize I wasn’t reciprocating the hug, my arms hanging slack at my sides. Oh, do I regret that—wanting nothing more than to pull him back into me and feel that tight embrace again.

I shy away, knowing I must look like a confusing wreck. Simon grabs my chin, tipping my face forward again, and plucks my glasses from my face, setting them aside before trailing his fingers around my ear. I think he just likes seeing my face without them.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can take all the time you need. I mean, we have another two and a half fucking years on this god-awful ship.” He smirks as I laugh softly at his comment. Two and a half years. I can’t wait that long.

My hands come up to my face, and I press my palms into my eyes, willing them to stop leaking. I wipe away the excess tears and keep my face in my hands, shoulders curled inward defensively.

“No. I want to tell you now.” Shaking my head, my words quaver before I can stop them. “You know the, uh, the tickling and, like, light touches?” Peeking through my fingers, I try to read his expression.

“Yes?”

“Well. I like it.” I stop for a moment, waiting to see if he says anything, but he doesn’t. I’m not sure that’s better than him commenting on it. “But, um, I-I think I would like more.”

He hums in acknowledgment with a relieved smile tugging at his mouth. “That’s all? I can do it now—”

“No, like, harder?” I say, but it comes out more of a question than a request.

“Harder?” Flustered by his confusion, I tightly grip the blanket under us with one hand, knuckles whitening, like my mind knows I might walk away from the situation if I don’t have something to hold on to.

“More…rough? I don’t know…” His hand pulls mine away from my face, gentle but firm, but I turn away from him, heat crawling up my neck. Frustration bubbles under my skin at the words I can't quite express and at how exposed I feel trying, and failing to explain them.

“Rough.” It isn’t a question this time. He’s just stating it, like he’s processing the word.

“To just laugh. I…when you stop, I-I always wish you hadn’t. Make me forget all the bad stuff for just a few minutes.” I glance up at him, bracing for embarrassment, for pity, for him to pull back away from me. "It's...fun."

Instead, he just stares, eyes widened slightly, and his tail flicks behind him. He says nothing, the silence sitting between us long enough for my pulse to thud in my ears. I feel my body start to decide whether fight-or-flight might be useful in this situation.

Furrowing his brows, he finally asks, “Because you’re laughing?”

“Yeah. I guess.” I shrug halfheartedly, leaning away from him a little. I feel suffocated.

I swallow hard and try again. “All I do is worry on this ship, Simon. I worry something’s going to break, that we’re gonna starve, or that one of the many ways me, you, and Rocky could die out here is finally going to happen. And I just want to—you to help me forget for a little bit.”

My hands twist in my lap as I try to explain, my nails picking at the skin of my fingers while I wait for him to answer. I keep my gaze at them because looking at him feels too much like asking for something I'm not sure I'm allowed to want. Tears spill over before I can stop them.

Please…

“...you told me what happened with the Hail Mary Project,” he says, his voice a little shaky. “How they held you down and fuckin drugged you. I-I didn’t want to overstep and make you uncomfortable, to bring up bad memories.” 

I never thought about that. No wonder he’s been so careful, like I’m this fragile thing he's afraid to touch wrong. I'd always thought what Simon went through was worse, so I never considered he might be trying to protect me from my own past.

A crumpled, pained look crosses his face as he reads mine.

I sniffle, wiping at my nose with the back of my hand. “...I trust you. I trust you so much, Si…and I know you would stop if I asked—you’d let me be in control, right?”

“Of course.” He nods, though he sounds almost offended I’d need to ask. “Ryalnd…” his expression softens, “You've had that control the whole time with me. You don't gotta ask.”

My fingers rub the scar on my arm while I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “…you’d let me say ‘no’? An option I wasn’t given back then with Stratt? I think it would feel almost nice, actually. To say no…” A weak, miserable smile tugs at my lips; finally, the tears win, flowing freely down my face. I'm too exhausted to fight them anymore. Bringing up Stratt was probably not my best idea.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes.

I jerk upright and stare at him with wide eyes. His face takes on an almost guilty look, then hides behind his hair as he looks off to the side and back to me again.

“Wha-what are you sorry for?!” I ask, half laughing, half crying at this point. My hands latch onto my face, trying to dry the tears, to show that I’m not crying because of him; if anything, he’s making things better just by listening.

“I-I don’t know,” he says quietly. “For not knowing what you needed.” 

This time it's him who breaks eye contact. His tail folds tight around him, and his voice drops softer. “For not letting you think you could tell me…”

I let out a shaky sigh and open my arms, putting all the reassurance I can into the gesture.

Simon glances over, his eyes a little glassy, and leans into me. “It’s not your fault. I was just scared—and being stupid. How were you supposed to know? It’s my—”

“It’s not your fault either,” he grumbles, pressing closer until his head rests against my shoulder again. His arm settles around me and his hand moves in slow strokes along my spine. I let out a long, tired breath against him, clutching him tightly and catching that faint iron scent that always seems to cling to him.

“I did think I could tell you; I couldn’t ask anyone else.” He pulls away just enough for me to see his face, and he grins, flashing those long canines.

“There isn’t anyone else, well other than Rocky.” A soft laugh escapes me.

“I know. But even if there was…I’d still ask you.” He seems to relax into me after hearing that, and I do the same; finally, the weight lifts from inside me.

We sit for a while. I don’t know how long; it felt like hours but was probably closer to ten minutes. I think he’s waiting for me to break the hug, and although I don’t want to, I pull away. Simon looks at me with a mixture of concern and warmth. He reaches up and brushes away the tear stains that run down my cheeks with his thumb as I sniffle again.

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I do feel a little bad making this a whole ordeal when, clearly by his reaction, I could have just told him. I don’t know how I convinced myself he’d abandon me for something so silly.

“Stop.” He frowns, glaring at me. Well, he seems to be back to his old self. “Stop apologizing.”

His eyes search mine, and his lips part for a moment as if he’s about to say something, but he hesitates.

“W-what?” I feel my anxiety start to rise again as I watch him think. Maybe he changed his mind after all our emotions settled and actually thought about what I said with a clear head?

“You want me to do it now? Since you’re all sad and mopey?” he grins, his sharp teeth poking out as I flinch back. “Turn your brain off for a little bit?”

He raises his hand in front of my face, wiggling his fingers. All the anxiety and heaviness I'd been carrying start to evaporate, replaced by that unbearable flutter of anticipation that sits deep in my stomach. My skin starts to crawl, and a wobbly smile starts to tug at my mouth.

I can’t seem to say anything, my throat suddenly tight and dry, my face burning hotter by the second.

“Oh, Ryland~ I can see that this is exactly what you want~” He inches his fingers closer, tilting them toward my stomach. “You just gotta say the words~” And for some reason, I’d never really thought about actually having to say, ‘Please tickle me till I can’t think, Simon’. I’m now realizing how incredibly embarrassing that is. I guess I never thought I’d get this far.

My head nods, but he shakes his. “You gotta say it. It’s the rules if we’re gonna do this.” I shoot him a weak glare. I know he’s being kind and making sure he knows exactly what I want, but it feels cruel, like he’s teasing me. Maybe he is, with his stupid, kind, thoughtful made-up rules.

I chew at my lip, trying to hold back anticipatory giggles already bubbling in my chest, and watch his hand creep ever closer as I squirm back, bumping into the pillows behind me. “So what do you want?” he asks.

“…I-I want you to tickle me.” I attempt, and fail, to frown at him, and he chuckles softly in response.

“Oh, okay. Good, because I want to tickle you.” His smile widens, and any worries about him thinking I’m weird seem to dissipate. “Whaaaat kind of tickles do you want?”

Simon’s hand finally settles against my tummy, but he doesn't move it yet; he just holds it there, the pressure of his palm making my whole body buzz with ticklish tension. I glance between his hand and face as I squirm in place.

“Soft or ‘rough’?” His grin shifts to something more smug. He’s totally doing this on purpose.

An annoyed groan laced with giggles leaves my mouth as I look away, blushing more than I probably ever have in my life.

It’s okay. He’s okay, and you’re okay. He’s literally asking, and he said he would stop if you said so.

“Rough.” I sigh lightly. I eye his hand, but it doesn't move. Waiting a few seconds, I grow antsy before looking back at his face, slightly confused and worried I said something wrong.

And then right on cue he digs in. Hard. Exactly like I asked.

“EHEAHAHahaa! O-ohoho gohoHOHOSH—SHIHIMON!!!” I squeal, my hand suddenly scrambling to his as my body jolts under the sudden burst of sensation. Curling forward over myself, he soon loses contact with the ticklish spot, leaving me giggling. Through my own helpless noises, I hear an annoyed hum and feel the bed dip with his weight as he shifts.

Suddenly I feel a hand tug at my ankle, and he drags me down with a yelp, flat against the bed. My heart hammers in my chest, knowing what’s to come. He moves quickly, settling onto my thighs, resting his weight on them and keeping me pinned.

“There. No more curling up. Now, if you say stop, I’m gonna stop. Any other words are fair game.” I try to pay attention, but my mind can only focus on his wiggling hand hovering over me.

His eyes gaze down at me like I’m his prey, and I swiftly hide my smiling face in my hands. Slowly, I feel my shirt lift, the cool air hitting my skin, making my skin twitch before he even gets a chance to do anything.

“Ready?” is the only warning I get before he’s tasering his fingers onto my stomach, pressing in just hard enough not to hurt but enough to drive me up a wall. They’re firm, quick touches that somehow make my whole abdomen feel oversensitive, as if every nerve has been turned up to high.

“Wahait—WAHAHAIT!! IHIEHAHAHAHA—!!!” My hands once again shoot down and latch onto his. My legs kick out uselessly behind him as he electrifies my nerves with vigor. It’s been so long since I’ve been tickled like this. Simon’s touches are always so soft, gentle, careful—this is different. This is relentless; it’s like my body isn’t used to it and doesn’t know what to do with all the sensory input.

Simon starts to pinch up my right side, finding my bottom rib. Pressing in hard, he tweaks at the bone, forcing his fingers between the gaps. Who knew he could be so ruthless if given permission? It almost makes me regret not telling him sooner.

I arch at the sensation, loud, squeaky laughter tumbling out of me. I try to roll over but with him on top I can't do much more than clutch desperately at his wrist with one hand while the other stays pinned to my side, using my elbow to stop his wiggling fingers.

“SihiHIMON!! I-It thiHIHICKELS—NAHOHOHOO!!” I bury my face into the pillow, my cheeks aching from how much I'm smiling already. My eyes sting with tears of mirth instead of the sad and worried ones from earlier. 

He forms a fist, then presses his knuckles to my bones, sliding them up and down. I throw my head back as he bumps over each and every rib. His hand drifts towards mt back, and I feel him open his hand and latch onto my rib cage, squeezing the whole thing and pressing his thumbs in as I desperately tug at his arm and twist under him.

“Oh, does it now? I couldn’t tell.” He smiles, and his hand slips upward toward my armpit, digging under my arm where it’s clamped tightly to my side, trying to get at the sensitive skin. “C’mon, Ry, let me in~!” he teases, slowly worming his fingers higher and higher, squeezing my ribs as he goes. 

I shake my head frantically, twisting desperately onto my side to protect that spot, but his nails rake over my skin and pull breathless pleas from me, but never the word stop. 

His hand rips from my hold and darts to my opposite side, successfully digging under my left armpit. “AH-SIHIhimon!! *snrk* IHIHI CAHAhahan’t!!” rather viciously, his nails scratch into the skin, wiggling over and over, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, making my arms flail uselessly beside me.

“You have no idea how much I fucking wish I had two arms right now, Ry.” He leans down, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear. “Can you imagine it? Two of my hands tickling you to pieces~?”

My cheeks burn at his words while I twist my neck to the right, trying to dislodge his head as he blows puffs of air against my ear, making me shiver.

But I do imagine it, and it makes everything so much worse. I swear the more he teases, the more sensitive I feel, but it’s all I want. My thoughts start to scatter as I struggle to keep up with the flood of sensations and words being whispered to me.

“NOHOHOhohohoo!”

“Maybe I should take Rocky up on his offer for an artificial arm. You know, for your benefit, of course.” He chuckles against my neck, his beard scratching my ear and shoulders.

“NO! Y-yohohou aha-cahaHAN’T!” But he could, and he might, and I don’t think I’d be opposed.

His hand goes still, staying right in my armpit. My body takes the chance to greedily suck in air, my brain swirling with happy chemicals that make it hard to concentrate on what he’s doing. Then he inhales, deep and deliberate, and presses his face to the side of my neck, just below my ear. Before I can process what to do, he blows a raspberry, pulling a shriek from my lips.

“EEEHEHEHAHAHA—*SNRK* yohou s-SUHUHUCK!!!” I shout, digging my heels into the bed, desperately trying to find any friction at all. The only answer I receive is another large inhale, and I brace, trying to turn my head away before the next one lands.

He holds his breath, lips pressed to my skin, and my whole body tightens and twitches in anticipation. My arms finally try to be helpful, flying up to push at his face, but quickly retreat almost immediately when he squeezes at my upper rib and blows again, his beard rubbing in more.

“GAHAHAhaha—AH-SIHIHAHAHA—!!!” I can’t get words out, instead laughing myself silly in his grip. Raspberry after raspberry is peppered along my neck and ears, all the while his hand finds every little bundle of nerves along my ribs and armpits. After what feels like forever, he pulls away and sits back on my legs once more, taking in my flushed, embarrassed but happy face.

My arms curl up across my chest protectively as tears leak from my eyes. His hand comes down to my face, and I flinch away with a squeak. He chuckles and starts to wipe at my eyes.

“Still okay?” he quietly asks, pulling his hand back and shifting a bit lower, now more settled over my knees. Is he getting off? I never said stop…

“Y-yesss…”

Then he grins. “Good.” Abruptly, his head dips, and he’s back at my stomach, blowing against my belly button. I arch up with a shriek, both hands pushing frantically at his head. 

“AHH-OHAHAHAhaha S-Sihihimon! Wahahit—!” He takes another inhale, pressing his lips against my skin. “IHIHEHAHAHAhaha! I-It's sohoho b-BAHAHAD—EEEKHEHEHE!” I buck my hips, trying to twist away from him as he sends sparks skittering through my body.

He grips my hip firmly, drilling his fingers into the bone hard and using it to hold me still while he steadies himself against my stomach as I kick under him. His head drops lower, and he nips at the soft pudge of my lower belly while I clutch at his hair, trying desperately not to yank too hard. 

AH-ACKAHAHAHEhehe—!! *snrk* NONONOHOhoho mohoHORE!” My mind feels like mush, and my lungs burn. It feels harder to breathe, and the thought of what happened the day I found out I’d be placed on the Hail Mary comes to mind. How hard it was to breathe while I was pushed into the ground and pricked with that syringe, and how I begged.

My breathing speeds up as I try to take in shallow breaths, and I know it’s not from Simon. I hate myself for ruining this moment by thinking of what happened to me; the familiar pressure of someone on top sparked something in my mind. My hands clench and tremble against Simon as my pulse races in my chest.

“STOHOP!!” It sounds desperate and strangled in my mouth…and just like that, his hands are no longer on me, and he slides off my lap.

And everything is okay…

Soft, tingly feelings wash over my dread, making me feel light.

“You alright?”

Taking a breath, I lay there, heaving, my soft, loopy giggles filling the air, and nod lazily. I open my eyes to see Simon’s blushing face peering down at me with a gentle smile. 

He runs his hand through my hair, soothingly, cooing at my face in that way that gets me flustered.

I almost feel a shock at how easy it was. No begging—I didn’t even need to tell him twice. Just one request to stop. Suddenly, that memory of me begging in the grass is replaced by the moment Simon let go. The moment I was able to say I was done and wanted no more. Replaced with something far sweeter.

I melt into the bed, my arms and legs feeling like jelly. My body loosens as I let out a shaky exhale, my eyes falling closed in relief and love.

“Did I go too far?” he asks, sounding a little worried. I feel him hook his arm under me and pull me close to him, the soft purrings emitting from his chest soothing my brain.

“N-no. Juhust far enohohough.” Just enough for the soft, tingling relief to flood through me until there’s no room left for anything bad.

𖥔 I was strssin a bit writing this one ngl there's a reason I write fluff and not angst i kinda suck at it lol 𖥔

[plumaluneee]

Since your requests are open are you okay doing bloodymary tickles? Switch!Grace and Switch!Simon? If not, and you want to do Lee!Grace or not even at all that’s perfectly fine! I just wanna see the giggly blonde man.

Im so sorry this took like forever I’ve been so stupid busy but do not worry I will provide

[thecheesiestler]

(Click/press for better quality)

Pspspsps @aleeavian, it's dinner time! This request was a delight to do ^^

For anyone who doesn't know, this is heavily inspired by an ADORABLE fic by @greatleekate called 'Doing Nothing', pls pls pls go read it if you haven't already ❤❤❤

Also I might hold off on taking any other requests at all, because I wanna have the motivation to finish my OC ref sheets lmao

[sunstone-smiles]

Lightning Round Review!

Author’s note: The science club pebbles are back! I’m in the middle of reading the book right now, and I got to a part where some Eridian anatomy was explained, which was the PERFECT information I needed for this fic! I took liberties on like one thing, but all the Eridian anatomy facts are straight from the book! Also, I did research on human anatomy for this fic. Everyone clap (jk lol). I hope you enjoy!

(Also posted on AO3!)

Series: Project Hail Mary

Characters: Ryland Grace and six pebbles (pebbles OCs!)

Word count: 4,654

Summary: For the pebbles in his science club to brush up on human biology, Grace decides to do a lightning round review with them. During their game, some of the pebbles pull a trick on their teacher, and eventually, Grace does the same to them. If that’s how their teacher wants to play it, then the pebbles decide that it’s Grace’s turn to be quizzed on Eridian biology!

---

Science club has been a hit with the pebbles, especially the six pebbles that come to nearly every meeting Grace hosts in his bio-dome. They’re his ‘regulars,’ he likes to call them. Grace has had so much fun teaching them extra knowledge that he hasn’t been able to fit just yet in the Eridian curriculum, and it gives him a chance to test out new lesson concepts with these young, curious minds as well. 

However, Grace realized he’s been packing them with a lot of information lately, so he thought some review was in order. A lightning round review to be exact! Just like he did back on Earth with his human students. He explained it to the club of Eridians like a quick “pop quiz,” but he wouldn’t be grading the pebbles, so they shouldn’t be afraid to shout out an answer. The pebbles understood, and are eagerly awaiting their lightning round review of human anatomy today. 

Human biology and anatomy was one of the first concepts he taught the entire class of pebbles. As good as Eridan brains are at retaining information, the refresher will be helpful.

“Okay, so everyone understands the rules?” Grace asks the six pebbles in front of him, who are safely in their flexible xenonite suits. Sitting criss-cross on the dirt of his bio-dome, Grace points at himself. “Say your answer out loud and then point at the part of my body that matches with your answer.” The intention is for them to not only know the vocabulary, but to see a visual reference of where that body part resides. 

“I’ll pass this beanbag to whoever’s turn it is,” Grace holds up a palm-sized beanbag, rounded and designed like Earth. He gave it to Rocky back when they were on the Hail Mary, but Rocky likes it when Grace uses the tiny Earth to help teach the young Eridians.

The six pebbles all nod at their teacher’s instructions. Thanks to the translator on his computer sitting on a nearby rock, his Eridian students can understand him, and vice versa.

“Okay then! Coral, you’re up first!” Grace tosses the ball to a pink, rectangular pebble with brown, branch-like patterns. She catches it, then hops forward.

“Amaze! I’m ready, Mr. Grace!” Coral excitedly says. She’s mentioned before that biology was actually one of her favorite lessons. Of course she’s ready for this.

Her readiness makes Grace chuckle. “Okay, let’s start off with some basics. What part of a human’s respiratory system is also known as the windpipe?”

Coral immediately squeaks, “Oh oh! Trachea! Helps humans breathe!”

“Yes! And where is it located?” he asks. Coral skitters up to his side and reaches up high. Grace knows that Coral is familiar with where the trachea is, so he bends his head down to help her reach.

“Here!” she points at Grace’s neck.

“Very good, Coral!” Grace takes the tiny Earth from Coral. He passes the ball to the next pebble, “Cole, you’re up!”

Cole catches the ball and switches out with Coral. Cole is a black pebble with flattened points, similar to coal (which is why Grace named him how he did), and gradient orange around his claws as if he just dipped them in molten lava.

“Okay Cole, what is the organ that pumps blood throughout the body?”

“Heart!” his boisterous voice beams.

“And where is it located on a human?”

Cole skitters up and taps Grace’s chest, even making sure to tap slightly to the left from where the center of his chest is. “Here!” 

“Excellent Cole!” Grace takes the beanbag handed to him by the pebble. A few more practice rounds of this and they'll all be tossing the ball back and forth like pros. “Marina, catch!” Grace tosses the ball forward.

A teal pebble, slightly more square-shaped, clasps the tiny Earth. She shifts her joints as if she is shaking out her shoulders. She’s nervous, but determined. 

Marina takes Cole’s place and the teal pebble steps in front of the human. 

“Are you ready, Marina?” Grace asks.

“Ready, Mr. Grace,” she reassures.

“Okay, here’s a slightly tricker one: What is the organ connected to the intestines that helps a human’s immune system?”

Marina taps the front of her carapace. She thinks for a few seconds before her stance brightens. “Oh oh! The appendix!" she shouts with confidence. She leans to the right like she’s about to dash in that direction, but then she leans to the left, then, after a moment, to the right again. She almost wobbles in place, trying to choose a direction.

Oh, Grace knows what she’s doing. She forgot if the appendix is on the right or the left side. It also is probably taking her a moment to remember that, since they’re facing each other, Marina’s left is Grace’s right and Marina’s right is Grace’s left (It’s the classic situation of “My right not your right!”). 

Come on Marina, you got this, Grace thinks to himself.

Something excitedly clicks for the teal pebble. She skitters to her left to reach Grace’s right.

“The appendix is here!” Marina points to the right side of Grace’s belly, and in her excitement, she accidentally jabs her teacher in the side. Grace flinches.

“Hey!” Grace hugs his torso with a giggle quickly following in tow. “Careful, that tickles!”

The rest of the pebbles chirp out quiet giggles in the background. Grace taught them all about tickling a few anatomy lessons ago. Well… more like Rocky taught them and used Grace as a demonstration. Point is, he knows why his students are giggling at him since they’ve seen their teacher in such a silly state before.

“Oh! Apologies Apologies! Did not mean to activate human tickle reflexes!” Marina lets out a little giggle of her own at the end of her statement.

Grace chuckles, “It’s okay, Marina. Well done on the question.” The teacher takes the beanbag from her claws. Marina runs back to the others and Grace throws the ball to Aqua, a darker blue and square pebble. “Aqua, your turn.” 

Aqua catches the little Earth in her claws. Marina joins the rest of the group, and before her sister Aqua switches places with her, Aqua snickers to the others. She ‘whispers’ something in a low whistle that the translator couldn’t pick up.

Aqua scrambles forward to face her teacher. She lets out another squeaky giggle before standing straight up on her legs to make herself look extra innocent.

Grace lifts a brow at her, but he ignores it, for now. “Okay Aqua, what is the important artery that provides a human’s upper arms with blood?” Grace holds out his arms as a model.

Aqua answers right away. “The axillary artery! It’s located…” she skitters up to Grace and leans on his knee so she can stretch her claw up high. She pauses before pointing anywhere, hovering her claw around the area below his arm. Grace assumes that she’s thinking where exactly on his arm to point. He would be mistaken.

“Here!” Aqua purposely scribbles her claw into the hollow of Grace’s armpit. 

“Hehehey!” Grace jolts and yanks his arms to himself. Aqua, giggling, happily hops away like a stone being skipped on water as she joins her friends. All of the pebbles chirp and laugh at the trick she pulled on their teacher. It occurs to Grace that the thing Aqua may have whispered to them earlier was probably something along the lines of, Watch this. 

Marina tickled him by accident, but her sister took it upon herself to continue the trend. She’s got a sneaky side in there.

“Aqua,” Grace pretends to admonish her, but he’s smiling and the tone in his voice shows he’s not mad one bit.

“Had to, Mr. Grace!” Aqua tosses the beanbag to her teacher, the pebbles still giggling.

He catches the mini-Earth. “Ha ha, very funny,” Grace puts on his best sarcastic tone. “Alright, let’s focus again everyone.” He throws the beanbag to the smallest pebble and they catch it with two claws. “Come on, Fossil. It's your turn.” 

The tiny brown pebble, who looks like a miniature mountain with some spots of green, skitters into position.

Grace continues their game, “Okay, Fossil, what is the organ that allows humans to break down food?”

“Um, it’s… it’s…” Fossil thinks for a second. They tap their claws in the dirt. Then, they let out a little whistle, like an excited gasp. “The stomach!” Fossil trills. They appear to be very excited about getting that answer. Almost too excited.

“Right! And, uh, where is it?” Grace is oh so slightly weary asking that question this time around from the pebble’s track record. But, it’s Fossil we’re talking about here. Fossil is the shy one, the quiet one. They don’t have a trickster bone in their body. Fossil wouldn’t think about—

“HE-Hehehey!” Grace yelps; Fossil has pounced on him like a little puppy and started ticklishly pawing at his belly. “Fohohossil” Grace gently grabs the arms of the pebble and gently pushes them off his hips.

Fossil scatters back to their friends and a wave of chirpy laughter from all of the pebbles reach Grace’s ears. The teacher clutches his tummy. His students think this is hilarious. At this point, it sounds like they're watching a comedy special rather than taking a lightning round pop quiz.

Well… two can play at this game. 

Grace softly laughs, masking his idea that is brewing underneath. “Okay, okay. You got me, Fossil. Give the ball to Flint, and then Flint, it’s your turn.”

Flint, a pale red pebble with jagged features is handed the beanbag. He moves to stand front and center. Grace’s mouth wants to twitch into a smirk, but he resists the urge.

“So,” Grace begins, and like he is about to give a lecture to a conference of professors, he states, “Where is the intercostal neurovascular bundle located in relation to the thoracic wall?” Grace officially shows off his smirk now.

Flint squeaks out in complete surprise, like a mouse caught in a trap. The other pebbles behind him look really surprised too.

“What?” Flint’s tone is one of shock. “Flint does not remember this lesson from before– and why does Flint get the hard one, question?!” he stomps his back foot.

“I’m throwing in new vocabulary, ” Grace explains, smiling. “You all are too smart. I have to increase the difficulty. Come on, take your best guess, Flint.”

Flint taps his claws together. He makes a low hum, which is like the Eridian version of an ‘Um…’

“Is it… Is it the knee, question?” Flint wearily points to Grace’s knee. He’s not confident in his answer at all.

Grace can’t hold back his smile anymore, and it grows wide across his face. “Ba ba!” he pretends his voice is like a buzzer on a game show. “Wrong! It’s the ribs!” He lunges his hands at Flint.

Startled, the red pebble lets out a high-pitched whistle before dissolving into giggly squeaks when Grace’s fingers tap along his carapace through his xenonite suit. Now it’s his turn to tickle his students. Flint wiggles around and scrunches his arms while Grace keeps a gentle grip on him.

“Mr. Grahahace!” Flint giggles, “Whahat fohohor, question?!” 

Grace releases Flint, allowing the pebble to regain his balance. “See that? New rule! You get the wrong answer, you get tickled!”

“WHAT?” all of the pebbles squawk in unison, creating a blend of all the little voices Grace assigned to them blasting from the computer.

Coral steps forward. She stomps her back leg. “No fair! Mr. Grace gave Flint a very very hard question!”

“Yeah!” Flint backs her up.

“Well, that’s what you all get for tricking and tickling the teacher,” Grace leans back on his arms with a nonchalant smile. He picks up the beanbag and gives it a little toss in the air.

“Because that was funny,” Cole quietly snickers. Grace shoots him a playful glare.

Aqua takes a stand next to Coral. “Oh yeah? How would Mr. Grace like it if we gave him a really hard question about Eridian anatomy!”

“Yeah! Let’s quiz Mr. Grace!” Marina joins in on their side. All the pebbles chirp like a crowd applauding for the same cause.

“A challenge, huh?” Grace plays along. He puts the beanbag to the side. “Alright, lay it on me. But I have to warn you, I’m pretty good at this.”

Might as well let the pebbles have some fun (after all, fun helps with learning). Grace is quite confident in his knowledge in biology, of course, so he’ll use this opportunity as a double anatomy lesson for the pebbles to talk about human biology and Eridian biology.

Aqua is the first to think up a question. “What is Eridian blood mostly made of, question?” 

“Easy. Liquid mercury,” Grace crosses his arms and grins at Aqua.

Aqua rattles and lets out a little growl. Flint tries his luck and asks, “What are the receptors on our shell for, question?” 

Grace answers again, confident and correct, “For hearing. Got anything harder?”

Flint stomps his front leg, clearly thinking, darn.

There’s a pause as the pebbles think.

Fossil pipes up. “Pebbles need to remember, Mr. Rocky may have taught Mr. Grace a lot! Need to get Mr. Grace with tough, tough, tough questions!”

Wow. Three times the ‘tough’ on that one. Grace is sooo scared.

Is he getting a little over confident now? Against Eridian kids? Yeah, maybe, but at least he’s winning.

Coral suddenly lights up. “Oh oh! Coral got it!” the pink pebble chirps. “What type of silicate are Eridan nerves made of, question?”

Ha! Silicates? That chemical compound made up of silicon, oxygen, and metal? Child's play! Grace has got this one in the bag.

“Simple,” he says, “It’s…” he pauses. His smile starts to fade. “It’s… um…”

Uh oh.

Grace knows that Eridian nerves are made up of a silicate, but there’s seven different types! Rocky never told him what type they are.

Years together on a ship out in space and his buddy never had the decency to talk about how his nerves are polymerized together. Gee, thanks Rocky. That would have been REALLY good to know right about now.

“I… I don’t know,” Grace slowly, and almost painfully admits.

“Ha ha! Yes!” Coral laughs and bashes into her teacher. Her claws immediately go after tickling Grace, scribbling at his torso. Yeah, that was inevitable– Grace knows about Eridian anatomy, but he’ll admit not everything. These kids are smart enough to know that.

Grace leaps in place. “Cohohoral!” Grace giggles. He tries to nudge her with his elbow.

“My turn!” Flint enthusiastically says. He’s so ready for revenge. “How many sacs do Eridans have to hold lots of energy, question?”

“Uh, it’s– hehehehe!” Grace gently shoves at the persistent Coral on his side. “It’s three!”

“Bizz Bizz!” Flint buzzes, trying to mimic his teacher’s buzzer sound from earlier. “Wrong!” Flint sings and leaps towards Grace. 

Shoot! It’s four, not three! In the middle of his tickly distraction, Grace forgot about the last one that even Rocky said is hidden deeper in their carapace than the others. Now he’s suffering the consequences of his mistake; Flint joins in on the opposite side of Coral, tickling the bottom of his ribs while Coral focuses on his side.

Grace wraps his arms around himself and wiggles between the two pebbles pressing into his torso. His legs come uncrossed so he can kick and so his knees can curl towards himself.

Now that Flint had his turn, Cole and Fossil jump forward at the same time to take theirs.

“What Celsius temperature is ambient circulatory system, question?” Cole enthusiastically shouts.

“And what Celsius temperature is hot circulatory system, question?" Fossil chirps.

“H-Hohohold on! One at a tihihihime!” Grace says through his laughter. He already made a slip up on the last one, and now he’s got an extra Eridian in the mix this time. The last thing he needs is two questions coming at him at once.

“Answer the questions, Mr. Grace,” a teasing voice, who he recognizes as Aqua’s comes from the translator. That sly little pebble–

“Will repeat! What temperature is ambient circulatory system?” Cole says.

“And hot circulatory system!" Fossil chirps.

Looks like they’re insistent on asking him both questions at the same time. It’s all part of their ploy to confuse him. They know how well versed Grace is on Eridian knowledge, so they have to trick their teacher if they want to continue winning. These little rascals! Grace has taught them well.

Well, he won’t fall for it!

Grace takes a giggly breath, trying to clear his head from the tickly sensations that are filling his brain to the brim.

“Aha-ambient is 310 degrees Celsius! Hohohot is 210!” Grace calls out, dissolving into more laughter once the answer is said.

He’s confident about his answers, that is until a second afterwards, it hits him—oh no! He switched them! (Ambient is 210, while hot is 310!)

“Wahahait!!! I mean–”

“Nope nope!” Cole cuts him off.

“Too late, Mr. Grace!” Fossil adds before they both race towards their teacher. Cole hops onto one of Grace’s legs, pushing it flat to the dirt so he can squeeze at Grace’s right hip. Meanwhile, Fossil moves next to Flint and sneaks their tiny claws through Grace’s defenses to reach the side of his belly. The giggles that come out of Grace nearly propel him backwards like a spaceship's engine. He miraculously keeps himself sitting upright, knowing that the pebbles will have access to even more of his tickle spots if he topples over.

It’s like Grace is on thin ice playing a game of hangman, but instead of drawing an arm or a leg when he gets an answer wrong, Grace gets an extra pebble added to the tickling pile. He has four out of six pebbles on him now. Here comes the potential fifth.

Aqua scuttles up and wiggles with excitement. She asks, “Where is Eridian brain located, question?”

Yes! Grace knows this one for sure!

“It’s–AHA!” he feels a little claw flutter at his knee. Grace nearly falls back and holds himself up by an arm while his other hand protects his torso. “Fossil! Nohohohot the knee! Not the knee-hehehe!” The tiny brown pebble has climbed and clinged on to his pants leg like a mountain and is squeezing and fluttering their claws around his knee at the peak. Fossil chuckles along with their teacher. 

“Knees, question? That is incorrect! Correct answer is the center!” Aqua exclaims before pouncing at Grace. She clashes into him like a dodgeball and knocks her teacher flat on his back.

“Hehehehey! Thahahat wasn’t my answer!” Grace snorts as the pebbles, like a swarm, quickly adjust to continue to tickle Grace in this new position. The teacher wraps his arms around himself and scrunches his shoulders when Aqua flutters her claws gently at his neck.

“But Mr. Grace said it!” Coral teases, swiping her claws along his side again.

“No taking back!” Cole chirps, still standing over his leg and scratching at his hip.

Geez, they are ruthless! 

Grace is already in a laughter-filled frenzy, and Marina hasn’t even taken her turn yet. The teal pebble steps up to the group.

Marina chuckles, “Okay, will give Mr. Grace an easy one! What is powerhouse of the cell, question?”

Grace doesn’t even have to think about his answer to get this one right; it’s embedded into his mind. It better be, considering he has a degree in molecular biology. Like a reflex, he yells, “It’s mitochondria! It’s mitochondria-ahahaha!”

“Nope!” Marina squeaks.

“WHAT?!!!” Grace shouts. “Nohohoho! That’s right! That’s dehehehefinitely right!” Grace starts cackling when Marina scuttles over and dips her claw into his armpit.

Marina corrects him, “The powerhouse of the cell is an organelle surrounded by a membrane. It is called ‘mitochondria,’ but Marina did not ask for the name.” She giggles.

Oh, come ON! She got him on a technicality! He changes his mind, Marina is the sly one out of those sisters!

“Thahahahat’s cheating!” Grace jokingly debates through his laughter.

“No cheats! All fair!” Marina says.

“Mr. Grace just needs to do science better,” Cole snickers, clearly taking a page out of Rocky’s book with that last statement, he sees. 

“Yes, Mr. Grace has gotten six questions wrong in a row. Very bad score. Mr. Grace needs the refresher knowledge more than pebbles,” Aqua teases. 

“Hehehey! I’ve been ahahahaha-a little distracted!” Grace yelps. “Gihihihive me another one, but let mehehehehe have a breather first!”

As requested, the pebbles listen to their teacher and pause their tickling, though they still keep their claws close by for an impending attack, which makes Grace giggle even more when he realizes his shirt has risen up a little during his wiggling to reveal some of his bare tummy. While Grace vibrates with residual giggles and breaths of air, he can already guess that his students are thinking up more trick questions to ask him. Suddenly, Coral perks up with a squeak.

“Pebbles! Coral has idea! Gather!” she chirps by Grace’s hip. The pebbles move over and lean closer to Coral. They surround their teacher as if they were using his tummy like a table in a strategy meeting. The young Eridians speak in low, quiet notes so the translator can’t reveal their plan, and Grace doesn’t catch any of their whispers due to being more focused on trying to replenish oxygen back into his system.

By the time he is able to control his breathing and sit up on his arms to look at the pebbles, he only hears their synchronized chirps of agreement before they lean away from the huddle and turn to Grace.

“Okay! Pebbles will end the tickles if Mr. Grace can get this next question correct!” Coral says. “Ready when you are Mr. Grace!”

Some of the pebbles are already snickering. These six young minds have certainly conspired to tickle their teacher silly. Grace should brace himself. 

“I’m ready. What’s the question?” Grace can’t resist smiling at the enthusiastic kids.

The pebbles turn to each other and snicker again. Coral stands up straight to speak on behalf of the pebbles, “What is scientific name of Mr. Grace’s most ticklish spot, question?” 

“What?! I’m not answering that!” Grace already starts giggling along with some of the other pebbles that chuckle at his reaction. The pebbles already know this answer! They’ve seen it! They just want him to say it. Diabolical. All of them (he loves them).

“Give me a different one!” Grace exclaims.

Marina squeaks, “Nope! No skips, Mr, Grace!”

Aqua adds, “Also there's a time limit now.”

“Three!” Fossil already starts counting down.

“Wait- What?!” Grace’s eyes pop open wide.

“Two!” Flint says and puts his claws up.

“Since when was there a timer-?” Grace is practically stunned.

“One!” Marina says; the claws of all the pebbles raise up over that one spot.

“Wahahahait! Hohohold on!” Grace holds a hand up.

“Go!” all the pebbles squeak and dive their claws into his belly. 

Grace jolts forward and combusts into laughter, even more so when they push up the hem of his shirt to claw at his bare tummy. Grace reaches out for the pebbles, gently pushing at their hands, until his ticklish core muscles betray him and send his upper half toppling backwards to the ground. Through his squirming, he uses his arms like a bulldozer to try and slide the wall of pebbles away, but all six of them working together easily maneuver past his defenses. Grace snorts and throws his hands up under his glasses and over his eyes, all while his legs paddle behind the pebbles.

“Pebbles will give one more chance for Mr. Grace to answer!” Coral squeaks over her teacher’s wheezy laughter. “What is scientific name of most ticklish spot, question?”

Despite laughing his head off, Grace holds out on giving an answer in an attempt to be playfully stubborn, but they’re making it difficult to even pretend to be stubborn when there’s a dozen little pebble claws on him.

“We’re waiting, Mr. Grace,” Aqua says through a teasing melody.

The teacher snorts and removes his hands from his face. “Ohohohokay! Okay! Ihihihihit’s my belly!” he admits.

“Scientific name!” Coral corrects.

“Rihihihight! Right!” Grace remembers while he throws his head back with laughter. “Ihihihit’s the stomach! Nohohow get off me yohohohou little rascals!” Grace playfully swats at his students. 

With their question correctly answered, the pebbles pull their claws from their teacher and skitter away from him to give him some space, though giggling to each other still. After a few breaths of air, Grace pulls his body off the ground like a ragdoll, rolls down his shirt, then adjusts his glasses so he can glance down at his students.

He clutches his belly like he just ran a marathon, “Phew, you guys are brutal!”

Marina steps forward, a softness in her whistle. “Mr. Grace okay though, question?”

Grace lets out a chuckle. One moment these kids are tickling him to pieces, the next moment they’re making sure he’s okay. He’s gotta love them.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Grace replies. “Where did you kids learn how to get so smart?”

Cole chirps, “We learned from the best!”

“Flattery, huh?” Grace jokes, though it does warm his heart to hear that coming from the pebbles. “Well flattery isn’t going to get you out of his review we still have to do, remember?” the teacher says with a smile. “Come on, let’s get back into position, everyone.”

Following their teacher’s instructions, the pebbles line up side by side as they were at the start of the review game. 

“Where's the ball?” Grace looks around himself, searching for the little beanbag. He finds it rolled off to the side, which definitely happened during their silly scuffle. “Here it is,” Grace reaches for and cups the little earth in his hand. “Okay!” he faces his students, “Are we ready?”

Fossil quickly raises their claw.

“Yes, Fossil?” Grace asks, surprised to be met with a question rather than the pebble’s usual enthusiasm.

Fossil taps the pads of their claws in the dirt. “Can Mr. Grace add tough tough questions to review like before, question?”

Grace blinks at the small pebble. “Huh? You want me to ask the hard questions? But, this is review, so you may not know the answers if it has new information.”

“That is okay!” Fossil raises their carapace. “Pebbles can learn! Can use tough questions as opportunity! Pebbles agree, question?” Fossil asks their fellow club-mates.

The other pebbles chirp. Flint steps up, “Yes yes! Tough questions are fun! It gives pebbles a challenge!”

“So pebbles are more versed in human anatomy!” Coral agrees.

“Please, Mr. Grace?” Aqua wiggles happily in her spot.

Grace feels the excited energy bursting within the pebbles. His worry was that he was packing them with too much information, but all they want is the potential for even more knowledge. He can’t blame them for their enthusiasm.

Grace shakes his head and sighs, a smile on his lips. “What am I going to do with you kids…? Alright, I’ll add in a few tough ones here and there, but we have to go fast, okay? It is a lightning round review after all.”

The pebbles squeak with joy.

“Amaze! Amaze! Thank you, Mr. Grace!” Fossil cheers.

Grace giggles at their celebration. “Alright, now let’s settle down and focus everyone. Ready?” he curls his fingers around the beanbag as the pebbles happily await the continuation of the game. “Let’s go!” Grace announces. He tosses the ball towards his students and the lightning round review commences once more.

Oh yeah, and also, Grace makes a mental note to himself: Ask Rocky what type of silicate Eridan nerves are made of. Who knows when he’ll need to have that knowledge handy again. 

[cacoonedmoonworm]

Come to Bed

𖥔 A lil short fic for you all; it's a bit on the shorter side sry! I wanted some lee!Grace really bad, so I pumped this out in a few hours! Forgive me for any mistakes! Another one in Simon's pov so let me know how I did; I feel like I struggle with him more! Hope you all enjoy! 𖥔

𖥔 Slight spoilers for both movies and book! 𖥔

Summary: Grace is staying up way too late again, but Simon is there to convince him to sleep!

Lee!Grace / Ler!Simon

Word count: 1,961

He's up late. Again. I shuffle into the lab with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, sleep tugging at my eyelids.

“Grace. Come on. You need to sleep. Rocky is complaining.” I grumble, followed by a yawn. He looks at me for a moment with deep bags under his eyes. They look glazed over and bloodshot, barely even open, and I notice the nearly empty cup of coffee, surely his third or fourth today.

“Give me 20 minutes; I'm not done.” He said that over an hour ago. Shifting closer, I rest my chin on his shoulder from behind while wrapping my arm across his middle, looking down at the laptop and papers strewn about in front of him. He's gotten more anxious lately. More than usual.

Sure, the food situation isn't the best, but he's gotten obsessed with checking every little fucking thing on the ship. Is the ship staging on course? Is the water reclaimer working? Are the oxygen levels okay? Are the Taumoeba breeding tanks leaking? etc. Any and every possible bad scenario seems to be running through his head all the time.

I huff, peering over at his face. It's been over 24 hours at this point, according to Rocky, and he looks terrible. His skin has lost its slight pink hue, looking pale as his hands shake before he starts typing again. I can't stop the grimace that crosses my face as I try to hold him tighter.

He shrugs me off as I see him flip through multiple tabs of the Hail Mary's vitals and equipment maintenance information while running a hand through his hair. Taking a step back, I look at how thin he's gotten recently. Although I wouldn't say it's too bad yet, the Taumoba slurry is eating away at his muscle and some of his fat. The sweater I'd stolen three nights ago used to fit him so snugly, but tonight, it looks like it belongs to someone else.

“Ryland, everything is fine. There would be alarms and shit going off if something was wrong.” I try to say it in a reassuring tone, leaning my chest against his back, kissing the messy cowlick at the back of his head. It refuses to stay down no matter how many times he tries to smooth it flat.

“The point is to catch anything before it goes wrong and triggers the alarms.” He picks up some papers, skimming over the data. His voice has lost the sweetness it's usually swirled in. It sounds cold and slightly annoyed at my pestering.

I stayed up waiting for him. Again. Every night this week I promised myself I wouldn't, and every night I break that promise. I know I didn’t have to, but for the sake of Rocky, it’s significantly easier to watch us both at the same time. Having your humans wake around the same time is also less time-consuming than if they staggered, keeping him stuck watching longer.

And I want to fall asleep next to Ryland.

I know why he worries. I worry. I worried like him when I first arrived, and he was the one to tell me everything was all right, but it slowly started eating away at him now, in a way that is, in turn, worrying me again. Full circle.

I sigh into his hair and reach my arm back around, placing it over his tummy, rubbing my thumb back and forth across the front of his stomach.

“Simon…” he says in a warning tone as his body tenses up against mine.

“What? I’m just hugging you.” Murmur with a small smirk, moving my face to the nape of his neck and planting a small kiss. I open my mouth slightly and nip at the sensitive skin, earning me a squeak.

“Sihimon. Stohop. I’m busy.” Trying to steel himself, he scoots forward, only to jump back as I softly prod at his middle. I lean against him firmly with most of my body weight, pinning him to the table as he wiggles.

I worm my hand under his shirt and lightly scratch at his stomach. Ryland's hands suddenly drop the papers and shoot down to latch onto mine, batting at my fingers.

“You should be busy sleeping.” I talk into his skin, rubbing my beard against his sensitive flesh. He awkwardly arches up while trying to curl in on himself as I blindly feel around for his belly button.

“NAHohoho! I-I hahahave toho—AH!!” I finally find the little divot and dig in, swirling my finger around. He squeals, his knees shooting up and hitting the underside of the table with a bang.

I move my head, kissing softly up the right side of his neck and behind his ear, faintly smelling coffee. He attempts to bring his shoulders up to defend, squashing my face slightly against his as I kiss along his stubble.

“STOHOhop!! Sihimon gehet out of thehHEHRE—IHIHEHAHAH!” He shrieks as I dig into his belly button harder, his hands scrambling to pry my finger away. The shirt getting in his way, he flings the hem up, giving himself an opening to grab at my hands. I push closer into him and glance down at his tummy, but my hand freezes for half a second. His ribs stand out more than they used to. I fucking hate this Taumoeba diet.

I pull my head away slightly with a frown, glancing over at the reddening tips of his ears. Stilling my hand, I rub gentle circles into the little pudge he has left, hoping to soothe his nerves, though it just pulls more giggles and frantic hiccups from him.

“You gonna go to bed?” I mumble up against his ear, making sure to blow puffs of air inside. Ryland shivers, and I notice goosebumps run up his arms at the feeling. He shakes his head against mine, light chuckles spilling from his lips. 

“I-I’m nohohot a chihild!” he argues. 

“Maybe stop acting like one,” I whisper into the shell of his ear. He shakes his head against me more, his glasses sliding down his nose from the friction as little ‘no’s’ and pleas come from him.

And he says I’m the stubborn one.

“Oh, okay.” Rolling my eyes, I shoot my hand to his right underarm, a shriek ripping from his throat. “I guess you need a little more convincing.” 

He twists in my hold, elbows shooting down to his sides in a desperate attempt at defense. I move my fingers up and down, from his topmost rib to the sensitive skin of his armpit. He leans back on me, his head thrown back with laughter against my shoulder. 

Peppering more kisses along his neck, I move his shirt aside with my chin to gain access to his shoulder as well. I gently nibble and pull lightly at the flesh, making sure not to poke or break skin with my other, sharper teeth. 

“I-I’m nohoHOT EHEHEVEN AH-TIEHEhered!!” he lies through his cackles, twisting in my hold.

“Sure you're not.” I move my hand down slightly, tasering into his ribs, then moving back up to his underarm.

I lean into the warmth that is Ryland Grace. Human and alive. Here with me and making me all the more sleepy myself. I wanna sleep. I will get him to come to bed.

“NAHOhoho! WaitWAIT—WAHAHAIT—OHOHO GOHOHOSH!!” Hard laughter comes from him, his glasses falling off onto the table with the abandoned work, kissing along the back of his hairline.

I make my way back to his nape and take in a large, dramatic breath, one I'm sure he would hear. He squeals before I even get a chance to do anything, suddenly fighting harder than before, his legs kicking under the table. Pursing my lips, I press it to his skin and hold still for a moment. His breath hitches as he freezes, anticipation building. And blow.

He screeches, arching forward, his head flying back as if about to crash into mine, but it is only lightly placed on top of mine. How thoughtful.

I press raspberry after raspberry, paying special attention to his beauty marks, using them almost as a guide for where I should place the next one. I follow the little trail of freckles across the side of his neck. One. Then another. Almost like tiny constellations. I decided every one of them deserves a raspberry of their own.

My hand pinches its way down his side, digging into the bones of his ribs, feeling the space between them. His opposite hand comes up and grabs at my own, pinning it to his torso as he shoots his head back up, shaking it from side to side.

“STOHohop! Nohoho mohore!” He pleads, now desperately pushing against the table with his free hand. I slow my touches to lightly tracing up and down his side, making him curl over on himself, but is blocked by the table.

“You know how to make this stop.” I smile while placing another raspberry under his ear.

He stays silent, preferring to laugh himself silly rather than to just come to bed with me. I hum at his determination to stay up and to fight me as I try and take care of him. His laughter has become light and lazy, his head rolling back onto mine again. Then it stops, well sorta. 

He's clamped his mouth closed, giggles shaking his shoulders as he holds them in his chest. His chin touches down to his chest, fighting my touches.

“...fine.” Ripping my hand from his hold, I latch onto his hip firmly, squeezing the bone rapidly. I can feel how his feet push against the floor, pushing him against me as a squeal rips out between us.

“Pfft—nohoHOHO!! SHIHIMON—HIHEHAHAHA—!!! OKAY-OKAHAHAY!!” He relents.

"Okay, what?” I tease, rubbing the bone in circles with my thumb. He jumps to the left, on the verge of falling off his chair.

“FUHUDGE!! I-I’LL SL—ACKAHAHAhaha!!” He sputters over his words.

“Hmm? I didn't quite catch that, Ry. What did you say?” I add another raspberry to his neck, and he quirks it to the side. “You'll…what?”

“I-I’LL SLEEP—I’LL SLEHEHEEP!!” He all but screams out, pushing hard back against me. I let my hand still but hold him upright as he slouches back. He huffs as his arms go slack against his sides.

“Good.”

I pull away and rotate him to face me, and shit, he looks like he could conk out right here and now. His face is flushed bright red with half-lidded eyes full of tears. He lazily looks to me, a goofy smile still plastered on his face.

Reaching over, I grab his glasses. I place them on top of his nose as giggles still pour out of him, pushing them up and using my thumb to wipe away the few tears that escaped. Reaching up, I push his hair out of his face, then trail my hand down past his temple to under his chin, with a fond smile. 

“Ready?” I ask, scratching lightly at his jaw.

“Yehehes.” He shakes my fingers away with a halfhearted attempt to shrug up his shoulders.

My hand takes his, and I pull him to his feet, his legs and knees wobbling. He attempts a step, and I hook my arm under and around him as he staggers. Ryland shoots upwards with a squeak and stumbles away, more tired laughter coming from him.

“I'm done, Ryland. I'm not gonna tickle you.” I chuckle, following after him.

“I-I knohohow. I cahan’t help it.” Instead, I place my hand along his lower back, rubbing softly, leading him towards the dormitory where Rocky is waiting.

By the time we reach the room, his head has found the top of my own, leaning against me. 

𖥔 I love tickly kisses hehe 𖥔

[greatleekate]

Gentle Parenting

alright everyone dinner’s ready. i got the idea for this from an ask by @tea-and-tickles - thanks for the idea!

Lee!Grace, Ler!Yao, Ler!Ilyukhina

Summary: Grace tests out some new vocabulary. Fuck around and find out, basically.

______

Grace spun in a slow circle in zero gravity. "Guys."

"What," Yao replied flatly, barely looking up from where he was calculating a steady flight path around Tau Ceti into the area of Tau Ceti-e convenient for astrophage sampling. 

"I am," Grace said with a long-suffering sigh, "soooo bored." 

His foot bumped lightly into a screwdriver on the lab bench and Ilyukhina shot him a glare as she reached over to stop its gentle spin away from her. 

"I miss when you were still puking everywhere," Ilyukhina muttered. "It was less annoying."

Grace chuckled at the insult. "I don't miss the puking," he said lightly. "I do miss the gravity, though."

Ilyukhina returned to the astrophage sampler that she was assembling and calibrating for their upcoming foray into Tau Ceti's Petrova line.

"The faster we get to the sampling zone, the sooner you can use the lab for science, which means you will get gravity back," Yao intoned. "So now it is time to hush so Olesya and I can do that."

Grace stopped himself mid-spin and pulled himself over to look over Yao's shoulder. "Waiting is boring," Grace said, absentmindedly watching Yao do his calculations. "I think you forgot to carry a one over there," he added, pointing vaguely at the page.

Yao tensed, checked his work, and scratched out the mistake. He sighed and started again. 

"What would my students say in a time like this?" Grace mused aloud. "I bet they'd have something amusing."

"Can't you think inside your head?" Ilyukhina murmured under her breath. 

"They'd probably say that…Yao's math ain't mathing," Grace said, chuckling softly. "And that this lab is mid without any gravity."

Ilyukhina looked up from her work. She was wearing her signature death stare, but the corners of her mouth were slightly upturned. "Are you done?" 

Grace pulled himself over to look at the sampler she was working on. He was giggling under his breath. "This sampler is cringe, but I should let her cook."

Yao fully set his calculations down with a sigh. "Ryland, we are in the process of saving planet Earth."

"No cap, broski," Grace wheezed. 

Ilyukhina suppressed a snort at the expression on Yao's face. Grace's eyes lit up and he pointed a delighted finger at her. "You're laughing!" Grace exclaimed. "I guess my slang lowkey hits different."

Yao and Ilyukhina made eye contact. Yao nodded with a sigh. "Okay, Dr. Grace. I see how it is."

Grace was red-faced and laughing. "It's giving, uh, no aura," he chortled.

Ilyukhina stood up and Yao pushed lightly on Grace's chest to send him to the back wall of the lab. They both followed him. 

"Guys? What's going on—uh, this is kinda sus," Grace flustered, still attempting to commit to the bit. 

Yao reached Grace and pinned him to the wall by placing a firm hand on his chest.

"I do believe I have the right words for this," Yao mused. "How do they say it? I think it's… you're cooked."

Grace flushed pink. "What- what are you even going to do to me?" He squeaked. "Th-this is not very mindful, or very demure—"

Ilyukhina cut him off with a firm squeeze to his left ribcage. Grace squeaked like a tea kettle. "Hey! Don't—"

Yao chuckled. "Good idea, Olesya. A fitting punishment for such childish language."

"Thank you, Li-Jie, I thought of it myself," Ilyukhina said smugly. 

"Guhuys? I'm right- HERE!" Grace protested, the last bit turning into another squeal as Yao massaged his fingers into the crease of Grace's hip. Grace kicked out, his legs pinwheeling like a cartoon character as he threw his head back in helpless laughter. 

"No- nnnnNO!" 

"Yes," Ilyukhina replied, digging her fingers under Grace's arm. 

Grace screeched and curled up like a pillbug. "You guys are bullies," he whined, protecting himself as best he could. 

"No, we are just, uh, gentle parenting," Yao grunted, bracing a knee against Grace's stomach and using it as leverage to uncurl the scientist for better access. 

"Wha- I- this is your version of GENTLE?! And I'm not a toddler—" Grace spluttered, fighting to stay curled up. 

"You were speaking like toddler," Ilyukhina smirked, clawing roughly at Grace's ribs. Grace cackled and kicked uselessly at the air. 

"You are giggling like one," Yao chuckled. 

"Shut- UP!" Grace whined, kicking more precisely at Yao's middle. 

The next few moments resulted in quite a quick escalation. 

First, Grace's foot made contact with Yao's stomach. Yao was knocked back about two feet and some of the air was punched out of his lungs. Grace let out a victorious laugh.

Next, the lab went totally still. 

Ilyukhina scoffed lightly in delighted surprise at the drama that was sure to unfold. "Uh oh," she said, poking Grace in the side. 

Yao looked halfway between incredulous and murderous.

Third, Grace attempted another kick with a cheeky grin, because he didn't know what was good for him. 

"Oh, this is not happening," Yao grumbled as he caught Grace's kick. He quickly put the offending foot in an ankle lock.

Grace yelped and tried to pull his foot back. "Wait- I didn't mean it! It was just, your face was priceless—"

"Priceless?" Yao scoffed. "What, you think I don't know how to catch a kick?" Then, he muttered something foul-sounding in Mandarin. 

"Well, you missed the first one—WAITWAITWAIT!" Grace's voice rose in pitch and Yao made quick work of his NASA-issue grippy sock. "Okayokayokay, I'm sorry, come ohohon you don't have to do this," Grace protested.

Grace shrieked with laughter as Yao ignored him and rubbed his blunt nails roughly across the sole of Grace's foot. 

"Is this really so bad?" Yao asked. 

"YEHEHES!!" Grace cried.

"Oh, that is okay, I can do other things," Yao said calmly, as if he were being extremely generous. 

He snatched a lab cleaning brush that was hovering nearby. He waved it in Grace's face. "You did not put this away after washing it, so what comes next is your fault."

"What are you gonna do with— AAAAHH!!" Grace's shrieked as Yao brought the brush down to his exposed sole and scrubbed. It was awful, it was hell, it was exactly what he wanted. Grace twisted uselessly in Yao's grip, loud cackles and cries for mercy spilling out of his mouth like a broken faucet. 

Grace felt smaller hands steady his shoulders and that should have given him some warning, but he was still unprepared when Ilyukhina squeezed at that perfect spot on the back of his neck. He screeched and his back arched. 

"Oh, poor scientist forgot he had this spot," Ilyukhina cooed. "Our little amnesiac."

"We should stop calling him scientist and start calling him ticklish," Yao observed over the sound of Grace's mirthful screaming. 

"NOHOHO— DO NOT—"

"What's wrong with calling you ticklish?" Ilyukhina grinned.

Yao let up on Grace's foot so he could reply. "Ihit's- it's too embarassing!"

"You don't like the word 'tickle'?" Yao asked. 

"What if we say it in another language?" Ilyukhina said smugly. "How about щекотать?"

"Or 痒痒?" Yao chimed in. 

Grace covered his red face and groaned. 

Ilyukhina patted Grace's shoulder. "I think we killed him," she chuckled. 

Yao gently put Grace's sock back on his foot for him, chuckling softly at the way Grace now flinched from every small brush to his abused sole. "Are you going to let us do our work now?" Yao asked.

Grace whined a soft, pathetic "yes" from behind the hands covering his face. 

Yao squeezed Grace's shoulder. "Good man."

Yao and Ilyukhina returned to their abandoned work and the lab settled into quiet again. Grace remained curled up in a ball for a while until he felt ready to uncover his face. He watched them work in silence. 

Grace chewed his lip, and then muttered experimentally under his breath: "That wasn't very based."

There was a moment of silence, and then Yao spoke up in a warning tone, not looking up from his work. "Grace."

Grace lowered his voice even more. "It was chopped, actually," he exhaled. 

Ilyukhina turned around. "You should run."

[cocoa-critter]

Garden Maintenance

Heyyyyy team :) it’s been a hurricane of a month, y’all, I am so sorry I let you guys starve since the Fourth…

This one’s silly, it’s goofy, it’s dumb. I needed some levity, and I k ow you guys like the banter, so come get dinner. Also, I left some notes at the bottom of this fic to help you better visualize the setting, since I kinda changed up the greenhouse layout a little since Percarious Plant. So check that out before or after, whatever you want.

And as usual, preemptive apology for the typos that are 100% there… tumblr bugged out and erased like half my edits earlier, so… who knows what I missed on my second pass…

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Lee!Grace (PHM) Ler!Simon (Iron Lung) who’s shocked…

TW: swearing, splinters?? Does that count? Brief mentions of nausea

❦ Simon needs help with chores in the greenhouse. Unfortunately for Grace, he’s the only help around for lightyears…

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Mmm?”

“Ryland Grace.”

I groan, squeezing my eyes shut, dragging the quilt over my head.

It’s mid morning by now, I’m sure of that, but I had no interest in getting out of bed.

School was on summer break as of this week, I had nothing to do in the lab, nothing to grade, and no pebbles to watch - all my schedule called for, was rest.

…

In a perfect world, rest is why is get. But unfortunately that’s not where I am.

“AaAUGH-! Owwwuhhh…” I gasp, a sudden, great weight fallis on top of me crushing me against the bed.

“Simon- get off, you ACME anvil of a man.” I growl from under the quilt.

“It’s 11:25.”

“Breaking News, stay tuned for the weather.”

“Get up.”

“For what?! I’ve got nothing to do!”

“I need your help.”

“Ask Rocky.”

“He can’t help me with this.”

“Oh of course not…” I grumble.

Simon grabs the quilt, nearly grabbing my nose in the process, and yanks it down. “What’d you say?”

I hiss, stung by the chilly air of the bedroom prickling my skin pulling my arms up to my chest.

“Nothing. Just- why does this have to involve me on my break?! Third day of summer break, and you want me up and mobile at eleven in the morning?!”

“You’re acting like I’m waking you up early. I’ve been up since 6.”

“That is sooo cool, and sooo not my problem or business.” I mutter.

“Oh my god… will you just come on? I’m not asking you to re-shingle the roof, Princess, I just need you in the greenhouse.”

I sigh. “With what…”

“Weeding.”

Weeding?!

“Is the roof still an option, or…”

“It won’t kill you to get your dainty little hands dirty for a little while.”

“Dainty?! Excuse you, my hands are bigger than yours! Nothin’ dainty about em’!” I sit up sharply, raising a hand, challenging a comparison.

“Okay then prove it and come help me clean up the greenhouse. Just the central circle - it’s not like we’re cleaning out the whole place.” He raises his hand to mine, palm to palm. I was right, I’ve got about half a knuckle on him.

“Don’t say we, there’s no we, this is all you, all Simon. Grace hasn’t agreed to anything.” I lower my hand, narrowing my eyes at Simon.

He takes a breath, standing up off the bed, freeing me from beneath him.

“Fine, You know what? Fine, whatever… I wanted to clean out the central circle to make sure it looked nice for my seedling, which I think I’m finally ready to plant…” he shrugs, looking down at his pendant, picking it up y, albeit a bit dramatically.

“Thought it’d be nice to do it together, but… no, you’re right, you’ve had a long semester, get some rest, Angel.”

Simon drops the pendant back to his chest, giving me a nod, and making his way to the door.

I stare at his blurry figure languidly moping out of the room.

What a manipulative, sly piece of-

-

“Shit- I forgot to grab a bucket…” Simon grumbles, dropping to his knees in the dense foliage, tightening the Velcro of his garfen glove on his wrist.

“Already got one.” I drop down next to him, setting down two plastic drum buckets I’d been carrying.

“Perfect, thanks.”

“Mhm…” I look out over the central circle of the greenhouse, the sunlight dappled sproutlets bathing the space in a vibrant, chartreuse glow, that sparkled with tiny dewdrops.

The greenhouse was always beautiful, thanks to Simon’s diligent cwre. It was the closest thing to a forest back home I’d I’d seen, smelled, or felt for years. Honestly, the serenity of the space made the chore much more pleasant.

“Soooo… what exactly are we removing? The sedum seems pretty dense.”

Simon hums, pushing around some of the tiny succulents, until a strikingly out of place plant springs up, clearly unable to unfrul from beneath the ground covering without help.

“These. Thankfully the sedum is thick enough to snuff out most of these little suckers, but every so often they slip through the cracks…” Simon growls the last bit of his sentence, twirling a gloved finger around the stem of the plant like a corkscrew, and yanking it out with ease.

“Woah- how’d you just do that?!”

“What- pull the plant up?”

“Yeah- it was so smooth!”

Simon swipes his hand over the lush ground again until another wayward weed springs out.

“Get down by the bottom of the stem, curve your finger around it to get a decent grip, and…”

He yanks the plant free, holding it up like a freshly caught fish.

“Pull it out. Easy.”

He drops the plant in the bucket with its discarded companion, and returns to the sedum.

“Right… okay…” I sigh, scanning over the greenery for a good place to start. I figure there’s hardly any difference, and drop my hand into the lush, gliding back and forth, waiting for-

“Oh-!” A gnarly looking weed jumps out, taller, and a little chunky.

“Did that scare you?” Simon snickers at me, ripping another plant out of the soil.

“It lunged at me! Of course I jumped.” I huff.

“It lunged at you… with its little plant legs… Ryland it’s a plant.”

“A plant with a vendetta.” I grumble, throwing Simon a glare, then giving the same look to the plant.

In a much clumsier movement than Simon, I grab the plant down by the bottom, and pull.

It… doesn’t come out smoothly.

I manage to strip most of the epidermis of the stem completely off, staining the fingers of my glove dark green. The stem snaps about halfway up, leaving it dangling a bit morbidly by the middle.

“We’re pulling weeds, not degloving them.”

“Would you hush? It’s my first one, gimme a break!”

“Baby’s first gardening chore?”

I snap the top broken half of the plant off, throwing it at Simon.

He catches it with a reflexive swipe, spiking it into the bucket.

“Keep throwin’ the plants around and you’re gonna be in here every week pulling the new weeds you’re spreading.”

“How do you even know there were seeds on that part of the plant?”

“Who’s the botanist and who’s the molecular biologist?”

“Whatever…” I grumble, looking down at my maimed plant, honestly feeling kinda bad for the thing.

Better put it out of its misery.

I take hold of the stem again, with a bit more purpose this time, and pull the remainder of the plant out with a satisfying, muffled rip.

“Got it.” I smile, discarding the stumpy plant.

“Good! Only a hundred more to go.”

Right…

I sigh, lowering back down to the sedum, scrounging for more.

-

It feels like it’s been hours… apparently it’s only been about forty minutes.

I’m hot, I’m sweaty, and my knees hurt… the only reason I’m not complaining, is because of how important this seems to be for Simon.

And I know he’d do the same for me…

I still rather barrel roll the Hail Mary than pick these things…

“Gettin’ bored?”

“What?”

“You’re slowing down over there.”

“It’s 10,000° degrees and humid in here, I’m just sluggish.”

“Then take your shirt off.”

“…pardon?”

“If you’re hot, take off your 100% cotton, insulating, tin foil shirt. It’s black. You’re just absorbing heat.”

“Huh… yeah I guess you’re right…”

“Did we get that on tape? Was anyone recording?!” Simon makes a dramatic production of looking around for his imaginary audience.

“Oh hush, you.”

I look down at the rather thick Cats t-shirt clinging to my chest. The more I acknowledge it, the hotter I feel.

In the sense of temperature, of course.

I roll up the hem, sliding the shirt over my head, and tossing it to the side.

“You’re joking.” Simon chuckles.

“What?!”

“A tank top too? So you’re complaining about the heat and you were wearing two layers, you psycho?!”

“It was cold in the temperature controlled house, gimme a break!”

“Unbelievable.”

“It’s a workout shirt, Fillet-o-Fish, it’s breathable.”

“Yeah, and it’s also black. Double insulation.” Simon retorts, yanking a couple more weeds up. “Looks good though.”

“Thanks!” I smile proudly, sitting up and flexing my arms and chest his way.

“Alright, calm down.” Simon chuckles, lifting his living arm, flexing it back at me, completely shadowing me with just the one arm…

“You’re annoying.”

“No, I’m Simon.”

“That’s such a Ryland Grace joke to make.” I chuckle, returning to my patch of the sedum.

“Well when you live with the guy, he starts to leave an impression.”

“You love my humor.”

“It’s that or the vacuum of space…”

“Whahahat?! You think I’m gonna throw you into space if you don’t like my jokes?!”

“That was also a joke, Angel.”

“…wasn’t very funny…” I murmur.

Silence as thick as the humid greenhouse air falls for a minute or two, broken only by the sound of roots separating from soil, until simon speaks up again.

“Wanna play a game?”

“Mmmmaybe? Kinda? …Yes?”

“Let’s set a timer for ten minutes, and whoever picks the most weeds in that time wins.”

I sit back on my knees, looking across the patch to Simon.

“What do we win?”

“You pick what you want, and I’ll pick what I want.” Simon shrugs.

“Okay… if I win… you’ve gotta pebblesit for Willow and Oakley next Thursday.” I smile.

“What?!”

“Yeaaaahahahah!” I grin, clapping while Simon groans.

“All seven of those little boulders?! Weren’t they just here last weekend?!”

“Yeah, they were. Knocked me out, too.”

“Don’t they have Eridian babysitters? When did we become K-12 and daycare?!”

“Well, Willow and Oakley are friends of Adrian and Rocky, so it’s not like they’re just some randos. Their kiddos were in my class a few semesters ago, so their parents already trust us to watch them.”

“Still… seven pebbles in one house… Hell of an ask, friends of family or not… whatever, okay sure. I’ll agree to that.”

I pump my fist in the air with a quiet “yes!”.

“Hold on, Hotshot, you haven’t won shit yet - I haven’t even decided my prize.”

“Well hurry up!”

“If I win, then…you get to finish grading the botany class finals.”

“Oh that’s not bad, okay.”

“I’ve got 43 students this term.”

“…”

“And I’ve graded maybe 12.”

“Good gravy… okay, yeah that’s about even with my prize. Deal.”

“Perfect. I’ll go grab my timer from the workshop. Empty the buckets out so we both start at 0.”

“On it.”

We scamper off to complete our respective tasks, reconvening with two empty buckets, and a base-6 timer set hopefully to something near 10 minutes.

“Okay. You ready?” Simon calls to me from diametrically opposite my position in the central circle garden. .

“Yep, ready.”

“Okay… three, two, one… go!” The timer begins to click, and the two of us are off - down on hands and knees like hound dogs, combing through the sedum as quick as possible, ripping weed after weed, probably getting more done in the first two minutes than we had the last hour.

By the time three minutes pass, my bucket is already just about a third full. Of course, that’s without squishing them all down to eliminate airspace, but that’s neither here nor there.

“How’s it goin’ over there?” Simon calls out.

“Fine, you? How much have you got?”

Neither of us break focus.

“About half. You?”

“What?! Already?!”

“Maybe you’ve got a bad patch, I dunno.”

“No shot, we’re doing a weigh in after.”

“I mean I figured we would, but if it makes you feel better to declare it like war, go ahead.”

I huff, shuffling a few feet over, trying out a new spot with some success.

A few hearty weeds jump out at me, much tougher than the ones we’d been picking so far.

“Any luck there?”

“Yes, actually there’s a bunch he- OW-! Ow ow-!”

I wince, sitting up sharply, clutching my hand with a sharp pain in the side of my palm.

“Ohhh come on, drama queen. You can’t distract me just because you’re losing.”

“I-I’m not! I’m not distracting you, jerkwad, something stuck me!” I look down at the culprit. A thick stemmed weed with spiked leaves. It looked a lot like the type you’d find in an overgrown backyard, but this one’s spikes were longer, like little saber teeth protruding from each point.

“Mhm, im sure.”

“I’m serious! You’ve got Paleozoic, monster weeds in here!” I flex my hand, wincing with the sharp jolt of pain it sends up my arm. Something’s in there…

“You’re wearing gloves, dumbass. Nice try though!”

“Simon, I’ll grade your frickin’ papers, I don’t care! This really hurts!” I hiss.

Simon finally looks up, watching me fiddle with the Velcro on my glove.

I hear the clicking of the timer stop, and heavy bootsteps coming my way.

“So you got bitten by a plant…”

“Stop, it’s not funny!”

He chuckles, gesturing down to my hand.

“Take the glove off, let me see.”

I unlatch the Velcro, sliding the glove off carefully, letting it fall to the ground.

“Oh goddd…”

“Hm. Splinter.”

“Ughhh…” I look away, feeling a bit queasy.

“It’s in there pretty good too, jeez…” Simon lifts my hand closer to his face.

“Would you stop narrating it?!”

“What?! Woahhhh why are you so pale?”

I wave him off.

“Don’t worry about me worry about the thorn-!”

“You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“Just might! Consider it weed killer.”

“Gross… alright, let’s see here…”

Simon touches a finger to the splinter experimentally.

“OW- EuGh…” I let out a shout, followed by a heave.

“Whahat the fuck is your deal?” Simon chuckles. “It’s a thorn, Gracie.”

“It’s a foreign object embedded into my skin, and I can feel its intrusion, and it hurts, and it’s freaking me out.”

“Travelled through space and time…”

“Simon.”

“…almost crashed into a planet…”

“Simwon-!”

“And it’s a splinter that’s come the closest to doing you in.”

“This isn’t a joke, either help me or don’t!” I try to yell at him, but my voice falls hoarse and thin with nausea, wavering by the end of my sentence.

Simon’s focus snaps back to me, looking me straight in the face.

“Woah- woah woah- y-you’re shaking- what the hell?! Okay! Okay, hang on, I’ve got tweezers in the workshop, stay here.”

Yeahhhh… not my coolest or most manly idiosyncrasy, I’ll admit…

I’m terrified of splinters. Always have been. Ever since I was little, getting any little bit of wood, plastic, or thorn stuck in my hand or my foot would set me off worse than a scraped knee.

Something about the fact that the object would have to come back out the way it came in made my stomach churn, and my anxiety flare.

“Okay, found them, lemme see your hand again- are you crying-?”

Well, there definitely were years on my face, but it wasn’t like I was boo-hooing or anything.

“I can’t help it.” I extend my hand out, straight faced with tears on my cheeks.”

My god, pull it together, you’re thirty something!

“It’s fine, it’s okay- I- I’m sorry for teasing you about it, I didn’t realize how serious it was.” I can tell he’s genuinely trying to be sincere, but the controlled smile on his face tells me that he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

I can’t blame him…

I shrug, looking away while Simon examines my palm.

“How’d it get so deep through the glove..? S’gotta be a pretty sturdy plant… kinda looks like burweed, but mutated..? Or just some kind of lookalike..?”

“Okay, Nat Geo, get a move on.” I snap.

“You’re in no position to have an attitude right now, alright? I’m trying to figure out how to pull it without hurting you.”

“No, you’re playing Name That Plant with yourself and staring at my hand.”

“Hush.

“Urgh…”

“Jesus- okay. Hold still.”

I hold my breath.

“OW-!”

“I literally haven’t touched you.”

“Yes you did I felt it!”

“미치겠네… You felt the idea of the tweezers. The concept of them.”

“No, I felt you jab me! And don’t curse me out in languages I can’t understand!”

“I’m not cursing you out. I can do that just fine in English. Now hold still, and relax, okay? Deep breath.”

I take a deep inhale, and let it out.

“OW- OK STOP.”

“I’m gonna amputate it.”

“You’re pushing it further in!”

“I haven’t even gotten a grip on it yet! I’ve barely reached low-thorn orbit!”

“Just- d-do it fast!”

“And when it breaks, and half of it is unsalvageably lodged in your hand, what then, wiz-kid? Huh?”

“I’m. Gonna. Hurl.”

“Then stay. Fucking. Still.”

I throw my head back with a groan, making my arm as rigid as I can.

“Do not move. I’m serious.”

Simon sighs, gripping my hand tighter, pressing his thumbnail into the unaffected center of my palm, just enough to barely hurt. Distraction.

I shut my eyes tight, feeling the tweezers jostle the intruder, and I let out just about the most pathetic whine as the saber thorn slides out of my skin.

“A-aaAH-!”

“It’s out, Angel, calm down.” Simon says, not letting go of my hand.

I let out a shaky breath, letting my head hang forward.

“You okay? You wanna see it?”

“No.”

“…to which question?”

“Both.”

Simon chuckles, dropping the thorn into my bucket with an audible olop. Horrible.

“Awww, well you did good. You survived.” He perches the tweezers on the edge of the bucket, bringing his now free hand to join the other on mine, rubbing gentle circles into my palm.

“Narrowly. Don’t ask me to pick weeds in here ever again unless Rocky makes some kind of… I dunno, sword-proof xenonite gloves to protect me from your devil plants.”

“Devil plants is a pretty good name. I’m gonna use that.”

“Good! Have at it. It’s accurate.” I shrug.

Simon chuckles, lessening the pressure on my hand, tracing spirals against the skin.

I feel myself tense for a moment, hoping Simon doesn’t notice.

“Does that hurt? You got another splinter?”

Dang it.

“No.”

“Then what was that? Lemme see…”

He raises my hand, squinting at it, and scratching the nail of his index finger against my palm.

“Hehehey-! I said there’s nothing!” I try to yank my hand back, but the unforgiving grip of Simon’s metal arm keeps me right in place.

“You serious?”

“Whahat?!”

Four nails drag across my palm.

“AH- h-hah- quihihit!”

“Your hands are ticklish, you big ball of nerves?”

“Theres absolutely nothing abnormal about that! Why are you shocked?!”

“You’re Right, I really shouldn’t be.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean you giggle like a toddler when I touch your elbow, for fuck’s samke, so…”

“Hey! I-okay, Gills, ear fin, ring any bells?”

“Yeah, well all of that was caused by a horrific mutation, and was completely out of my control. Nice going, asshole.”

I scoff.

“Oh don’t play that card with me!”

“So rude and insensitive… “

“Cry me a river and swim in it.”

“Swim in it?! What’re you trying to give me flashbacks?! My god!”

“That’s such a reach, and you know it!”

“After I tended to your boo-boo, this is how you treat me?”

“Boo-boo?” I quirk a brow, chuckling. “We’re pushing 40.”

“After I fixed your ouchie… y’know what? I know what it is. I didn’t kiss it better. That’s why you’re being so ornery.” Simon grins.

“No correlation. You don’t have to kiss it better, thank you.” I pull at my wrist again.

“C’mere, let me see…” Simon counters my resistance, pulling my hand closer to him with the unfair advantage of xenonite on his side.

“NooOOOO.”

He brings his face down to my palm, blowing against it with an obnoxiously loud raspberry.

“NOOHOHOHAHAHA- SIHIHIMON-!”

“Mmmm-pfffffbt-mwah! Mmmmm-pfffbt-mwah!”

“STOHOHOPIT- STOHOHOP! THIS IS RIDICULOUS-!!” I attempt to pull backward, slipping on the dewy sedum, and landing on my side with my arm sticking straight out like a moron.

“My care and affection is ridiculous? I’m just trying to make sure you’re recovering as best you can.” Simon teases, talking into my hand.

“STOHOHAAAHAP! YOUR BEARD AND YOHOHOUR TEETH, SIMON!”

“What about them?” He asks slowly, scratching his overgrown stubble across my hand.

“AHAHAAAHA-!” I cackle, deciding to give up trying to yank my hand back, instead, managing to curl my fingers into a tight fist, knuckles against Simon’s chin.

“You tryna punch me, Angel?”

“Nohoho! It’s my only defehense!”

Simon smiles down at me, tilting his head away from my fist.

“For your hand, sure…”

“What’s that supposed to mean-?” I stare back at him, curled up on my side with my arm still firmly held up- oh.

“Wait-“

“Yeahhhh.” Simon flashes a sharp, toothy smile.

“N-nonONO-!”

“Yeaaahhh…” he purrs, lowering his hand down, under my arm - slowly.

“StohoHOHOP- SIMOHOHON!”

“Haven’t touched you yet. What is with you and the preemptive reactions to everything? Who hurt you?” Simon chuckles.

“Nohoho one! It’s just anticipAHAHATION.” Simon makes a quick motion towards my ribs, but doesn’t touch me.

Simon snorts.

“Shut uhuhup!”

“You’re like a metal detector…”

“Whahahat?!”

He moves his hovering hand across my body, stalking above my stomach.

I curl in on myself, wheezing out laughter I just couldn’t seem to control.

“The louder you get, the closer I am to…”

Simon moves his hand swiftly back under my arm, and he’s rewarded with a startled, yelping cackle.

“Gold.” His hand latches onto my uppermost ribs, vibrating his fingertips deep into the bones behind the hollow of my still extended arm.

“AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAA- FUHUHUHUDGE-! AAAH-! SIHIHIMON-!” I shriek, kicking and writhing on the garden floor, my free hand swatting and reaching for Simon’s.

“Kinda pitchy today…”

“WHAHAT’D YOU CALL ME?!”

“Pitchy. I said pitchy. Bring it down a little and you might be able to hear me.” Simon snickers, sliding his hand down my ribs, aiming for my stomach.

Reflexively, I move to roll onto my stomach to guard myself.

In order to not rip my arm out of place, Simon has no choice but to let me roll.

What I don’t expect however, is the complete release of my wrist, only to immedietly feel the same grip on my hair.

“O-OW-! Ow ow- Simon-! That hurts!” My eyes squeeze shut as I’m dragged rather forcefully up into my elbows.

“Grace! Watch what the fuck you’re doing!”

“The hell are you talking about?!”

“Look down, idiot!”

“You’re holding my head back! I can’t!”

Simon growls under his breath, shoving my head slightly down.

I open my eyes, and look down into the sedum.

A tall, gnarled, spiked plant looked right back at me, exactly where my face would have landed.

“Where did that come from-?”

“You probably jostled it free, wriggling around like a lunatic.” Simon explains, loosening his grip on my hair, fingertips splaying out across my scalp.

“A shudder runs down my back.

“Doesn’t take much…”

“Hush. And thank you, I dunno how I missed that.”

“Mhm. There is no way on Earth, Erid, or AT-5 that I’m gonna sit here picking needles out of your face while you bitch and dry heave, and scream.”

“Okay- It wasn’t that bad.”

“Do not…”

“It wasn’t!”

“Do not even start. I made less of a scene getting my shoulder patched up.”

“Okay, Buddy- You were doped up on painkillers and sedatives and barely awake for that!”

“Torn off limb… half inch splinter… which could possibly… be worse…”

“Stop it, okay? We are not going injury for injury, that’s messed up.”

“Injury is a strong word for a thorn in your hand.”

“It was!”

“Right.”

“Something that causes harm or damage! That’s an injury!”

“Okay Webster, show me the lasting wound you sustained, then.”

Simon releases my hair, allowing me to sit up, forgetting about the devil plant.

“Here!” I scoot myself in front of Simon, sitting crisscross, presenting my hand to him once again, pointing to the… rather tiny… red dot at the top left of my palm. Truthfully the redness was probably more from the tweezers than the thorn itself.

Simon squints, making a visor with his hand over his eyes.

“Right there.” I circle the dot insistently with my index finger.

“Oh! Oh my god it’s gruesome!”

“…alright.”

“Ohhh! It’s horrible!”

“Okay, yes, thank you.” I deadpan.

“How ever will you recover from that… mangled mess of a wound?!” Simon wails, grabbing me by the shoulders, yanking me into his chest, wrapping me in the most theatrical hug I’ve ever experienced, turning me in such a way as to make me look like a dying damsel in his arms.

This guy…

“Okay! I get the picture, it’s a small poke, yes.”

“…I can still hear his voice…”

“I’m dead now?!”

“If only that- ihihif only that… tiny, quarter inch thorn didn’t take him.” Simon tries to stay in character- whatever scatter this is- but he breaks, laughing at himself.

Of course, I laugh too, hand to my face as I shake my head.

“And his laughter…”

“Okahay- enough- HEHEY- c-c’mohohHOHIN- AHAHA-!” I feel a hand drop onto my stomach, pinching and kneading the muscle through my shirt.

“SIHIHIMON! AAAAH-! AaAAAHAHA-!”

“Ugh-! My god you’re sweaty.”

“ITS DEW FROHIHON THE PLANTS.”

“No the fuck it isn’t.” Simon soots his hand up to my collarbone. I sputter, hiking my shoulders up nearly to my ears, hands curled at the wrists at my chest.

“Dew smells like plants and soil. That’s not what I’m getting…”

“WHAHAT-?! I DON’T SMELL!”

“Right.”

“YOU DIDN’T’T LEHEHET ME SHOWER- H-HAHA-! YOU DRAGGED ME STRAIGHT FROM BED TO THE GREENHOUSE!”

“You had the whole morning to get up and shower, lazy bastard.”

“OHOH LIKE YOU SMELL LIKE A BUNDLE OF LILACS 100% OF THEHEHE TIME.”

Simon scoffs, stopping his hand for a moment.

“I don’t smell, it’s a natural musk.”

“Yeah, if the musk is Chicken of the Sea and cortisol.”

“Ohhh you think you’re funny.”

Simon hisses, wrapping one arm around my neck, putting me in a playful headlock. His other hand shifts down to my thigh, squeezing right above the knee, vibrating his fingers into the muscle.

“AAAAAAHAHAHHAHA NOHOHO NKNONO STOOHOHOHAHAHA-! I’M SOHOHORRY!”

“No you aren’t.” He spider crawls his fingers under my knee, scratching at the crook, and the back of my shin.

“AAAHAHAHA STOOOHOHOP!! GET OHOHOUTTA THERE!”

“And go where?”

“I DOHOHON’T CARE!”

“Interesting…. ‘I don’t care’ instead of ‘stop completely’… curious.” Simon mutters.

The hand of the arm holding me in place curves inward, scritching at the side of my neck, below my ear.

The other hand skitters around my leg again, fingers dancing feverishly over my kneecap, before dragging up to my hip.

I howl, gripping onto the metal arm around my neck, banding against it uselessly with my first.

“AAAAAHAHAHA-! FFFFUUHUHUDGE! FUUHUHUDGE- AH-!!” At this point I’m screaming more than anything else, thrashing around against Simon, trying not to kick and destroy the sedum under my sneakers.

“You’re gonna scare my plants with all this screaming- jeez…”

I thrash about, angling myself away, fending off the hand on my hip as best o can, flipping myself so that my back was against Simon’s chest.

He releases the headlock, opting instead to grab me tight around the middle, pulling me in.

“Where are you going? You’re just spinning around like an idiot! This is worse for you!” Simon chuckles.

“I’m lohohow on options!!”

“Suppose that’s true…”

I hate when he talks low like that.

“AaaAAAAAAAAHAHAHHA NOOONONOHOHAHAAAAA-! AAAAAAAAAH!”

Simon digs his claws into my midsection, hugging me impossibly tight while he rakes at my ribs and sides - whatever he could get a grip on.

I lurch forward, Simon follows, obviously, snickering behind me, laughing at my strife.

“Solid muscle and metal, baby- you’re not goin’ anywhere.” He purrs, planting a kiss to the back of my neck, humming against the skin.

“NAAAHAHAHA- DAHAHAMNIT, SIMOHOHON!”

“What’s up?” He mutters into the side of my neck now, hands shooting up to the top set of ribs.

I can hardly speak, just babbling nonsense and sputtering uselessly.

Simon chuckles, and I can hear and feel him taking a deep breath.

“N-NOHOHO NO NONONONO-!”

With no hesitation, or concern for my life, he blows hard against the side of my neck, just above the shoulder.

“AAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHA OKAAAAHAHAY OKAY ENOHOHOUGH! I- I CAN’T- AHAHAHA-! H-HAIL MARY! HAIL MARY!”

Simon releases me, and I push off of him, tumbling into the soft sedum.

“Careful.”

“I- I know… I see it…” I pant, laying flat on my back with a hand on my chest, very aware of the devil plant staring me down a few inches to my left.

“You okay?”

“I’ll let you know when oxygen returns to my brain.”

“I did not hold you that tight. You had plenty of breathing room.”

“I was seeing stsrs…”

“I can show you a real chokehold if you want.” Simon’s voice drops low, and he leans over me with a challenging look.

“No! Nonono, thank you.”

He chuckles, sitting back, arms holding him up behind him.

“Ow-“ he hisses, retracting his real hand, looking down at it.”

“What’s wrong?!” I sit up on my elbows.

“Devil plant.”

“See? Not fun, is it?!”

Simon tilts his hand, observing the thorn in the lower pad of his palm calmly… way calmer than me…

“Need me to get it out?”

“Nah.” He brings his hand to his mouth, the human half, closing his teeth around the splinter, sliding it out without so much as a wince.

Of course he wouldn’t flinch.

I stare at him.

“What? You want it?”

“No. Drop it.”

“‘Drop it’? What am I a dog?” He says through closed teeth, leaning towards me.

STOP! Biohazard! Get rid of that thing, you maniac!”

Simon snickers, turning his head and launching the thorn off like a blow dart.

“Fine, Fine. It’s gone. Why are there so many of these things? I pick weeds every week, there’s no way there should be so many of them.”

“Well I mean the sedum is pretty plush, it comes up almost two inches from the garden floor- so there’s plenty of room under the canopy for stuff to grow without you really seeing or knowing.”

I say, darling a hand through the tiny succulents.

“It probably looks completely clear by the time you finish weeding, but they’re probably still lurking underneath, out of sight.”

“I dunno… I feel like I’m pretty thorough.”

“You are! These guys probably just unfurl slowly. This isn’t a dog at your gardening skill- even the best botsnists back on Earth probably have weeds and pests they can’t get rid of. It’s nature.” I shrug.

Simon grunts, looking out at the central circle garden with annoyance.

“Your garden’s beautiful, Simon. I’ve never seen someone take such good care of plants in my life, don’t let some dumb weeds ruin your pride. Hey! The more specimens you find, the more experimenting you can do with them!”

“I guess.”

“What if you bred together devil plants with the strongest thorns and made like,, a super devil plant!”

“You would hate that.”

“I would! But it’s something you can do! I don’t have to come visit it!” I chuckle.

Simon smiles, shaking his head.

“I think I’m gonna focus on getting the majority of them out before I start playing plant god.”

“Fair enough, I guess.” I look around for the long discarded gardening tools, picking up my gloves, shaking them off, and unlatching the Velcro.

“What’re you doing?”

“…helping you weed?”

“No.”

“What?!”

“You’re done. Take your soft hands back to the house and go back to bed.”

“Wh- okay- first of all-“

“Take a shower first, then go to bed.”

“I’m not going back to bed! I may as well just stay here!”

“Fine, you can stay here, but until we get better gloves, you’re not touching the weeds anymore. I’m rescinding my request for your help.”

“Fish giveth, fish taketh away…”

“Watch it.” He glares at me, and I smile back.

“Well then what am I gonna sit here and do?”

“You can get a move on with grading those botany finals in the classroom.” Simon swipes the gloves from me with a grin.

“Oh come onnnn…”

“Yeah, I didn’t forget.”

“Dang it! Fine…”

Simon snickers, slipping his own gloves on while I stand up, dusting myself off.

“I’ll come join you when I clear this quarter of the circle. Won’t be long.”

“‘Kay…” I mutter, shuffling off towards the classroom.

“…And I’ll help you watch the kids next Thursday. I’m not doing it alone, but I’ll help.”

“Really?!”

“Yes.”

“Even though I lost?!”

“Wasn’t a fair loss, we’ll call it a draw, and split the difference.”

“Yes! Oh you’re awesome! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome Angel.” Simon’s voice softens, and I can hear him smiling without even looking at him.

“See you in a bit.” I wave over my shoulder.

“Mhm, love you.”

“Love you too.”

A/N: Soooo for consistency sake, I made a mock up of the main atrium of Simon's greenhouse to help me visualize while I write. The layout changed from the way I wrote it in Precarious Plant, but I think the way I have it now makes a lot more sense.

Now I'm no architect, so not too much on my drafting skills please...

And while you're here - I realized after writing this that I really relied on the reader to know wtf sedum is, without explaining it too much, so l thought I'd show you, since it's mentioned no less than 946,000 times.

Pretty tight? :) it's so bright and cheery, I love it!

Okay, that's all, thank you love you bye!!!

[greatleekate]

Anticipation

This is a collab with the lovely @milotkls!! I wrote the fic and they drew this absolutely gorgeous drawing <33 please please go check out their work and like + reblog on their page at this link !!!

Ler!Stratt, Lee!Grace

Summary: Stratt makes a discovery and Ryland can’t take the anticipation.

______ Dr. Ryland Grace had grown up with a twin brother and two older brothers. It was no wonder he flinched like an abused dog when anyone reached past his ribs, stomach, or neck.

A fact that Eva Stratt had just discovered. 

Stratt frowned. "Are you injured?"

Grace wrapped his arms more tightly around himself. "Nope. All good." His voice was higher than usual.

She raised an eyebrow at him and took a sip of the coffee she had just reached across her colleague to grab. 

The conference room was suddenly too quiet. Dr. Lokken made meaningful eye contact with Dr. Lamai. Dubois and Yao exchanged a bewildered glance. Shapiro mouthed across the table at Ilyukhina—Should we be concerned? 

Ilyukhina unsubtly passed her a Post-It note back: Maybe she's been kicking her lap dog.

Shapiro hid her laugh in a cough. 

Grace cleared his throat. "Uh, so, what was I saying?"

"The spin drives?" Shapiro offered, feeling guilty for laughing. 

"Right, thank you…"

***

Stratt found Grace in the staff kitchen later. He was staring blankly as his stale coffee spun around and around in the microwave. He startled as she sidled in next to him. 

"Oh- Christmas Eve. I should put a bell on you," Grace muttered.

"That would be inappropriate," Stratt replied calmly, stirring a flavorless 5-hour energy shot into her fourth coffee of the day.

They fell silent. Grace was visibly sweating.

"What was that, earlier? In the conference room," Stratt asked quietly. 

"There's no way that's good for you," Grace deflected weakly, pointing at the offending 5-hour energy bottle.

"Answer the question, Dr. Grace."

"It was nothing," Grace flustered. The microwave beeped insistently.

Stratt hummed. Grace looked at anything but her. 

"You know, Dr. Grace, people will think I'm abusing you if you keep flinching like that," she muttered.

"What— no they won't." Grace took his coffee out of the microwave.

"They already think we're fucking, why not that too?" Stratt asked coolly.

Grace spluttered and coughed into his coffee. 

Stratt chuckled softly. "Just tell me."

"Fine. Jeez. I grew up with three brothers, okay? My instincts are- are hardwired for constant threat."

"What kinds of threats?"

"Oh, I don't know. Flying pillows thrown at my head. Getting pantsed. Impromptu wrestling matches…"

"Being tickled?" Stratt offered.

Grace bluescreened. "Wha- um- I- no, just…"

Stratt waited patiently. Grace hated her for it.

"Maybe. Fine. Sure," he finished.

"Good to know," Stratt murmured. 

"Wait—what does that mean? Eva?!"

She was already walking away.

***

Stratt watched Grace through the window of his lab as he lowered himself to the ground, lied down underneath a rack with a large gel documentation machine on top of it, and started tinkering with the bottom of it as if he were fixing a car. 

Stratt frowned. She could've sworn she had told Grace that there were lab technicians at his beck and call to fix anything he needed. 

She entered the lab and approached her scientist. He was listening to music on the lab's speakers and was too focused to hear her walking closer. 

"Na… na na na na na nah… hey Jude…" Grace sung under his breath.

The Beatles, Stratt thought. Fitting.

She crouched next to him, examining his tools and the way he was fixing the machine. It looked like he was replacing a rechargeable battery pack. 

Stratt's gaze slid down Grace's body, examining his poor, albeit open and relaxed, posture and the way his shirt was riding up from the act of raising his arms over his head. 

She cleared her throat. 

Grace nearly jumped a foot in the air, banging his head against the lab equipment. "Fudge- I didn't see you there."

"You're aware that you can call people to come and fix things."

"I know, but, I like doing it myself," Grace mumbled, sliding out from under the machine and curling up into a protective ball. 

"Why are you doing that?" Stratt asked.

"Because the battery died?" Grace answered, a puzzled expression crossing his face. 

"No. Protecting yourself."

"I'm- I'm not protecting myself," Grace stuttered. 

"Relax, then," Stratt said, sitting back on her heels. 

"I am relaxed," Grace said defensively. "I'm the picture of relaxed."

"People who are relaxed don't need to announce it," Stratt said, scooting closer. 

"What- What is this. Why are you—" his voice was awfully high. "Stratt?"

"Yes?" Stratt replied, a small smile starting to crawl across her face. She was now a foot away from him on the floor. She could see how dilated his pupils were.

"I- Eva. Come on."

"What? I'm not doing anything," she chuckled.

"You are though!" Grace protested.

"What am I doing, then? Spell it out for me."

"You're- you're…ugh!"

"What?" Stratt challenged.

"This isn't fair," Grace whined.

"What's not fair? I still don't understand what exactly it is I'm doing that is vexing you so much," Stratt said in one smooth breath.

Grace's mouth was agape and his cheeks were hot. "You're doing the… you're doing the anticipation thing."

"Anticipation of what?" She tilted her head to the side with a bemused smile. 

Grace sputtered and started and stopped and couldn't get a sentence out. "Will you JUST get it over with and tickle me already?!" He finally outbursted.

"Ohhhh," Stratt hummed smugly. "That's what this is about."

"Don't pretend like that wasn't what was happening here!" Grace exclaimed.

She smiled. With teeth. Grace had never seen her do that before—only tight-lipped, hiding-her-amusement smiles. For a second he forgot his predicament because her smile was so rare. He couldn't help but feel pleased that he had coaxed it out of her. 

Until she spoke, that is. "Fine, I'll bite. Your constant flinching intrigues me."

"I- why?!"

"It's cute," Stratt mused. "And it implies that you are far too sensitive for your own good."

"Wha- cute- hey…" Grace interrupted himself, warily eyeing Stratt's approaching hands. "Hey, come on, don't."

"Why not?" 

"You seem to have a lot of questions today," Grace grumbled through gritted teeth. His blush had begun to spread down to his neck.

Stratt's hand stopped and hovered at Grace's side. He flinched, his elbow digging in against it, but otherwise remained still. "Jumpy," she chuckled.

"Can you blame me?" Grace squeaked.

"Why aren't you running away?" Stratt mused, wiggling her fingers. Grace's eyes were locked on them and he swatted weakly at her hand.

"I- I don't know!" He flustered. "I'm- I'm a little overwhelmed at the moment if you hadn't noticed!"

"I'm not even touching you."

"Exactly!"

"Okay, I'll move my hand," she smiled. Stratt retracted her hand fully, tucking it into her lap. Grace remained just as tense. "Why aren't you relaxing?"

"I don't know, you've gotten me all…worked up." He gestured wildly at the gap between their bodies.

Stratt started to stand up. "You do realize that could be taken out of context."

"Not what I meant—wait, where are you going?"

"To my meetings, what's wrong?" Stratt raised a sly eyebrow.

"I- I don't…" Grace puttered out with an exasperated sigh. "You know what you're doing."

"Mm, so now you want me to tickle you?"

"That's not what I said!"

"That's what it sounds like to me," Stratt smirked, quickly closing the distance.

Grace scrambled back. "W-wait, wait, hohold on!"

Stratt paused mid-reach.

"I- uh. I didn't mean—"

"Make up your mind, Dr. Grace," Stratt chuckled.

"Fine, just—just do it!"

Stratt slid closer and gently moved Grace's arms out of the way. He shimmied in place, feeling terribly exposed. She resisted laughing at him. 

It took a lot of restraint.

"Hrrrng…why aren't you…stop hovering," Grace whined.

Stratt moved her hands even closer, just above his tummy but not touching. "Is this better?"

Grace clawed at his own collar to keep himself from pushing her away. "NO! It's nohohot…" His speech broke into wheezy giggles.

"I'm not touching you, why are you giggling?" Stratt murmured, wiggling her fingers a little to see if that got a reaction.

It did. "I'm nohot gigglihihing!"

"Don't scientists usually prefer facts and data over denial and single-mindedness?" Stratt mused, poking him lightly. He squealed, overreacting from the anticipation. She laughed this time. She couldn't resist.

"There is NOHO data, as far as I can tell no one is recording THIHIS—" Grace cut off with a shriek as Stratt clawed lightly from the center of his tummy across his sides and up his ribs.

The way Stratt tickled was nothing like Grace had ever experienced. With his brothers, it was always about squeezing as hard as possible and digging cruelly into every spot one could reach. Stratt, on the other hand, played a waiting game. And when she was done waiting, she tapped and poked and squeezed. If Grace had his wits about him, he would have complained about the way her fingers didn't articulate individually, how they stayed together (almost like flexible LEGO figure hands, Grace thought) and covered a larger surface area to tap and squeeze and crawl all over his torso. 

"Have you had enough yet?" Stratt asked calmly as she gently massaged at Grace's hips. He snorted with laughter, clinging helplessly to her shoulders. 

"I- whahahat- what kinda quehehestion is that?!"

"You have an excellent vocabulary, Dr. Grace, I'm sure you can use it." Stratt nudged Grace's chin up from his chest to get at his neck, scratching gently at his jaw. 

Grace went nonverbal, hiding his face against her sweater. He covered his red cheeks. He didn't even care that he was exposing his neck more to Stratt's fingers. 

"Hmm?" Stratt prompted, burrowing into Grace's now-open underarm. 

"FU-HAHAHA- Get outta there!" 

"I will if you answer me."

"YEHES! OKAY? I've had enohough!"

Stratt withdrew her hands. "Good." She stood up. "Drink some water. And try not to flinch in our meetings, it really does concern people."

Grace watched her leave, completely bewildered. He slowly stood up and brushed himself off. He looked like a storm had passed through unexpectedly: his hair and clothes were mussed, his cheeks were bright red, the corners of his eyes were wet from laughing. 

As he walked over to the sink to grab some water, he noticed something in the window. He squinted, and then put his glasses back on. 

Carl waved at him from the security window, an amused smile on his face. 

"Gosh flipping darn it," Grace muttered, cheeks aflame again.

[milotkls]

this is my part for a collab with the wonderful @greatleekate !!!! please check out anticipation on her page, it is so so cute and such a great read!! i absolutely loved pulling from it for this >x)

[notnobot]

Coffee shop

(Look at this amazing and super cool phm gif!! Oh, you cant see it? Skill issue I guess...)

Lee!Grace Ler!Rocky

Rocky plays coffee shop for Grace's enjoyment, but Grace has no money to pay with. Thankfully, Rocky's coffee shop also accepts a different type of currency.

Author's note: inspired by a youtube video made by Jess Parker! She's cool, go check out her videos.

Grace woke up the way he did everytime he woke up, with Mary's lights burning his tired retinas. He grabbed the blanket and covered his face to block out the lights. "Five more minutes, Rock." Grace mumbled sleepily, bracing himself for Rocky's usual protests against going back to sleep after 8 straight hours of it.

Grace peeked out from under the blanket when no such protests came. Rocky wasn't there. Rocky wasn't even in the room. Grace sat up, his suspiciousness of the situation willing his tired body out of his blanket shield.

Grace sighed and swung his legs off the bed. He stretched his arms up over his head with a yawn, deciding to go find Rocky. His bones cracked and popped while he climbed the ladder up to the lab.

Rocky scuttled around the lab in his carapace tight xenonite suit, moving multiple computers around. Some of the computers had pictures of coffee cups and muffins, while others had videos of a coffee machine running on a 1 hour loop.

When Grace entered the lab, Rocky ran towards him happily. "Welcome to Coffee Shop Grace! Can Rocky take Grace order, question?"

Grace gave Rocky a confused smile, looking around at the "coffee shop." "You...made the lab into a coffee shop?"

"Yes! Grace sad and leaky, miss Earth. Rocky do research and bring Earth to Grace. Rocky own Earth coffee shop. Grace order now, question?" Rocky pointed to one of the computers. "That menu."

"You- you made me a coffee shop?" Grace's smile widened and the tips of his ears gained a light dusting of pink. It was nice, having someone care so much, but it was also a little flustering. Grace peered at the computer. "That's... just a stock image of an espresso, Rock."

Rocky shook his carapace. "Grace need to pretend. Rocky read about pretend on human psychology website."

Grace paused, his smile dropping a bit. "Why were you reading about human psychology?"

"No reason- what Grace want order, question?" Rocky quickly deflected.

Grace saw right through his deflection and crossed his arms. "No reason, you say?" Grace gave Rocky his teacher glare, but Rocky wasn't fazed. "We'll be talking about that later."

"No, no talk later. What Grace want order, question?"

Grace hummed, uncrossing his arms and resuming the game. "Well, what do you have?"

Rocky grabbed the "menu" computer and "read" it out. "Rocky have Armando's regular coffee, Armando's special coffee with milk, and Armando's regular coffee."

"Two regular coffees? And a special coffee with milk?" Grace chuckled "I'm not sure I'll be able to choose. It all sounds good."

Rocky waited patiently while Grace thought about what he wanted. However, Grace was milking the comedic pause. He rubbed his chin, hummed dramatically, and tapped his foot.

"Rocky pick for Grace." Rocky grumbled, making Grace laugh. "Grace order Armando's special coffee with milk." He decided for Grace. "Go to dormitory to get from Armando."

Grace groaned playfully, "youre making your costumer get his own coffee? What kind of coffee shop is this!?" He complained, but went back down to the dormitory to get his coffee.

Grace came back into the lab, sipping the coffee. Rocky waited for Grace to finish the coffee, then help out an open claw. "Grace owe Rocky 500 human dollars now."

Grace's mouth fell open at the absurd pricing. "You mean 5 dollars, right? Like, 5.00, not 500." Grace put the empty paper cup on the lab table. "I haven't taught you currency yet, the dot means something."

Rocky tapped a leg on the floor. "No no no, 500 human dollars. Rocky want to be RICH." He opened and closed his outstretched claw. "Grace need pay Rocky for coffee."

Grace shrugged. "I have no money. What can I pay you with?"

Rocky took his claw back amd tapped his carapace like he was tapping his chin. "Earth movie have dishes to wash when human needs to pay. But Rocky have no dishes to wash..." Rocky thought for a moment, then trilled excitedly with an idea. "Rocky know how Grace pay for coffee. Grace let Rocky tickle for 500 seconds."

Grace flushed and wrapped his arms loosely around his middle. "What- Rocky, that would never happen in a real coffee shop." A wobbly smile wormed its way onto Grace's face at the idea.

Rocky didn't seem to care, because he ran at Grace at almost full speed. Grace screamed and ran towards the control room. But Rocky was FAST. Compared to Grace, he couldn't run for long, but he made up for that with speed.

However, Grace didn't need to be caught. He did that all on his own. Stupid human feet tripping over each other. "Great sour cream that hurt." He grumbled, rubbing his nose. The pain was short lived, though, because Rocky was grabbing Grace's arms and turning him onto his side, making Grace forget the pain and remember the tickles.

Rocky used one claw to hold Grace's arms away and two claws to softly squeeze and pinch at Grace's belly and lower belly. Rocky had grown to like Grace's squishiness, despite at first being disgusted by it.

Grace squealed and kicked his feet, pushing his face into the floor. "Wahahait ROHOCKY- thahahat tihickles."

Rocky laughed with Grace, his claws moving to his sides and ribs. "Rocky know. That whole point."

Being on his side meant Grace wasn't able to twist or turn very easily. The lack of mobility made the tickles so SO much worse (or better, depending on how you looked at it.) "Thahats so bahahad! Gehet BACK- nohoho youre meheheAHAHA"

Rocky had started humming so low the sound waves that traveled to his claws made them vibrate against Grace's ribs. Rocky then leaned against Grace's tummy, making Grace's entire middle ripple with gentle vibrations.

Grace screamed, trying to hide his cackles in the floor beneath him. Key word, trying. His giddy smile and happy crickles by his eyes were clearly visible to Rocky.

"Grace happy, question? Grace seem happy. Grace like squeezes, question?" Rocky emphasized his question by letting go of Grace's hands and using it to plant extra squeezes to Grace's hip, which earned him a stream of muffled giggles.

Grace pushed at Rocky's claw with one hand, shaking his head wildly. Rocky's claws shot under his arms, making Grace clamp his elbows to his sides. "Nohoho pihits, thahats mehean!" Grace rolled onto his stomach.

Rocky giggled and poked along Grace's back with his third claw. "Grahace the ohone who not pay for coffee! Rocky not mean, Grace mean!" Rocky chirped.

Grace shook his head, yelping when Rocky's claws left his armpits to taze his sides rapidly. Soft giggles poured from him as Rocky pulled back, the 500 seconds apparently over.

"Grace pay in full, Rocky done." Rocky stood back, waiting for Grace to get his metaphorical shit together.

Grace sat up criss cross applesauce, rubbing his sides. "I- I dont lihike you sometimes." Grace muttered with the last of his giggles disappearing. Rocky hummed in amusement and pat Grace's leg.

"Grace want another coffee, question?" He asked playfully.

Grace shook his head quickly, "no, no thank you, Rock. Im- Im good, no more."

Rocky scuttled back to the lab. "Next coffee is 1000 human dollars." He called from the lab. "Since Grace have no money, next coffee is 1000 tickle seconds."

Grace scoffed "double the price of the first? What kind of business are you running here?" Grace stood up and followed Rocky to the lab.

Rocky's business didn't stay open the whole trip back to Erid. With the business, Armando ran out of coffee much quicker than Grace had predicted he would. Neither of them could figure out why...

[thecheesiestler]

Bro is NOT beating the lapdog allegations

She'll stop tkling him for, like, ten seconds because she needs to type something, and this absolute puppy of a man will actually POUT at the loss of attention, he's such a brat(/silly)

It's okay guys she enjoys it too, it's just physically unfeasible to tell 🥹

Anyway, nonchalant ler!Stratt my beloved, also it's 3am so I'm prolly gonna- 😴😴😴😴

[cacoonedmoonworm]

Hi hi! I know that I send a lot of idea for fics inspired about your art but I feel like they just make like such cute fics! ANYWAY, could you make a fics about your last doodle? (The one with Simon teething). Maybe Grace say like that his teeth on the side of his face are super cool and whatever and that Simon agree that they’re AMAZING for tickling (that’s not what Grace meant or maybe it was 👀👀). Thanks! Feel free to ignore tho❤️

Teething

𖥔 OF COURSE!!! I wanted to write a lil something based off that doodle anyway, you just gave me a reason to do it immediately lmao! This fic is based loosely off of THIS doodle I did! I hope everyone likes it, there just being adorable together! ALSO @saturnzskyzz wrote THIS fic off of that drawing too! PLEASE go over to there blog and give it a read and give them even more love, its amazing and adorable and I cherish it sooo much! 𖥔

𖥔 Slight spoilers for both movies and book! 𖥔

Summary: Simon thinks some of his mutations are gross but Grace is there to convince him otherwise!

Switch!Grace / Switch!Simon

Word count: 2,895

“C’mere.” Simon murmurs, pulling himself closer and resting his head on my stomach. He’s settling between my legs, stretching out across me. I close the laptop resting on my chest just enough to peer over and see him snuggled closer into me with a deep sigh. A smile comes to my face as I hear and feel a soft purr come from him. I push the laptop open again, looking over my data.

Simon doesn't ask anymore, just climbs into my lap like it belongs to him. It's become so normal. He's gotten so clingy nowadays, not that I'm going to complain. The Simon now is so much different from the one I met a year and a half ago. If you had told me how much he loved to be held and touched back then, I would have laughed right in your face. I couldn't even get close enough to look at his wounds, let alone touch him. 

The trust he holds in me and Rocky is so precious to me; I try to hold it close and so delicately. It almost feels like an honor to be this close to him, to see him so open and vulnerable.

My eyes glaze over the screen for a few silent minutes, only filled with Simon's rumbling of content when he shifts his head up. Slowly, I feel him lift my shirt, like if he moves slow enough, I won't notice.

‘...Simon.” I huff from behind the laptop, shivering slightly as the cool air hits my stomach. Focus, Ryland, on your data.

“Keep working Angel…don't let me distract you~” he hums softly. The smirk was evident and clear in his voice. I roll my eyes with an exaggerated sigh. The cool air is replaced by a warm feeling, scratchy but soft. I glance over the laptop again with a small frown. ‘Don't let me distract you,’ he says with his head under my shirt. I lift the laptop and place it next to me on the bed, quickly abandoning my work. Simon starts rubbing his face against my skin, causing me to squirm in his hold slightly. 

I reach out and pull my shirt off of his head, his curly hair a bit frizzy from the friction. He stops a moment, peering up at me through his eyebrows, making me blush slightly. 

‘What are you doing?” I question, quirking an eyebrow up and poking him on the forehead. He says nothing and continues to push his face deeper into my tummy. A small reluctant smile forces itself onto my face as his beard scratches at my sensitive skin.

Simon closes his eyes and his head shifts to the other side. I flinch, feeling the mutated teeth on his right side dig into my skin. Although not all that painful, the added movement of his head worsens it.

“Ow—Simon, you're stabbing me.” He freezes and lifts his head to look down, his hair falling, obscuring his face. A light red mark starts forming on my skin, then a small bit of blood pools in a little pearl and rests on top. 

“Shit, sorry.” His head leans forward and I feel his tongue run across the little area, wiping the blood away. I jump and let out a squeak, more out of shock than anything. 

Ew. 

Simon looks back up at me with this kind of guilty look even though it was clearly an accident and starts shimmying off my lap. I quickly grab at his arm, giving a small frown as he tries to run away, like he suddenly is not allowed to be here anymore.

“Si, it's fine. I want you to stay.” I smile, pulling at him. “It barely nicked me.” Reluctantly, he pushes himself back to his previous spot but holds his head up, his neck quirked up in an awkward position. Surely he's not going to hold it up like that the entire time. 

To prove me wrong, he sits gazing at me, then stares into space for around two minutes, clearly uncomfortable and craning his neck. I roll my eyes again with an amused huff. I know this is his way of being nice and considerate but he can be a little ridiculous without realizing it.

Not wanting him to strain his neck and head more, I reach out and rest my hand on top of his head, pushing it back to my skin. He looks to me once more, looking for assurance, and I sense his slight resistance. I give a soft nod and he lets himself rest back onto me with a sigh, his shoulders untensing.

I card my left hand through his hair, twisting the soft locks around my fingers, feeling him melt deeper into me. He lets out more rumbles and purrs as my fingers lightly scratch at his scalp and move down to his ear. I carefully extend my right hand and use the mutated teeth to cup the side of his face in a gentle and loving way.

Simon jumps and twists his head away, like I burned him. “Don’t. They're gross, and you're gonna get poked again.”

I shake my head. "Stop, they're not gross.” I correct and push my palm into the side of his face again. Although he doesn't flinch away, his eyebrows furrow and a frown comes to his face. His tail flicks behind him in what I have come to know as annoyance.

"They're just teeth, Si.”

“They’re…wrong.” 

“...they’re yours.” My hand moves on its own to lightly trace over one of the ridges of a tooth.

He goes quiet and I watch the gears turn in his head, leaning ever so slightly into my touch.

He's always had a terrible image of his body when it comes to his mutations after everything that happened. Although he never usually voices it out loud, like right now, he does have a habit of hiding any and all mutations he can, even if he shouldn't.

I've told him that I don't mind if he walks around with his mutations out but he seems embarrassed about them, and I guess from what I've gathered from this conversation, he thinks they're gross too.

"...you're still gonna get stabbed. And yes, they are gross.” He opens his eyes to stare deep into mine, almost challenging me to disagree again and of course I do. Like I would just let him feel that way about himself.

“Well…I think they're pretty awesome.” I chuckle while bringing my other hand down. I scratch behind his ear and lightly trail my nails down his neck, watching as one corner of his mouth twitches. He breaks eye contact, squeezing his eyes shut and starting to squirm. 

“Y-You don’t hahave to pretend.” He fights the laughter bubbling in his chest. A frown comes to my face at his accusation. Why would I even lie about that? 

"I'm not. I do think they're awesome.” Well now I HAVE to prove him wrong. Show him that I love every little bit of him, head to toe.

“Stohop.” Soft giggles spill from his lips as he pulls his shoulders up in defense, turning his face completely to the right and stopping my hand from moving, though my fingers continue to scrape against his skin.

“Aw, we can't have that. How am I supposed to tickle your ear now?” I chuckle lightly too, watching him struggle to stay still and keep the smile on his face from breaking through. “Move your head for me, Si?”

I nudge his shoulder with my trapped hand, feeling him shake his head a little bit against it in resistance. His face turning redder by the second.

“Nohohooo!” I move my fingers and hook under his chin slightly, scratching as much as I can, watching his tail start to wag adorably behind him.

“No? Welp, I guess I have no other choice…” My shoulders shrug as I pull my other hand away from his cheek and bring that down to the gills along his neck, tracing over the seam.

He barks out a laugh, his head quickly flinging to the left as I scratch at his skin. With the other side of his neck free, I scratch behind his ear again, fluttering my fingers over the shell.

“G-Grahace—EEEHEhehehee!! Stohohop—NOHOHO—!!!” He starts wiggling side to side; his head shoots down into my tummy again, not knowing which side to protect anymore, desperately pulling his shoulders up more. 

“I’ll stop iiiiif…you say your teeth are amazing.” His legs kick against the bed and notice how he’s not putting up much of a fight; his hand just tightly gripping at my shirt. I trace a single finger around the back of his neck, pinch at his nape, and scratch the small spines that flow down his back, causing him to shoot his face back up at me.

The sight brings a giant grin to my face, his eyes crinkled shut and his cheeks a bright red hue. I slow my fingers to just dust his skin with my fingertips, letting him talk. 

He peeks his teary eyes open at me, blushing more at my stare. “Nohot awesome.” 

So stubborn.

“Fine. Have it your way.” I lift my hands from his neck and ears for a moment as he greedily sucks in breaths. My hands worm under him, scratching at his underarms. His elbow shoots to his side with a squeal, making him fall face-first into me again.

“AH—NAHOHOO!!! OKAYOKAYOK—*SNRK*—AHAHEHE—I-I'll sahahay ihIHIHIT!!” He sputters into my skin. I still my hands and bring them up to push his hair away from his eyes and tuck it behind his ears, earning me a slight squeak in return.

His body goes limp against mine as I continue my petting and scratching at his scalp, messing up his hair as small curls stick up. He waits a moment, hiding his face from me. 

“I’m waiting, Simon~” I grin as he looks up with almost a pout. "Or do you need some more convincing?” I wiggle my fingers out in front of him. Anxious laughter suddenly springs from his mouth and he flinches away, his sharp teeth sticking out from his lips.

“Fuck no!” He yelps and tries to compose himself. “Ahem—no, I do not.” His ears flush with more embarrassment as I look at him with an expectant look. He avoids my eyes, looking out at nothing in particular, and lets out a quiet sigh.

“Fine. They're amazing…” I smirk triumphantly as he looks back to my face. “...amazing for tickling!” Before I can ask what he means, I watch in awe as the skin opens up on the left side of his face. I don't think he's ever shown me how it opens before. I've always wanted to ask but it felt like an overstep and he's already let me run so many tests and experiments at this point it almost felt rude to ask for any more, especially about stuff he's particularly sensitive about.

The sharp teeth flare up and out while the bottom ones open downwards and I can see his normal teeth and jaw behind. It's pretty remarkable; the teeth can flex and move, not stuck to a bone structure like human teeth, giving him a range of movement and motion, from what I can tell.

Simon quickly but carefully pushes the open side into my stomach as I screech, my arms flailing uselessly. He stops for a moment, giving a worried look, analyzing my face. When it's evident by my beaming smile that he didn't stab me this time, he starts right back up again.

It feels like nothing I have ever felt before. His sharp teeth twitch and move, carefully digging into my skin, like he's gnawing on me. Under that, I feel his jaw open and his normal teeth nip at my skin in an agonizing way. 

I was definitely and unfortunately right about the range of movement hypothesis, and on top of that, his skin and flesh of his cheek seem to be able to move and twitch more too.

“AH—NOHOHoho!!! WahaHAIT—SIHIHIMOHOHON—!!!!”  I reach forward, pushing at his shoulders as he starts to sway his head back and forth slightly. Simon pulls loud cackles from me and through all the commotions, I feel him smirk against my skin.

“Hm. I guess you were right. They're pretty fuckin useful." As he talks, his jaw and teeth scrape up and down against me, the rumblings of his voice and the air being pushed through his mouth tingling my skin. 

“N-NOHOHOT WHAhahat I meheheant!!” My eyes squeeze shut, my cheeks flush, and I kick my legs out, digging my heels into the bed to push myself away. As a result, I feel his face move down as I move up, forcing his face to my lower belly, causing me to squeal and buck up my hips. 

“Oh? It isn't? I mean, you sat there tickling me all you wanted with your cute lil tummy just sitting here out in the open begging for some attention.” My blush deepens, rushing to the tips of my ears as I shake my head 'no' frantically again. “I disagree, you sure this wasn't your little plan from the very beginning, Ryland?” I shoot my hands up to my face, trying to hide my embarrassment and stifle my laughter.

To be fair, this was NOT my idea from the very beginning! It was HIM who had his face under my shirt before any of this started and I will NOT take this slander!

“NO! NOHOhoho, ihihit *snrk* wahasnt’!” I peek my eyes open through my fingers and see his own closed in content as he continues to press his sharp teeth lightly into the pudge. They move up and down, just enough for me to feel as his skin lightly swipes against my own. He looks almost peaceful compared to my chaotic laughter. 

“Sure.” He responds, clearly unconvinced. I feel him take a deep breath in and then blow against my skin. I arch up with a squeal as he continues to press raspberry after raspberry. His skin ripples into mine, making the teeth jump and wiggle against me more.

“TOHOHOO MUHUHCH—!! SIHIHIMON—!!!”  I yelp out, my hands abandoning my face to push at him harder now and, in retaliation, he shoves his hand into my armpit.

“Stop pushin so much.” My arm flails back, trapping his wiggling fingers in my armpit. I start to sit up, trying to curl inwards. He digs in vigorously, making me flop back down with more laughter.

“EHIHIHEHAHAHhaha ohoho go-GOHOHOSH—!!!” He snorts out a laugh against my skin.

"I'll ease up a bit for you, Angel, because I'm so nice and all," and he does. Simon stops the raspberries, lifting his face from my stomach while slowly moving his fingers to lightly scratch under my arm, though it's still unbearable.

I watch with wide eyes as the side of his face closes back together and he smiles warmly at me. Though it's short-lived and is replaced by what I would consider an evil grin. He dips his head back down and starts to pepper light kisses against my belly. 

“Better?” he mumbles into my sensitive stomach and although it is, I don't admit it. 

“Nohoo ihits nohot!” My other arm comes out and weakly pushes at his head as uncontrollable giggles spill from me. I fling my head back against the pillow, my legs flailing behind him wildly, doing nothihng to actually stop his attack.

“Look at this lil bellybutton.” He teases, his lips shift to kiss the area, and I hear him start to purr again, clearly enjoying my torture. “So cute," he hums into it forcing a giddy squeak from my throat.

“Ehehehaha stohohop! Nohoht thehehere!” He shifts his head down more, scrapping and rubbing his beard over the little area as I arch up again with another squeal. 

“Quit wigglin so much. I’m tryin to show you my appreciation and love.” 

“I-I dohon’t wahant your lohove—AH-WHAHAIT—!!!” He says nothing, lets out a fake gasp of offense, and shoots his head back down, blowing a raspberry against my navel. “OKAYOKAHAhay I-I dohoho wahaHAHANT IHIHIT!!!” I bnack track imediatly as he blows one last raspberry, then plants another kiss, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

He pulls his hand from under my arm and wipes at the spit covering my stomach, making me squeak and flinch away, my residual giggles filling the air.

“Calm down Ry, I'm done.” I sigh, relaxing back into the bed, glancing at him with a silly smile. “For now at least.”

I decide to ignore that last comment and reach down to pull him in close, holding him against me. He settles back onto my tummy as his eyes flutter closed. 

“I still think they're amazing.” I murmur and look down at him. I absentmindedly run a thumb over the side of his face, feeling the bumps and ridges of the teeth. They truly are beautiful, even if he doesn't see it that way.

“You keep touching them.” He states in an odd tone I can't read while his head rolls to the side.

My thumb stills. "Yeah? Is that okay?”

He doesn't answer but starts purring quietly again. He shifts, hiding his face in my stomach but I feel him smile against my skin with a hum.

𖥔 I like to think about how it would take Simon quite awhile to ever get completely comfortable showing off his mutations and such and how much of a help Grace was with that part of his life and accepting and loving those parts of him 𖥔

[awkward---as---hell]

How did I get here (to be with you)

Fandom: Iron lung and Project Hail Mary

Summary: How did he get here? It was a question Simon had asked himself a lot during his life, normally with a bitter tang. Lately though, that question has a different tone as he builds his new life on Erid, and forms a relationship with its only other human resident.

Words: 1004

Dynamics: SFW, Ler!Simon, Ler!Grace, Simon x Grace

———

How did he get here?

It was a question Simon had asked himself a lot during his life, normally with the bitter tang of resentment, anger, confusion, or the crushing unfairness of it all.

How did he get here, watching the very last tree of Eden shrivel and die?

How did he get here, fighting in a war and taking the fall for the actions of other men? Men who blew up Filament Station and didn’t have the decency to live to see the death and destruction they caused.

How did he get here, getting shuffled from a prison cell to an iron casket? Sinking to the bottom of a blood ocean and fighting for his life, fighting to simply stay alive please please god I want to live…

How did he get here, on an alien planet—a planet that should have been taken by the Quiet Rapture like the rest of them? Cut from the bowels of the iron lung and awakening in a geodesic dome filled with the soft sounds of a beach. Missing his left arm, gaining extra teeth embedded in his face, and left wondering what was fact and what was hallucination. Here, a place crawling with sentient rock creatures, and the piercing blue eyes of the only other human for light-years around—how did he get here?

Many of those questions would remain unanswered, taunting and grating in the back of his mind for the rest of his life. Others were answered by a soft, warm voice, admitting to only knowing part of the story but promising to help fill in some of the missing pieces.

It took time.

A lot of time, for the horrors of his life to dim a little, enough to start living.

It took time for his remaining arm to loosen, to resist the urge to hold up his fist and fight fight fight. Time to accept that he was safe here, he didn’t need to be so guarded. To allow a hesitant smile to find his face when he watches his blond-haired companion bicker with his rock friend. Even more time to allow himself to seek out Grace's company on purpose, to allow a friendly pat to his shoulder, to parry one of Grace's corny jokes with a dry one of his own.

It took time still to be able to shock Grace with a surprisingly gentle hug, given after a very thoughtful gift of a little sapling. To forget himself and laugh freely in Rylands presence—Ryland now, no longer just ‘Grace’—and cherish the returned laughter. To form a relationship where shy smiles were reciprocated, trust was threaded into every interaction, warm lips met warm lips, a hand finding a home in his hand.

All of this took time, yet he still can’t grasp the changes sometimes.

How did he get here, where Simon can allow himself to feel like a boy again, meeting every tease with one of his own? Where touch doesn't mean pain, but merely affection and stupid play. Where he trusts Ryland enough to let those two hands taser his sides again and again, until eventually the man pushes his luck one poke too far.

How did he get here, chasing Ryland across the beach, the man’s laughter ringing in his ears and a mischievous smile on Simon's face, retaliation firmly on his mind?

He decides for this moment he doesn’t care how he got here, not when he finally catches up to Ryland, his lone arm wrapping around the man’s waist and pulling them both to the ground.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you, you stubborn thing?” Simon growls playfully as he wrestles Ryland into a pin. It takes some maneuvering with only one arm, but he manages it: one of Ryland’s wrists trapped beneath his knee, the other held above his head in Simon’s remaining hand.

Ryland is still huffing from the chase, but his smile is unmistakable, and the flush in his cheeks has very little to do with the exercise.

“You just make it so easy,” he counters, and there’s laughter at the edge of his words.

“Easy?” Simon questions, his brow quirking up in offence but a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I make it easy to taser me because I only have one arm?”

There was a time this would have been a sensitive topic, but not anymore. With Ryland, who makes him feel loved despite his mutations and missing arm, there is room for this playful teasing. Simon is secure in the knowledge that it stems from love and the deep comfort they have found with each other, and never malice.

Rylands smile grows, and he meets Simon’s eyes with a defiant twinkle.

“Yeah, basically,” he says, and juts his chin out, a nonverbal sign for ‘what are you going to do about it?’

Simon flicks his eyes up and down Ryland, considering his options. He knows what he wants to do, but doing it now might be difficult.

Ryland knows what Simon wants to do too. He flashes him a smug smirk and, apparently convinced he’s won, says, “What a shame. No arms left to tickle with.”

God, he can be such a brat. Simon loves it.

But he also can’t let that attitude slide, so when the idea strikes him, he acts on it immediately. Without fanfare, he lets Ryland see his grin grow a bit wider and more mischievous, and then ducks down.

He buries his face into the side of Rylands neck and unleashes a devastating onslaught of ticklish raspberries, kisses, and nibbles. He makes sure to get at his ears too—using the scruff of his beard to his advantage—and he basks in the explosive laughter and desperate squirming it causes.

A rumbling chuckle escapes him and joins Rylands shrieks and wild cackling—and while he presses his ever growing smile to Rylands neck to deliver another vicious raspberry—he has a thought.

He's not sure how he got here, but he's so happy he did.

———

A/N: … remember when I said I didn’t write for bloodymary? WELP. Listen, it’s not my fault. All the adorable fics and art on here have inspired me, even though I only saw iron lung once months ago. I had this image in my head of Simon pining Grace but not having enough arms to tickle so he has to get creative, and if I could draw I’d be unstoppable, but I can’t, so you get this. TAKE IT.

Anywho, I promise I’m writing the Ler Grace fic lol, it seems I just needed to torment him one more time. He's just SO Lee coded istg.

A/N 2: I ran out of tags!! But basically I just wanted to say I hope the characterization came out ok!!! Again I’ve only watched Iron Lung once and it was many months ago. All information and characterization about that game and movie I’ve mostly gotten from fics, so hopefully the lore is correct 😅