⋆˚꩜｡ ryland grace who has an insatiable sweet tooth. he's got a candy draw stocked full of gummies, twizzlers, skittles, and sour patch kids in his class room. throughout the day, he's snacking on one of them. usually, it's the twizzlers. they're his favorite. but he keeps the others in stock in case one of his students or fellow faculty members' needs something sweet. he also pours an ungodly amount of sugar into his coffee. he's standing in the teachers lounge, head angled down as he uses at least six sugar packets. his coffee tastes like liquid diabetes and that's exactly how he likes it.
⋆˚꩜｡ ryland grace who leaves his door open to students during lunch period, which also happens to be his prep period. the door stays propped open with one of his boxes of rocks. sometimes, there are a few kids that come in. they talk about science, his class, what homework is gonna look like next week, and whether or not he has any M&Ms in his candy drawer.
⋆˚꩜｡ ryland grace who stays late most nights so he can grade papers. he knows that as soon as he walks through his front door, and his bag clatters to the floor, and his butt hits the sofa or his bed, there's no work getting done whatsoever. so he has to do it at school after hours or during one of his prep periods. his stickers are in his classroom, anyways. and ryland is notorious for putting a sticker on each kids' worksheets.
⋆˚꩜｡ ryland grace who argues with the printing and copy machine. his arms are crossed over his chest, looking down at the machine like it personally offended him. and it had. all of his work needed to be printed out before the next period started. "you," he speaks in hushed tones. "you have been a very bad copy machine."
⋆˚꩜｡ ryland grace who loves snooping on his students. if one of the kids' has a book on their desk, his eyes practically bug out of his head as he makes a beeline for it. he's turning it over and reading the back to himself. usually, he approves of the kids' picks. if he knows the student well, he reads the last page, then threatens the kid with spoiling the ending if they don't do their work. he finds it very funny.
⋆˚꩜｡ ryland grace who cries every year when his students go onto high school. he feels like a mama bird watching the baby birds get pushed from the nest, holding bated breath as he waits for them to either fly or... not. and he tries his best to stay strong on the last day. he really does! but he always gets misty eyed. if any of the kids hug him before they leave? he's a big ball of tears and well wishes.
You can now get my art as posters, canvas prints and framed art prints from Printler. They ship to all countries in the European Union + Norway, Switzerland and UK.
View all my posters & art prints on Printler
(p.s. In case you're looking for prints within the US, or any of my other items like art books or calendars, you can find everything linked on my website.)
For anyone still interested in these, this is an update.
Lineart and values have been done but, no joke, I have NO IDEA where to go from here. Color has broken me. I’ve been stumped for so long, leaving them and coming back.
I’m still extremely proud of where they’re at. I just don’t know how I want to color or render these. (Feel free to make suggestions.) I just wanted to share them with y’all :)
idk if ur taking requests so if not, feel free to ignore this. however, imagine if ryland was exhausted, so he just scoops up reader while their in the middle of something and the scientist just goes goes ok naptime! and since he hasn’t made his bed in a few days from being so invested in research that it looks like a nest and reader’s just like ok nap time ig
the concept of sleepy ryland is giving me actual heart eyes. he’s so cutie. thank you for this request <3
Sleepy Sunday: ryland grace x gn!reader fluff
✦ . . 🪐 ˚ ✦ . ˚ 🌒 . ✦ 🌍
It's 3:32pm on a rainy Sunday in San Francisco. The windows of the tiny apartment you share with Ryland are all fogged up, making the place feel even more cozy.
Ryland is in the living room watching a documentary about space. He is halfway asleep, leaned back with his arms behind his head just as he always is before he nods off. He's wearing a pair of pajama pants and a cable knit sweater that your grandma knit him for Christmas last year.
You're in the kitchen, sitting at the head of the table with your legs stretched out, feet resting on the seat of the chair next to yours, reading a book. A fresh cup of tea sits on the table in front of you, steam still rising off its surface.
It's been a lazy Sunday. The smell of laundry detergent fills the house, the last load, your bedding, is finally finishing up in the dryer.
You hear Ryland groan and yawn from the living room, he's right on schedule for his Sunday afternoon nap.
He turns the TV volume down a smidge, another telltale sign that he's about to slip away.
But just as you turn to the next page of your book, you hear the cushions crinkle and the floorboards creak as he rises to his feet. You smile as you hear his footsteps trailing closer to the kitchen.
Your turn your head to the doorway as he enters and your heart explodes when you see him.
He's standing there, holding his glasses in his left hand as the other comes up to gently rub his right eye. He smiles softly at you, then pouts.
"Mm so tired," he whines, his pouty lips never disappearing as he speaks.
"Go take a nap, honey," you hum in response, looking back at your book.
He huffs dramatically. You know what he wants and you turn your face away to crack a silent laugh.
He moves toward you, sock-clad feet dragging the floor as he shuffles over to you. You roll your eyes as he comes up behind your chair and wraps his arm around your shoulders.
He drops his head down to rest his chin on your right shoulder, pressing his cheek into yours.
His hands move to take your book from your grip and close it before placing it down on the table.
"Rylandddd," you groan.
He kisses your face sloppily, arms moving to pull your chair far away from the table.
"You are a grown man! Go take a nap on your own," you grumble, struggling to stay stern as he moves to walk in front of you.
He shakes his head, still pouting, and reaches down to scoop you up. Your arms come up and wrap around his neck, legs locking around his waist as he adjusts his hands to hold beneath your thighs.
He carries you off to his bedroom without another word. His sheets are freshly washed, all soft and fresh as he lays you down.
He strips off his sweater, leaving himself in his silly "I had potential" t-shirt, then he take his glasses off and leaves them on the nightstand.
Finally, he lays down next to you, pulling you close and wrapping you up completely in his arms.
He hums in satisfaction as he pulls the covers up to cover both of your bodies.
Your face is nuzzled into the crook of his neck and you think to yourself that he's just so warm. So soft and warm, like he always is.
You have never felt safer, and you don't think you ever will.
"Ryland," you whisper, hoping he hasn't fallen asleep yet.
"Shhhh," he replies, convinced you are going to tell him you want to get out of bed.
"I love you," you whisper, pressing a kiss to the junction of his neck and shoulder.
"I love you more," he rasps.
And you stay like this for hours, legs tangled in each other's, the fresh smell of laundry detergent wafting through the room, fog clinging to the windows.
Nothing is better than a sleepy Sunday with your lover.
Written on my computah! I hope you enjoyed the capitalization for a change ;3
aim & ignite by shostakobitch
Pairing: Severitus, Severus/Lily
Rating: T
Word Count: 372k (WIP)
"I know about Lily." said the girl. "That you loved her."
Severus froze mid-footfall. He felt as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him.
"She's my mum." her chin lifted, her eyes clear. "She wrote me that letter to tell me about you. You're the only person she really mentioned, but I guess that makes sense, since you're my father. Who else was she supposed to talk about?"
Anyone see that aim&ignite got deleted on ao3…and the authors tumblr is deactivated 😭😭😭
I’m legit making this post in case the author sees it one day cause I LOVE your fics and wish I could go back and reread. The splintering was a masterpiece and I was loving the new one that was a goblet of fire take. Ariel felt so real and I’ll miss her and you so much.
When you get the handsome, blonde molecular biologist on board with you to cuddle you to sleep.
Paring: Ryland Grace x crewmate!reader
Wc: 5.1k
Content: Fluff, cuddles, hurt comfort (?) (Honesty, half way through writing this I realized I didn’t fully know what hurt and comfort actually was, so I tried), mentions of struggle with insomnia and exhaustion.
Note: I don’t know why it is this long :(, also this is unedited, it’s currently 2 am here, so I’ll come back in the morning to edit it. It’s edited now!
Additional note: written form this request
“Okay, that's it for you today,” Ryland voiced, putting down the safety glasses that had hung around his neck after you guys had finished the previous experiment on the astrophage collected from the Petrova line of Tau Ceti. He straightened his back, causing you to follow suit from your slightly crouched position you had assumed previously to look over Grace’s shoulder at the results of the experiment on the console that sat on the table.
Ryland turned around, causing you to take a step back so that you wouldn’t be face against his toned chest. You saw him stand with one leg slightly protruded outwards, his weight slightly offset to the other one, his arms placed on his hips. He looked as if he was looking at one of his students that was giving him a hard time.
“What? What do you mean, we still have more tests to perform on the sample,” you stated, your voice coming out dryer than you had expected, pointing towards the clipboard that sat on the table and with your to-do list.
“I will finish them,” Ryland stated.
“And, I will hel-” you began, before getting cut off, a bit rudely in your opinion, by Ryland’s voice, his words making you raise an eyebrow at him in question.
“You're doing that again,” he commented, his arms moving to cross in front of his chest, from the position on his hips that they had assumed before.
“Doing what?”
“Playing with your hand, and pressing the back of your right one to try to alleviate the jittery pain you get when your lacking sleep and fighting back exhaustion," he replied with his very accurate analysis of your habits, his eyes scanning down to your hands, that were in the middle of the exact said motion.
As your brain registered his words, slightly delayed, because in fact you were truly exhausted, your movements halted mid movement, slowly sneaking your hands out of his sight, setting them behind your back.
“No-, no, no! That's not true, I am perfectly fine!” you exclaimed, your voice slightly cracking near the end, your lips pressing into a line out of embarrassment, as you looked everywhere but his eyes.
“I- I just hit my hand, just a tiny bit too hard against one of the fixtures when I was doing maintenance checks in the EVA room,” you told him accompanied by the motion of your hands putting an emphasis on the ‘tiny’, coming up with the excuse on the spot, your voice rising in pitch as you relayed it to him.
You could already tell by the way he looked at you through a point above his glasses, that sat lower on his nose bridge, and the way his head tilted to the side, almost as if asking you ‘really?’ that you knew he wasn’t buying what you were throwing at him. However, you had also made up your mind, and weren’t planning to back out now, out of whatever this was.
“It was an accident. I just was a little clumsy, probably cause I feel a little excited since we might have potentially found a way to save earth and Erid, you know,” you said, falling deeper into the web of your own lie, despite knowing that the web already had a big hole in the middle.
“Oh, I see. But you do seem to have these tiny accidents often in your excited clumsiness, and in the same area too…” he trailed off his words, pretending to be in thought about the peculiar situation you had described. Oh, he wasn’t cutting you any slack, why would he when his very stubborn and only human crew members refused to take the call of rest that their body required. Yes, that is what he told himself was the reason for why he was pressing on this matter so hard, and there definitely weren’t any personal feelings involved. Well, maybe there were, but he wasn’t ready to confront those just yet.
Ryland’s gaze softened as he took the time to look at you, while you were busy scanning the lab in an effort to find some way to escape from his conversation. He noticed the way the exhaustion was clear on your face, evident by the dark circles surrounding the rims of your under eyes, your eyelids a little puffy and red. He had noticed the way your eyes would squint when working on a task in order to fight the urge of your eyelids to close. The way you squeeze your thumb against your palm with your fingers to calm the little shakes of your hands. The way you would go to sleep later than him, but be already up before him, working on maintenance tasks around the ship as the engineer on board. He noticed it all.
When he had once gone to retrieve a pain killer from the medical kit, he found the melatonin gummies half empty. He noticed how over weeks you had shifted to using more powerful sleep medication that was on board, but even that now was starting to lose effectiveness to allow you enough sleep to last through the next awake cycle.
He had once asked Rocky about it, to which he found his suspicions to be confirmed, when Rocky said your sleep patterns had been quite irregular compared to his own. And how the amount of time you slept for had continued to decrease. He mentioned you would often just end up leaving the room when you would find your frustration with your lack of ability to fall asleep increase, as the hours passed of you just laying on your bed, just with your thoughts and the ambience of the ship's environment. Just quietly roaming the ship, with your headphones on, so as to not disturb him during his sleep. Or more often than not, you would end up in the observation room, looking out into the void that was painted with streaks of stars.
Ryland had once asked you about it, asking if you were doing okay, and if you were getting enough sleep, politely citing your prolonged grogginess he had noticed on some days. You just waved him off, making some random excuse that you came up with at the moment. He tried to ask you about it a few more times, he didn’t want to pry, but he also wanted to make sure you were okay, and that you knew he was here, if you needed someone to confide in.
“Honestly, I think I just might need a hug,” he recalls you stating, when he had asked you about it the third time amidst a casual conversation. He recalls the way your lips formed into a little pout, looking at him with awaiting eyes to see how he would react. Ready to jump into his arms if he would let you, but also ready to play it off as a joke if you had sensed any signs of discomfort from his side. But he hugged you, he did feel a little shy at first, but he thought maybe it might actually help you, maybe that was what you needed – the touch and comfort of another human. And just maybe, that was what he was needing all along as well.
However, it did end up becoming the perfect excuse for you to use, because whenever he questioned you about your lack of sleep that was reflected in a shift in your routinely habits, or the way your body seemed to be falling into a deeper state of exhaustion, you would just ask him for a hug. Assuring him that was all you needed. Though he would never admit it, his selfish self was starting to look forward to those hugs as well, and at times of his own frustration, wanting to walk up to you and ask for one himself.
Ryland still recalls the first time he met you, well at least the first time he met you on the ship. “Eye movement detected” he had heard the ship's automated voice ring through the ship. He recalls the excitement that had bubbled up inside of him. The only other human being on board with him had finally decided to break free of their slumber. Even though it was quite a bit after him, nevertheless he was just happy that you were awake and that he had someone by his side. He had left what he was doing in the lab, and literally sprinted, tumbling and all on the way to where you were in the ship.
By the time he made it inside the room, rubbing his head that he had bumped against the wall on his way, you were already crouched up against the wall, trying to stay away from the robotics arms that were trying to reach you. You looked up at him, squinting your eyes trying to get a clear image of him before you, trying to adjust to the lights after being in a coma for so long, before you called his name. “Dr. Grace.”
It was clear that you remembered, a lot more than him. When he shared that his own memories weren’t as intact as yours, you seemed to have fallen silent, receding yourself into your own bubble. You didn’t talk to him much during those initial few days, and frankly he was a little disappointed, but he also understood that you need the time to adjust and make sense of the situation that you both were in. But when you finally emerged from your little bubble, your attitude and personality was contrasting to what he had observed and his very own.
You had the personality of what they would call bubbly. Very energetic and determined. You were always doing something around the ship, revising on all the manuals, taking the initiative to make sure the ship was working correctly at all times as the engineer, always motivating him when he himself would be feeling down, providing solutions and a ‘can do’ attitude to whatever came your way.
In all honesty, Ryland really enjoyed your company, always supporting him in whatever idea he came up with, but also sounding a voice of reason when he might be going down a slippery slope, and most of all, playing into his own sense of humor. Often making him wonder about your dynamic back on earth. You frankly didn’t share much with him, because you were worried that it would put unnecessary strain on his brain if you shared all with him at once, at least that's what you told him was the reason. So instead, whenever he would recall some of his memories, he would share it with you, and you would provide insight here and there, where you thought it was necessary. He did find it quite frustrating at times, leading to an argument between you both at one point, but he eventually understood that you had your own reason for not being fully open with him.
He also found himself pondering on the thought about how you were always so enthusiastic on the thought of saving earth whenever you guys would get closer to the goals. He had once asked you the question about what if they didn’t succeed in the goal that they were sent here for, but you just said there would be nothing but success. He attributed your response to your derminted nature. He had also attributed your indifference to the part where this was a suicide mission as part of your nature. But he realizes now that he had been wrong, that maybe your energetic and almost playful persona might have been your way to cope with the situation you had found yourself to be in. You were struggling. Struggling in your own way, struggling with your own stresses, anxiety and thoughts, that was manifesting through insomnia.
Where he was struggling with the thoughts of not knowing, you were struggling with the thoughts of knowing too much.
“You know what Dr. Grace, I just think I need a hug,” he heard, your voice breaking him out of his train of thought. He focused on you again, seeing your lips forming a pout, your eyes shining like that of a pleading puppy, arms extended outwards. You started to step towards him, expecting this interaction to follow the routine procedure, but you halted as soon as you saw the soft shake of his head.
“Nope, not working this time,” he declared, determined to not fall for it this time, fighting the urge to hold you in his arms using the hug you were requesting as an excuse.
Ryland called out your name, very gentle and soft, the way you would call out to a kid you're trying to console them after they got refused their favourite treat. Your pout now turned into a small frown, almost feeling a little uneasy, because you knew that if he started to act like this, you won’t be able to fight back.
“Whattt,” you groaned.
“I swear I did sleep. In fact, I slept like a baby, right Rocky?” you call out, turning to the Eridian that sat in his little bubble enclosure, working on the chain needed to fish samples from the exoplanet in Tau Ceti’s orbit. You give him a small wink of the eyes, like he could see it and would understand what it meant. Honestly, you were just hoping to find some way out of this conversation with Grace.
“Rocky don’t know how human baby sleep,” Rocky stated, earning him a little snicker from Grace, causing you to look back at him with a glare, before turning back to Rocky as he began to speak again.
“(Last Name), move move move, only sleep for 7728 seconds of the 28800”
You let out a long exasperated groan, “Rock, we talked about this.” You had in fact asked him to keep you sleeping pattern he observed when watching over you and Ryland slept a secret, but you knew that Rocky clearly hadn’t received the memo.
“Grumpy. Angry. Lack of sleep affecting (last name),”
You threw your hands, giving up the conversation and using rocky as a means to escape, mumbling a ‘nevermind’. You took a deep breath, before turning to look at Ryland again, seeing him leaning against the lab table, hands at his side, a light hold on the edge of the surface.
“Dr. Grace, I am perfectly fine, I swear, and you know what will make me feel even better? If you let me help you with the experiments, so shall we continue,” you said walking over to the side, where you had been, going to grab at the control of the console.
But before you could, Ryland slid his body to the side, right in time to block your access. Maybe it was a bit of a miscalculation on his end, because now you were right in front of him, barely an inch between your bodies. You looked up at him with an intensity behind your eyes, your brows furrowed in frustration, as you crossed your arms in front of your body, your forearms now pushing against his hard and toned torso. Clearly signaling to him that you weren’t going to listen to him, so he better back off.
Grace swallowed the dryness away from his throat, for a moment he was going to back off, and let you have this win, and try to talk to you about this again, later, but seeing from this close, the tiredness was even more evident, so he couldn’t let this go now.
“You do really need to sleep, you can’t keep going on like this,” he says, very softly, and pleading to you with his eyes, just for your sake. Maybe you were a little angry, or maybe the lack of sleep was truly starting to fuck with you brain, beacuse the softenness in his voice didn’t seem to reach your ears, instead you pushed further.
“Stop going all teacher mode on me, Mr. Grace” you voiced though gritted teeth.
“Then stop acting as a stubborn middle schooler,” he shot back, his voice raising a little.
At that, you finally decided to back off and just listen cause you didn’t want to be a nuance when everyone was just looking out for you. You sighed, mumbling a little ‘sorry’, taking a step back, and in that motion Grace decided to take the initiative to turn you around, his hands pressed against your back, gently pushing you towards the door.
“Dr. Grace,” you whined, but let him push you towards the door, without much physical resistance, cause maybe the exhaustion was starting to catch up with your body now as well.
“Ryland!”
“Ry-Ry!”
“Rocky!” You called out to the alien who had continued to watch this whole fiasco from his enclosure, your elevated voice caused the alien to get up from his spot in a worry, thinking you and grace were seriously fighting. “Rocky, help, I'm being kidnapped,” you called. You think your brain is seriously starting to become mush from the lack of sleep.
“What is kid-nap, question?” the computerized voice rang through the lab, rocky skittering in place, unsure what to do.
“Rocky, don’t worry, I am just going to put (your name) to sleep, I will be back in 10 minutes,” Ryland called out, closing the lab door behind him, as your bodies exited the space. At this point, you had fully given up, now walking yourself to the sleeping quarters, Ryland trailing behind you.
You propped yourself up on the narrower side of the bed, letting yourself fall to the soft bedding, your back hitting the surface with a light plop sound, resting your forearm on top of your eyes, shielding them from the artificial light of the space, letting your eyes close.
It was quiet. And for you that was suffocating, because that was what had been playing a part in your struggles with sleep. The near silence felt as the darkness of the void that surrounded you had broken through some crack in the ship, surrounding you in endless emptiness, left only with the never ending pit of your thoughts that brought up unwanted emotions. You wanted to sleep, you were extremely tired, tired from all the thoughts that played into your minds, thoughts from your life on earth, all the achievements and regrets, the moments of happiness and sadness, thoughts of all the people you love, and even the ones not so much, refusing to let your brain be quiet.
And you felt so stupid, this stuff didn’t matter anymore, you had to save not just earth now, but also Erid, you didn’t have the time to delve into these useless thoughts. These thoughts kept your brain occupied, stripping you of the privilege of a proper sleep. And this lack of sleep was truly getting in the way of things now. You have been doing extra tasks around the ships, just occupying yourself with whatever you can in order to tire yourself out so that your brain would listen to the pleas of its body and let it rest, all while preparing to go fishing. You will be piloting the spacecraft when on the mission to receive the samples of life from the planet’s atmosphere, and you are afraid that your body's exhaustion will cost you, at a time you can not afford to make any mistakes, because so much depends on it. The lives of those on Erid, Earth, and even the lives of those now most dear to you, Rocky and … Ryland.
Ryland’s sweet voice, laced with evident concern for your well being, broke through the darkness that was starting to consume you once more. It was a call of your name, helping pull you out of your own void, forcing you to open your eyes. You just laid there for a moment, taking a few deep breaths, trying to regulate your breathing that had started to become staggering without you even realizing.
You could hear the sounds of Ryland’s breathing, feel the warmth radiating from his body against your legs. He was standing much closer now, just a few steps back from the bed. You forced yourself to get up, your legs dangling off the bed, as you looked up to meet Ryland’s eyes, which expressed everything he wanted to say through his words. None of you spoke for a few moments, letting the silence linger in the space between you. A silence that was usually daunting to you, wasn’t as much so today, because right now, there was a comforting pair of blue eyes present to look after you
“Is everything okay?”
He was the first to break the spell of silence. His voice was gentle, as if honey to the ears, but also cautious as to not cross any boundary that you might not allow him past. He watched as a frown appeared to set on your features, making him feel a little panicked.
“No, no- I,” Ryland pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath to collect himself.
“Hey, I know you have been struggling with falling a sleep, something has been bothering you deep down, and I understand you might not want to share it with me, but,” he pauses, seeing the tearings starting roll over the bay of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as they fall to your lap, as the corners of your mouth twitch a little, as you fight the urge to break out into a proper sob. It aches his heart to see you like this, but he continues, stepping a little closer, his thighs slightly brushing against your knees, bending a little to be eye level with you, putting his hands on his knees.
“I’m here. I’m here for you, whatever you might need, or even if you want someone to talk to, I am here,” he finished, giving you a soft smile. At this point you were already sobbing, his words, his smile and his warm eyes were just so comforting that you just couldn’t help but cry.
Ryland stepped even closer, his arm reaching out to you, pulling your head to rest against his torso, rubbing one hand on your head in a soothing motion, while holding on to your hand that now gripped his shirt in effort to ground yourself. You wanted to let yourself get lost in his warmth and comfort he was providing you, but the guilt stopped you from letting yourself fully indulge. The guilt of knowing what happened to him on Earth. The guilt of knowing that he was likely sent on this mission against his will. The guilt that you knew, but didn’t have it in you to tell him the truth. Would he still comfort you like this if he knew? If he knew what you had kept from him? You weren’t fully sure.
He called out to you again, his voice breaking through the clouded thoughts. You didn’t reply to him, but he knew you were listening by the way your grip on his shirt tightened. “I know how much this all means to you, this whole mission. And I know you have been working extra hard these past couple of days, pushing yourself over your limit,” he acknowledged, continuing to rub soothingly on your head, while his other hand squeezed yours more tightly. “But, I need you to rest, sleep when your body allows you to. Yea?”
You shook your head to let him know that you understood what he was trying to say, snuggling a little closer into his chest, both of your arms warping around his waist, because you weren't ready to let go, just yet. He waited for you to fully calm down, letting you embrace him to seek your own comfort, which he found his happiness in.
Once your crying had finally stopped, the dry tears staining your cheeks, feeling calmed down enough you pulled away from Ryland. However, you refused to look him in the eyes, instead focusing your attention to your hands in your palms instead, because you were feeling a little embarrassed for this whole situation and for making a mess of his shirt with your tears.
“Sorry, I made a mess of your shirt, you can give it to me and I'll clean it for you,” you said, apologizing for what you had done. He shook his head, which you couldn’t fully see because you still refused to look at him. “Are you feeling better now?” he questioned, to which you replied with a small yes.
“Well, that's good. Then you can make a mess of my shirt whenever you like if it helps you calm down,” he assured, but wait that didn't sound right, it came out way worse than he had meant it to. Oh, he needed to quickly clarify what he had meant. As his brain was thinking of the right way to rectify, your laugh made its way to his ears, and that instantly made his brian to stop working for a moment. It had been a while since he had last heard you laugh, hearing it now instantly made a smile to appear on his lips.
“Okay, get some rest now,” he said, ruffling your hair a little in an affectionate manner. As he was about to turn around to leave the space, you grabbed his wrist, making him halt mid movement. He turned to you to see that you were finally looking at him again, eyes still a little glossy from your little cry session earlier.
“Can’t you sleep with me?”
His body froze. Okay, maybe his own state of exhaustion was starting to catch up to him as well cause he was starting to hear things now. But the expression that he saw on your face, matching his with your wide eyes and arched brows, confirmed that he in fact heard you correctly. A shade of red crept up his face, a very loud visual of his fluster state.
You instantly let go of his wrist, when your own brain processed what had come out of your mouth. You were starting to think that your brain had become soup at this point from the lack of sleep, and left your body with the flow of your tears. What the fudge did just say to him!
“Wait, Wait! That's not what I meant,” you started frantically shaking your hands in front of you. “What I meant to ask was, if you would keep me company,” you tried to clarify, regretting even thinking of asking in the first place.
“Um-”
“I’m so sorry, please just forget what I said,” you requested, the embarrassment wanting you to eject yourself out of the air lock. You erratically shifted to pull your legs onto the bed, laying yourself down, and fully hiding yourself under your blanket, trying to avoid Ryland’s eyes. “I’ll try to get some sleep, now” you exclaimed from under the piece of fabric you had hid yourself under.
You heard nothing in response, not even the sound of him leaving the room. He was still there, unbeknownst to you that he was fighting his inner self on what to do, because the selfish side of him wanted to jump to your side and embrace you in his arms, but the rational side of him thought the best option would be for him to leave and let you rest.
It was perfectly still for a moment before you heard the shuffling of Ryland's feet, which seemed to be moving closer rather than heading for the door, before they came to a standstill as you felt his presence near the bed. You peek your head out of the blanket to see him standing near the bedside.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay?” You ask, a little confused.
“i’ll keep you company, until you fall asleep. I mean, I need a little break as well anyway?” he replied, finding a reason to stay, a lazy smile tugging at his lips, causing a little grin to break onto your lips, as you adjusted to give him space on this already small twin bed.
Ryland found himself laying next to you, his arms folded under his head, to put as much physical space between your bodies as possible, to be courteous of your personal space and again, to not cross any boundaries you may not want him crossing. He looked at the ceiling, as did you, only the sounds of your breathing intermingling, the buzzing of the Hail Mary filling the space between you.
Ryland felt you turn to your side, facing him, feeling your gaze on him, as you just admired his beautiful side profile for a few moments. He felt your arm drape around his torso, causing his body to go stiff. You waited. Waited for him to push your hand away, but he didn’t. Instead, he unfolded one of his arms, and laid it out straight in the space on the bed, right above where your head was. And you took this as an invitation to shift closer, to bury yourself to the side of his toned body, resting your head on his bicep.
You could feel his heartbeat, drumming through your ear. It was a little elevated at first, due to your sudden proximity, but as you both settled in, finding comfort in each other's warmth, your heart beats started to slow, your breathing finding a common rhythm as the spell of sleep started to wash over.
“Ry” you called out to him in a gentle whisper, as to not wake him up had he already fallen under the spell, looking up at him. You heard a little ‘hmm’ from him, as his droopy eyes looked down at you, a sleepy smile resting on his lips.
“Thank you”
He just gave you a loving smile in response to your words, before he whispered a ‘go to sleep’, shifting his eyes back to look at the metal ceiling. At that, you snuggled yourself closer, if that was even even possible, before finally closing your eyes. It was quiet, but it wasn’t so suffocating when you were in his arms, by his side. Your brain at last let itself shut off, allowing your body the much needed sleep. But that wasn’t before you felt Grace’s hand gently playing with your hair, helping your body lull itself to sleep. .
At some point, your body awoke for a few moments, and you realized that Grace had joined you in much needed slumber. His hand that was under his head, now wrapped around you causing you to smile against his chest before your body fell back to sleep.
Note: Again, I don’t know what this is, but I hope it at least brought a smile to your face!
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Accepting your bitter fate to be stuck in outer space with the scientist you once ambushed, you start to follow along with the mission’s objective. But, every little thing he does overlaps with someone you held dear once.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.1k
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Mental Distress. Anxiety. Mentions of grief and regret. Amnesia. Angst. Uses of (y/n) : your name, (y/f/n) : your first name, and (y/l/n) : your last name.
𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐜 : Drive By - Train & Thinking of You - Katy Perry (highly recommended trust me)
𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : English is not my first language, sorry for any inconvenience in grammar or sentence structure. Constructive feedback is welcomed. Anyway trust me with the build-up, I make sure to write as fast as I can. Love you ❤︎
𝑨 𝑹𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔
⭑.ᐟ
Two cups of ramen, more contemplation for the deceased crew, and fidgeting with each picture that you just scattered indise of a named box of yours. Those were the activities you did several times, plus extra pulling your hair, and screaming at the sleeping chamber like a mad man, all that while that scientist, Dr. Ryland Grace, had pacing back and forth observing you.
Previously, he was in the EVA suit, telling you to just stay seated when you were still processing your death comrades, Ilyukhina and Yao. He was preparing his first contact to explore the mysterious tunnel connecting the Hail Mary’s hull.
But now, you clutch the only photo that you have with Ilyukhina, Yao, and Dubois from months after training together for this project. This project that makes you end up alone in the vast outer space with the only person that you do not want to spend time with. What if he knows the real you? What if he knows you were the one who kicked his butt down the grass and sedated him?
Clenching your fist against the wall, you stand slowly, your consciousness telling you to stand up and wake up. This is your own choice to be a part of this project, this is your choice to be so away from your home, this is your choice to amend your guilt. The front pocket feels heavier as you recognize the guilt surge through your body. The dog tag, yeah, this is your choice to amend your late boyfriend. Your Bob.
You lift from the slump and head to the main laboratory. This is your choice to volunteer as the co-pilot for redundancy next to Yao. You grasp all that self-encouragement you just produce yourself. There is no Carl to say good luck anymore, you need to make and insert your own words of encouragement.
As you trudge away from the sleeping chamber, a muffled scream emanates from the hull to the main lab. That was the scientist. You run to that area of the spacecraft, the valve is tightly closed. But, you can hear his voice through the EVA suit emanator embedded at the wall beside you. The scientist is hovering in front of a border-like wall made of different materials, with a clear glass-like wall at the corner of it.
“You want me to go back on my ship?” Dr. Ryland Grace’s voice echoes to the emanator on your side.
“But, I just got here,” he slowly backs away, “okay, okay, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Are you talking to the alien, Dr. Grace?” You click a button in the emanator for a direct communication to the EVA suit he wears.
He screeches, again. You facepalm.
“Sorry, didn’t know you were listening.” He puts his right hand on top of his chest, “yes, he looks like a rock.”
As he approaches the valve to decompress, he finally walks in from the hull with the entire EVA suit, stumbling a little after noticing you are fixated to his face; waiting for any information.
“So, what did you get?” You ask, bracing for any information prior to his first screech in the tunnel.
“He wants me to get back in the–,” his voice still amplifies through the emanator.
“Your helmet, Dr. Grace.” You say sternly, what is wrong with this guy anyway? Has lack of communication with humans made him this reckless?
“Ah, that is right,” he switches open his helmet, revealing his blond hair, curled at the bump of the helmet’s round edge.
You drag your eyes briefly from his hair, back onto his face again, waiting for his answer. And yet, he drifts past you to zip off the entire EVA suit. While still waiting eagerly for an answer, suddenly an unidentified activity is notified on the monitor.
You rush there to spectate, Dr. Grace follows alongside you after he finishes taking off the entire EVA suit minus the white-inner, along with the tubes hovering like a snake. He hangs the EVA suit just beside the hatch and pushes his glasses as you sit down in front of the monitor.
You narrow your eyes to the monitor, trying to know what is happening outside the hull. As Dr. Grace approaches the monitor, he places one hand in front of the desk, “What are they doing, Mary?” he murmurs.
‘Right, now he personified the ship.’ You think, feeling invisible at his own monologue towards the ship after he did not answer your question.
“Sorry, Lieutenant.” Dr. Grace stretches his arms just in front of your face to reach clicking there and then, you recoil, lean away to the back of the seat as your vision now are mainly his clothed biceps.
Your breath becomes shallow from the sudden movement and the annoyance of being ignored. Clicking your tongue, you push away the chair, away from the scenery of his arms stretching in the desk, “I’m activating the centrifuge.”
Hovering around the cockpit, you reach for the centrifuge panel, shoving all the flying trinkets that the scientist does to your cockpit.
“It is not advised to modify the centrifugal settings of the ship,” notifies the robotic voice after .
“Oh right, thank you, Mary.” He suddenly bumps into the cockpit, drifting just beside you, reaching for the same centrifuge switch.
“I’m sorry,” a punch to your dignity. You grasp the pilot seat with your left hand to support you, and your right one reaching for the switch panel. But, the guy blocks you again with his outstretched arms to the switch first.
Flabbergasted, signs of annoyance may write itself clearly upon your face, yet you realized, you should've not seen and too fixated at his biceps rather than the centrifuge switch. Regaining your composure, you lift up as soon as he drifts away from the cockpit to another side of the ship.
“You know what, Lieutenant, I recognize you now.” He shouts from the other side of the ship.
You clamp your hand to the hatch connected to the main laboratory, bracing for whatever he is about to say. Heart beats drums your ear, anticipating while your mind rushes to form any kind of excuse.
“You were the fighter jet pilot Stratt appointed to carry me after Carl and I had a baby.” He states, creasing your forehead at the words.
“Huh?” You retort, but there is a memory etched to your brain there. It replays your first ever encounter with him; you throw pills for him to alleviate the dizziness by the g-force, and the obnoxious scream he made during your flight to the aircraft carrier.
“That wasn’t an enjoyable flight, Lieutenant,” he titters, eyeing you while scouring every drawer in the laboratory for something, “at least I’m safe, unlike the recent fighter jet accident in the pacific ocean, the media said it cost our tax to recover the damages.”
He babbles again, “Military propaganda, the news said.”
You do not respond, so he casts a swift look to you with a strained smile, “Well recent is not quite right, four years has passed for us, so that accident would be five years ago,” he corrects himself.
Still no response from you. Standing idly by the hatch, you follow his every movement from scouring the drawers to ducking his head lower to the inside.
“Anyway, I saw you at the meeting room during the Hail Mary presentation, too,” he adds, “You seemed close with Stratt.”
A pang rushes to your gut. “Dr. Grace?” you call him.
He whips his head to you, swinging his glasses to fall onto the bridge of his nose in the process. “Yes?” he replies fast.
“What other things do you remember about me?”
Roots in the main laboratory’s floor, his eyes scanning your face through his crooked glasses at his nose. A momentarily silent before he continues to latch several cables off the floor, and seizes the emergency lights from the drawer, “No more than that. In fact, all my memories become blurry past that moment.”
As much as your distress about the matter fading off from your mind, you still are not comprehending what Dr. Ryland Grace does with all the emergency lights and the cables. Stepping another foot forward, you scan the floor from any obstacles, afraid to fall for the second time.
“Dr. Grace,” you call him again.
He turns his body fast, and clumsily hit his head on one of the opened drawers.
“You okay?” You walk forward, reflex courses to your right hand, automatically reaching for the impacted skin, near his temple. His blue eyes dart from your hands and your face, then he backs away, “I’m okay,” he winces.
“Please,” he pauses, caressing the impacted skin with his own palm, “Please, no need for modesty, just call me Grace. Or Ryland.” he puts on a wry smile.
“Grace,” you emphasise the word, “As the two of us now are crewmates. Would you please let me know what you are planning to do?” You raise your voice still, despite the awkwardness from almost touching his temple out of nowhere.
He corrects his glasses, fidgeting with his arms before pointing to all the lights and scattered cables he put on a desk, “I’m planning to light that alien tunnel, it’s so dark in there.”
“That’s a great idea. Please let me help.” You affirm, and scour for any spare cable and emergency lights at the other end of the ship.
“You don’t have to, Lieutenant, I’m okay with –”
You cut his words before you leave the laboratory, “Just call me (y/l/n) or (y/f/n), Grace. No need for a title, like you said,” you pause, “I don’t want to miss my chance to talk to E.T.”
Then you walk away after confirming his lopsided smile from across the ship, “Okay, (y/l/n).” He says.
.
.
“Where are the tapes, Grace?” You inquire.
“Here,” he hands the extra tapes and cables here and there.
After some time gathering all the checklists Grace had made, you drift off the room to wear your EVA suit on.
“Do you need help?” He asks, still fumbling with all the equipment he carries.
You zip it down fast and put your feet one before the other without answering his offers, not because you did not care, but because you are too nervous for trying your first ever EVA suit after months training with the death comrades. It is as if your entire senses are blocked by the nerves.
“Ah, yes, you don’t need one, sorry,” he trudges awkwardly to his EVA suit right after you, flinging all the cables again upon his shoulder after he completely wears it, along with the helmet on.
As you open the valve and make the entrance first, you wait for Grace before you shut the hatch. Clutching your hand to the light you carry and move away to give him space to walk in, you catch his eyes and notice his breath in your comm. Everything that you said and unsaid are recorded and transmitted to the others.
Waiting for several seconds before he closes the hatch to the ship completely, he asks you through the comms, “Ready?”
“Here goes nothing.” You remark with a short laugh at the end, easing the nerves away, preparing yourself to decompress the hull, and unlatch the hatch.
THUD
The air pressure seems strange, you are shoved away instantly by the gravity force, hitting your back to the unfortunate guy beneath you.
He groans through the comms.
His body moves, you can feel him just beneath you even through the EVA suit.
Reaching for a hand hold, you lift yourself up and sweep away all the cables covering your helmet like a slither snake. Reassuring his condition, you turn your body, “Grace, are you okay?”
He lifts a thumbs up instead, though a red flush smeared visibly even through the visor.
“Come on, let’s meet up with the alien,” you offer him a hand, and he accepts it hesitantly.
“Maybe don’t say here goes nothing, next time.” Grace softens his gaze after he stands up taller just in front of you.
You let out a soft humming chuckle in response, handing him the ramen ship that looks like a ship he had made. He takes it and installs it in his pocket, before strutting forward, “Anybody home?” He shouts.
“I like what you’ve done with the gravity!” You add.
“I made you a ship. It’s ramen, I only made one.” He pulls the dry ramen out as he approaches the clear glass wall. You perch right beside him, inserting the lamp at each side of the wall.
“I’m not sure how many of you there are.” He says again, resounding throughout your helmet.
When you finish installing the lights, you drag your feet to see the dark tunnel beyond the clear glass. Grace said, it was made of xenon when you both were preparing the equipment. And now here you are, seeing it for yourself.
Too focused on the hard material of a xenon gas, something creeps in just beyond it, finally making you shift your focus. Is this the alien Grace talks about?
As the light helps to cast its shadow, you dredge your eyes fully to the approaching creature. It makes a soft chitter sound to Grace and to you, it seems. It has a carapace but legs like a spider, except there are only five. It crawls to the glass in front of you.
“Hi,” you tap the material with your finger.
It chitters again.
You cackle, “So you are entirely made of rocks, huh.” You glance at Grace who looks at you back attentively while you tapping the glass.
But, when you whip your head back to the front, the creature jumps out to the glass, making you and Grace shriek together. In return it also screams a high pitch voice.
“No, no, no, sorry you scared us when you went.. aaa!” Grace imitates the scream to the rock while hovering his hands upward. Is it rock? Is it a he? It feels wrong to consider a living creature as ‘it’, right?
The creature screams back and lifts two of its feet or hands upward just like Grace. As funny as it is, Grace is drawn to the idea to pose several poses and the alien imitates back. He laughs and it also chitters.
“This is amazing!” You scream, join in the laughter and drag your feet closer to the creature again. “Can’t seem to see a face,” you mutter, scanning any slope or any weird angle surface on its carapace.
“Mysterious,” Grace chimes in inside the comms, standing behind you, “Faces are overrated.” He exclaims.
You snap at his remark, "Couldn't agree more.”
There is a mere seconds of silence, and it hits you in the head whether the silence built after what you just said or not. But it doesn’t take longer, not until Grace taps the glass, and the creature taps back. They both tap the glass and it grows more frequent and more aggressively after each tap. You pull your eyebrows into a taut, and notice an object stowed just slightly at Grace’s right.
“I don’t think he’s tapping.” You point out, walk to the object.
Grace turns his attention as the taps slowly recede, “You’re pointing. You’re not tapping. Sorry.”
You open the canister and grab what it seems like a necklace or decoration. You lift it to the creature, “Thank you, this is beautiful.”
The creature chitters with its hand swaying above. Grace snaps, “What? You want her to put that on her head?”
“Ah like a crown?” You raise your intonation and gesture a crown above your helmet.
“No?” Grace continues, “take off her head?” He implores.
You choke on the words.
“Take her helmet off?” Grace now mimicking the ‘helmet off’.
You hand him the object inside the canister and Grace grabs it from your clothed palm while mimicking another pose, “No, it’ll whoosh,” he balls his fist, “explode,” then opens it, imitates an explosion.
“That’s a big ask, sorry.” You put your hands on your chest for an apology gesture.
The light flickers while the creature still determines to persuade you and Grace to open your helmet.
“This has taken a turn,” Grace tells the creature and motions you to go back to the ship with his free hand. “Thank you for what I hope is not handcuffs.” Grace chuckles again through the comms while you are next to him, taking one last look at the creature beyond the xenon glass.
“I’m sorry for the whole helmet thing,” you said to the creature.
Grace nods his head, walking to the hatch while still carrying the mysterious object, “unfortunately we need oxygen to breathe, so,” his word halts abruptly.
“What’s wrong?” You gaze up to see his countenance.
“Two rings of eight.” He murmured, exchanging a glance at you. “O2,” you replied fast.
“E.T shows off.” You remark. “You little rascal.” Grace retorts to the creature.
A sliver of worry cast in his blue eyes. He looks at you as if saying don’t do anything stupid. His gaze roots you in, and stops you from doing any reckless behavior, halting your hand to reach your helmet.
“I don’t think we can do it, though. Sorry. It’s just, if I’m wrong. I’m really wrong.” There was a hint that the latter words are directed to you then the alien. But, your hand remained steady, inches away from opening your helmet.
“(Y/l/n), no.” He recalls gravely.
You walk a couple steps forward and turn to face him, scanning his face from the stray hair glued on his forehead to the twitch in his eyes. You also face the rock creature that is strangely quiet when you two talk. “We do it together.” You reassure him, eyeing the two rings of eight objects again in his hands.
After a brief exchange of reassurance, you guide your hand to your helmet, and him too.
“Here goes something.” You awkwardly snort as both of you switch the helmet off.
You maintain your eye-level to his, quelling the desire to press your eyes shut if something bad could happen. But, here you are, fully believing your life to that rock creature. You halt your breath for a moment as if it will alleviate the issue if the air pressure is too hard for your body to handle. Instead, a hiss emanates as you lift the helmet off.
A surge of relief wash over both of your countenance as you face each other. You inhale the air while pressing your eyes shut, Grace does the same, and both of you exhale the air at the same time.
You throw a big thumb to the creature, before you walk back again into the Hail Mary.
.
.
Everything went by so fast. That first encounter with the E.T had the both of you, you and Grace, bonded over a mere curiosity about Rocky. His name is Rocky, Grace decided. After your first encounter, you followed along all the crazy ideas to use clocks and general math as a form of universal language. Of course, you gave in to that idea, he’s the scientist, you’re the pilot. Besides, this interaction has taken a turn to another level; Rocky’s planet is also counting on him to deal with the Astrophage.
Grace used a program to translate every little instrument Rocky transmitted into English. Curiosity washed over you, intrigue to know what your name is like in his language. It turned out that your name sounds like a broken string of guitar scrubbed with a cheese grater. Okay, then, it makes sense. After a while, there was a moment where you also bickered with Grace and Rocky whether to use Meryl Streep's voice or not. In your defense, her voice was pretty soothing, but Grace and Rocky voted for no, so it was you against the two of them.
When you and Grace were busy calculating distance to Tau Ceti with cups of ramen, a rap knock in the hull broke your argument to still silence. That day you rushed your feet first to the hull and found Rocky was inside of a ball. More like a sphere, and he deliberately shoved the both of you from your way to roam freely inside the ship.
Of course, there was so much commotion here and there before the three of you agreed to make space, because you three were distinct individuals per what Grace said. Even before Rocky arrived at the Hail Mary, you and Grace would argue for a simple thing like where to hang up your jumpsuit, he would hang it mindlessly near the rope he made in the laboratory, but the other day you almost stumbled to the ground when his jumpsuit blocked your way. Seeped with anger, you almost broke one of the Spectrometers because of that, and he would just repress all his anger, while saving it for his video log later, calling you not good for being a crewmate.
But you are glad now that Rocky doesn’t need clothes to hang, although his existence packed the Hail Mary even more with all his xenonite glass installed everywhere along with his trinkets. Yes, Grace calls it xenonite now.
Nonetheless, that moment when he said all 23 crew members of Blip-A had died mysteriously and he had been sleeping alone ever since with no one watching; as how it supposed to be in his culture, had made you more compassionate to the rock spider.
And here you are right now, after adapting to share your personal space with two different living-beings, you begin to enjoy this company. Although, sometimes you feel the air in the room feel thin, as your skin senses a prickling gaze for too long, but when you look at the source, the subject shifts away.
“Am I still doing it? You still want it?” Grace inquires, his hand carries the mini-ship, his glasses falling to his nose as he slouches to Rocky’s sphere. Leaning his hand in the sphere, while occasionally darting his eyes to your way, noticing you approach the discussion.
You come back from the cockpit to do your regular inspection and find the two creatures have an argument. “Yes, yes show time!” The alien exclaims. You nudge your chin to Grace’s direction to show agreement with the alien, crossing your leg just beside Rocky’s sphere.
Grace continues his monologue again, muttering his presentation again with a sigh.
“No, use planet gravity to move with line!” Rocky blurts.
“You mean sort of rests in its orbit?” Grace halts his puppet show, and the alien confirms his question; making him look dumb.
“I did not think of that.” He smacks his lips, straightens his shoulder and throw the mini puppet spacecraft, more like tossing it.
“I did.” Rocky replies sternly.
You raise your shoulder and purse your lips to the annoyed Grace, who now drowns in his train of thoughts of how dumb his brain is perhaps. “I’m on it. Let’s orbit Tau Ceti-e.” You put your clenched fist in the sphere to toss Rocky’s fist.
“Fist bump,” you say.
“Fist my bump.”
“No, Rocky, we’ve talked about this.” you slump your shoulders, one knee to support you from standing up. “Okay, time to orbit, you ready, boys?” Arms cross in front of your chest, quivering your eyebrow to the only two participants in the room.
Rocky throws a thumbs down, and Grace puts both of his hands on his hips, casting a smug look to you after he lost an intelligence battle to a rock.
“I’m gonna need my aviator glasses!” You gear up to the cockpit, throwing two-fingers salute at Grace and Rocky from your right eyebrow. Rocky follows along in his xenonite tunnel that has taken up spaces in Hail Mary, and Grace wraps up his puppet show before trailing you two to the co-pilot seat.
The cockpit welcomes you three with the same smell of technical metallic machinery and computer as usual. The pilot seat designated for Commander Yao is now yours to take control, while the co-pilot seat designated for you previously was now Grace’s to take over. Though, his pilot ability is still doubtful.
Aviator sunglasses that you don’t need clutch in the collar of your jumpsuit, hands busy switching handles and buttons to calculate the estimation of arrival.
“150 million kilometers away,” you mumble while tilting up your chin to the handles above you.
Grace responds quickly, “Racing along at 162 km/s, means we should arrive at Tau Ceti-e at–,”
Mary’s voice echoes throughout the cockpit, “Arrival at Tau Ceti-e in 11 days, 3 hours and 14 minutes.”
“Thank you, Mary.” Both of you reply back at the same time.
“You’re welcome, Lieutenant (y/l/n). You’re welcome. Dr. Grace.” Mary chimes.
“Thank you Mary,” Rocky follows. “You’re welcome, Rocky.” The robotic voice replies back.
Adrenaline rushes through your vein, turning your head to the scientist, anticipating a fist bump in which he already outstretches it on his left without seeing your face. Both of you are about to do it but missed, his hand hovering just above the control panel.
“Okay do it again, now, don’t play smug like that, you might hit the controller.” You shift your seat to actually looking at him, while still outstretching your fist.
Still plastered the same smug look, he looked at you through his glasses, reaching for the fist bump. “Fist bump,” both of you say it the same time again, and retract both of your respective hands after the impact, mouthing “shooo’’, like a torpedo about to launch.
Childish indeed, but as soon as he regains his focus back to the control panel; flicking one of the handle above him with his right pointer finger, the nosepad of his glasses slides down the bridge of his nose, the Project Hail Mary hat hide his hair, and the stubble framing his jawline, you can’t help yourself to admire it. Admire would be a wrong word to use, it recalls a memory from the past that should have been forbidden to evoke at this particular moment. Not when it is completely a different person, not when the dog tag is still there in your front pocket.
You let the words roll down your tongue unrestrained, “You remind me of someone.” Your hand grip the armrest too tight when he snaps back at you, his gaze casts a soft look, placing you back in the center of his attention.
“Oh yea? Who is it?” He lets out a chuckle, a furrow in his eyebrows.
A deliberate furtive glance to his lips, you let him catch your gaze while doing something so recklessly. Your lips tightly pressed together, your body feels like stuck and swallowed by the pilot seat; unable to form the right word to reply or to mention the subject that occupies your mind now. No, this feels wrong, this is wrong.
“I’m sorry.” You hit the autopilot handle, and swift your way to the other side of the ship. Anywhere, anywhere else away from him. It's sickening to think that his face even overlapped with another subject in your mind. Heartbeat drums your ear, it blocks your senses, making your step aimless and almost stumbling you by the equipment of the puppet show he made recently.
A rehab room, you need a rehab room. Rushing to the controller, you swift the scenery into a beach again then sitting down at the panel. It is not wise you know, the sand, the waves, everything, reminds you of your late boyfriend. So, you press shut your eyes, and just let the sounds of rolling waves crashing against the shore sooth your mind.
Deep breath, deep breath.
“(y/f/n), you okay?” Bob’s voice spiralling in your mind along with the squawking of the birds and the rolling waves.
No, no, what is wrong with you? You shake your head, pressing your eyes shut again, you can feel your eyebrow almost touch to one another.
“(y/f/n), you okay?” that question again.
“No, please go away!” You burst out, open your eyes wide, and catch Grace kneeling in front of you, Rocky also at his side.
You blink twice, did he just call you by your first name? It doesn’t matter anyway.
“Oh, sorry, I just want to ask you if you’re okay,” Grace lowers his head, hands awkwardly taking off his hat and brushing his hair, “Tell me if you need anything.”
He almost stands up and leaves you there alone, but you grasp his hand immediately. “No, please, I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened to me.”
His gaze staring so intensely at you. There are seconds there where his muscles in his arms flex at the impact of your touch. He slowly shifts to sit beside you, Rocky rolls down at your left.
“(y/l/n) is okay, question?” Rocky inquires after a minute too long.
“I’m okay Rock. My mind is just playing with me I think.” You sway your hand above your head, letting out an awkward sigh.
“Mind is a trickster, I still don’t know why I’m here for example,” Grace adds. A hitch in your breath. You don’t need to be reminded again of this pressure to defend yourself against him someday.
“Let’s light up the mood, why don’t we utilize this facility?” Grace pushes his glassed to study your face better, and once he acknowledges that hint of a smile from you, he walks towards the controller.
Hours had passed by for the three of you in the rehab room. From travelling virtually to gazing at New York skyscrapers, to a beautiful island on Bali, to a snowy mountain in Sweden, you finally caved in to every circus that Grace had shown. Movie scenes from Rocky, karaoke time, and this time you change the song to Drive By by Train.
“Drive By, favorite song, my time to sing now.” You holler.
Rocky rolling chaotically anywhere within the rehab room as you mimicked playing a drum while hitting your foot to the floor, and Grace standing up beside you, perching the mic just in front of you like a makeshift mic stand.
After some time, the dopamine subside a little, and you lay on your back in the metal panel letting your leg hang freely just below it, Rocky is between you both, and Grace is leaning his back to the sphere.
“I like Earth.” Rocky states.
“I like Earth too.” You raise a lazy hand in agreement with his statement.
“I miss the fog, what about you, Rock? What do you miss most about home?” Grace responds again, still catching his breath from the impromptu dance and karaoke.
“My mate.”
You jolt up from your laying position, Grace also abruptly shifts his position to face Rocky inside of the sphere.
“You got a mate?” Grace asks in disbelief, his tone is slightly mocking in your ear.
“I mean–not that you–what’s their name?” He jeer after noticing your facial expression across Rocky’s sphere, unspokenly written there ‘are you being for real’
“Name is—-” and he continues his instrumental language that both you and Grace don’t understand.
As soon as he finishes, Grace nods to him, “It’s beautiful.”
“Grace, have mate, question?”
The question lingers in the air for a moment. Your hand gripped the metal panel too tight. It should not tingle your brain to know about this matter. But your body automatically shifts as Rocky bursts that question out. You notice him slants away from the question.
“No,” he pauses, “I mean, I did. But she thought I had my head in the clouds, and I didn’t really want to live in the real world.” he sighs.
“She was right. Anyway now she’s with Mark.” Grace looks back to Rocky and slightly share a cursory glance towards you.
Rocky hum for a while, “Rocky hates Mark.”
You snort, and Grace does the same way.
“(Y/l/n), have mate too, question?” Rocky turns his attention to you.
It feels like the spotlight of the theater is above you now, every attention is on you, but you’re unable to articulate the script for the show.
There is always a lump in the back of your throat, every time you think about him. Grace is waiting attentively, slightly avoiding your eyes when you catch him.
“He died not long ago, Rock.” the words feel bitter in your tongue. But, it is enough to snap Grace’s attention back to you, seeing you with a slight squint in his eyes, as if he solved an equation in his little science experiment.
“I’m sorry, (y/l/n).” Rocky chimes.
You stifle a crack voice, clearing your throat, while your periphery catching Grace clearly perusing your countenance.
“It’s fine, Rock. It’s been five years. In fact, if he didn’t die I would not volunteer to be a part of this crew and meet you both.” You smile at the alien and Grace. Grace nods almost motionlessly, “I’m sorry to hear that, (y/l/n).”
“It’s okay,” you gaze at the distance to the virtual sky.
“What’s his name, If I may ask?” Grace asks slowly, as to not hurt you by his spontaneous question.
You click your tongue, still gazing at the virtual sky, “Bob. His name is Bob.”
“Well, we find out why Tau Ceti doesn’t dim for Bob, then.” Grace raises his hand as if he grips a wine glass.
“For Bob.” Rocky follows.
You look at the both of them, chuckle, “well, enough about me. How long have you been together, Rock?” you sweep away the gloom.
“186.3 years.”
“It’s like the honeymoon phase.” Grace jokes.
“No understand.”
“That’s a joke, Rock.” You poke Rocky’s sphere, “that’s a long time.” you continue.
Grace softens his gaze to Rocky who whips his attention between him and you, “You’ve been together a long time.”
“It’s not enough.” The alien chitter softly.
His answer sends your heart dropping to your stomach. It’s never enough. It’s never enough for one to hold their dear one for a time limit, it’s never enough. And here you are, listening to a living-creature validates your feeling that even a hundred years is not enough to spend your time with your loved ones.
The rest of the activity drifts by with the three of you talking about the similarity and the difference of Earth and Erid, while you occasionally make a cursory glance every time your skin tingles from being watched. You know for a fact, it’s not Rocky with his echolocation. It is someone else that is trying so hard to solve you like a mystery.
There is an imperceptible shift in the air every time you catch his gaze. Indescribable feeling creeps into you, weighing your thoughts even more between cautious and infatuation of someone dear who used to do this too.
You snap, the more you think about it, the more his face and his memory etch into someone else’s only for a bit of similarity. Your mind is doing the trick. He is years older than him, wears a different type of glasses than him, and yet, every subtle clumsiness and outburst from Grace reminds you more about him.
You grunt, “I think I need to rest for a bit. Thank you for– for everything.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and pull a thin smile to Grace and Rocky.
“Rocky watch (y/l/n) sleep.” The sounds from the sphere make a ring cacophony as you both walk your way towards the sleeping chamber.
“Now I remember.” Grace says out of the blue, clicking his tongue.
The floor suddenly feels like clasping your foot from moving forward. Swallowing your pride and defense, you turn back slowly to observe Grace’s countenance.
“You were there when Stratt sang. You raised your cup with Ilyukhina and both of you sang along with her,” he takes off his glasses and rubs his hands to his jaw, “what’s the song, what’s the song,” he buries his head in his palm.
“Ah! Sign of The Times, by One Direction.” He shouts, showing his bright smile to you.
“Harry Styles.” You correct him, but your face turns deadpanned at his exhilaration.
“My bad,” he groans, “but, if we didn’t do karaoke like this, I think that memory won’t appear. So, um,” Grace fidgets with his glasses in his hand, while maintaining to look you in the eye.
yes actually it IS really important to have an adult man crying in multiple (or many) scenes of a movie where he's the main character who has to overcome fear and be a hero
i am literally ( maybe only a little ) sorry for no big oneshot today but have some headcanons i have nothing else to do with. You all deserve them. Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!
☆Ryland Grace Masterlist☆
Ryland stays up late at night sometimes trying to remember things you said during the day. It comes in handy ( at the cost of his own sleep ) when he can recall what song you were talking about that day at 2 PM so he can listen to it later.
He is VERY competitive about board games and card games. Tries to play with science with things like Poker, Texas Hold ‘Em, but gets too absorbed into the stakes that he leaves his analytics behind and tries to win the old fashion way. Sore loser, pouted for almost a week when you beat him at Monopoly ( Partially because you wouldn’t let him live it down ).
Was really into rubik’s cubes and puzzles when he was a kid. Still has his Rubik’s cube in a box, somewhere in storage but a lot of his glued together puzzles ( Framed too! ) ended up with his parents and unfortunately when they passed, Ryland never got hold of them again. Likes to think they got donated and they’re being displayed in someone’s house as decor.
Not the best with physical affection, his love language is more confident in acts of service. Fixes things around your apartment like a squeaky door, levelling out pictures on the wall that got skewed, and your saving grace; he optimized the placement of the Wi-Fi router for a better signal strength.
Expresses love through quality time as well! Whether that is at home or out and about, as long as he is with you, he’s having a good time. Even if it’s just the two of you on the couch, your nose in a book as he’s grading papers, your legs in his lap, and he’s drawing absentminded circles on your calves, as long as you're together, that’s all Ryland really wants.
Absolutely the worst at remembering anniversaries and special occasions, including his own birthday but on the flip-side of that, he will remember small things, and will surprise you with something thoughtful and perfect after mentioning in passing that you wanted it. He’s getting better about remembering though, especially since you synced your calendars together when you started seriously dating.
Ryland is surprisingly protective and would stand up for you, or anyone he cares about, without hesitation. He may not be the strongest or physically intimidating, but don’t knock his ability to weaponize words when he’s defending you or insulting someone. He’s very cutting that way ( and it is very attractive ).
Terrible at trying to remember to take photos. Before he goes to events, either with you, for school, or just solo ( more rare ), he’ll prepare himself and say “we need to take pictures this time” but ALWAYS forgets. He’ll get maybe one picture per event and it’s most likely blurry. If it’s an event with you, he can always rely on you taking pictures AND his desk at work is littered with pictures of the course of your relationship.
He has a terrible tendency to hyperfocus on things like grading papers, prepping lesson plans, or just general day to day things and forgets to eat or sleep. It’s something you notice and keep an eye out for, tends to happen more when he’s burning out and you remind him gently that he needs to take care of himself, and that the things in his life can wait. He’s more important.
( Insp. by The Notebook ). Had a speech impediment when he was growing up and would often read books out loud to his parents or his favorite teacher ( the one that made him so proud to be a teacher now ). One of the reasons he talks to himself out loud when working through problems, it’s easier to sort the words out verbally sometimes instead of letting them cause a train-wreck in his head. Grows into you reading for him on the couch when his head is in your lap. He likes the sound of your voice, especially when you’re reading about a topic he picked out.
Ryland talks to plants frequently. Probably has a cactus that refuses to die even after he forgot to water it for a few months. Has had it since college when his roommate moved out and didn't take it with him. Ryland couldn’t bring himself to abandon it so he kept it all this time, named it ‘Prickles’ and talks to it when he needs someone to listen ( and you’re not available ). Lives in the windowsill of his small apartment.
This grew into more and now he talks to plants everywhere. ( Especially ones at the store, they’re being held captive! ) Uses the softest voice when talking to them though. They’re innocent and don’t deserve to be talked to in a raised tone.
He gets ridiculously proud of even the smallest accomplishments you make and will celebrate them like you’ve won a Nobel Prize. Makes you a paper hat, gets takeout from your favorite restaurant, pulls out the ( cheap but good ) wine and even makes you a homemade award, complete with ribbons and ‘professional’ coloring. It gets put on the fridge until it’s replaced by the next award. But no worries, you keep the old ones tucked away in a shoebox in the closet for safe keeping!
Science themed puns. EVERYWHERE. “Are you made of copper and tellurim? Because you’re Cu-Te”, “Are we in a vacuum? Because you just took my breath away”. Or Ryland’s personal favorite simply because of the look on your face when he said it, with full confidence and a toothy grin: “Are you a mitochondrion? Because you’re the powerhouse of my heart.” It also earned him a big laugh from you before you leaned in and pressed your lips against his slowly, murmuring against them about how much of a nerd he was, but at the same time, you still loved him with all your heart.
Ryland does grow to be incredibly affectionate once he’s comfortable in the relationship and once the ‘I can’t believe this is happening, I’m so lucky’ thoughts leave ( or at least quiet down a bit, they’re never going to leave completely! ).
It starts off slow, he starts hovering around you a bit more confidently, that grows into Ryland initiating physical affection like hugs, kisses, cuddles and blossoms into him feeling fully confident as your boyfriend, grabbing your hand in public because he’s happy you’re his, and he’s yours, wrapping an arm around your shoulder or waist, keeping you close by. Honestly one of the most attractive things to watch was him realizing that your relationship was something he deserved all along and he never needed to be afraid of it.
